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starstruckkittensweets · 4 months

Text

decisions

Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

fandom: bungo stray dogs

New year, new format, same old Star? I guess only time will tell. Anyway, here's my silly little self dabbling in a new fandom to get myself out of my writer's block. Blame BSD for being my current obsession, and for keeping me up way past my bedtime just to finish this lil fic just in time for new year's. Please be kind, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things! Also I haven't been able to get my mind off of Chuuya for like the last few weeks, send help pls I'm very concerned, it's currently 3:30am and I'm very sleep-deprived haha dividers made by @/hitobaby

warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol consumption, reader has a history with Chuuya (he's responsible for bringing her into the mafia in the first place), reader is a little sad with complicated feelings on new year's eve, Chuuya may or may not be ooc and I'm sorry if he is, this fic is totally not self-indulgent in the slightest, idk what you guys are talking about || words: 2.3k

Fifteen minutes to go.

The air is chilly against your cheeks, the thin jacket over your shoulders barely doing anything to keep out the cold. Even with the buttons fastened all the way up to your neck and a scarf wrapped over your face twice, you’re still freezing your ass off. Oh well, better out here than in there.

You’ve never seen the Port Mafia headquarters look so lively. You blame Elise—well, Mori specifically for feeding into her wishes to throw such an extravagant party in the first place. The first two hours were fun, but you decided to tap out once you saw the familiar red hue splashed across Higuchi’s cheeks. As much as you enjoy her company, the last thing you want to do is watch her make a fool out of herself in front of Akutagawa. (Who’s also getting a little tipsy himself, and it’s quite uncomfortable to watch.)

Besides, it’s too loud and rowdy for your liking. So instead you’re leaning against the wall outside, your second bottle of cider clutched in your hands, secretly wishing the skirt of your dress was just a tiny bit longer.

You glance at your watch and grimace. Fourteen minutes left.

Fuck.

“Party ain’t good enough for you, huh?”

You jolt at the familiar voice; your cheeks are flushed, but you know better than to blame the drink in your hand. Seems that Chuuya just has that effect on you.

You shrug your shoulders, gazing down at the pavement as he makes his way down the entrance steps. “It’s fine, just a little…crazy, I guess? It’s quieter out here.”

“Cold as hell, though.”

“Yeah…”

An uneasy silence settles over the two of you. You clear your throat and swallow another mouthful of your drink. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other against the wall beside you, careful not to scuff up the fabric of his fancy blue overcoat. Never one to pass up dressing a bit nice for a party or banquet, huh?

He hums, taking a sip from his wine glass (of course he brought it out with him). You’re about to open your mouth before he raises an eyebrow, sending a scathing look at the choice of drink in your hands.

“…You still drinking that shit?”

You roll your eyes with a huff, “Well, we can’t all have your stellar taste in alcohol.”

Not your fault he has a thing for fancy wines that cost more than your entire wardrobe at home. You prefer something a little more comfortable, and sometimes a simple bottle of hard cider is more than enough to get the job done.

He shakes his head, but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips (or maybe the alcohol’s making you see things already). “You’d think with all the time we’ve spent together, your taste in drinks would improve.”

“As if.” You nudge your elbow into his arm before taking another swig. “Don’t try to take me away from my cider.”

Your head is a bit fuzzy, but no amount of alcohol seems to warm you up. You fold your arms across your chest, careful not to spill your drink down the front of your coat. It would be just like you to go and make a fool of yourself in front of your superior like that.

Eleven minutes to go.

“…What’s on your mind?”

Damn it, he must’ve seen you looking at your watch. You swallow hard, tracing your thumb around the rim of your bottle. And suddenly all the words you wanna say vanish on the tip of your tongue.

So you just don’t answer. A few more moments pass in silence before he tips his head back against the wall, a heavy sigh filling the air around you.

“Come on, you gotta be drinking out here alone for a reason. So what is it, huh?” His eyes are sharp when he finally glances at you. “Someone upset you in there, or what?”

“Huh—no, nothing like that—”

At least, nothing any of your coworkers said. They’re not at fault for your sour mood; the only one you have to blame is yourself.

Oh well, you’re already a bit drunk. You already have a list of things you’ll regret tomorrow morning. What’s the harm in adding just one more?

“I just…I don’t see the point in celebrating new years anymore…”

You cringe the moment the words leave your lips. Way to go, dumbass. He definitely won’t think you’re trying to be edgy just to impress him. Not in the slightest.

Eh, you’ve already made a fool out of yourself. Might as well go all the way, right? Rip the bandaid off now while you can.

“It’s like, well, for the last few years they’ve just kinda…blended together? They’re repetitive and everyone makes a big deal out of them, and I don’t really get it anymore. Yeah, it was fun when we were kids, but now? I just gotta look forward to another year of being the same person I was the last twelve months. It’s fun for the first few days, but then everything reverts right back to the way it was. Nothing changes permanently, y’know?”

Fuck me, it’s not like he’s your therapist! He doesn’t need to hear this shit! Shut your mouth while you still have a chance!

But he doesn’t stop you—not that your mouth would know when to quit, anyways.

“Dunno, maybe I’m just being a downer about it. It’s been like that for a while, though, not just because of new year’s… Higuchi says it’s because I haven’t even been kissed—because that’s supposed to make everything better, apparently. New Year’s kiss and all—it’s stupid, right?”

