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valssoul · 2 years ago

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My favorite person (kaveh x GN! Reader)

tags : HARDCORE FLUFF, drunk kaveh, lowkey tsundere reader (again, yes) although they become more expressive for kaveh’s sake <3 (

warnings : none? mentions of alcohol consumption ig

word count : 1.9k

a/n : the chokehold this man has on me is concerning. I have been having non stop brainrot of him for MONTHS like WHY ISNT HE REAL 😭😭😭 (speaking as if I could pull kaveh if he was real) (me in question : a literal lame random chick while kaveh is a whole ass god)

“I’m his colleague. Not his damn babysitter,” you murmured under your breath for the third time that week. You had assumed that Kaveh would at least have the senses to listen to his closest friend and take it easy on the drinking, but when Alhaitham said that he hadn't returned home three hours after he said he would, there was no other place where he could be besides his favorite bar.

Your favorite bar. The bar where you had first met Kaveh a year ago, bumping into each other out of pure chance. Or could it be fate? You didn’t know what had brought you two together, but you wished you did. That way, you could worship whichever being — whether it was a god, the stars, or the universe — that had allowed you two to cross paths that day.

As you had expected, you immediately noticed Kaveh the moment you stepped into the bar. It was hard to miss the blond-haired man mumbling to himself while sprawled across the pub table and lifting a leg on another chair. The bartender seemed to be used to this, as he ignored Kaveh’s meaningless grumbling and continued to focus on the drink he was shaking.

That idiot, you thought to yourself as you glared at Kaveh. He’s taking up enough space for three people.

When you reached him, you lightly slapped the back of his head. He deserved it. If he didn’t want to be slapped, he shouldn’t have ignored your advice to cut down his drinking habits.

“Y/N?” Kaveh immediately perked up, and you found it a bit concerning how he could immediately recognize you from just one slap. “Y/N! It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me,” you sighed, digging into your purse and fishing out some bills to pay the poor bartender. “Who else would pay for your drinks and drag you out of here everyday? Certainly not Alhaitham.”

“H-hey! Come on, Y/N! Hic— don’t say that about Alhaitham! He can be — he’s actually pretty nice..”

“Oh, so you finally have something nice to say about Alhaitham now? Great. You’re definitely drunk,” you fought back your urge to smile as you pushed Kaveh’s leg off the bar chair and sat on it. “Come on, Kaveh. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“No! No home. I’m staying here!”

“What—“ you were running out of ideas on how to deal with this five year-old man. Normally, you would’ve dragged him out, but after an entire day of working, you didn’t have the energy to do so. You had no choice but to coax him to get up and walk on his own.

“Y/N, where have you been today?” Kaveh’s rambles continued, as he rested his chin on his palm. “I haven’t seen you for the whole day.”

He… missed you? You could only hope he was too drunk to notice the blush coating your cheeks as you replied. “Well, now you have. Unlike a certain someone, I’ve been working.”

“Mhm. Sure you have. I know you, Y/N. You’re - you’re so lazy that you can barely get any work done.”

It was incredible how Kaveh could go from making you blush to making you want to strangle him in the span of three seconds. “You know what? It’s not my duty to bring you home every night. You don’t wanna come with me? Fine. I’m leaving.”

When Kaveh didn’t say anything in response, you got up and strode to the bar entrance. He was a grown man who’s supposed to be capable of making his own decisions. If he wanted to get drunk every two days, then it was his choice to make and his consequences to face. Why should you involve yourself in his life? You weren’t his babysitter. You shouldn't be so worried about him. You shouldn’t be—

Fuck.

Before you could reach the door, you had swerved and went back to Kaveh, who was now crossing his arms on the counter and laying his head on top of them with his golden locks framing his reddened cheeks. Both his eyes were closed, and for once, he looked so peaceful — as if he wasn’t a man burdened by crippling debts and deadlines. It made you stare for a few seconds, before your hand instinctively reached out to brush strands of his hair out of his face.

In an instant, his eyes fluttered open, and you only noticed how pretty his eyelashes were. A voice in your head said, “Stop it, Y/N. How can eyelashes be pretty?” Another voice in your head retorted, “It’s Kaveh. His entire being is pretty.”

“You.. came back,” Kaveh murmured, shifting just a bit closer to you, which caught you by surprise and caused you to pull back your hand. You rubbed the back of your neck before realizing that it made you seem nervous, and then placed your hand on the table instead.

“I always do, don’t I? I just care too much about you.”

Kaveh’s eyes widened for a split second, before he turned away and hid his face in between his arms. “You don’t have to bother. Not for me.”

Upon hearing that, you could’ve sworn that you could feel your heart break — just a bit. You couldn’t believe that you nearly left him. You had always thought of Kaveh as the most incredible person you had ever met, that you forgot about the way he saw himself. He never thought that he was a good enough friend to be given expensive birthday presents, let alone to be taken home when he was drunk. If you had left him…

“But that’s exactly why I bother, Kaveh. I bother… because it’s you.”

There was a long silence that followed before Kaveh finally turned his head to you again, looking up at you with those scarlet eyes that you adored so much. “Me? What - what do you mean?” Kaveh whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was this man really going to make you say out loud how much you cared about him? If Kaveh ever knew how terribly he got you wrapped around his finger, you would dive headfirst into a river. Then again, this was Kaveh you were dealing with. The man who didn’t dare to think highly of himself and would assume that everybody thought the same about him, unless someone would outwardly tell him that he was an incredible person. Something that would never fail to make him all flustered, not knowing how to take the compliment.

