#every time I draw Chuuya he gets more piercings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

patchwork-panda · 4 years

Text

“I won’t tell a soul” (BSD Nakahara Chuuya x Reader #3. Complete!)

“Title: “I won’t tell anybody”/“誰にも言わない” Genre: Romance Rating: PG-13 for alcohol usage and mild violence/language and a kiss scene. /////>w<;; Reader-insert is written as femme and 20+ Plot: You meet Chuuya at a wine bar and over time, you become close. Your regular meetings become something you both enjoy so when Chuuya stops visiting for several weeks, you begin to worry... When you meet again, you learn the truth... But do you care? Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. title is reference to new Utada Hikaru single

CW: street harassment, physical violence

AKA Chuuya saves reader and you get a kiss/get together :3

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

Part 1 Here Part 2 Here

It’s well past last call when you leave.

You ended up staying until past closing and, perhaps out of a feeling of guilt, the mustachioed bartender decided not to kick you out.

Because his “feeling” had been wrong.

Chuuya hadn’t come.

The bartender had offered to call you a cab but you adamantly refused. You wanted a nice long walk in the cool night air, which would hopefully clear your senses a little. You don’t want to go to bed tonight thinking about Chuuya or you might just wake up crying.

Because this was the last night.

No more.

You needed to move on.

As you leave the bar, you see a group of men, a bunch of hoodlums by the look of it, gathered near the alleyway to your far right. One or two of them give you an appraising look (you wish your skirt were longer but you make no move to tug it down) and to your disgust, another whispers something into the ear of yet another of their companions, who suddenly leers at you.

Ugh.

You keep your eyes trained on the road ahead of you as you walk past them, hoping to get away with nothing more than a wolf whistle but alas, it is not to be. One of them, a man with a scar over his eye, calls out to you.

“Hey, hey you! Lady!”

You roll your eyes and ignore him. You hated running into creeps like this in the daytime as it was. Nighttime is so much worse.

Not to be deterred, he runs after you and stops and slows once he’s caught up.

“Haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, looking you up and down. You suddenly regret wearing heels. You don’t answer but he acts as if you have.

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re here at that bar every Friday, aren’t you? Always sitting there at the counter with that short fellow, the one with the fancy hat and the jacket draped over his shoulders. Chuuya-san, you called him, right?”

You keep walking and scowl when Chuuya’s name crosses his lips. Scum like this shouldn’t have the right to talk about Chuuya like that, much less exist in the same world as him. And how dare this man call Chuuya short when he wasn’t more than a few centimeters taller than either of you.

“Hey, Missy.”

He grabs your shoulder. His tone is suddenly menacing.

“I’m talking to you here.”

“Let go of me!” you snap, tearing your shoulder away.

You turn to walk in the opposite direction but his companions are blocking the way back. In fact, they’re blocking every possible escape route you have. You spin around in a circle, only to come face to face with the man who insists on speaking with you. He smiles and you curse.

“Shit...”

He raises his scarred eyebrow. He looks amused.

“There’s no need for language like that, Missy,” he says, his tone every bit as patronizing as it is threatening. “We just want to talk to you. You see, we’re looking for ‘Chuuya-san.’ Been looking for him, in fact, for a long, long time now and we’re hoping that you can maybe help us find him. You see, we owe him a favor...”

“Well, you’re talking to the wrong person,” you spit acidly, “I haven’t seen him for several months now and even if I wanted to help you find him--which I don’t--”

You voice cracks and you swallow heavily. You hate that you’ve become so upset but that’s what the mere mention of Chuuya’s name did to you tonight. You were really hoping the bartender was right and you were absolutely crushed when he wasn’t.

“I don’t even have his phone number.”

You throw your hands up into the air, as if to indicate that you’d given up.

“So why don’t you just let me go home and we’ll forget that this whole conversation ever happened?”

The man looks at you. Stunned. Then he starts laughing.

As one, his crew starts laughing at you as well and you feel your cheeks flush in sudden rage and embarrassment.

“Look at that, she just ordered me around, didn’t she?” the man chortles, turning to his companions as if he’d just told a very funny joke. “A real spitfire, aren’t you? And a looker to boot! No wonder he spends so much time with you.”

He snaps his fingers and at once, two of his men come forward and seize you by the arms. You try to fight them off but their arms are twice as thick as yours and you’re still a little tipsy from the wine.

“Why don’t you come with us, little Missy? We’d like to have a chat with you.”

“Hey!” you snap, “Get your hands off me!”

“See, your friend, Chuuya-san,” the man says, a note of humor sneaking into his voice as he copies the way you say Chuuya’s name. “He and that pesky Port Mafia he works for... have been making things difficult for us smaller gangs in Yokohama.”

His eyes narrow.

“Unnecessarily so.”

They start dragging you away. Your efforts to fight back seem meaningless. Panic rises in your throat. You should’ve taken the bartender’s offer of hailing a cab.

“Hey! Hey!!”

You struggle and fight harder but it’s no use.

“And our boss gets the feeling they’re going to be a lot more willing to negotiate with us,” the man continues, following you as you’re pulled backwards by the arms. “If we have a proper bargaining chip.”

His lip curls into that disgusting leer.

“Especially that midget. Can’t wait to see his face after he sees you missing a few fingers.”

You stiffen. Your eyes narrow.

“You asshole...” you growl.

You shoot him a piercing glare.

How dare he talk about Chuuya--your Chuuya--like that.

“Keep Chuuya’s name out of your fucking mouth,” you spit, “you piece of shit--”

He silences you with a slap across the face and you stumble. The men behind you keep holding you up. Your cheek stings.

“Stupid bitch.”

He laughs and the men laugh with him.

“We’ll see how brave you are after we cut you up.”

As you continue to struggle, they drag you into the alley.

Tears of helpless rage fill your eyes. This was stupid. You were stupid. You should’ve just stayed away like your coworker said.

Now these assholes were going to take you away, do who-knew-what to you, and because of your own foolishness, you would never get to see Chuuya again.

You bite your lip.

Chuuya...

You’re trying not to cry.

Help me...

Just then, a harsh voice cuts through the night. It’s quiet but it rings with authority.

And barely suppressed rage.

“Let go of her.”

You stop struggling immediately. You’d know that voice anywhere.

As one, you and the men gripping you by the arms turn to look down the alleyway, where you see a lone figure standing there at the very end of the street. He is a black shape outlined against the backdrop of the downtown streets, his dark clothes bathed in the harsh blue and red glow of signs made of neon lights. His face is in shadow, but...

The lone figure wears a fancy black hat and a jacket draped over both shoulders.

Chuuya.

“Chuuya-san...!”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You want to say more. You want to call out to him, loud enough for him to actually hear but for some reason you cannot. Something’s wrong with him tonight. His very presence is unnerving and without knowing why, you begin to tremble.

“Well, look who’s here,” the man with the scar crows.

He takes a knife out of his pocket.

“Nakahara Chuuya. We’ve been looking for you. Come with us. Our boss needs to have a little talk with you. And if you don’t...”

He holds the knife at your throat. You hold your breath as it presses against your flesh.

“The Missy here gets it.”

Chuuya steps forward and out of the shadows and at once, you know why you’re suddenly afraid. You feel the men holding your arms falter.

There’s an odd red glow around Chuuya, around his entire outline. As he steps forward, his long black jacket begins to lift off his shoulders in an unseen wind, billowing around him like a cape. You think you hear something like a dull roar echoing throughout the alleyway and when Chuuya looks up, his gaze is fierce. His eyes burn like twin blue flames in the night.

This isn’t the same Chuuya who’d flirted with you at the bar.

This man is something else.

He continues towards you.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chuuya snarls, his teeth bared.

When his foot hits the pavement, it cracks underfoot. Rubble rises into the air all around him, glowing red like the aura around Chuuya’s body.

“Get.”

Another step forward. The pavement breaks yet again. It’s as if Chuuya’s weight has increased threefold when he took that second step towards you.

“Your.”

The roaring sound grows louder. More rubble rises into the air.

“Filthy.”

Chuuya’s footsteps grow heavier. He’s now leaving craters in his wake. You don’t understand how it’s happening but the rubble is now orbiting around his body like the rings of a planet.

“Hands.”

The men loosen their hold on you but they haven’t let go. Chuuya sees this and his eyes seem to glow more fiercely in the dark. He looks utterly terrifying.

“Off.”

Chuuya grabs a handful of the rubble around him and draws his hand back. He steps into a pool of dim red light and his body looks like it’s bathed in blood.

“My woman.”

He takes out a stone, flips it into the air like a coin and flicks it with his thumb.

You don’t even see it move.

There’s just a brief whistling sound and a crack.

The arm of the scarred man--the arm holding a knife to your throat--explodes in a shower of blood. Some of it splatters the front of your dress. You’re so shocked, you don’t even scream.

The man next to you, however, does.

He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his ruined arm and dropping to the his knees, his knife clattering uselessly to the ground in front of you. He’s crying and screaming about his arm, blood gushing from the stump of his elbow and into the street. The puddle inches towards your shoes.

The men holding you drop your arms and tear off into the night--the entire crew goes running back towards the street, leaving you in the middle of the alleyway between them and Chuuya.

Chuuya’s bright blue eyes narrow and he repeats his earlier movement, flicking several more stones towards the men in the alleyway with deadly precision. One by one, the men drop to the ground, their screams cut short. The last one is quicker on his feet than his companions and is just about to round the corner when Chuuya crouches down and leaps into the air.

You watch in awe, turning to follow his movements as he soars over you, gracefully arcing through the sky, his body suddenly as light as a feather. The stones follow him, continuing to orbit around him in a ring like a miniature belt of asteroids. With one flick of his wrist, several rocket towards the man who’s almost made it into the street. You turn your face away as you hear the dull, wet squelching of the stones tearing through his body, splattering his organs on the nearby buildings and sidewalk.

The man next to you is still crying and clutching his arm. He rushes past you, desperate to escape.

You can’t see Chuuya, but you know where he is.

You start towards his location but within moments, he’s in the sky again. You whirl around to see him several paces behind you, standing before the man whose arm he destroyed.

He grabs the man by the throat and slams him against the wall. Cracks appear in the drywall behind his body. Miraculously, he doesn’t pass out.

“You tell your boss,” Chuuya hisses, his tone low and menacing, “that if you try this shit again, I’ll send what’s left of his cronies back to him in a fucking bento box.”

He slams the man against the wall again.

“If you’ve got business with me or with the Port Mafia, then it stays with us. You got that?”

The man nods, tears streaming down his face.

Chuuya lets go of him at last and he crumples to the ground in a heap.

Scowling, Chuuya turns to you at last, the glow in his blue eyes suddenly fading as the red-tinted aura around him dissipates. Behind him, the scarred man scrambles to his feet and scampers off into the night.

“Chuuya--” you start but he is in no mood to let you finish.

“You,” Chuuya growls, stalking forward. “What were you doing out here so late at night? Are you an idiot? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You’re stunned. After all this time, he’s angry?

“I came looking for you,” you protest, equally bewildered and hurt by the sheer anger in his voice. “I haven’t seen you in so long and--and you never gave me a single way to find you--Chuuya, I--”

“Why would you do that?!” he roars, slamming his fist against the wall.

No crater appears, but the drywall cracks.

Chuuya grits his teeth. He seems to have difficulty looking at you. He drops his gaze and the brim of his hat falls over his eyes, obscuring his face. Bits of drywall crumble down around his gloved hand. His fist is shaking.

“Why would you try to find me?” he asks, his voice hushed.

He’s asking you this? Why is he asking you this?

“Because...”

Your hands clench into fists when Chuuya does not not look up.

Fuck.

You bite your lip, hard, so that you don’t cry.

After all this time, he won’t even look at you? After everything you’ve been through? After all this??

“You really don’t get it?” you ask quietly, holding back those hot, bitter tears.

Chuuya doesn’t answer. Still doesn’t look up.

Why won’t he look at you?

It makes you angry. Angrier than you’ve been in years. You want to scream.

“You want to know why I came looking for you?” you ask bitterly.

Chuuya inclines his head slightly, which you take to be a nod. Pissed, you take a step towards him.

