Recent Re-observations Of SB Chuuya's Design Have Spawned The Idea Of Chuuya Being Farsighted And His

I smiled like an idiot during my class when I saw this notification come through

Lovely, again 10/10

Another idea, 15!Chuuya who just joined the Port Mafia having his first crush on reader

I can imagine him going to Kouyou to ask for advice 🤭

Like, reader likes him back but still lets him stumble over his words cause it's cute

I feel like I'm not as good at writing Chuuya so I enjoy reading fics for him and you're good at writing him

Man i love your ideas sm and thanks for the compliment!

15!Chuuya x reader

“Beneath the Surface”

Chuuya Nakahara wasn’t new to fights. He wasn’t new to blood, danger, or the haunting, suffocating feeling of Corruption simmering beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the power he could barely control. But this? This was new. This twisting in his chest, this irritation crawling under his skin every time he looked at you. The way his pulse quickened, how his words fumbled out in a mess when you were near.

He had never felt this powerless before.

And the worst part? You seemed to enjoy it.

“Oi, Chuuya, you zoning out or what?” your voice cut through his thoughts like a blade, the familiar teasing lilt making his eye twitch.

The two of you were standing outside, waiting for orders after a routine mission. His heart was still thudding hard from the adrenaline, but the moment you leaned against the wall next to him, all nonchalant and relaxed, his throat went dry. You flashed him that infuriating grin, the one that sent his mind spinning for reasons he didn’t want to admit.

“Zoning out? I ain’t—” Chuuya cleared his throat, fighting to keep his voice steady, “I’m not zoning out. Maybe you’re the one who can’t stay focused.”

You chuckled softly, a knowing gleam in your eyes. “Is that so?”

Chuuya hated how easily you could make him feel small, like you saw right through him — like you knew what he was feeling before he could even make sense of it. And the worst part? You always seemed to enjoy teasing him, watching him stumble over his words or get flustered.

He should’ve been able to handle it. He was Chuuya Nakahara, damn it — future executive of the Port Mafia. But around you, he felt like he was all fists and rage, without the cool confidence he usually carried.

You shrugged casually, pushing yourself off the wall and stepping a little closer to him. “You sure? You’ve been pretty distracted lately. Almost like something’s on your mind.” There was that tone again, the one that hinted you knew. And damn it, you probably did.

He gritted his teeth, trying to focus on anything else. “There’s nothin’ on my mind, alright? You’re imagining things.”

But even he knew that wasn’t true.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

The crush had started small, barely noticeable at first. You were one of the few who treated him like he was your equal, despite him being new to the Mafia. You were sharp, quick with your words, and had a mind that could cut through even the thickest of tensions. Chuuya respected that. But at some point, the respect shifted, and he found himself watching you in ways he hadn’t before.

It was the way you laughed, soft but with an edge that always left him wondering what you were thinking. The way your smile, so full of mischief, made something twist uncomfortably in his chest. And the way you always seemed too calm — as if you never took anything seriously, and yet still managed to outsmart everyone around you.

One time, after a sparring match where he’d barely managed to keep his cool, you leaned over, offering him a hand with a smirk. “Good effort, Nakahara.”

His blood boiled at the patronizing tone. “Tch. I don’t need your pity.”

But your teasing grin never faltered. “Relax, Chuuya. You’ll get better.”

Better? The audacity. But his heart still raced from the lightness in your voice, from the way you spoke his name like it was some private joke only you understood.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Days passed, and the frustration gnawed at him. It wasn’t just your teasing that got to him anymore; it was everything about you. Your smirk, your laugh, the way you looked at him like he was both amusing and… something more. It was unbearable.

Chuuya prided himself on not needing help. But with you? He didn’t know what to do. How could he, when every time he tried to talk to you seriously, he ended up stumbling over his words like some awkward kid?

And so, in desperation — and no small amount of embarrassment — Chuuya found himself standing in front of Kouyou’s quarters, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The moonlight cast a soft glow over the hallway, and the sounds of the night echoed faintly in the distance.

Kouyou opened the door, raising a delicate eyebrow at the sight of him. “Chuuya. It’s late. What brings you here?”

Chuuya swallowed his pride, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I, uh… I need some advice.”

Kouyou’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Ah. I see.” She stepped aside, allowing him into the room. “Have a seat. This seems… personal.”