And so, you said it out loud no matter how embarrassed it made you, because you knew that Kaveh needed to hear it.

“I mean, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone. No — I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. You’re the only one I’ll bother to take care of.”

Kaveh blinked once, then twice, before turning into a blushing mess. “Eh- me? You… why?”

Seeing him all flustered only made you more embarrassed. Why did he have to make a big deal out of everything? It was a normal declaration of affection among… friends. “Because! You’re.. my friend.”

“You have lots of friends.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re even friends with Alhaitham.”

“Okay, I do have lots of friends. But you’re different! You’re—“ you paused to find the right words to describe what he was to you. He certainly wasn’t simply a friend to you — one does not simply get urges to kiss their friend. But at the same time, he could never be more than just your friend. You were someone who people could find anywhere — someone without anything special that differentiated you from the rest of the world. But Kaveh? He was a rose that bloomed in the desert. Someone who would always stand out no matter what his occasion, with his incredible talents, burning passion for everything that he loved, and the bright personality that you could only hope to have. It was evident that the admiration that you felt for him was one-sided.

“… I’m?” Kaveh waited for your answer expectantly, still staring at you. “I’m what? Y/N, come on, don’t leave me hanging like that, please! I can’t handle—“

“You’re the person I like most in the world.”

You heard those words as if they were uttered by another person, only to realize a few seconds later that you were the one who had said them. Kaveh, too, had a delayed reaction — as you could practically see the gears shifting in his head before he shot up to sit upright. In the process, he dropped the bar’s menu book after shoving it with his elbow. You sat up, planning to retrieve the book at the same time Kaveh moved to pick it up from the floor. Your eyes met, and proximity somehow caused Kaveh to lose his balance and stumble forwards — straight into your arms.

You had expected Kaveh to regain his composure and get his hands off you, so you let out a gasp of surprise when Kaveh only fell deeper into your embrace, now hiding his face on your shoulder and circling his arms around your waist.

“You idiot,” you managed to say while ignoring the heat spreading on your face, “you’re gonna fall down. You’re at the edge of your chair, get off me—“

“Don’t want to,” Kaveh complained, only hugging you tighter. You could practically feel him smiling against you. “Did you… mean it? You meant what you said?”

“Mhm.“

“No take backs, okay? Promise me.”

“Why do I need to promise you—“

“Y/N…” Kaveh whined, and his voice was so close to your ear that you obliged just to get him to shut up.

“… I promise that you’re my favorite person. Now get off,” you murmured, pushing Kaveh back to his own chair and sparing yourself from getting any more flustered. Kaveh broke into a lopsided grin, and you couldn’t help but smile at him as well. “Why did you make me promise? You’re so extra sometimes.”

“…I had to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?”

“That you won’t get mad if I do this.”

Before you could ask him what he meant, Kaveh leaned forward once again. This time, he put a hand on your shoulder for support and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek. It was merely a brush of his lips against your skin, but he lingered there longer than he had to — long enough for you to feel his breath against your cheek.

Your heart felt as if it was going to burst out of your ribcage, and it was getting hard to breathe. It was as if a garden of flowers had bloomed inside your lungs, blocking your airway. Kaveh… kissed you. The incredible Kaveh, who you had always adored from afar, the one who became your closest friend in just a few months time, and the one who your heart belonged to — had kissed you.

When you didn’t push him off, Kaveh adjusted his position to kiss the corner of your lips — then your other cheek, your temple, your forehead —

“H-hey,” you finally managed to squeak, your voice cracking for absolutely no reason. You grabbed Kaveh’s shoulders and weakly pushed him away. “You’re drunk, Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s face turned into confusion, before returning to his playful grin. “Oh! You’re right. Sorry, Y/N. I’ll have to continue kissing you tomorrow.”

#op is in love with kaveh #op is right in being in love with kaveh #hes so soft i despise him (affectionate)

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valssoul · 2 years ago

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“My heart has always been yours.” (PART TWO) (Nakahara Chuuya x GN! Reader)

— you had confessed your feelings to Chuuya when he was asleep, only to find out that he was in fact, wide awake.

Tags : FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, Chuuya being Chuuya, reader alternating between teasing chuuya and blushing as red as a tomato, KISS. KISS WITH CHUUYA IM DYING.

Warnings : cursing

Word count : 3.1k (I… might have gotten carried away)

a/n : HOLY SHIT this was so fun to write, I enjoyed writing the first part so much that I HAD to write a second part 😭 my chuuya simp genes rlly took over for this one. @diagonal-queen IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT <33

Part one.

“…can I go now?” Tachihara asked in exasperation. “Old man Hirotsu will give me another beating if I’m late for the fifth time this week-”

“You’re always late, there’s no difference,” You snapped, before hastily apologizing to the Black Lizard commander because you needed him to stay where he was. You were currently hiding behind him, your figure obscured by his lean body so that you were practically invisible to anyone who was passing by in front of him.

Now, how did you get into this situation? The answer’s simple. It all started when Chuuya had walked into the Port Mafia headquarters earlier that morning while bowing down his head as if he was praying to some invisible god. You, being the caring coworker you were, had been waiting for him. When his eyes met yours, you had scrambled forward — just about to greet him with a smile and ask him how he was feeling, when that little shit… walked out.