“It’s because I missed you, you fucking dumbass!”

Chuuya twitches violently.

He looks up, a mixture of shock and wonder clearly visible in the depths of his deep blue eyes. He looks mesmerized by you.

He’s not moving so you take another step towards him, suddenly feeling like you’re approaching a skittish alley cat. You hold out your hands when you speak.

“Don’t you understand, Chuuya-san? I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so bad.”

You don’t care that he just maimed or even killed several people in front of you, that he has power beyond imagining and could turn his Gift on you if he so wished. He killed those men to save you.

To you, he was still Chuuya-san.

He was your Chuuya.

“I came looking for you... because you never even said goodbye. I didn’t have your phone number, or address. I don’t even know where you work or what your last name is. Chuuya, I had no way of contacting you.”

“That was the whole point,” Chuuya interrupts but you talk over him.

“So when I heard you might be here tonight,” you say, loud enough that he has to stop talking. “I had to come. I had to, you understand?”

Chuuya falls silent. His expression is contemplative, with an undercurrent of pain. His deep blue eyes are fully focused on you.

It was the same face he made the night he left the bar all those months ago.

“Chuuya-san...”

You swallow, ready to ask the question you’re afraid to hear the answer to.

“Didn’t you want to see me, too?”

But Chuuya doesn’t answer. Hot pinpricks sting your eyes. Shit. You’re going to cry.

“I see,” you say stiffly.

You gather your jacket more tightly about your body, preparing to leave.

“Sorry to have bothered you.”

You’re about to turn around and go when you see Chuuya’s fist tightening. With a start, you see his jaw tensing up. He’s gritting his teeth too. But he still doesn’t speak. You sigh.

“Goodbye,” you whisper. “Chuuya--”

“Wait.”

Chuuya rushes forward and before you can finish speaking, he’s gathered you in his arms in a fierce hug. His grip on you is so tight that you can hardly breathe.

“I did,” he whispers.

His voice is so small you can barely hear it.

“I wanted to see you too.”

“Chuuya-san...”

“The barkeep told me everything,” he growls. “He told me that you’ve been coming here almost every Friday night at our usual time. That you’ve been looking for me.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder and you reach up to comfort him. You gently pat his back.

“And waiting.”

“Chuuya-san.”

You swallow thickly.

“Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you want me looking for you? Are you...?”

You feel his arms around you tensing. He knows what you’re about to ask.

“Are you really with the Port Mafia?”

For a long, heavy moment, Chuuya doesn’t answer. But when he does, his voice sounds slightly hoarse.

“I am.”

As he speaks, you can feel his grip around you tightening, his arms wrapping more securely around your shoulders and waist, as if letting go of you would mean letting go of you for good.

“Chuuya-san...”

Your fingers slowly curl into fists against his chest and the expensive fabric of his jacket wrinkles beneath your touch.

“My full name is Nakahara Chuuya,” he whispers against your hair. “And I’m not just any member of the Port Mafia. I’m one of the executives.”

Involuntarily, you stiffen and the instant he feels your fingers twitch against his chest, Chuuya groans.

“I knew this would happen. I knew it would. Fuck.”

His arms loosen and unfold from around you. He’s pulling away.

But before he can, you reach out.

“Wait, Chuuya! Don’t go!”

You grab fistfuls of his jacket and pull on it to stop him from leaving. You bury your face in his shoulder and he stops short. You feel his sharp intake of breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t leave again.”

“H-hey...”

Chuuya’s voice is flustered and unsteady. But he doesn’t move away.

“I kept thinking about it, you know...” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel Chuuya’s black-gloved hand smoothing down your hair.

“About the way you look when you’re sitting there at the bar with me. The way you laugh when we talk. The way you look at me when we’re together. You were wonderful. Chuuya-san... You’re not a bad person, I know you’re not.”

“But I’m not a good guy,” Chuuya insists.

He drops his hand. Now he’s just standing there as you continue to cling to him. You lift your head and look right into his eyes, which widen in sudden surprise.

“I don’t care whether Chuuya-san is a good guy or a bad guy!” you exclaim. “All I know is... I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your smile.”

Chuuya stiffens. You can barely feel him breathing.

“You...” he starts, and the emotion in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You really think that?”

You nod vigorously.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I think about you all the time... Chuuya.”

I care about you...

He wraps his arms around you and, wordlessly, you do the same. For a moment, you just stand there together, locked in a silent embrace in the middle of this dark, bloodstained alleyway. You nestle your face against the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like the subtle musk and spice of an expensive cologne, like roses and gun smoke and something more, something uniquely Chuuya...

Finally he speaks.

“I can’t leave the Port Mafia, you know,” he says in an undertone, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“I know.”

In response, you hold him tighter. There’s a subtle wrenching in your gut, but you won’t let go.

“I’m not asking you to. It’s fine.”

“This isn’t going to be the last time this happens,” Chuuya protests, “You could get hurt.”

“I said it’s okay,” you insist. “Just...”

You swallow with some difficulty. You know what you’re asking and you know how selfish it is... but you can’t let go of him.

“Just let me stay by your side.”

You press yourself further into him. His body is warm, still humming with some kind of energy, but beneath that well-fitted vest, you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“Please.”

Time passes. You stay like this for what feels like hours but you aren’t willing to let go. Neither, it seems, is Chuuya. Finally, he sighs.

“I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. You can feel the low rumble of his silent laughter travel through his compact frame and despite your worry, you feel better.

“I just didn’t realize,” Chuuya murmurs, “that ‘special’ meant ‘crazy.’“

“If I’m crazy,” you laugh, “then it’s only because I’ve gone crazy for you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you even realize what you’ve said and upon hearing you, Chuuya lets out a bark of a laugh.

“You,” he cackles, “you really are something, you know that?”

His laughter fading, Chuuya loosens his hold on you. He lets you pull back just enough so that he can see your face but not enough that you can move out of his arms--not that you want to. Even in the dim lighting in this dingy alleyway, Chuuya looks so beautiful up close. His deep blue eyes gleam brightly as they stare into yours and without thinking about it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips.

And then Chuuya smiles. Really smiles.

His grin is toothy and somewhat lopsided with obvious delight, and yet, his expression still doesn’t lose any of that cool, self-assured energy you’ve come to associate with Chuuya and only Chuuya.

You smile back. Your body grows warm.

Yes. This is the smile you wanted to see. The smile you’d missed so much for the last few months that it nearly killed you to think that you might not see it again. But right now, Chuuya’s smile is different. Good different.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him looking quite so happy before.

“Chuuya...”

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as one of his hands slides down to your waist. Chuuya places two black-gloved fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Makes sense that you would be something special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “You are mine, after all.”

You close your eyes and the distance between you disappears. Chuuya’s lips are soft and sweet as they move against yours and you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his tongue ghosts over your upper lip. He feels so good and you cling to him as he deepens the kiss, pressing your body to his so tightly, you half wonder if you might be crushed by his strength.

But you like it.

You like the feel of his arms around your body, the way he grips you so tightly that his fingers dimple your flesh, the way he tastes--no wine could ever be as intoxicating as the man called Nakahara Chuuya...

When you come up for air at last, you’re both breathless.

”Wow,” Chuuya breathes, sounding just as dazed as you feel, “You’re... You’re a really good kisser...”

“So are you,” is all you manage to gasp before he dives back in for more.

As the moon rises high in the sky above you, you part at last, flushed and giddy and dizzy with joy. Chuuya takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway, back to the bar you thought was closed.

He raps on the door with one black-gloved hand, the other tightly gripping yours, and turns back to shoot you that signature cocky grin when that same mustachioed bartender opens the door at last.

“I think it’s time we call you that cab,” Chuuya laughs as he pulls you inside the warmth of the empty room. “But I’ll meet you here again tomorrow, okay? Same time as usual.”

You nod. You’re smiling so hard it almost hurts but you’re just so happy...!

“It’s a date,” you say, to which Chuuya’s grin grows only wider. “So don’t go blowing me off this time.”

Laughing, he tugs you back towards him and presses another kiss to your lips, his grin returning as soon as he pulls away. His blue eyes shine like a bright, cloudless sky.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, holding you close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #nakahara chuuya #nakahara chuuya x y/n

197 notes · View notes

dazaii-sann · 3 years

Text

CHUUYA'S BIRTHDAY FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [HE’LL BREATHE TO LIVE]

TIMELINE: STORMBRINGER EXPERIMENTED CHUUYA

"Oi! Can you hear me?" A shrill voice called out, trying to draw the attention of a certain redhead. Nakahara Chuuya is quite tired of hearing that voice every single day. Its high-pitched noise will never cease to make him cringe, with a tingling sensation creeping its way to his ears. It makes him want to gouge his eardrums out and enjoy the newly-obtained serenity in that enormous, yet cramped white room. Unfortunately, it's a closed space, allowing echoes to bounce off its walls and resonate into several repetitions. The owner of that inhumane sound attempted to land his flesh against the other's, holding his shoulders to make Chuuya face him. That's a bad decision, really. Chuuya's body acted by impulse, ruled by a certain factor of god-knows-what. He immediately shoved those hands away, not wanting to prolong its warm touch. His system formed a defensive stance, shielding oneself from a foreign feeling. Warmth? What's that thing all about? Apparently, he doesn't have any clue in his possession nor a chance to find one. He's experiencing the exact opposite of what he had hoped for. He's the materialization of a being whom he doesn't want to become. An existence full of "what-ifs," that's how an 8-year old child is living, though it can barely be called as it is. "Oh sorry… Did I surprised you?" A young boy of about the same age as him asked the obvious. The redhead maintained his defensive stance, preparing to pounce at that annoying brat when he does something funny. "That's right! I haven't introduced myself today yet." The boy stood as if he's acquainting himself to his classmates during the first day of school. He beamed at the redhead, flashing a complete set of white teeth. "I'm Keita. Don't forget it next time!"

***

He's all alone in that darkness, again. He hates it. He hates it with all his life. It's slowly sucking him into the sea of nothingness until he can no longer breathe. Screaming for help might go in vain, now that he's falling into an endless abyss to the point of no return. He's at the bottom of the sea, unreachable by the rays of the early morning. His screams for help were drowned and swept away along with the current, his voice as good as mute. Did it reach the surface? Probably not. The redhead opened his eyes, revealing its hue. It's just ironic that his eyes looked like the midday azure sky even if he hasn't seen that exact same sky straight from those orbs of his. He's inside a tank filled with mysterious liquids. A sharp stabbing pain pierced his back. He felt that something was injected into his bloodstream. Minutes later, he writhed in pain. It felt like his body was about to get tattered in pieces. His eyes went heavy and he slipped once again from consciousness. When Chuuya woke up, a room of nothing but white welcomed his sight. He's there again… so does that mean…? He panned his head to the left, then to right, and found the person he's looking for. "There you are!" The boy approached the redhead like they're each other's close companions. "Oi, oi, oi… Don't tell me that you had forgotten my name again?" "You're Keita, right?" Chuuya finally engages in a conversation with the boy he keeps on avoiding for almost a week. "Yup! That's right!" The boy's cheek flushed, his smile reached his eyes. He's really THAT happy, wasn't he? "Oh! I forgot to ask your name! So… What is it?" It seems like Keita wants to know the redhead more. Somehow, it feels so different to be with this carefree kid than those lab guys." Chuuya thought as he assesses if the boy has any ill intentions and hidden motives but came out empty-handed He cannot explain it but there's a voice yelling inside of him, saying that he could trust Keita. "It's Chuuya." The redhead replied, much to the boy's delight. Keita was about to say something but his voice was overshadowed by the researcher's screams. "It seems that they're calling you now, Chuuya-kun. I guess this is a farewell, for now." Truth be told, Chuuya doesn't want to return to that hell. Without realizing a single thing, he clutched the hem of Keita's clothes. That's when he noticed that Keita's attire is quite different than the lab gown he's wearing. It's not a scientist's nor a researcher's working clothes either. It looks modern like the one he saw in a photo. A researcher said back then that that's how a human normally wears out there. "You're not leaving, right?" That question came out of Chuuya's mouth without giving it much thought. It's the first time he had said something along those lines. All his life, he's trying to push people away from his radius. He didn't expect that the time will come when he would ask someone to linger in its vicinity. "Of course, I won't. I'll be waiting for you here!" That's the assurance the redhead badly wants to hear before the darkness takes over.