He scowled, feeling his face flush. “It’s not personal,” he lied. “It’s just—there’s someone, okay? Someone in the Mafia who keeps messing with me, and I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Kouyou folded her hands in her lap, regarding him with her usual calm gaze. “Messing with you, how?”

“They’re always teasing me,” Chuuya muttered, staring down at the floor, “and it’s like they know what I’m thinking before I even say it. It pisses me off.”

Kouyou chuckled softly. “And yet, you find yourself drawn to them, don’t you?”

Chuuya clenched his fists, frustrated. “Yeah, but it’s… different. I don’t get it. Why can’t I just talk to them like a normal person?”

Kouyou’s smile was gentle, almost amused. “You’ve never been one for subtlety, Chuuya. But from what you’ve described, it sounds like this person enjoys your company. Have you considered that their teasing might be… affectionate?”

Chuuya blinked, staring at her in disbelief. “Affectionate? You’re kidding, right? They’re always messing with me.”

Kouyou laughed softly, a sound that both soothed and irritated him. “Some people express their feelings through playfulness, especially when they know it affects the other person. It sounds to me like they enjoy seeing your reactions. And judging by how flustered you are, it’s working.”

Chuuya flushed a deeper red, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “So what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t just… I dunno, keep letting them mess with me.”

Kouyou’s expression softened. “Perhaps you should stop focusing on how to ‘win’ against them and instead consider how you truly feel. Do you want them to stop? Or is there something more?”

Chuuya went silent, Kouyou’s words echoing in his mind. Something more? He’d never considered it like that before. But maybe… maybe there was something more. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad after all.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Chuuya clenched his fists, struggling to steady his breath. The weight of Kouyou's advice pressed heavy on his chest. Now was the moment—he’d either crumble or finally get the words out.

“I-I’m not here to fight,” he muttered, his voice betraying him with a slight stutter. He winced internally at his own nerves.

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening with that ever-present teasing glint in your eyes. “Oh? That’s a surprise. So what’s on your mind, Chuuya?”

His throat felt tight, but he pressed on, stepping closer, his heart thundering against his ribs. “You.” His voice cracked slightly, and he quickly clenched his jaw to steady himself. “Y-You’re always on my mind, dammit.”

The smirk on your lips softened, but the amusement never fully disappeared. You tilted your head, a playful flicker in your gaze. “Is that so? How bold of you.”

Chuuya’s cheeks flushed, his frustration mixing with embarrassment. Why was this so difficult? He was a Port Mafia member, strong, unshakable, and here he was fumbling over his words like an idiot. He took another step forward, his fists clenched tight by his sides.

“Yeah, i-it’s true. And I… I’m tired of you messing with me like I’m some joke,” he blurted out, his voice sharper than intended but laced with a vulnerability he couldn’t hide.

For a split second, your eyes widened, but then a soft, genuine laugh bubbled from your throat—completely different from the usual sarcastic tones you threw his way. “Chuuya, I wasn’t messing with you.”

His breath caught. You weren’t? All this time? He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but words failed him.

You slid off the railing, closing the distance between the two of you. “I was just waiting for you to figure it out,” you murmured, voice softer now, your teasing edge momentarily fading.

Chuuya’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as your words lingered in the air between you. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the world around him. He had been expecting rejection, or another round of teasing—but this? This left him speechless.

You took another step forward, and suddenly, you were closer than he’d ever imagined. Chuuya could feel the warmth radiating from you, and he was hyper-aware of every inch between you, vanishing rapidly.

He swallowed hard, but no words came. His mind raced, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull he felt towards you. “I—" he started, but before he could find his voice, your hand gently cupped his cheek.

Without giving him a chance to overthink, you leaned in, your lips brushing softly against his. The kiss was tentative at first, testing, but when you felt Chuuya’s hesitant but eager response, it deepened.

His hands, which had been hanging awkwardly at his sides, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the world seemed to fade away. Every thought, every worry, melted under the warmth of the kiss. Chuuya’s pulse raced, but this time it wasn’t from nerves—it was from the overwhelming sensation of finally having what he hadn’t even realized he’d been chasing for so long.

When you finally pulled back, the teasing smirk returned to your lips, but there was a softness in your eyes that made Chuuya’s chest tighten for a different reason now.