That’s right. Nakahara Chuuya fucking turned around and walked out of the PM building, despite just arriving less than five seconds ago.

Once he disappeared from the doors of the headquarters, you had scoffed loudly as your hands rested on both your hips. He didn’t want to see you? Fine. You might as well help him out and make sure he really doesn’t see you for the whole day.

That day, you had put your stealth skills to use and dedicated yourself to avoid the mafia executive so that he doesn’t see a strand of your hair. Your strategy had been working, as you soundlessly slipped out of his plane of sight whenever he approached your direction. Then again, things couldn’t always go as you planned.

One particular moment had arisen when he walked right into the training room that you were in, and there was nowhere to hide. Desperate to keep your streak of avoiding him for seven hours straight, you had grabbed the closest person beside you and pressed your back to his, hiding behind him. That person, unfortunately, happened to be Tachihara.

And now, you were really praying that you had an ability to disintegrate yourself into dust as you heard footsteps approaching, accompanied by a familiar voice.

“Oi, Tachihara. Why are you standing there so stiffly.”

With his grumpy tone, Chuuya’s question felt more like a statement. You would be lying if you hadn’t noticed how Chuuya practically barks at everyone around him, but around you, he used a voice that was lined with a certain softness so faint that you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t paid so much attention to him. You had never heard him use that soft voice with anyone else, and that thought would’ve made your heart warm up if you weren’t supposed to be mad at him at the moment.

“Oh. Well. That’s— I have cramps,” Tachihara said, more confidently than he should have been.

“Huh. Fine. Are you sure you’re not still injured from your last mission?”

“Nope. Totally fine.”

“Then get going. Hirotsu and Gin are already waiting for you. Again.”

Recognizing that there was no way Tachihara could stand there glued to the ground like a statue for any longer, you cursed in your head as you admitted defeat and stepped out from your living shield. “Let’s go now, Tachihara. We’re already late for our mission,” you practically shouted out, shooting Tachihara a wide grin as you grabbed his arm and began dragging him towards the door. You didn’t have to look up to sense that Tachihara was looking at you with an expression that translated to : “what mission, bitch. Why are you doing this to me.”

Then again, you could deal with Tachihara’s anger and rants later. On the other hand, you could not deal with Chuuya.

Chuuya, who… grabbed your arm?

As you turned around, you confirmed that it indeed wasn’t your own hallucination. Chuuya had stepped forward, the palm of his hand wrapped around your upper arm. You glared right into his eyes as a silent threat to let go, but it faltered when the look of his eyes registered in your head.

Contrary to your assumption, he didn’t seem mad. You had never been perceptive of people’s emotions, but you tried to read his expression anyway — was that confusion? Or… hurt? You couldn’t tell.

Wait, why’s his cheeks slowly turned into a light hue of pink — oh.

You were trying to read his expression, but he didn’t know that. He didn’t know what you were thinking, so to him, you must have been just… staring at him. With no particular reason at all. Still, that was such a petty thing to be mad about, even for someone who’s almost always mad. So what if you were staring at him? That wasn’t allowed? Refusing to look away first, you forced yourself to keep your gaze fixed into his eyes despite the slight turn in your stomach. Much to your relief, Chuuya finally gave in first, looking away with his cheeks still dusted pink. You unconsciously let out a small sigh as you turned your head to the opposite direction.

Has the training room always been empty? You knew Tachihara had walked out the second Chuuya grabbed your arm — nobody would want to deal with an executive’s wrath — but you could’ve sworn that there were at least five men in the training room just a few seconds ago. Now, it was empty with the exception of you and Chuuya.

You freed yourself from his grip, rushing to walk away before he could say something, but Chuuya clearly didn’t like that. He pulled you in with more force this time, and before you knew it, he had caged you between his body and the wall.

“…Why are you mad at me?” There was a hint of exhaustion in his tone as he spoke in a much lower voice than you both were used to.

You scoffed, the corner of your lips turning upwards. You couldn’t believe this man. First, he completely ignored you and walked out of the building from the sight of you, and now he was asking why you were mad at him.

He must have sensed that you wouldn’t be answering him anytime soon, because he didn’t wait any longer for your response and spoke again. “…Is it because of last night?”

Nearly choking on air, you turned to face him before quickly looking away again to appear indifferent. For the past two years, Chuuya had always been a lightweight who forgot about everything he said when he was drunk. He would go on a long rant about how he hated his ex-partner, Dazai Osamu, although you doubted the genuineness of his claim as he correctly pressed the numbers to dial him and fell asleep before the man on the other end could answer him. The next day, he would forget where he went drinking, let alone remember whatever he had said that night.

You relied on your past experiences to assure yourself that he didn’t mean whatever he said when he was drunk, and that he would forget about everything the following day. That was why you didn’t worry that your professional relationship with him would change, despite the… intimate moment that you two shared the previous night.

But then, everything you believed about Chuuya was thrown out of the window when he uttered those words. He remembered what happened last night? Internally, you were yelling a string of curse words that weren’t enough to describe your confusion and panic, but externally, you kept a calm and unbothered face like always. “Last night? What about last night?”

Chuuya raised his eyebrows for a split second, before switching to that cute frustrated face you were so familiar with. “What do you mean, ‘what about last night’? You— you were the sober one!”