*** Opening up to Keita is one of the good things he had done in his life. After getting swallowed up by the dusk and existing in a starless night, there's dawn brimming that always greets him a good morning. For the first time, he felt at home and comfortable by someone else's company. "You know Keita… I envy you." The redhead said, staring in the middle of nowhere. "You have all the things that I don't." His warm smile. His somehow unfiltered, yet expressive mouth. The way he cares for others. That feeling of openness. The emotions sitting in his eyes. His seemingly normal life. Why can't he have it too? He was born in the darkness and in a well-lit empty room, he found a companion covered in bright rays. It's too blinding. He can't help but close his eyes and once again, plunge back into the world to which he belongs. Keita laughs. "You asshole. Just wait and you'll see. And oh! Do you know that it's my birthday today?" "Birthday? What's that?" Chuuya asked in confusion. Honest, this is the first time he heard such a thing. "Well, technically speaking, that's the date you were born. Apparently, it's celebrated annually. Holding a birthday celebration might be shallow for some but it holds something much more important. Nothing's more perfect than appreciating one's existence, saying 'thank you for being born' to the celebrant so that he too, may appreciate his own." "Hey, are you really a child?" Chuuya seemed impressed by the boy's wisdom. "Of course, I just turned 9 today!" Keita said loftily as if he's proud of what he had become. "If that’s so…" Chuuya looked at him, trying to let those words out of his throat. "Thank you… For being born." Keita was taken aback by Chuuya’s words. He panned his head opposite Chuuya’s line of sight, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I hope that I could say that thing to myself too… Maybe one day. For sure." Chuuya said absent-mindedly, head panning above the plain ceiling. "By the way, what date is it today?" Keita was brought back to reality by that question. "Now that you mentioned it, It's April twenty nin-"

***

His body is floating… In an artificial body of water enclosed in a cylindrical tube. He’s back there again, to his hell, to his nightmare. Wait, nightmare? He wants to laugh his ass off. He can’t dream. It’s just him and his thoughts lost in the dimness of the night. Somehow, he’s afraid to fall asleep. If he lowers his guard down, someone’s going to take over him and he will cease being a human. No… He doesn’t want that. In this world where staying as you are is a grave mistake, can’t he just transgress that nonsensical belief and live as himself? Wait… Where’s Keita? Perhaps, he’s still in that white room. But where’s that white room exactly? There’s no reason to panic at all. He’s just there, waiting for me, like what he used to do. Or at least, that’s what Chuuya wants to believe. There’s this strange feeling inside of him, that he might not be able to see him again. “Hello, Chuuya-kun!” That voice… It’s Keita’s! And there he was, standing before him outside the tank, hands touching the glass container as if he’s trying to reach the redhead. “Don’t worry, those researchers can’t see me. You’re the only one who can anyway.” W-what? “Alright. I’ll keep this short. My time is running.” Keita looked straight into Chuuya’s eyes. They unbelievably share the same shade of blue. Chuuya’s brain formed a question by itself: “Who are you Keita?” “You are me and I am you.” Chuuya’s eyes went wide. What was that supposed to mean? “I only exist in your mind, perhaps because of the medicines they kept on injecting into you.” Keita’s not lying. His sincere tone is the incriminating proof. “The white room? It’s also a figment of your mind, a representation of the world you yearn for. A spacious, tranquil world of light.” The redhead didn’t expect any of this. He wanted to curse the world… for deceiving him once again. He thought that he already had someone to stay by his side but it turns out that no one’s actually there the whole time. “But you already have yourself.” Keita beamed at Chuuya. That smile… maybe that’s the last time he could see it. “Not that if you would look at a mirror.” “No… That’s not me, but a reflection of a monster.” “Monster? But you look like a human to me.” Words fly through each other’s minds without even uttering a single letter. A white light starts to chip off the remaining life of Keita, distorting his image in Chuuya’s sight. “I had already fulfilled my purpose… and that’s to shed some light unto you. I’m not needed here anymore.” Chuuya’s everything blur, tears mixing with the tank’s strange liquid. The scientists and researchers start to shout things like “emotional instability” and such but who cares? “When you had acknowledged my existence back then, I felt so happy! Not for myself, but for you. Chuuya…” The redhead shuddered. It’s the first time Keita said his name without the honorifics. “… Thank you… for being grateful for being born. Please, keep on living.” The white light shone with much greater intensity. The light seems to merge with Keita, taking the boy away with its particles. Keita turned his back, slowly vanishing along with the glimmer. "W-wait! Don’t go!” Words remained unspoken, but he’s hoping that Keita heard it as clear as day. “Oh! Before I forget it!” He smiled at Chuuya for the last time before the light completely erased all the remaining traces of his existence. “Happy Birthday, Chuuya! Thank you… for being born.”

***

"Please, keep on living." What is living anyway? How can you say you're living? He doesn't know… Because that right was taken away from him the moment he came into existence. Perhaps, he might not be able to fulfill that promise made between him and an afterimage of his longing to live a normal human life. No… it's not as simple as that. It’s a promise between himself and the person he wants to become… That he'll live no matter how hard it is to stay. Grasping its concept will surely take some time. He knows it. But he'll wait. He'll wait until someone comes to save him, to hold his trembling wrist with a tender touch, and to pull him out of that emptiness before black completely devours the remaining humanity he keeps on holding onto, clenching it ever so tightly. He'll wait until someone acknowledges him as a human being, a human worthy to harbor a heart and those so-called conflicting, yet beautiful emotions swirling inside of one's chest. He'll endure it for a little bit… because he's still him, not the entity people want to use as a weapon or tool that could be disposed of once he had already served his purpose. Maybe his anticipation might go to waste. Maybe waiting for that day when he could finally taste freedom from the shackles of his cruel life is just futile. Maybe there's actually no one to wait for. Then what's the point of holding onto that glimmer of hope? The light he's longing to be embraced with might be just a fragment of his delusional and desperate self but he clearly saw its distant flicker, and he cannot go back to not knowing. Whether it's fake or genuine… It doesn't matter anymore to a young boy who's craving to be bathed in its unfamiliar warmth. He might not experience how to truly live today, tomorrow, and the days after that… But at least, he'll breathe… until someone makes him feel alive.

-END-

#bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #bungo stray dogs #happy birthday chuuya

4 notes · View notes

send-allmyloving · 4 years

Note

this is steph, pls that chuuya au! i need it 😭😭

Hiii steph!!

To everyone else: basically this is my moot who was listening to “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” and I instantly thought of a singer!reader with pianist!Chuuya who meet at the Bar Lupin, and after falling in love Chuuya confesses to reader with that song! There will be two parts to this; this is part 1.

Enjoy :)

A typical Friday night at the Bar Lupin was nothing without its pianist, Nakahara Chuuya. The peaceful atmosphere was kept perfectly in sync with its customers as the jazz melodies floated out from the piano keys. Chuuya was a pro at keeping the guests feeling laid-back while simultaneously kept engaged by his wondrous piano skills and of course, for the younger ones-- his good looks, which have especially been popular among the ladies.

Of course, there was always the singular exception from his audience whom would catch his eye after each final chord was stricken, and each time he looked at them, he felt his heart leap out of his chest. He could barely keep his composure together when he was around them, there was just something so... beautifully charming about them. Maybe it was the way their laughter echoed around the room like music, or maybe it was their smile that could outshine a thousand symphonies. Whatever it was, he was intrigued; he had to know more.

Which is why the next time he saw them, he didn’t hesitate moving straight towards them as they chatted away happily with the bartender, unaware of the redhead making his way their direction.

That was, until they heard a deep voice speak to them:

“Fancy seeing a lovely one like you around here. You look quite splendid tonight especially, y’know?”

You turned around in a start, coming face to face with the attractive young pianist that was leaning against the counter, facing you with a flirtatious grin. Your cheeks became dusted a light shade of crimson as you registered the words that came out of the pianist’s mouth, feeling your face grow even warmer as he smirked at your flustered expression.

God, he was hot.

“At a loss of words, are we now, baby?”

You swore your heart did a somersault right then. baby?

“U-um...”

Quite frankly so, you were at a loss of words. You would have never expected the Nakahara Chuuya, the handsomest pianist you’ve ever laid your eyes on, conversing with you-- no, flirting with you.

What the fuck were you supposed to say?

He smirked, pushing himself off the counter and taking a seat next to you, leaning his elbow against the counter. “Can I buy you a drink? Of course, you can say no, but I just thought it would only be fair to treat a pretty young thing like you to something nice for the night. Whaddya say?” he asked, an irresistible, syrupy-sweet tone saturating his gorgeously baritone voice.

Jesus. Why was he so damn smooth?

“I-I mean... you could, but...” you trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves as you looked down.

“But?”

You looked back up at him, feeling your skin grow even hotter as he arched an eyebrow at you questioningly.

“B-but I’m... I’m trying to take it easy on the alcohol tonight... so...” you stammered, voice timid as you avoided his piercing blue eyes.

A stifled chuckle. You glanced back at him, worried you might have said something ridiculous.

Who were you kidding... that was ridiculous. Who would come to a bar and say they were “taking it easy on the alcohol?”

Chuuya let out a hearty laugh, then tapped the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “A glass of apple juice for the pretty one here, is that alright with you, sweetheart?” he said, a grin on his face. You swore you saw a glimmer of adoration in his eyes, but it was too subtle for you to distinguish when you just felt like you’d been mocked. You nodded quietly, brushing back a tuft of hair behind your ear sheepishly as you looked down at your lap.

“Hey, eyes up here, darlin’,” he said softly. You looked back up apprehensively, worried that he would say something that would make you feel even worse.

“I was just playing, gorgeous. It was just cute of you to say, is all,” he said with a gentle smile, removing his gloves before taking your hand into his. His palms were rough, but warm, and significantly larger than yours. He raised it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the back of your palm. You felt your heart speed up to what seemed like a million beats per second, and you were pretty much frozen in place because how does anyone prepare for a sexy pianist to casually walk up to them and just start flirting, and then kiss their hand?

“What’s your name, angel?” he murmured, curious blue eyes meeting yours as he slipped his gloves back on. He placed a gloved palm onto your cheek, making sure that you were gazing straight into his eyes that sparkled like a summer lake. He was... stunning.

“(N-Name)”, you stuttered out, your fists gripping tightly to the fabric of your slacks. Your mind was way too occupied to even notice the glass of juice being placed at your side by the bartender. He’s so close, you thought, your mind racing with what on Earth you were supposed to do next. Should you run? Should you slap him? Kiss him? You had no idea.

“(Name),” he whispered, his fingers trailing absentmindedly through a lock of your hair as he stared at you. “Pretty name for such a pretty thing. Say, (Name), are you a singer?”

Your eyes widened at the sudden question. Yes, in fact, you did sing, but why would he ask that now? Did he want you to sing with him? Was he going to ask you to sing right now? Or was he going to make a lewd joke about how you must sound in bed? Or--

“(Name)? You alright, darlin’?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he noticed the frantic look in your eyes. “Sorry, is that a touchy subject?”

“N-no! No! It’s fine, I just... I got a bit surprised, sorry,” you said hastily, shaking your head to indicate that he didn’t say anything wrong. The last thing you needed to do was make such a gentleman like him feel ashamed.

“I... I do sing, yes. But... I’m not really confident about it...” you said reluctantly, biting your lip as you looked away, drumming your fingers nervously against your lap.

He hummed in understanding, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Well, I just wondered, since you have such a lovely voice when you speak. I’ve always wanted to perform with a singer, you know,” he said warmly, his gloved hand caressing your cheek, the cool leather feeling soothing against your skin.

“O-oh.” So that’s why he asked. Well, at least one of your guesses was right; he did want you to sing with him.