“So…” you whispered, voice just above a breath, “was that clear enough for you?”

Chuuya, still dazed, blinked, his usual bravado returning just a little. He huffed softly, trying and failing to suppress a small smile. “Y-Yeah… clear enough.”

For once, there were no words to stumble over, no need to fight back. Everything between you two was finally starting to fall into place.

Omg this took FOREVER

Can't go wrong with burgerzai. Old art upload, I still cherish this one everyday

Oneshot -Pushing and Pulling. Home.

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Soukoku - Dazai x Chuuya

A/N: This is the fanfic version of the comic with quite a bit more detail in it than the comic did. It has Dazai's direct thoughts leading up to his attempt from the beginning of the comic, as well as a look at Chuuya's own thoughts.

TW: blood, self-harm, suicide attempt, language

A/N: Also posted on Ao3

Comic version HERE

Nothing… 

Numbingly empty… 

A mirage of thoughts ran rampant throughout his mind with no end in sight. They pushed and pulled him down with arms of inky black darkness into the sheets below. 

The tug had been growing worse, harder to ignore over time. It came on gradually, leaving him little chance to fend them off before he realized it was too late. It had taken him too long to notice the grip of the demons in his mind. 

He didn’t want to admit that even after defecting from the Port Mafia, after surviving for two years underground, after doing everything for Odasaku, he hadn’t changed. 

Even after all of Fyodor’s bullshit, and he and Chuuya had finally become partners again -though now it meant more to them. 

He hadn’t changed. 

It had been a while since he had genuinely attempted anything, what with Chuuya’s watchful eyes. That and when he was around Chuuya, the darkness of his thoughts often receded, soothed by the ethereal man he had the undeserved privilege to call his lover. 

Sadly, with their differing jobs, it was simply impossible to be with Chuuya every minute of every day. 

In fact, Chuuya was currently away on an abroad mission. He was set to be back sometime tomorrow after having been gone for an entire month. 

Without Chuuya around to soothe the demons in his head, he fell. 

He fell victim to the grabbing hands. 

Pushing and pulling. 

Inky blackness. 

His face contorted in a frown as a restlessness overtook him. 

‘He’ll be back tomorrow.’ He tried telling himself through the cacophony of countless thoughts. Fruitless, really, but he didn’t want to hurt Chuuya. Not again. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Blackness. 

Darkness. 

It filled his lungs like thick black blood. 

Sweet like honey with the seducing promise of relief. 

A quiet mind. 

With no thumping beat of a heart. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His feet hit the ground before his mind could stop him. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His hand reached for the door to the bathroom. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Chuuya had stopped messaging daily sometime after the first week. Too busy with his mission. 

Chuuya hadn’t messaged him since last week. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

What if he was hurt? 

What if he didn’t come back. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

What if he didn’t want to come back? 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His clothes hit the floor by the door, the bandages on his arms and legs following. 

Pushing. Pulling. 

The blade cut, stinging. 

Through his skin. 

Through the bandages still covering his chest. 

Red. 

Pushing. Pulling. 

Inky red blood flowed out. Seeped into his skin. 

Into the pristine white covering him. 

White never did suit him. 

Pushing, pulling. 

The water from the faucet meshed horrendously with his rampant thoughts. 

His vision was flooded with a bloody red color as his arm reached out in front of him to stop the running water. 

Waves of steam rolled off and over the tub. 

Pushing, Pulling. 

The water bled red as he stepped into the tub. 

Burning. 

A pleasant burning from where the blade had cut through him and from the water as it came into contact with his skin.  

The burning water seeped through his bandages, further burning. 

Burning to combat the endless, bone-deep, freezing cold. 

The inky red blood polluted the water. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Pushing and pulling him into a soothing embrace of darkness. 

Quiet. 

_____________________

The door clicked behind him softly. 

He could feel the exhaustion deep in the marrow of his bones as he hung up his coat and haphazardly kicked off his shoes into the genkan.  

He called out into the quiet house.  

“Dazai! I’m home!” 

He was greeted with silence. 

He was supposed to arrive home the next day, so perhaps Dazai was asleep? 

It was well past 2 in the morning. 