“Nothing happened last night. I went straight home after the others left. You must have been hallucinating from that… one glass of wine you drank.”

“You— do you wanna die?”

“Sure.”

Nope. You didn’t want to die. But maybe if Chuuya was the one to kill you, you’d be willing to.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read your mind. “…you’re not threatening me back. So you really are mad at me.”

“You’re a genius, Nakahara.”

“Y/N, look. Whatever it is I did, I’m sorry.”

A voice in your head urged you to forgive him, to tell him that he did nothing wrong and then step forward to embrace him — but the devil on your shoulder was cackling and prompting you to keep messing with him. It was quite obvious which voice you decided to listen to.

“Hah. Nice try. You can’t be sorry if you don’t even know what you did.”

Then again, it was a mistake trying to mess with Nakahara Chuuya.

You felt his gloved hand grab your chin and turn you towards his direction, leaving you no choice but to stare directly at his face again. “Then tell me what I did wrong, so I can apologize properly, you idiot.”

The last shred of dignity you had crumbled as you gulped, your heart about to pop out of your chest. Chuuya removed his hand from your chin, and you parted your lips to reply to him — but you closed them again upon realizing that you didn’t know what to say. Yet, under his gaze, you finally gave in.

“I- I thought you were mad at me. Because you just left- like, with no reason. This morning. I was going to talk to you, but you just walked out when you saw me. I thought I did something to piss you off.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened as grabbed both of your shoulders with no warning. “You— you saw that?”

“Nakahara, we made eye contact.”

“We did? You were too far away! I just assumed that you happened to be looking in my direction, so I thought that if I bolted for it, you wouldn’t notice!”

Sometimes, you wonder how the hell this man managed to be an executive with that brain of his. Dazai Osamu, you could see how he became an executive at such a young age. Chuuya? Not so much. It was as if he was a rebellious sixteen year-old punk with a pea-sized brain trapped in an adult’s body.

“You— you really think that people won't notice you when you dress like that? Seriously, I’ve never met anyone who dresses as extra as you. Even if you were in a room of a thousand people, you’d be the only person I would notice.”

After saying it out loud, you came across the extremely late realization that your last sentence could be taken in a romantic subtext. And in this position, with your back pressed against the wall and Chuuya standing right in front of you caging you against the—

Nope.

You cleared your throat loudly and passed through the opening below his arm, escaping the wild position you were in. “Anyway. So. You admit that you were avoiding me.”

“It’s not because I’m mad at you! Why would I be mad at you?”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d answer that.”

“I wasn’t mad at you!” Chuuya snapped. If he was telling the truth, it seemed like he was about to get mad any minute now. Fortunately, that was precisely your plan. You knew that the ginger would spit out whatever was on his mind tactlessly whenever he was mad. He might not want to tell you the truth, but as long as you kept his adrenaline running, his own tongue would betray him.

“Mhm. Okay. Sure.”

“Damn it, Y/N, I was just too embarrassed to face you—“

Gotcha.

Suddenly regaining the confidence and composure that you had lost earlier, you stepped closer to him, a smile gracing your lips as you stood on your tiptoes to inch your face closer to his. “Embarrassed? And why are you embarrassed, Chuuya?”

Before you could tease him further, Chuuya slapped a hand over your entire face, pushing you backwards. You could see from the crack between his fingers that he had placed his other hand over his own face, covering it while looking away from your direction.

You’ve never seen the executive lose his entire composure like this when he’s sober. It was… endearing. Cute.

Deciding to abuse this opportunity to tease him up to his limit, you removed his hand from your face, holding his wrist and gently pulling him towards you. Chuuya stumbled towards you as he removed his hand from his face, exposing his startled expression.

“Hey,” you let out a whisper lined with uncertainty, looking up at him even though he was so adamant to avoid your gaze. “…do you really remember what happened last night?”

Chuuya hesitated before he nodded.

“Then you also remember what you said?”

Another nod.

“So. You’ll do anything to get my attention, was that it?”

Chuuya frantically wrestled out of your grip on his wrist and covered his mouth with his gloved hand. “Shut- shut up! Don’t fucking say it out loud—“

“Well, you have my full attention now. So what are you gonna do, hm Chuuya?”

“Damn it, Y/N, when did you get so bold? You’re never like this. You’re always all cold and shit. Why are you doing this to me now?” Chuuya rambled, half of his words inaudible as he spoke through his hands. You had to deduce yourself what he was saying. “I never said anything. I never implied anything! You were the one confessing your love to me and all when you said your heart was mine—“

He didn’t get a chance to finish as you let out a loud cough. “W-what did you say? That night, you— you heard me? You heard what I said?”

“I did. Every single word.”

Now, it was you who turned into a flustered mess. “You— I thought you were asleep! That’s why I said what I said that night! Because you were asleep. No, I thought you were asleep. I thought you couldn’t hear me! That’s the whole reason why I said it. I would’ve never said it if I knew you were awake, you stupid bastard, why didn’t you—“

“Y/N—“

“—say anything if you were awake? No, you should’ve at least moved a muscle so I’d know that you were awake! Have you been planning this? Did you—“

“Y/N, stop talking and listen to me—“

“—purposely pretend to be sleeping so that I’d confess to you? Hah. I guess you learnt a lot from Dazai, huh? Unbelievable. You sick bastard—“

You paused when Chuuya clasped his hand over your mouth. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “this is quite literally the only way for you to shut up. Now, listen to me. Look. I never said — I never said I didn’t like it. What you said to me that night.”