“I bet you have a fantastic voice, angel. Can I hear a little bit, hm? I wanna get a sneak peak to see what I’m workin’ with,” he murmured, drawing back his hand with a slightly eager look on his face, expectant to see what you had in store for him.

You hesitated. “I... I really don’t sound that good,” you muttered.

Chuuya grinned. “Those who are modest are the best at what they do, is what Oji-san always told me. Now you’re really making me wanna hear you. Come on!” he encouraged, taking your hand once more and giving you a coaxing squeeze.

You sighed. Well, when you ask like that, what else can I do?

“Well... what do you want me to sing?”

He leaned forward, a playful smile on his handsome face, his long orange hair falling further over his shoulder. “A little love song, would be nice,” he said, his hand that was still holding yours intertwining your fingers together. “Maybe... ‘So This Is Love’ by Ilene Woods? Y’know, the Cinderella Song? I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he said, a hint of an impish grin dancing along his lips.

God, what a little flirt. Too bad you couldn’t really get mad, your heart was busy doing cartwheels on its own, and your thoughts were rushing through your head like summer wind gusts.

You took a shaky breath, and he gave your hand another reaffirming squeeze.

You began to sing. As the first line left your lips, Chuuya’s breath hitched.

So this is love, mmm...

It was like heaven’s door opened up on him. Were you an angel? How else was such a divine voice spilling through your lips?

So this is what makes life divine

He felt like his heart was soaring. The melody that you sang made Chuuya feel like he was bathing in the nectar of the gods, that their was an eternal ray of sunshine that he could only feel. Were you a manifestation of Aphrodite? Was this why he felt so drawn to you, why he felt so entranced? Because goodness, he didn’t want to stop listening at all.

My heart has wings, mmm

And I can fly

I’ll touch every star in the sky

You weren’t just stunning, or beautiful, no. You were radiant. Your voice was heavenly, and he was considered worthy of having the honor of listening to it at his request.

He couldn’t stop staring. He felt his mouth hanging open in awe; he didn’t care. He was mesmerized. How could someone be so... so lovely?

So this is love...

Ah... so this was love indeed. Love at first sight, perhaps. Even after you had finished singing, and you were shyly telling him to stop gaping at you like that, which he eventually did, he was still struck speechless by how absolutely amazing you were, how musically gifted you were. How dare you talked down about your talent like that. He was so in love, with your voice, your beauty, your everything, and whatever else you had in store, he just had to know. He wanted to know all about you; he wanted you to be his, he wanted to be yours.

“Chuuya?” you quietly called to him, tugging the sleeve of his jacket. “Are you okay?”

Chuuya turned back to you, and beamed. He took both your hands, and planted a kiss to your forehead. “Your voice is beautiful, angel. Words can’t describe how amazing your talent is. Be my singer, hm? Perform with me.” he murmured to you, a glimmer in his eyes that seemed quite familiar to you.

Yep, that was definitely a look of adoration.

You smiled softly at him, nodding. You were intrigued with him too. You knew he wasn’t just some playboy freak who wanted a one night stand. He was dashing, yes, but you knew there was much more to him than just his striking looks and his jazz pianist skills. You wanted to dive deeper into the life of this musician. Right, maybe you had a slight crush on him, something you were sure would grow stronger. You wanted to know every part of him, and this was for sure a big first step.

He smiled back at you, a light chuckle slipping out of his mouth as he cupped your face, almost lovingly.

“Perfect.”

// Part 1 is done!! Get ready for Part 2~~

#chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bsd chuuya scenarios #chuuya scenarios #chuuya scenario #pianist!chuuya #pianist!chuuya x singer!reader #bsd fluff #chuuya fluff #chuuya bsd #bsd x reader #bsd scenario #bsd scenarios #musicians au #bsd musicians au

49 notes · View notes

yellowcanna · 5 years

Text

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi)

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

┏━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━┓

◅ PREV MAIN NEXT ▻

┗━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━┛

CHAPTER 3

TALES FROM 14 YEARS (PART 2)

When midnight fell over the city, a huge blond man wearing blue, yellow and red spandex could be seen walking down the quiet street.

Toshinori—no, he was All Might now. The No.1 Hero looked at the windows that were lit up around him.

He had never experienced such a quiet night in a populated place before. While this was what he has been fighting for all this time, actually experiencing was something else. Hearing some noises, All Might brought his eyes back down to see an elderly couple walking by. The old lady was using a walker while the old man was using a cane. All Might stepped aside, turning his body so that his large frame wouldn't block their path.

The two elders thanked him with warm smiles on their faces. All Might smiled back. He watched two go, feeling a bit uneasy. He felt a sense of responsibility to escort them home. After all, night time was never dangerous, especially with Villains lurking in the shadows.

All Might had to remind himself that this wasn't the outside world. Just one look and he could tell these two elder couples must come out for a nighttime stroll a lot. There wasn't a single fear or wariness on their faces.

All Might looked around the buildings that were filled with people resting in their homes.

He needed to get away from the residential area.

All Might sucked in a deep breath.

It was time.

Gathering power into his legs, he darted swiftly into a nearby alley.

He ran through the maze of the city, having memorized every single road as he headed for his destination. He made sure to keep his pace slow, just so his pursuers can catch up.

He eventually came out into a wide street filled with factories on both sides.

He ran until he found the place he was looking for.

With a huge leap, he soared into the air and landed at the center of a construction zone. The entire place had been sealed off to prevent people from coming near.

All Might took a deep breath before he shouted, “I know you’re there!”

His voice echoed into the quiet night.

His enemies didn’t keep him waiting.

A loud buzzing sound vibrating the air as helicopters flew out from behind buildings. They covered the night sky; each helicopter was armed with a machine gun with a shooter already in position. Strong headlight shot down from the helicopters, lighting the entire construction ground as men in black suits appeared. They swiftly surrounded the premise, armed with assault rifles with the muzzles aimed at their target.

All Might watched as the men in black suits parted before him, revealing a man in his forties dressed in long black coat and brown scarf.

“Greetings.” The man greeted, walking forward with his hands behind his back. “My name is Hirotsu Ryuurou, Commander of Port Mafia’s assassination team—the Black Lizard.”

All Might didn’t move. He just continued to stare at the man, watching for any move he might make. With his lack of knowledge in Abilities, the Hero had to be extra careful to all of his surroundings.

“It is not every day we get an honorable guest like yourself visiting our humble city. My apologies for being unable to present you with better a welcoming party.”

“I think you got together a grand party already.” All Might replied.

The man raised his hand. With a snap of his fingers, two silhouettes emerged from behind him.

All Might’s smile nearly broke at the sight of two children—a girl and a boy. The red-haired girl looked to be another twelve years old while the brown-haired boy appeared older, but a child nonetheless.

“Allow me to introduce, they are Kouyou and Kajii, our Port Mafia’s latest addition. They will be your opponents for tonight.”

“YOU—!” Toshinori gritted out, eyes burning with rage but the two children had already sprung into action.

“Ability: Golden Demon!" The girl called out, drawing a katana as a crimson woman appeared behind her, wielding a similar blade.

“YAHOOO!!” The boy cheered as he threw out a bunch of lemons—no, those weren’t lemons!

Gathering power into his legs, Toshinori leaped into the sky. The Hero held back most of his strength so that he wouldn’t get too close to those helicopters circling the sky. The moment those lemons scattered over the ground where he once stood, they exploded.

Dirt was blasted all over the air as dark smoke created by the explosions covered the construction site.

All Might landed back onto his feet and looked around the smoke obscuring his vision. His clenched his fists in anger. To think the Port Mafia will go as far as using such young children against him in a fight!

He looked around cautiously. He knew these children were just a distraction. The Port Mafia had counted on the fact that he wouldn’t be able to hurt them. While these children drew his attention away, the real enemy must be hiding somewhere, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

Sensing something coming at him from behind, All Might jumped to the side as a katana thrust by him, missing him by half a meter. The little lady clutching onto the katana didn’t falter. Instead, she flipped her blade around and instantly changed the course of her attack. When All Might dodged that as well, she jumped back and vanished into the smokescreen.

All Might frowned, unable to keep his smile just from what he saw. Had he not dodged, the girl’s blade would have pierced his heart the first time, and split open his throat the second time. Every move the girl made was to take his life. There was absolutely no hesitation in her movement.

And what’s more, the moment All Might met the girl’s gaze, he saw intense bloodlust spilling from those ruby red eyes…

As much as All Might didn’t want to think about it, this girl was used to battle. Or rather, she was used to killing. His right hand curled into a tight fist.

“Texas Smash!”

He punched the air, the power of his fist created a strong gust of wind and blasted the smoke away.

“Hya!” The red-haired girl screamed as she was blown back, but thankfully the creature she made caught her protectively within its arms.

All Might had purposely lowered his power. He didn't want to risk harming the girl, and if he used any more strength he was also wary of those helicopters over his head. He hadn’t thought they would bring out helicopters…this was bad.

The No.1 Hero wasn't worried about the guns on the helicopters. What made him worried were just them being there. From the map and what he saw on his way here, this place is filled with power plants and warehouses for dangerous chemicals. If he accidentally knocked one of these helicopters down from the sky and hit one of these warehouses, it might cause explosions. He couldn't risk that, not when he has no idea if there were any civilians around. That was the whole purpose of leading these people here, so innocent people wouldn't get involved.

“Golden Demon, eliminate him!”

All Might swiftly leaped back and dodged the creature that had appeared over his head and slashed its sword at him. He didn’t know what will happen to the girl if he destroyed this creature.

Will she suffer the same damage as her creature?

Will she receive any backlash if this creature was to disappear?

With those thoughts in mind, All Might once more has to control his strength. His first lightly collided into the creature’s gut, sending it hurling backward. Blue eyes instantly shifted to the girl who didn’t seem to feel anything as she rushed towards him with her sword.

Not connected then, that makes things easier.

On the sideline of the battle, Hiroshi observed the way the Pro Hero so carefully fought with Kouyou.

“Truly frightening…” He mumbled with a hint of awe in his voice.

Everything was going according to how the boy said it would. Right from the start, the Hero was fighting while holding back his strengths. He didn’t even realize the changes his body was already going through. Perhaps even now, he was still waiting for his real opponents to show up.

The No.1 Hero on the Hero Billboard Chart…such a pity.

Hirotsu pulled out a golden pocket watch, taking a glimpse of the time and raised a hand.

The men surrounding the perimeter raised their guns and took aim at their target.

All Might who had kept a close eye to these men naturally didn’t miss this. His eyes widened as he watched the man, Ryuurou Hirotsu, brought his hand down. Sounds of gunfire shook the ground as bullets pierced through the air, coming right at the Hero and the young girl.

All Might quickly grabbed the girl, dislodging her katana and ducked behind a stack of steel beams. It was at that moment that searing hot pain blossomed from his abdomen. He looked down to see a dagger halfway buried into his flesh. On the end of the dagger's hilt was a pair of small hands, shaking as they tried to push the blade through the hard muscles.

“Stop, you don’t have to do this.” All Might tried to calm the girl down with one hand holding the blade of the dagger, preventing the girl from pushing any deeper. He smiled, trying to show the child how he meant no harm.

However, when the girl saw his smile, she only smirked. She let go of the hilt and jumped back.

“NO!” All Might shouted. Ignoring the blade half stuck inside him, he darted forward, reaching for the girl who was falling towards the rain of bullets.

“Golden Demon!” The crimson creature appeared, materializing behind the girl as it unsheathed its sword and swung it down towards him.

All Might held up an arm over his head. He tightened his muscles as searing hot pain shot up his arm. He bit down and endured it, sacrificing his arm to block the blade so that his other arm could reach out for the girl.

But despite all that, the girl was falling further and further away from her. No matter how hard All Might tried, he couldn’t reach her.

Why?

All Might’s mind almost went blank as he stared at his quivering hand that was so far from the girl.

Something was wrong.

He should be able to move faster.

He should be able to reach her.

So why?

Why was that girl still so far away?

Why wasn’t he reaching her already?”

“AAAAH!” All Might roared, as if by doing so he'll miraculously gain the energy he needed to propel himself forward and reach the girl.