But Chuuya knew Dazai always struggled to fall asleep. And since Dazai began to live with him, he relied on him to sleep. 

‘I need my Chibi heater to stave off the cold! If you leave, then I’ll be left freezing and awake!’ 

The memory flashes through his head as he places his hat on the dining room table. 

“Dazai?” 

Silence. 

He made his way towards their shared room when he noticed the bathroom light on. 

He knocked softly on the door as he called out to him. 

“Dazai?” 

There was no response. 

A seed of fear sprouted into a hideous flower in his gut. 

Dazai wouldn’t… He had been clean for so long now. 

He called out again, hopeful to get a response this time. 

“Dazai? Are you in there?” 

Silence. 

He reached to open the door, unlocked. 

His mind went blank as he looked at the bloody scene in front of him. 

He stood there for a second that felt more like an hour, a day, a month. 

He could see the steam from the likely scalding temperature of the water.  

The blood was a vibrant red. Fresh.  

The scent of iron filled his nostrils. 

Then the panic set in. 

He suddenly felt like a victim to the gravity he normally had flawless control over. 

He rushed forward to check Dazai’s pulse, with little care for the blood staining his clothes. 

Through his own rapid breathing, he was able to subtly feel Dazai’s slow pulse. 

There was so much blood. 

He let his mind wander to what could have happened while he was gone while he fell back to old habits. Picking up Dazai’s limp body, unplugging the drain, pulling off what remains of his bandages. Rinsing the blood still on him, redressing his wounds with two layers of bandages to avoid any more bleeding. 

When he got to the ‘clothing Dazai’ step in his habitual process, Dazai began to stir into consciousness as he pulled up boxers over his legs. 

He hardly noticed as his mind continued to drift. His hands moved to pull one of Dazai’s heavenly soft sweaters over him. 

He left Dazai sitting on the stool in the bathroom as he finished cleaning the mess, mumbling to himself as his mind returned from drifting. 

“…got Dazai cleaned, bandaged, and dressed…” 

He pulled off his blood-soaked gloves, tossing them into the trash. 

“Dinner can wait I guess… and I’ve got to change…” 

He looked over himself, clothes stained red in blood. 

“Dammit! And I’ve still got that report…” 

A soft sniffle from behind him pulled him from his thoughts. 

Behind him was Dazai, still sitting just like how Chuuya had left him to clean up. 

He crouched down in front of him, reaching out to wipe some of his tears. Hesitant on whether Dazai was up for touch. 

When Dazai didn’t shift away he brought his hands down to gently run along Dazai’s thickly bandaged knees. 

He was at a loss for words, not having quite come to terms with the fact that if he had returned tomorrow, as was planned, Dazai would have been dead when he found him. 

“…Do you wanna talk about it?”  

His voice hardly sounded like his own, tentative, shaky, unsure. 

Finally, a response reached his ears. 

“Not really…” 

Dazai’s eyes were blank, devoid of any feeling, as he looked into them. 

He closed his eyes, sighing, both at finally being able to hear his voice and at the emotionless stare. 

Then, Dazai spoke again. 

“Can we… talk tomorrow?” 

He didn’t realize he had been frowning until he felt his lips pull at a small smile. 

Before they had gotten together, Dazai would never have asked to talk about something. If he didn’t bring up something then Dazai would never do it. And even when he did try to bring something up, Dazai would attempt to deflect and distract him from the conversation. 

“Yeah… tomorrow. For now… I’ll change, we can order food and watch a movie. How’s that sound?” 

“Cuddle?” 

A soft chuckle left his lips at the hesitant tone Dazai spoke in. 

“Yeah.” 

Chuuya was hardly paying attention to the show, thinking of everything they would have to talk about tomorrow.  

He felt Dazai nuzzle into him, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked down at the soft brown curls against his chest. Dazai’s head was turned toward the TV but from what he could see, Dazai’s eyes were closed, asleep.  

He smiled, letting his eyes close. 

He could feel sleep begin to overtake him now that he was finally home. 

Home being the man in his arms.

15 soukoku ! (reposting from twt)

Wonderful start to my day, very cute

Half hour show at the Bellagio

Damn. Is that a new soukoku dump? Might be.

Ages ago I went to a flying tiger and saw these..... and I was like "the universe is giving me a skk sign"

Kitsune Dazai!!