You stepped back to remove his hand from your mouth and regain your right to speak. You had been hiding your feelings from him for as long as you could remember, but now that he heard what you said that night, there was no point in hiding it anymore. “So— what you’re saying is that you like me too?”

“What do you think, idiot?”

You really wished he would just get straight to the point and say it, rather than going in circles like this. What if he didn’t like you after all? You simply refused to make assumptions that might end up in you embarrassing yourself to death. If he really likes you, he should man up and say it to your face.

“I really don’t know, Chuuya. You’ll have to tell me.”

“…No. You can’t make me do this. I am not saying it out loud.”

“Then I guess you really don’t like me.”

“That’s- that’s not true!” Chuuya protested. He pulled his hat off his head and scratched the back of his head. “God, you’re so—“

“I’m so what, huh?”

You didn’t get your answer, because in one swift motion, Chuuya placed his hat behind your head and gently held you in place as he leaned forward to press his lips onto yours.

Chuuya had long known that he handled situations best using his hands. When dealing with enemy organizations, Dazai would always run that smartass mouth of his, coming up with bullshit to manipulate them. Although it always worked, it was a far too slow and complex method to Chuuya’s liking. Chuuya preferred to deal with the situation directly by using his hands to beat up the enemy into doing the mafia’s bidding. He had always known that he wasn't good with words.

Even now, that was proven to be true as he tried to find the right words to tell you how he felt, but with no avail. He wanted so badly to tell you how much he adored you, but how was he supposed to say aloud that he would purposely let a few bullets graze him just to feel your concerned touch on his forehead? How was he supposed to tell you how he craved your laugh more than the finest wine in the world, that he’d make a fool of himself in front of the entire mafia just to hear that damned laugh that you dared to keep to yourself?

He couldn’t. He was never good with words. And so, he used his hands instead.

When he kissed you, the world could have been swept away in a catastrophe and he wouldn’t notice, because his eyes were shut and all he could feel, all he could think of was you. Sensing that you offered no resistance, he deepened the kiss and placed his other hand on your cheek, stroking it gently as a desperate measure to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream too good to be true. That he was really kissing you. You.

When Chuuya reluctantly pulled away for air, he could barely catch a breath before you fell back into his embrace and chased after his lips. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped the moment your soft lips were on his again and you circled your arms around his waist, tugging him closer with a certain sense of urgency.

Fuck.

It was only until you pulled away that Chuuya realized he had dropped his hat, his hand dangling uselessly at your side. As if you weren’t the one who initiated a second kiss, you shoved him away while cursing furiously.

“—Fucking hell, Nakahara,” you spat out, turning around and burying your face into your hands. “You can’t just do that without a fucking warning. You bastard. I take back what I said. I despise you.”

Chuuya grinned, knowing that you didn’t mean what you said. He picked up his hat from the floor and plopped it on your head as he stood in front of you and bent down to be on the same eye level as you.

“Is that so? I thought you said your heart was mine, sweetheart.”

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valssoul · 2 years ago

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“My heart has always been yours.” (PART ONE) (Nakahara Chuuya x GN! Reader)

— In which Chuuya gets frustrated you never seem to notice him, unaware that your heart has always been his.

tags - fluff, DRUNKEN CONFESSION, mutual pining but they both try to hide it, drunk chuuya who’s whipped for you and just wants to impress you, cold tsundere reader who’s secretly even more whipped for him

warnings : swearing, mention of alchohol

word count : 2.1k

a/n : IM SO GLAD I FINISHED THIS FIC RIGHT ON TIME ON HIS BIRTHDAY 😭😭 CHUUYA ILSYM PLS MARRY ME

Part two.

Chuuya always believed that every action had to be returned. The Port Mafia gave him a home, so in return, he would dedicate his life to serving the organization. If anyone dared to hurt his subordinates, he would beat them up ten times worse. That was only fair — he would give more than he received, and hurt people more than he had been hurt.

That’s why, when you stole his heart, he was determined to steal yours too.

But there was just one problem which he could never seem to solve — you were incredibly hard to impress.

He had tried everything he could think of, stooping into all sorts of lowly tactics in order to get your attention. He had made sure he was always at your line of sight whenever he delivered the final blow to a dozen enemies, hoping that you’d notice his strength. He had racked his brain to find the smallest excuses to touch you, whether it was tucking strands of your hair behind your ear whenever you were too busy working to notice, or shifting his position to sit closer to you so that his shoulders would touch yours.

But no matter what he did, you didn’t seem to be interested in whatever he was doing — and it was driving him crazy. He felt like an idiot, being head over heels for someone who seemed so calm and collected around him as if he wasn’t even there in the first place.

Despite that, that didn’t mean you were ignorant. He had met countless people who masked their true, selfish intentions with fake kindness, and he hated every single one of them. But you? You were the opposite. You would act as if you didn’t care about whatever was happening around you, but would be the only one to ask him if he was okay after returning from a mission. Everyone treated him as some sort of invincible god who they could always rely on, but you treated him like the most fragile thing you had ever held in your entire life.

“You’re a fucking idiot. You shouldn’t run into an enemy base all alone like that,” you had murmured, cupping his face in your hands with such tenderness that he didn’t think he could ever deserve.