The girl looked back at him, that condescending smirk still on her face. There wasn't the slightest bit of fear on her face at the concept of death. With a flip in the air, she landed gracefully out in the opening.

The air instantly became silent.

It was as if the thundering sound of bullets a split second ago was nothing but a dream.

All Might was dumbfounded by the sudden change. He didn’t even realize when the girl’s summon creature had disappeared, leaving only a deep cut in his arm. The girl turned around, throwing him one last smirk before she darted away.

“HEY OLD MAN!!” A voice echoed from the sky as a dark shadow cast over the man.

All Might looked up in surprise. Through the bright light shining down from the helicopters, he saw a figure dropping towards him at a dangerous pace.

It was that boy!

“Which one do you believe?!” The child shouted with a gleeful look on his face. “When you die, do you see God, or does God not exist at all?!"

And then, All Might watched in horror as lemon-like grenades poured down from the helicopters.

“WHY DON’T WE FIND OUT TOGETHER?! AHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Bastards!” All Might cursed the Port Mafia from the bottom of his heart. He gathered strength into his legs and leaped into the air.

He had wanted to snatch the boy and fly away from this construction zone, away from these helicopters, away from Port Mafia…but reality was he didn’t. He had used all of his strength, but he only just barely reached the boy. He wrapped his arms around the boy, watching in surprise as the muscles in his arms began to thin down.

His Quirk has deactivated!

The sound of explosions pierced his eardrums as heat scorched his body. He held the boy tightly in his arms, using his body to shield him even as he hit the ground with grenades raining over him. Pain blossomed from all over his body. All Might couldn’t even think, all he knew was the scorching pain, yet despite all that he held the boy under him, desperately trying to keep him safe.

He didn’t know how long the explosions lasted for.

It could be seconds.

It could be minutes.

It could be hours.

By the time it ended, All Might was laying on the ground. His hero costume was pretty much destroyed with the blackened flesh underneath still sizzling. He coughed out a mouthful of blood, weakly opening an eye to see the boy he had protected crawling out from beneath him and tossing his battered hand away.

“Kehahahaha, just kidding~” The boy, completely unharmed even down to his cloth, laughed at the Hero’s stupidity. "My Ability, Lemon Bomb, is to not take any damages from any lemon-shaped bombs! Lemons! They are wonderful, don’t you think?! KUAHAHAHA!!”

All Might’s lips tremble, but he couldn’t speak. His vocal core must have been destroyed…or perhaps it was his lungs…he couldn’t tell anymore.

"I made those bombs myself!" The boy boasted, not caring if the charred man on the ground could hear him or not. "I even added that special gas that you Quirk users loved so much!”

Gas?

“…but to think that would lower the explosiveness…I must—…refine…da…”

All Might could no longer hear the rest of the boy’s words. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat steadily getting slower and slower. His visions were slowly being consumed by black spots, like insects chewing away a film. The immense heat that was burning his body away began turning into bitter coldness. Every passing second, All Might could feel his life leaking from his body and pooling beneath him.

Was this how he will end? No, he can’t.

He hasn't defeated All for One yet.

He hasn't found a successor for One for All either.

He can’t let it end like this.

Damn it.

Damn it all…

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Toshinori never expected to open his eyes again. He hadn't even expected that he could still be alive with that kind of injuries. Yet here he was, alive and well, without a single scratch on his body.

The pain and suffering felt like a dream. Nothing of this feels real at all. If anything, the whole trip to Yokohama felt like a dream, if not for the fact that he currently seated on a chair in the center of a dark room. The only light source in the room was the strange cubical energy surrounding his hands and feet.

Toshinori tried to move, but he couldn’t budge an inch. His hands were tightly secured against the armrest and his feet to the floor. Whatever these yellowish lights are, Toshinori found himself powerless against it. Someone was standing behind him, but all Toshinori could see of that person were the gloved hands hovering beside him, emitting the same light as these shackles holding him down.

This must be an Ability user.

Toshinori couldn’t tell if his Quirk was still working properly, but these things binding him were strong. He has a sinking feeling that even with One for All, he still won’t be able to break through these confinements.

“Exactly eight o’clock.” A voice spoke from across the room.

Toshinori looked up to see a man sitting behind a wooden desk. He was mostly hidden within the shadows, Toshinori knew this must be the Port Mafia’s Boss. This man was giving off a dangerous aura so similar to All for One that it made his stomach lurch.

“I have been waiting for you, eighth holder of One for All.”

Toshinori’s eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath.

How…?

“Randou-kun, leave us. I would like to have a talk with him.”

“Yes, boss.” A voice spoke from behind him, confirming that the man before him was indeed the boss.

The light around his hands and feet vanished as those gloved hands disappeared out of Toshinori’s sight. Despite being freed, Toshinori sat still. He knew he couldn’t move recklessly. Not without confirming whether or not his Quirk was working properly again.

Just from the power of that Ability user holding him down, he knew he was outmatched. The Mafia Boss himself must also be an Ability user as well. He had to act carefully if he wants to leave this place in one piece.

It was only when the sound of the door closing could be heard that Toshinori gave the Mafia Don his full attention.

"I can see you have questions to ask." The man hummed, folding his white-gloved hands over his desk.

“How do you know about One for All?” Toshinori demanded while testing out his body’s function. Everything felt normal.

“You One for All successors seemed to make it your business to come into our city every generation.” The man sighed as if it was something extremely troubling for him. “If we do not allow you into our city, you will start wrecking our barrier, that’s why I decided to invite you in.”

“Invite…?” Toshinori tried to think back to how he had entered the city. It was that crack in the barrier underwater that he…

“That crack in the barrier was made by you!” It wasn’t a question, because the moment Toshinori spoke out loud, he knew he was right.

From the very beginning, it was a trap!

When looking for a way into the city, Toshinori did tons of researches. He looked through the barrier’s history, ran a marathon around the city, dive underwater and even tried digging underground nonstop for three days, just to see where the barrier would end.

In the end, he came to the same conclusion that all those that had researched the barrier came to.

The barrier protecting Yokohama is spherical. Which means—there was no opening.

With that fact confirmed, Toshinori decided to go with Plan B, which is to break the barrier down with pure force! However, he had to do it in a place where the people in the city wouldn’t be alarmed, and the best place for that would be in the water.

He bought a full set of diving gears and a year's worth of oxygen tanks. He swam around the barrier. Due to not being able to see what's on the other side, he had to be cautious. There was no telling when the enemy may spot him.

It took him a full week of living with the fishes until he found a small, barely noticeable crack in the barrier. Knowing this was the breakthrough he needed, he quickly began to work. He started pounding on the barrier carefully with his fist. He didn’t dare to do it too hard, fearing it might alarm the Port Mafia or worst—create a tsunami.

After two days of nonstop pounding, Toshinori finally made a hole big enough for his body to squeeze through.

Never did he suspect that crack would be a trap. It was too small and too unnoticeable that he brushed off the possibility. But if he thought of it from another angle, that was what made that crack the perfect bait for intruders. Usually, baits should be something more noticeable. Otherwise, how else would the enemies notice? But these people did the opposite.

They made it nearly impossible to find so that only those looking for a way in would find eventually come across it.

“The last One for All successor that came into our city was twenty-seven years ago. I believe she was the seventh. I’m sure you are familiar with her.” Even from the shadows, Toshinori could see the grin on the Mafia boss’s face.

His teacher had come to Yokohama?

Why hadn’t he ever heard of it?

“Tell me, what is it that you seek within our city?” The Port Mafia boss asked as he slowly stood up. “Did you come to stop crimes? Did you come to save innocent civilians? Or perhaps you have come to take down the Port Mafia and free Yokohama to the outside world?”

Toshinori didn’t speak. He just continued to glare at the man.

"All you Heroes are like that. You come into our home, intrude on us with your beliefs without bothering to understand the circumstances of this city. The Port Mafia is what's been maintaining order within Yokohama. What do you think will happen to this city if we are gone?"

“Maintaining order?” Toshinori narrowed his eyes. “Forcing children to fight is also a way to maintain order?”

The Boss of the Mafia chuckled as if finding his anger amusing.

“You heroes never fail to amuse me.” He hummed. “Despite all the Villain activities going on in your world, you’re still so naïve and ignorant. Your belief in your so-called justice is so strong that you only see things in black and white. As result, you became incapable of seeing colours.”

“How many people did those children killed?”

“Hm?” The Mafia boss turned to him as if he didn't hear his question properly.

“How many did you make them kill?”

“Well now…do you remember how many ants you stepped on when going outside?” The Mafia boss questioned back. It was then that Toshinori saw those dull red eyes, staring at him coldly without a fraction of emotion.

Anger rushed through his veins as the No.1 Hero flew out of his seat. His Quirk activated, his body buffed up and his fist pulled back. In an instant, he was in front of the man, about to smash his fist into the other's head when suddenly, One for All deactivated.

Toshinori halted in his track.

The deactivation of his Quirk was one reason, but the second was the feeling of a cold sharp tip resting at the center of his throat. His breath hitched. He couldn't even swallow, as the pointed object was positioned just below his Adam's apple. The American didn't know what weapon was nipping his throat, but the Mafia Boss before him was emitting a pressuring aura as he gazed at the Hero with a light smile on his face.

“Sit back down.” It wasn’t a request, but a command. “Showing violence in front of a child wouldn’t be very heroic now would it?”

Child?

Toshinori slowly backed away and lowered his fist. The Mafia boss retracted his hand, and it was then that Toshinori finally saw the weapon the man had used.

It was a surgery knife.

Never in his entire Hero career has he ever seen or heard of anyone using these as weapons. Even with his trained eyesight, he couldn’t see when the Mafia Boss had pulled out his weapon. The only thing that even alerted him of danger was that flicker of silver before the blade kissed his skin.

Toshinori stepped back, only to feel something tugging against his right leg. Cautiously, while keeping his senses on the enemy, Toshinori spared a glance and was shock by what he saw.

A small and frail little kid was gripping onto his leg with those tiny quivering hands. Toshinori couldn’t see the child’s face as from his angle he could only see that mass of messy raven locks. However, from the way the boy was trembling and how he was covered in bandages, Toshinori instantly stood in front of the child, shielding him from the eyes of the Port Mafia Boss.

He didn’t know why a boy like this was here, but he has no doubt this was another one of this man’s trick.

The Mafia boss broke into laughter at the sight.

Toshinori’s hands rolling into fists as he tried to activate his Quirk again, but still nothing. What exactly was going on?

“I am finding the fact that the outside world still hasn’t been taken over by Villain very peculiar.” The Mafia Boss chuckled.

“How many children have you Port Mafia been keeping?” Toshinori asked. He has no interest in talking in circles with this man. All he wanted to know was if there were more children like this boy and those two kids he faced in the Port Mafia.

“Oh? I would have thought you’d be more interested to know the reason of your Quirk’s deactivation.” The Port Mafia said back.

Toshinori didn’t say anything. Yes, he was concerned about that, but he doubted the Mafia boss would tell—

“You were injected with Quirk suppressants, as well as inhaling a large quantity of Quirk suppressant gas.”

“What?” Toshinori’s eyes widened in shock.

Quirk…suppressant?

“Did you think Yokohama wouldn’t develop any weapons against outsiders?”

All Might thought back to that red-haired girl. He remembered the way she smirked at him after stabbing him in the abdomen. His hand unconsciously moved to where he was stabbed.

That’s right…it was right after that his Quirk started weakening.

That was why the girl smiled like that. All along, her only job was to stab him with her blade. But Toshinori had grabbed the blade. He didn’t feel anything smeared on the metallic surface, so that could only mean…

It was inside the dagger. That was why the girl kept pushing the dagger! She wasn't trying to push it deeper into his body; she was injecting the Quirk suppressant into him!

As for the gas…

Toshinori remembered the boy with grenades in the shape of lemons. He vaguely remembered the boy saying something about putting the gas into those grenades before passing out.

So those grenades he threw right at the beginning already decided everything...

And to think that Toshinori only figured all this out now.

“Tell me, Hero.” The Port Mafia boss said as the wall behind him began to move.

Toshinori stepped back, reaching down to gently push the petite boy back as he watched pieces of wall slide up one by one.