“I’m strong,” Chuuya had complained, shifting away from your touch because he would have melted into a puddle of nervous wreck if you kept on holding him like that. “I won’t die.”

“Yeah, no shit. But I don't want you to get hurt either.”

“Whatever,” Chuuya had looked away, hiding his face from you so that you wouldn’t notice his flustered state. He was too busy hiding the feelings he held for you — that he never realized the true effect of his actions on you.

When he tucked your hair behind your ear, you would freeze, heart stopping for a split second and butterflies flapping in your stomach. How could he do that so casually? But since he didn’t seem to make a big deal out of it, you decided to act as if you hadn’t noticed his tender action. If he thought it was nothing, then you should also treat it as such. You refused to embarrass yourself in front of him by overreacting.

Whenever he activated his ability, floating mid-air so effortlessly with that red glow highlighting his silhouette, you couldn’t help but watch breathlessly as he defeated all his enemies with that smug smirk on his face. When he turned towards you after landing on the ground, you would quickly divert your attention elsewhere, whether it was dusting off your clothes or pretending to move a corpse out of the way in order to walk away from him.

And when he would sit closer to you so that he was practically pressed against you, your mind would explode into the shameless mess of a lovesick schoolgirl. You act nonchalant, as if you didn’t even sense his presence there, but inside, you were praying that he wouldn’t tuck your hair behind your ear again, because then, he’d notice how red your ear had become.

You were in love with Nakahara Chuuya, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“I told you I’m fine,” Chuuya swatted your hand away, before tripping over a rock and falling to the ground. And he calls himself a gravity manipulator.

You sighed, lazily pulling him back up. You had lost count on how many times you asked him to not drink too much, but he would rather get run over by a bus than believe that he was a lightweight. Well, now he had his proof. He had only drunk a single glass of wine, but he was walking in the opposite direction of his house, unable to walk in a straight line as nearly bumped into a nearby parked car.

“Nakahara,” you used his surname as an indication that you were serious, “shut up and come with me.”

“Why are you always mad at me?” Chuuya groaned, staggering towards you as he leaned on your shoulder, apparently forgetting that you couldn’t support his weight. “I get injured, you get mad. I get drunk, you get mad.”

“So you admit that you’re drunk.”

“Very funny. It was hypothetical. I’ve been drunk before. I’m not drunk now.”

“Sure thing, Nakahara.”

“Stop calling me that,” Chuuya murmured, breathing against your neck and making your cheeks redden. You were lucky he was too drunk to notice anything. “I thought we were way past the surname calling.”

You pushed his face away, face flushed as you grabbed his arm to lead him towards the correct direction of his house, which he kept on insisting was the way towards the Armed Detective Agency. It was certainly not.

“It wouldn’t kill you to smile once in a while, Y/N.”

Says the man who only has grumpy scowl and smug grin as his default expressions.

“Really? That’s funny, because I could say the same to you,” you retorted, about the same time Chuuya slurred, “Especially when you have such a nice smile.”

You stopped on your tracks. Were you so desperate for his affection that your mind began playing tricks on you, making you hallucinate a compliment from him? There was absolutely no way Nakahara Chuuya would offer such a direct compliment to your face without turning away or insulting you right after. You sneaked a glance at him, who seemed to not realize what his own lips had just uttered.

Hang on a little longer, you’re nearly there. Stop blushing, damn it.

By the time you arrived at his house and unlocked it using the keys you fished out from his coat pocket, you were out of breath. Somehow, you still managed to drag him into his bedroom and shove him onto his bed.

“So aggressive as always,” he teased, looking up at you with those sky blue eyes that you loved so much.

“Shut up.”

You eyed him, wondering how it must be uncomfortable to sleep in that outfit. You had managed to help him take off his shoes and coat, but that was as far as you could go. Should you help him change into a regular shirt—

Mentally slapping yourself for coming up with a thought so atrocious, you decided to leave the man be. “Just get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You had just turned around to leave when you felt his gloved hand grab your wrist. Turning around in confusion, you found that Chuuya was at the verge of falling off his bed trying to reach you.

“Why are you in such a rush?” He grumbled.

I’m only doing this so he won’t fall off his bed and ironically die from gravity, you told yourself as you stepped closer to him — but that didn’t explain why you ended up sitting at the edge of his bed and why your hand moved to brush a few strands of his ginger locks behind his ear.

“Just rest, Chuuya,” you said softly. “I have to go now.”

Chuuya scrambled to sit up, accidentally bumping his head to the bed frame. The loud noise and the curse word that escaped his lips made you reach to the back of his head in concern, before remembering that something like that couldn’t possibly hurt someone as strong as him. You let your hand drop, aware that he was still holding your other one.

“Do you really have to?” he murmured, leaning forward lazily that you thought he might sink into your embrace. The mere thought of it made your cheeks warm up.

“Yeah.”

Then, he did it.

He let his body fall towards you, his forehead now resting on your shoulder. His other hand crept to your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“What do I have to do so that you’d stay with me longer?” he murmured. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

“N-nothing,” you stammered, now suspecting that someone had put drugs into his wine. “If- if you want me to stay so bad, I guess I could stay for a bit. You— you don’t have to do anything.”

“Not for a bit,” he protested, still resting against you. “Longer.”

“Longer? Chuuya, do you have any idea what time this is? I might as well stay here for the night.”

“Okay.”