The morning pale light flooded into the room, chasing the shadows away as Toshinori stared at the huge panels of windows behind the Mafia Boss. The sudden exposure to such strong light made Toshinori squint his eyes, but never once did he turn his attention away from the dangerous criminal before him.

With his back facing the light, the Port Mafia boss was completely covered in shadows as he regarded the Hero with those red eyes.

"Do you see children as liabilities? Do you see them as weak and fragile beings that need your protection?"

“What are you trying to say?” Toshinori gritted his teeth.

“What do you think will happen to this city once we are gone?” The Mafia Don then asked, turning to the window with his hands behind his back. He wasn’t even the slightest bit concerned whether or not the Hero would use this opening to attack him.

Toshinori blinked a couple of times to get accustomed to the light. When his eyes finally adjusted, the first thing he saw was the blue sky and the city of Yokohama. The blond took in the peaceful and undisturbed city.

There was no explosion, no smoke rising out from the distance…nothing.

“The answer is simple.” The Port Mafia glanced back at the blond, crimson eyes meeting the Hero’s ocean blue ones. It was at this very moment that Toshinori has finally gotten a clear view of the enemy.

The man was quite young, looking to be in his early thirties with chin length-black hair slicked back over his head with two bangs hanging on the side. He wore a set of black suit with a black trench coat and maroon scarf hanging around his neck.

He was looking at the Hero with a mixture of bemusement and mockery. It was the gaze of someone looking down upon another that is below them.

"When Port Mafia falls, every organization lurking in the shadows of this city will fight to obtain absolute control. Battles will occur and lives, including innocent ones, will be lost. Orders will no longer exist. The idiotic bunch may even open Yokohama's barrier, wanting to use their Abilities to conquer the world. What do you think will happen to your world if that happens?”

Toshinori wanted to say something back, but he couldn’t.

What organization was this man talking about?

What order exactly did he mean keeping Yokohama in place?

“Yes, you cannot answer, because you never thought about consequences.” The Mafia boss ridiculed. “In the outside world, defeating Villain means justice. There are never consequences for Heroes to defeat Villains, as your Villains do not play a role in your society.”

The Mafia boss looked sharply at the No.1 Hero.

"Since you cannot answer I will answer for you. The moment the barrier of Yokohama falls, your world will come to an end. If you think this barrier exists to protect us from the outside, then you are sorrowfully mistaken. This barrier exists for the protection of you outsiders.”

Toshinori shook slightly as the blood in his veins turned cold as a scary realization dawned him.

“There are countless Ability users within Yokohama that can end the outside world as simple as a snap of their fingers. The only reason they hadn’t is due to Yokohama’s barrier and the fact that all these individuals have zero interest in your world. But that is only if your world doesn’t interfere with ours.”

Toshinori felt cold.

Never did he ever felt like what he does might be considered bad.

He stared at the peaceful city displayed before his eyes. He remembered the carefree looks on people’s faces and those elderly couples taking a midnight stroll. If he brings down the Port Mafia, what would happen to those smiles?

But were these Ability users really that powerful?

He wanted to think of it as a bluff until he remembered that boy on the street. The power of his Ability was not a combat one, but that level of intelligence alone could change the balance of good and evil depending on where he stood.

Then there was also that Ability user that was holding him down just minutes ago. What exactly was that man's power?

Finally…there were his injuries. He had been blasted by explosions. He remembered the pain, remembered the way his body had looked. He wasn't even supposed to be alive, yet he was standing there with his body completely unscathed. Was this also the work of an Ability user? If so, then he has never in his life heard of such strong healing power.

No, this can't even be considered healing anymore. Even among Quirks, a power like this only exists in fantasy.

The thought of Ability users like these being exposed to the outside sent a chill down his back. It may be fine if they were to become Heroes, but if they were to join the Villains…

For the first time, Toshinori was lost. A criminal was standing right here in front of him, yet he wasn’t able to bring him down. He couldn’t. He might be able to before knowing these facts, but now…he didn’t dare to think what might happen if he does.

“This is Yokohama.” The Port Mafia boss said, once more reminding the Hero that this was not the world he lived in. “Do not presume our world is the same as yours. Naturally, that goes for those you see as children. You seem to think that the reason you lost was due to us using them as shields, but the truth is that the ones that defeated and capture you were none other than three children. Isn’t that right, Dazai-kun?”

Toshinori felt the tiny hands that had been gripping his leg disappeared. He looked down, watching with rounded eyes as the young boy walked around him and headed towards the Port Mafia boss.

He wanted to reach out and stop the boy. Despite everything the Port Mafia boss had said, Toshinori still held strong to his belief in protecting those weaker than him. He wanted to hold this child and tell him that it’s alright anymore. That he didn’t need to obey this man…that he was here.

However, when the boy looked up and their gaze met, Toshinori froze.

Dull burnt umber eyes gazed back at his without a speck of life reflected in them.

In all of his years of careers, Toshinori has seen different kinds of eyes.

Those brimming with anger, desperation, sadness, pain, terror, lost…but these eyes showed nothing of that. If Toshinori had to come up a word for it, it would be 'hollow'.

“This boy is a prodigy.” The Port Mafia boss decided to enlighten the Pro Hero. “However, because nothing can surpass his expectations, he became extremely bored with everything around him, including life. That’s why he came to Port Mafia, so that he can seek out challenges—something that can surpass his mind. When you came into Yokohama, I decided to let this boy handle your case. All I told him was to bring you here at eight o’clock sharp, and he did just that. I’ve never instructed him on how to proceed with your capture. Do you understand what that means, Hero?”

Toshinori felt himself tremble as he stared at the boy.

"Everything you did and everyone you came into contact with, including the two children that you fought—they were all planned by Dazai-kun here.”

“Everything? Then…?” Toshinori couldn’t continue as he remembered that cheerful smile the boy wore as he ate his treat.

Was he also part of Port Mafia?

Was that also a part of their setup?

He wanted to ask, but he couldn't. He was scared of finding out the truth. He was even more scared if he was wrong, because that will expose the boy.

Never would Toshinori ever expect himself to doubt the heart of a child. However, he could no longer see any of these children as mere kids. Any last shard of hope he had been gripping onto shattered the moment he looked into this boy—Dazai’s eyes.

At the very least…he can’t see this boy in front of him as a mere child.

This boy…

“Leave our city, watchdog.” The Port Mafia boss said with a cruel smile on his face. “There is nothing for you to protect here.”

He does not want to be saved.

┏━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━┓

◅ PREV MAIN NEXT ▻

┗━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━┛

#bnha fanfiction #soukoku #bungou stray dogs #my hero academy fanfiction #crossover #bungou stray dogs fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

goddamnitdazai · 7 years

Text

salt and sugar {two}

Chocolate {series: 2/?} {index} {Chuuya}

“You look fucking ridiculous.”

Chuuya’s head tilts to the left as he speaks. Grey smoke billowing towards the night sky from his cigarette. Orange flames highlight the bow of his upper lip and accentuate the pout of his lower; he never did realize how tempting his lips looked when he was scowling. His inhale is sharp, precise, and begins a trail of ringlets that float away in the gentle midnight breeze. The night had grown dark quickly leaving smaller convenient shops and rows of street lights shining as the only signs of life. An unfortunate evening to be without moonlight. After all, how were you supposed to play romantic on a boat with no stars and no moon to feign infatuation over?

“I thought you liked this dress on me, darling?”

He hadn’t uttered a word about it. But, the way his eyes drug themselves down your body as he strolled past you was enough. Sort of. It would have been nice to hear a compliment even in passing or on the boat where the two of you were playing house. The dress sparkled brilliantly every time you moved despite the terrible convenient store lighting. As form fitting as his suit, and nearly the same color. A smooth train of translucent black fabric followed you as you stepped towards the sliding door with a hand cinched over the straps of your heels. Chuuya only offered to carry your purse beneath his arm, but refused to take part in carrying your shoes. ’Why walk on the dirty sidewalk?!’ You’d never heard his voice hit that octave before and he didn’t seem to appreciate your amusement in the impressive range.

Your sarcasm was not lost to him, but rather than bite at your trap he ignores the tone and takes another drag of his cigarette. Chuuya looked just as out of place as you did, but he wore it much better somehow. A suit tailor made for a prince in the color of onyx with only a pop of cherry red hanging around his neck. It was strange at first to see him without his hat; he couldn’t risk it falling off the boat he said, but you had a feeling he just liked the way you played with his hair on the car ride over. For a spring night it was uncannily cold and the spray of ocean water on your bare arms and neck turned brief gusts of wind into slats of ice pressing against your body. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the boat ride was cut incredibly short due to a certain black-beast-wielding individual who didn’t bother waiting for orders. At the very least, his actions allowed you to slip away without having to deal with clean up duty.

Chuuya, on the other hand, was not so easily distracted by the beautiful spring night and did not miss you sprinting off the docks.

“You going in or what?” Chuuya flicks his cigarette towards the curb and stomps the burning edge with his heel. Though his irritation was understandable you were in no mood to deal with his temperament considering you had nothing to do with his plans going awry. He always said the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was created in your honor. “Oi, stop glaring at me and go get your food. Five minutes and I’m going to the room with or without you, darling.”

His hands slip into his pockets, back meeting the wall and head resting at a tilt to glance up at the starless sky. The door chimes as it slides open and Chuuya dissipates into the shadows. The clerk behind the counter barely glances your direction. Running a twenty-four hour shop in this area must give him a bouquet of strange people after midnight. What’s one girl in a ball gown with no shoes?

Rows of snacks and junk food create colorful aisles; a bit too bright for your level of exhaustion. Everything caused your eyes to strain and you could feel the beginning of a headache forming above the bridge of your nose. Nothing looked remotely agreeable to a stomach full of strawberry champagne. Dessert sounded perfect, not over-priced bags of chips; your jaw locks roughly as you weave through displays. Apparently, the mafia owned hotel at the edge of the warehouse district didn’t serve food after ten ‘o'clock. Hirotsu was going to have a two page complaint slid between reports when you returned.

In the back of the store rows of eerily clean glass-doored coolers housing a variety of beverages line the entire wall. Just catching the shadowy outline of a champagne bottle in the reflection makes your stomach bubble. Through rows and rows of soda and beer and odd-sounding drinks you finally spot a familiar pink carton. At least you wouldn’t be leaving empty handed. That would spark another fight you weren’t prepared to handle with diplomacy. Persuading Chuuya to let you stop was kin to pulling teeth, and you would never hear the end of it if you came out with nothing. Chuuya had made it irrevocably clear he just wanted to fall face first into bed and forget the entire night; you weren’t ready to leave him yet.

Truthfully, you weren’t that hungry at all. A weight began to grow in your throat as you fiddled with the carton. Maybe his irritation was pinpointed in the right direction after all. Chuuya did not overthink things, but he was perceptive, much more than you were comfortable with. At times it made things easier. Silence could hold the weight of the world if the right eyes fell upon the unspoken words lingering in the air. Strung up between two people refusing to open their mouths or in this case one–you. The lump thickens, like a ball of sand blocking your airway.

Maybe he knew this was all a bunch of bullshit, and he only kept his mouth shut to avoid an awkward work situation. Or maybe he just didn’t give a shit at all.

The lump drops.

Your shoes clack together as you make your way towards the counter. On impulse you mutter Chuuya’s cigarette brand and toss a box of chocolate pocky onto the counter along with the carton of strawberry milk. The cashier yawns the total and you reach to your side only to fumble with the fabric of your dress. Chuuya still had your purse. As if he could sense your distress Chuuya strolls in from your right causing the bell to chime ten times louder than you remembered. Your hands fly to your temples; Chuuya shoulders his way in front of you. Displeasure is painted across his features. Narrowed eyes still glossy and red from the alcohol, and a dilapidated frown you’d only seen twice in the entire year.

“You’re more trouble than a child tonight y'know that?” Chuuya tosses a billfold on the counter and swipes the bag from the cashier quickly. All you can muster is a half-whispered thank you before scurrying out behind him. Curiously, Chuuya peeks in the bag. His brow quirks. “How’d you know I was out?” he asks while bringing up the cigarette box from the bottom of the bag.

“You’ve been smoking like a fucking chimney.”

“It’s been a night,” Chuuya mutters, plopping the cigarettes back in the bag. “A long, shitty fucking night.”

Chuuya wasn’t the only one with a breaking point. Regardless of his preference of company his attitude was unwarranted and continued to sour in your chest. Undeserved animosity always plucked at your nerves.

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell from your cheery attitude. You’re welcome by the way.”

His head whips around. One hand lands in his hair searching for his hat out of habit. He always gripped the brim when he was getting antsy.

“I paid for the damn cigarettes!”

The edge of your high heel scrapes your elbow as your arms wind across each other over your chest. Tears had begun to prick the corners of your eyes; annoyance, exhaustion, dejection.

“Then remind me to repay you. I’ll make sure not to disturb the stick that’s up there when I shove the money in your ass.”

Red cuts across his eyes. His fists curl, bag crinkling beneath the pressure; the sidewalk spiderwebs beneath his feet sending shards of cement flying across the road. Your breath catches in your throat; crimson wanes. Wordlessly, Chuuya spins on his heel and stalks off towards the building rising in the distance.

He hated how incredibly weak he was to his own emotions. At times they did not matter, but when they sunk in deeply they left open wounds needing attention, and they held the magnitude of a hurricane. Explosive in nature, and embarrassingly uncontrollable. But, his anger did not stay with him long. It came in short bursts, like fireworks, before decaying to nothingness leaving only a smoky trail. Diplomacy was a point of pride because it did not come naturally to him, and even a spat as small as this left a sickly feeling in the bottom of his stomach. To make matters worse he couldn’t find any other reason behind his vehemence, and the person who should be bearing the brunt of his vexation was off cleaning up his own mess. When Akutagawa fucked up he really fucked up.

Chuuya’s stomach knots within itself. The light above flickers. In his haste he’d walked further than he expected towards the hotel, he could barely make out your form behind him. His chest sinks forward as he reaches into the bag to grab his cigarettes. The box feels stiff, wrong color. His hands fumble with the box until he can catch the label under the light. Chocolate pocky.

Fuck.

For a second time his hand winds up in his hair. Smoothing out tangles and tugging the ends of his bangs. Plastic crinkles against his palm with the tension of his grip. Chuuya didn’t know what to do with the rising apprehension undulating in the pit of his stomach. It rose to his chest like thick bouts of smoke choking him in its ascension. The sound of your heels smacking against the sidewalk draws his attention forward; the smoke begins to dissipate.

“Don’t say a word. I had to put my shoes back on because the dress was dragging.” Chuuya isn’t surprised in the way you snap at him. He deserved it at this point. “What are you staring at.”

Chuuya’s eyes don’t waver. They intensify, piercing through the darkness and etching their presence into your skin. He couldn’t recall the last time he openly expressed his irritation outside scolding the wrong actions of his subordinates. There were moments around Kajii and Akutagawa where feelings of immediate annoyance came through in his tone and his words, but situational aggravation was only in relation to his temperament. It faded, quickly, and he didn’t feel a strip of guilt. Even when he had lashed out at people who didn’t deserve it he muttered a quick apology and went on with the rest of his day.

But there was a piece of him that couldn’t shake the bothersome feeling of how his actions affected you. He shouldn’t be so fixated on that aspect alone. There was validation in the way he felt. The night went terrible, it was freezing, and he would have to find a way to clean up Akutagawa’s mess in the morning. Headaches and paperwork were all that awaited him when he returned to Yokohama.

However, he didn’t really care that much the more he thought about it. His only focus fell to the way you stayed an arm’s length away from him and that your eyes would not meet his gaze. No words formed on his tongue, whatever charm he’d often used to talk himself out of situations regarding another’s ill feelings had been completely forgotten. He couldn’t bring himself to bullshit with you, especially when he truly felt like an utter asshole.

His hand drops to the bag momentarily and brings up a red box from the bottom. For a man who rarely exposed his hands his fingers were incredibly adept in their movements. The box tab flies open exposing a row of chocolate covered pocky. A single stick lands between Chuuya’s fingertips.

“Ever play the pocky game?”

There is nothing on his expression that reads as a joke, but the whiplash of emotions leaves you frozen. A step forward brings him directly beneath the street lamp. Amber light accentuates the sharp cut of his jaw and sprinkles auric into his eyes.

“Do you know how to play?” His voice rattles down the center of your chest and snatches the air from your lungs. “Bite.”

Whatever this was, challenge or trick, you had enough of his shit for the night. Effortlessly you bite down on a decent chunk of the side poking out from his mouth. He mimics your movements; his fingertips glide over your waist. The second bite leaves his breath ghosting over your lips; your heart leaps to your throat. Chuuya pulls back and lets the pocky fall from his mouth.

Time drags; Chuuya manages a simper before his lips mold to yours. Tenderly, two pieces of a puzzle finding completion within each other. A hand winds around your waist, it’s twin roams up the back of your neck to hold your head steady. He breaks apart, just enough to inhale and nibble at your bottom lip before returning. The alcohol and heat dust red over his cheeks. His hair tangles in your fingers barring him from kissing elsewhere. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip when he moves back for air. Chuuya’s moan vibrates against your lips, kiss-swollen and breathless.

“You wanna play like that? Right now?” Chuuya murmurs. “You’re all fucking trouble tonight, y'know that?”

#chuuyaxhappinessweek #Chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #s&s #fluff #my writing chuuya #my writing

127 notes · View notes

anime-matchmaker-blog · 7 years

Text

On the Job

Natsumatsuri Week 2k17 Day 3: Bungou Stray Dogs

Chuuya stepped out of the elevator, the doors closing soundlessly behind him. The entire floor was dedicated to the boss of the Port Mafia, the man himself standing a few feet away from him, back turned, arms folded at the waist. “Chuuya-kun,” Mori said, not bothering to turn around.

Removing his hat, Chuuya went down on one knee. “Boss. What can I do for you?”

“You’ve been running around a lot, lately.”

“Of course, Boss. There’s work to do be done.”

“I believe you should take a break. You deserve it.”

“As you wish, Boss. I’ll take a break once I finish my work-“

“That’d take too long. Take a break today. Tonight.”

An object whizzed by Chuuya and he dodged it in time. A scalpel pierced a note against the elevator door behind him. Mori was looking at him over his shoulder. “There’s a festival tonight. You should go there and relax. I order it.”

“As you wish, Boss.” Mori walked away, dismissing him. Chuuya pried the scalpel free, catching the note before it fell. He retreated into the elevator, letting it carry him down. He glanced at what was written on it, wondering if the boss actually was concerned for him. Well, whatever his motive, Chuuya was looking forward to a good time.

Early evening brought on the start of the festival. The crowds were filled with families, children of all ages, groups of teenagers, and the police to monitor the chaos. Festivals were supposed to make you forget about life for a few hours to allow yourself to indulge in cheap food and play games. They were also something everyone attended during the summer, just to make it feel like summer.

Atsushi was looking forward to a peaceful night with a good book and several bowls of ochazuke, thanks to his paycheck. What he didn’t expect was a night with his co-workers, dressed in a plain yukata, to act as informal security for the event.

“Why do we have to do this…?” he grumbled to himself. Kunikida adjusted his glasses, doing his best not to look annoyed.

“The president is friends with the festival organizer and they’re short-staffed with security,” Kunikida answered.

“We’re not expecting trouble anyway,” Yosano added. “So go and enjoy yourself, Atsushi.”

That seemed easier said than done. Kenji was already lost in the crowd, admiring the food stalls with his huge eyes. Naomi clung to Tanizaki’s arm, the two siblings’ yukata patterns matching. “Onii-sama,” she gushed, “don’t I look pretty like this?”

“You really do, Naomi…” Tanizaki tried moving away but she drew closer to him.

“You look so beautiful if your yukata too! Onii-sama, you should wear it more often!”

Tanizaki started drawing her away, disappearing from Atsushi’s sight. Atsushi sighed, glanced over at Kunikida, who was standing too stiffly for anyone’s comfort. “Where’s Dazai-san?”

“Probably mooching off someone who doesn’t know any better,” Yosano replied. “Or at home.”

“And Ranpo-san?”

“At home. He doesn’t know the first thing about festivals, so there’s no point in teaching him.”

That was true. Atsushi glanced around, admiring the content expressions on the other festival goers’ faces. They were all happy and excited and it was his job to keep the peace tonight. Or, at least, he’d try. He picked a direction at random and started walking.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yosano pulled him back. “We have to stay together or we might get lost. Besides, isn’t this your first festival? You’re so skinny, you might get stepped on.”

“I can look for Kenji-kun-“

“Kunikida can find him. Let’s go.” She started dragging him away. “Let’s play some of the games.”

She challenged him to every game available, defeating him by a huge margin. Even when precision was put to the test, she hit her mark better than Atsushi was able to. A few times, he spotted his co-workers – Kenji destroying the test of strength booth, Tanizaki playing games while Naomi cheered him on, and Kunikida barking at anyone who looked suspicious. Atsushi wished Dazai was with them to join in on the festivities.

“Well, well! If it isn’t Dr. Yosano!” Yosano looked up, Kaiji sauntered up to her, hands in his pockets, expression smug. “You attend these sort of things?”

“It’s you.” She narrowed her eyes. Unfortunately, she had left her cleaver and knives at home. “If you’re here, then that means-“

Kaiji raised his hands. “Don’t worry, my lady. We’re here trying to have a good time. Just like you.” As he said it, Atsushi suddenly became aware of the other Port Mafia members lurking in the crowds. He didn’t know any by name, but he recognized them all from previous fights. “So let’s call it a truce for one night, okay?”

Yosano gave him a look but she nodded anyway. “If you do anything that’ll harm the other people, you can bet your lemons you’re going to die.”

“I left them at home. Well, except for one. I never feel right without them.” Kaiji turned his back on them. “See you around.”

“Ah!” Atsushi whirled around, spotting Chuuya dressed in a yukata, hat perched on his head, expression outraged. “If the Armed Detective Agency is here then Dazai is too! Right?”

Atsushi shook his head. “Dazai-san isn’t here. He’s at home-“

“Yeah, right! I’m gonna find him and kill him!” Chuuya stormed away, shouting at the crowds. “Dazai! I know you’re here! Dazai!”

Yosano sighed as she watched him disappear. “I’m going to follow him,” she said. “You should find Kunikida. Tell him not to attack the other Port Mafia members if he sees them.”

“Okay.” Atsushi headed off as Yosano trailed after Chuuya. Atsushi scanned the crowd as he weaved through the people, trying to catch Kunikida or his yukata pattern. If he didn’t find him, that had to be a good thing, right? He hoped so.

The sky grew dark and the crowds began to thin out as they settled down for the fireworks. Atsushi decided to take a break and figure out where he was. He stopped beneath a tree at the top of a slope that looked down on the festival, lights flickering like fireflies. The first set of fireworks went off, lighting the sky with a myriad of colors. Atsushi watched them, awed. He had never watched them before, only heard them from the confines of his orphanage. He remembered, as a child, he would run to the window every time he heard fireworks go off, only to feel disappointment when nothing flashed in the dark, blank sky. Now, though, as soon as the colors faded, they were replaced almost immediately.

His eyes drifted down to the slope, where dozen others watched, He recognized a familiar figure, his back to him. Akutagawa was watching the fireworks as well, completely immobile, as if he was entranced by the display. Atsushi turned away, knowing the peace would be disrupted the moment he was spotted. His phone went off and he fished it from his pocket. It was from Yosano. “Hello?”

“Hey, Atsushi, it’s me. You mind coming to the food stalls? We’ve got a bit of a mess to help clean up.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” Atsushi hung up, started walking away. He glanced at the sky, watching the next set erupt into a rainbow of colors. He could enjoy this view any time now. He was free, free to live his life, free to do whatever he wanted. Still, he had work only he could do, and that was what gave his life a purpose.