Your heartbeat quickened, not expecting his direct response to what should have been sarcasm. “D-don’t just say okay!”

He lifted up his head, and you instinctively looked away, but not before you caught sight of his face. It might have been because of the lighting of the room, but he seemed redder than he was before.

“Then what am I supposed to say?” he demanded. “I don’t know what to do anymore! Holy fuck, I’m so mad at you, you know that?”

“Mhm, and why is that?” You resisted the urge to smile because his hand was still wrapped around your wrist.

“You’re playing so hard to get! Who do you think you are?”

A hundred different thoughts formed in your head, trying to decipher the implication of his words. “…what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t tell me you can dodge bullets from a sniper you can’t even see, but you never notice how fucking pathetic I am, always tryna get your attention like some lovesick kid. I’ve tried everything I could think of, but all you can do is work, work, and work. I don’t know what else to do anymore! What can I do to make you notice me? I’ll do anything for you. Honestly, how is work more tempting than me? Is work the love of your life? Because you’re sure as hell dedicated to it. Not as much as how I am to you, though.”

As he spoke, you could only sit there, heartbeat racing and cheeks even more flushed than him even though he was the drunk one. He… liked you? All those feelings for him that you kept bottled up to avoid losing him — he returned them all along?

That last sentence he said was the last straw, as you let out incoherent noises and buried your face to his chest as a desperate attempt to hide how flustered you were.

“Oh, so now you’re clinging onto me, huh? Looks like somebody’s in love with me. Well, it’s about time anyway.”

Sober Chuuya could never be this blunt.

“But too bad. I don’t have time for you now. Sleepy.”

“Wha—“

As if he wasn’t the one who was just declaring his desperation for you, he pushed you away from him, although with such a weak force that he ended up falling onto his bed again. Once his head met his pillow, he readjusted his position and… dozed off.

Did… this bastard really fall asleep after basically confirming how he was in love with you?

He was really too much for you to handle. Still, you found yourself sitting on his bed and not being able to stop smiling as you gently removed his gloves from his hands, careful to not wake him up.

You didn’t think it was possible for your feelings for him to grow even more, but you were clearly mistaken. You knew this as you bent down to brush his bangs out of his face and press a soft kiss on his forehead — a gesture that you would show to absolutely no one else.

He hadn’t moved, still snoring lightly — and so you took this as an opportunity to tell him what you could never say right to his face.

“I’ve always noticed you, you idiot. My heart has always been yours.”

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valssoul · 2 years ago

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ok so i kno from readin ur fic that u like sam/seb but like.... have u ever considered: poly sam/seb/abi???

oh gosshshh

idk i see abi more as a Mother figure for the boys, and i dont think ive shipped a straight ship in like,,, 15 years, before the war,, the great attack on my homeland, my heritage

but i am sososo in love with the idea of abi having 2 deal with these two boys stumbling and being so obviously nearly-in-love with each other and seb comes to her like aBI I THINK IM GAYand sam comes to her like aBi I LOVE SEBASTIAN

and she cant tell either of them bc “proMISE ME YOU WONT TELL HIM” and she just has to sit there throughout it all just watching as these two fuCKING NERDS are tERRIBLE at dating honestly

how does she do it,, someone give her a noble prize

i am ALL for poly relationships tho hooooly heck im in a relationship that is open to being poly, me and ebenaceae have this weird poly thing going on with our farmers & shane (even tho we’re deep into a farmer-only AU that is conSUMING MY LIFE RN), so like damnnn that’d be good shit and i can totally see why you’d ship it tho!!

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valssoul · 2 years ago

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How to Write About PTSD

@writinghaven on instagram [source: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/]

PTSD is featured in many fictional works, primarily as a source of internal conflict for a character. However, many writers simply research symptoms and run with it. There is so much more to PTSD than flashbacks that can add emotional layers, depth, and connection to readers, as well as increase the accuracy of the representation. Here are some important things to remember/consider when writing about PTSD!

What do writers get wrong about PTSD?

Giving characters a traumatic past and an ongoing condition that hinders their ability to move on is great for character arc if you can pull it off. Otherwise it can come off sounding trite or melodramatic. The character struggling with PTSD is facing overwhelming odds, and any character who stands up to a bully of any kind (even when it’s a mental illness) is someone readers will cheer for.

Do more research than just symptoms. Flashbacks seem to be the most appealing aspect of writing a character with PTSD, but actual recurring flashbacks are a symptom of very severe PTSD which is absolutely debilitating in every way. Try talking to someone who struggles with this. Read blogs written by those who live with or struggle with this, or have a loved one who struggle with this. Know that the symptoms don’t encompass the whole struggle but are simply the tip of the iceberg.

What else is there to PTSD other than flashbacks?

Yes, flashbacks can happen with PTSD, but here’s the truth about flashbacks – not everyone has them frequently or even at all. Most writers love the idea of using flashbacks, I’ll admit they’re fun to play with, but where writers often miss the mark with PTSD are all the OTHER symptoms that are debilitating and soul-crushing. Far more common are triggers which require more subtlety and art to really convey how devastating they can be.

PTSD is a filing problem – basically. Where most brains are able to process and appropriate file away a traumatic memory, for whatever reason – a particular memory or file gets left out and never gets filed away (processed). It’s kept front and center for easy access essentially rewiring the brain.

When triggered, (a smell, a place, a feeling, a person, etc.), the inner-most part of the brain (the amygdala – stay with me) sounds off like a fire alarm. When that fire alarm goes off, the rest of your brain diverts all power/energy to that alarm center. So, once the fire alarm goes off, you’re incapable of “thinking” your way out of a situation. Instead, you’ll instinctively react in the way that’s most likely to “save you” whether it’s fight, flight, or freeze.

When PTSD rewires the brain, that fire alarm (which is useful, which is necessary) is now super super sensitive. It’s like placing a fire alarm over your toaster. You’re going to get a lot of false alarms. So, in real life we might take the battery out of the alarm, move the alarm or move the toaster. But with PTSD, because the brain can’t figure out where to file that memory, you’re kind of stuck with these constant false alarms. So most or at least a lot of energy goes into avoiding setting off that fire alarm.

This creates a near-constant hyper-vigilance that is exhausting. Utter, soul-draining, bone-weary exhaustion. To the point where you can’t think clearly – you struggle to order your thoughts or prioritize things correctly. It’s debilitating and can very thoroughly undermine your self-confidence. Every small task or outing gets weighed against the emotional and physical and mental toll it could exact. And let me tell you, this foggy thinking makes life seem pretty hopeless pretty fast.

And while only the most severe cases have persistent flashbacks, that hyper-vigilance and exhaustion is pretty common. The mental fog caused by the hyper-vigilance or a trigger is common. The frustration and internalized shame of not being able to sort your thoughts, or trust your own thinking is intense.

Give your character a coping mechanism

Most people learn coping mechanisms to manage the symptoms of PTSD simply to function, but those mechanisms wear out, their effectiveness wanes over time, our tolerance of them grows thin. If a trigger is the fire alarm, the coping mechanisms are essentially the broom being used the fan the fire alarm to prevent it from going off.

If that “broom” is the only way you can manage life at all, you’ll go to some pretty extreme lengths to prevent having it ripped from your hands. Now, that “broom” can be expressed in a wide variety or combination of ways: anger or violence, self-medicating with drugs or alcohol, workaholism, eating disorders, becoming a hermit, suicidal, etc.

At the same time, someone with PTSD is going to cover up their pain at all costs. People stare. They avoid you. They whisper. And all of that gets internalized over time. They’ll be fine in a social situation until they aren’t and they react in (what might appear to be) an irrational or erratic way, but internally they’ll have clamped down and “soldiered up” as long as possible.

Show the consequences of how ineffective that bloody broom strategy is! Show what happens when the broom is taken away (alcohol, a person, a schedule, etc.).

Show don’t tell a PTSD Trigger

You want to show and not tell, right. The person struggling with these kinds of anxiety or PTSD is going to go to great lengths NOT to think about the original traumatic event. Who consciously relives traumatic events? Nobody.

More likely, the traumatic memories are shoved to the very back of the mind and actively avoided, and numbed when avoidance isn’t possible. They’ll be ruled by emotions, and unless they dig down into the WHY of their strong emotion, the PTSD may go untreated for a very long time.

Instead, show the coping mechanisms (the broom) used to control the symptoms or turn their mind off (escapism, fantasy, porn, drugs, alcohol).

“For me there’s a predictable progression that happens that tips me off to that fire alarm detecting smoke. I feel it in my gut first, a clamping down, a tension, a tightness, and a feeling like I don’t want to be in that place. Then I start to blush, my face feels like it’s on fire. Then I start to tremble. I’ll look down and notice my hands trembling, but at times it won’t feel like I’m looking at my own hands at all. Then my last warning is profuse sweating – regardless of the environmental conditions.” - Lisa Hall-Wilson

When PTSD is triggered you’re at war with yourself quite literally. It will seem to come out of nowhere or can build up slowly to a crashing crescendo. A moment ago you were rationally able to recognize there wasn’t any danger, but then the switch is flipped and your body is absolutely convinced you’re in mortal danger.

Know what your character’s primal goal is when they’re triggered. Is it safety? Is it survival? Is it escaping? Have them seek that out at all costs.

They could have a mantra they recite to control their thoughts. They might have a safe person, someone they trust to watch their backs in new or upsetting situations. The slow removal of their dependence on their grounding techniques or coping mechanisms is a great way to show growth.

Those who know what their triggers are will actively avoid situations that might set them off. This is a potential for conflict – force them into a situation where they’re uncomfortable, where they feel threatened or unsafe. Spring it on them. Put them in new situations.

“I wasn’t aware that exercise fatigue mimicked my PTSD symptoms, so I was triggered by a jerk at the gym and couldn’t feel it coming on because I was in the middle of a workout. The times when you’re triggered without warning are the worst. Being blindsided sets you back days, weeks, even months.”

A blindsided character could be an “all is lost” moment

Being blindsided by a trigger at any point. A situation that’s been fine a thousand other times can trigger you that one day because someone new is there, because you can’t get your usual seat by the door, because someone’s wearing the cologne that your attacker wore. This is a great device to save for a pivotal conflict.

It’s like a two-by-four to the head. Show their emotional wounds bleeding all over the floor and have them keep going anyway. Show them growing stronger, trusting people again against their instincts, forgiving themselves because they couldn’t get a hold of themselves again, etc. Let the whole process be messy, two steps forward and one step back. The stories that end in a pretty bow and leaves everyone “cured” simply aren’t authentic.

SOURCE: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/

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