#Bungou Stray Dogs #Armed Detective Agency #Nakajima Atsushi #Kunikida Doppo #Yosano Akiko #Nakahara Chuuya #lemon man #drabble #natsumatsuri week

10 notes · View notes

lenin-it-to-win-it · 8 years

Text

“Aftermath: Part One”

Chuuya has managed to defeat Fyodor and find the chamber where Dazai has been held captive for several weeks. Dazai has survived- and there ends the good news.

*****************************************************************************************************

(Note: there’s a lot of blood and mutilation in this one, implied torture, that sort of thing. Also thanks to @noticemedazai and her beautiful drawing of limbless Dazai (except I guess he was kneeling not legless lol rip me) for inspiring me to write this fic! Part Two coming soon, possibly this week but more likely next because I start school again tomorrow and will probably be pretty busy.)

*****************************************************************************************************

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Chuuya could hear the distinct sound of water droplets shattering against the floor with eerie regularity, each drop striking the ground with a predetermined pattern that reeked of the inevitable. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, somehow both amplified and stifled by the oppresive darkness that pervaded the chamber. With every passing moment, Chuuya could feel his lungs growing heavier, as if the blackness was a tangible force infecting his body.

Sickly white light from the outer corridor trickled in like a stream of pus oozing from a half-healed sore, retreating as the door began to close. Chuuya cocked his fist and struck the door at full force. The decaying wood splintered with a resounding crack. Even the doorframe groaned and threatened to collapse in on itself, but the stone walls surrounding it on all sides remained intact. Light flooded through the now-open doorway, and Chuuya had to close his eyes for a moment to adjust to the glare.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound, Chuuya had discovered, was coming from one of many exposed pipes rusting on the ceiling. Chuuya stared at the pipe, then at the grayish water bleeding out of it, the water falling not in an uninterrupted stream but in numerous fragmented drops. It was easier to focus on the pipes, to trace the downward path of the water droplets than to look anywhere else.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

If he tore his gaze from the pipes for even a second, Chuuya would have been forced to confront the metal table that had been wheeled in and set against a particularly bloody portion of the wall, taking note of the constrast of the sharply glistening steel and the dark, damp stone walls, the congealing coat of blood the only similarity between the two. Of course, had Chuuya been paying attention to anything but the solitary staccato striking of water droplets against ground, he might have found subtle distinctions between the way blood clings to stone, so tenderly, almost lovingly, sinking deep into every shadowed crevice, while blood abhors the sleekness of steel, deigning to form nothing more than shallow pools on the table’s mirror-slick surface.

Drip. Drip.

The smoothness of the table was interrupted only by a motley collection of bloodied blades in all sizes, from daggers to scalpels to a serrated something that bore a suspicious resemblence to a hacksaw, as well as a few instruments of torture Chuuya would not have recognized, even if he had shifted his attention from the rusting pipe. Much more easily identifiable were the ragged chunks of dark brown hair, torn, bloodstained bandages, and bits of flesh that littered the table.

Drip.

The monotonous music of water droplets had ceased to leave any impact on Chuuya’s mind, forcing his ears to reconcile themselves the only other sound in the chamber. The prisoner’s breathing, barely audible when Chuuya had first entered the room, rose in a ragged crescendo, every sharp, uneven breath piercing Chuuya’s heart.

Dazai.

Even in his state of not-noticing, Chuuya had not been able to avoid the simple wooden chair placed almost perfectly in the center of the room or the familiar figure tied to it. At least, Chuuya assumed Dazai was tied up- he had made no motion to escape- but all he could see of his partner was the back of his head and a fraction of his neck that rose over the solid back of the chair.

Though Chuuya should have been able to see Dazai’s arms on the side of the chair, he couldn’t. After a moment of blank panic, Chuuya realized his hands were probably bound behind him or maybe in his lap. That was it. That had to be it. Choking back what could have been bile or a scream, Chuuya pushed forward, slowly making his way to the center of the room.

The bandages around Dazai’s neck had come unwound at some point, revealing a wide gash near his hairline as well as several smaller, paler scars closer to the base of his neck. The few tattered strands of fabric that remained had been soaked so thoroughly in blood that they were dyed black at the edges.

Dazai’s thick chestnut curls had been torn off in uneven chunks, exposing a bare scalp riddled with welts. Chuuya’s fingers curled up in phantom memory of all the times he had ran his hands through that hair. The beginnings of a sob started to rise in Chuuya’s throat, but he beat it back down, clenching his hands into fists. So Dazai had lost some hair. Was that the worst that Russian bastard could do? Surely Dazai Foremost-Torture-Expert-in-the-Port-Mafia Osamu could handle worse. The thought rang false the moment it crossed Chuuya’s mind. Uneasily, he flashed back to an altercation that had occured a few years ago: the whipping incident.

Dazai had been against using the whip from the start, but Chuuya had pushed and goaded until his partner finally relented. Chuuya had relished it at first, the rush of power, the sense of total control, the smack of leather against flesh, Dazai’s oh-so-self-assured voice deteriorating into desperate cries of pain, then Dazai had turned over, revealing the tears staining his cheeks. Regret flooded through Chuuya instantly, and he reached for his partner’s face, planning to wipe away his tears, but Dazai had slapped Chuuya’s wrist aside, anger burning in his dark eyes.

Dazai said something bitter, Chuuya retaliated with something defensive, and then Dazai replied with the only words Chuuya recalled from the argument:

“I don’t like pain.”

Spoken through tight lips and gritted teeth, tears still shimmering in his eyes, those words shook Chuuya to his core. “Dazai,” he said as softly as he could manage. “I’m sor-” Dazai stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Chuuya felt his apology shrivel up and die on his lips. “Sorry you’re such a fucking bitch!” he screamed at the closed door, savagely swiping at the tears pricking his eyes. “Good luck if you ever have to deal with real pain, asshole!”

Now, as his harsh words came rushing back to him, Chuuya couldn’t ignore the bitter taste of guilt in his mouth, hot and acidic as blood. “Dazai!” he cried out in a voice on the verge of breaking, reaching for his partner’s shoulder with a trembling hand. Chuuya had long since lost his gloves in the battle to reach the chamber, so his hands were bare. The instant his hand made contact, Dazai howled with pain. It was not a human sound but a wretched, bestial cry of agony that made Chuuya’s blood run cold.

Chuuya snatched his hand away immediately, but his fingers came back damp with blood. “Damn it, Dazai,” he whispered, staring down at the stream of blood as it wound a serpentine path down his wrist. His partner’s only reply was a slight hitch in his shallow, feeble gasps for air.

Suddenly, Chuuya realized he still hadn’t seen Dazai’s face. He closed his eyes for a moment, giving himself a moment to gather his strength before facing the extent of the damage. “I’m Port Mafia, after all,” he thought to himself in the darkness behind his eyelids. “I’ve seen it all before. I can handle this.” He walked around the chair, his footsteps echoing like gunshots in the small room. “I have to.” A shiver ran down his spine. “Dazai needs me.” Chuuya sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Dazai’s head hung limply against his chest, as if his neck was broken, and even his breathing seemed to have faded into nothing. What remained of his dark hair obscured his face. On instinct, Chuuya reached out and grabbed Dazai’s chin, forcing his face upward so he could meet his partner’s eyes. Dazai did not scream but whimper, a small, pitiful little sound that forced a gasp out of Chuuya. Biting his lip to keep from crying out again, Chuuya kept his hold on Dazai’s face.

Dazai’s face was thinner and paler than Chuuya had ever seen it, his skin not white but rather translucent, entirely devoid of color beneath a mask of dull blue, violet, and greenish-yellow bruises. There was a burn on his cheek that had eaten away so many layers of skin that Chuuya half-expected to be able to see the inside of Dazai’s mouth. Gashes and half-healed scars fractured his face. One eye was filmed over in red, the other swollen shut entirely. Chuuya wondered if Dazai could see at all. His face was empty of any recognition.

Chuuya struggled to find his voice. “Dazai, it’s me,” he choked out, every word grating against his throat. “Chuuya.”

Dazai’s lips worked soundlessly to form Chuuya’s name. His bottom lip had been sliced open too recently for scabs to coalesce. He could not speak, but his eyes seemed to focus on Chuuya’s face for a moment. “Uuu?” he whimpered. His mouth fell open, and Chuuya noticed that several teeth had been chipped and shattered, the rest torn out entirely, and all that remained of his tongue was a quivering mass of bloody flesh. “Uuu?”

Chuuya’s eyes burned with tears. “Yeah, that’s right, Chuuya’s here,” he whispered, stroking Dazai’s ruined cheek with one finger. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

Just as the leaking pipes once had Chuuya transfixed, Dazai’s face now held his undivided attention. Chuuya had been so focused on Dazai’s face, the face of the man he had loved and hated for so long, that the thought of looking away didn’t so much as cross his mind. He might have stared at Dazai’s face for minutes or hours longer if a sudden lapse in Dazai’s breathing didn’t give Chuuya the idea to check his pulse. Chuuya reached for Dazai’s wrist only for his fingers to close upon empty air. Slowly, he raised his eyes to where Dazai’s arm should have been.

His arms were not tied behind his back; they were truncated at the elbows. A cursory glance downward revealed that his legs had received similar treatment.

In all the time Chuuya had known him, Dazai had been covered in bandages, but there were no bandages concealing the mangled lumps of flesh and bone protruding from where his arms used to be. The cruel irony was not lost on Chuuya. Against his will, a crooked smile contorted his face and he began to laugh, quietly at first and then so loudly his echoed shouts of laughter resounded like rolling thunder in the confines of the chamber. Hot tears coursed down Chuuya’s cheeks as he stumbled back from Dazai, the same rictus smile carved upon his face.

“You’re probably even shorter than I am now,” Chuuya said through a hysterical giggle. “But it’s okay, you’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, Dazai, I’ll take good care of you. . .” Chuuya slid his knife out of his pocket lifted it to Dazai’s neck.

Dazai was trembling. It wasn’t a shiver of fear but rather a bone-deep shuddering, as if something solid had broken apart at his core until at last he shook so violently even his pupils seemed to convulse within his irises, like he was already dissolving, already becoming something less concrete than flesh, something less than human. His shuddering dark eyes met Chuuya’s cold blue stare. Once more, his lips struggled to fit themselves around the syllables of his partner’s name.

Chuuya pressed the flat edge of his knife against Dazai’s lips. “Be quiet!” he snarled, dragging the back of his hand against his eyes to beat back tears. “Just-” A tear slid off Chuuya’s face and shattered on the bloodstained ground as water fell from the rusty pipes above.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Just- just let me-” With shaking hands, Chuuya brought the knife to Dazai’s neck, gripping the handle with both hands.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Dazai closed his eyes, arching his neck forward to meet the blade.

Drip. Drip. Dri-

Chuuya tossed his knife to the ground and threw his arms around Dazai’s quivering shoulders. His tears mixed with blood on Dazai’s cheeks. “I can’t do it,” he whispered, gripping Dazai’s shoulders so hard his knuckles paled. Chuuya lifted his tearstained face and gave Dazai a shattered smile. “If you want to die, you’re gonna have to do it the hard way, mackerel. I’m too damn selfish to let you go.” Chuuya slipped an arm around Dazai’s back and wound his other arm beneath the remains of his knees. “Come on, then,” he breathed, his words hot in Dazai’s ear. “Let’s get you home.”

#bungou stray dogs #soukoku #here come dat fic o shit waddup #mm i dont like this one as much as my last fic tbh #but part 2 is gonna be a lot better im sure #bc that one will have some actual fuckin dialogue which is like the one thing i can sort of write well lol #i just hope this fic isnt too boring #a lot of standing around and looking at things ahh #also idk if I had chuuya react enough?#like I got too caught up in the descriptions at times that I dont think i really took the time to step back into chuuya's thoughts on it #also holy fuck my sentences are so long in this #i wanted it to feel drawn out and painful but also like idk if it lessens the emotional impact?#maybe choppier syntax would have made the pain feel more immediate?#also i was gonna end it with chuuya using corruption and killing himself and dazai which would have been a stronger ending #but then i ended up getting a fuckin great idea for part two so i kind of need dazai and chuuya to stay alive a bit longer lol

23 notes · View notes