Not that you ever believed her about that bullshit. Totally not. And that weird fluttering feeling in your chest right now? You’ve had too much to drink. Not that you’ll stop any time soon.

The silence in the air is killing you, and you’re just about to down the rest of your drink in one gulp when you hear a soft snicker beside you. Chuuya shakes his head, smirking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Sour mood just because you’ve never had a new year’s kiss?”

“S-shut up! You know what I mean!”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his voice softer than before, “I think I do.”

He sinks himself down to the ground, the tails of his coat acting as a barrier between him and the freezing pavement. Setting his glass down he pats the space next to him, and it’s almost embarrassing how quick you are to follow his lead. Even when you’re all bundled up in your coat and scarf, your body curled into itself, you only start to feel warm when you’re pressed against his side.

And he seems to notice, because he drapes an arm over your shoulder to pull you in close. It’s not the first time he’s done this, but it still makes you feel antsy all the same.

“Another year in paradise, eh?”

You raise your bottle to meet his glass halfway, the soft clink sending a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad this time around.”

At least, that’s what you tell yourself every year. Maybe it’ll be okay this time. Maybe things will work out. Maybe this year, you won’t see yourself as a complete and utter failure. Despite your accomplishments and contributions to the mafia, maybe you’ll start seeing yourself as something more than a lowly criminal.

Instead of the same simple girl he picked up from the streets all those years ago.

The two of you finish your drinks, with only the buzzing of the voices inside breaking the silence between you. It’s getting closer to midnight, only five more minutes to go. You place your bottle down at your side with a clang, wincing when you start to feel a pang in your temple. And one look at Chuuya tells you his own drink is finally catching up to him; he grimaces and tilts his head back, his cheeks flushed red from the frigid air around you.

“We’re both gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, huh?”

“Bet yours will be worse than mine,” he challenges with a smirk.

But you can see the exhaustion in his eyes; he’s always been a lightweight, as long as you’ve known him. Too many times you’ve helped him home from a night at the bar, other times you’ve been right beside him, just as wasted as he was. Perhaps it’s not the ideal superior-underling relationship to have at work, but quality drinking buddies are hard to come by these days.

And besides, there’s just something about seeing him in such a vulnerable state that makes you feel a certain way. No, it’s not just that—it’s knowing that he’s letting you see him in such a vulnerable state. That he trusts you enough to get him home safe, to not take advantage of him when he’s too far gone to even remember his own name. And knowing that he would do the exact same for you, and that trust is returned in full (and then some, if you’re being completely honest with yourself).

Because no matter how hard you try to talk yourself out of it, or convince yourself otherwise, you’re still that same stupid girl from the slums with a soft spot for the man who saved her.

You press yourself deeper into his side, smiling when you feel his arm tighten around your shoulders. Three minutes left of the year. The voices from inside are growing louder, more pronounced as the seconds tick by. You don’t pay them much mind, not when you’re already half asleep, cuddled up against your boss.

How scandalous—maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll pass out before midnight and won’t wake up till noon the next day.

“You don’t have to be the same person you are now, if you’re not happy with it.” His voice snaps you awake at once, and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s staring in your direction. “If you think you’ll be happier as someone else, then be that person.” He scoffs lightly with a shrug of his shoulders. “As long as you’re satisfied, I don’t see a problem with that.”

Your lips open and close, reminding yourself of a fish. Your throat runs dry, but you manage to force a few words out.

“It’s not that I wanna be someone completely different… I like myself sometimes, and other days…” You hate yourself and the person you’ve become. “…But I don’t wanna lose the parts of me I like, you know? Sometimes I wanna change, but I also wanna just stay being me… Ah, never mind, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” You force out a laugh, hiding your face in your frozen hands. “I’m drunk, I know I am. See what happens when you let me drink so much?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol making your tongue looser than it normally is. You’ve only had two bottles, but combined with the wintry air and Chuuya’s warmth beside you… You fear you’ve gone off the deep end by now. And there’s no way you’re crawling back out of it until you crash and burn…and hopefully not take anyone else with you.

He rolls his eyes, but they’re softer than they were before. A pretty blue shade, almost sparkling in the bright moonlight. Ah, damn it, who are you kidding? They’ve always been pretty—he’s always been pretty…

You can hear people chanting in the distance. Must be the final countdown of the night, huh?

“Don’t worry your head over it,” he whispers, and he’s so close you can almost taste the wine on his breath. Warm and comforting, reminding you of a home you once carved out for yourself. “I think I get what you’re saying.”

You don’t even bother looking down at your watch. You know just how much longer you have before the year is up.

“Whatever you decide to do,” he says, and you can feel his gloved fingers lacing through your own, “whatever parts of yourself you decide to keep, I’ll still be on your side.”

A chorus of cheers erupts from headquarters; shadows dance along the golden windows, illuminating the streamers and confetti and drunken patrons as they celebrate the brand new year. You swallow hard, your cheeks burning against the cold, unable to tear yourself away from those pretty blue eyes.

But then his words sink in, really sink in, and suddenly you want to cry. But you can’t stop yourself from smiling, even as you feel the first line of tears prick at your lashes.

“That…means a lot to me,” your voice is hoarse, but you manage to get the words out just in time. “Thank you so much, Chuuya, I could just—”

Kiss you now, like the idiot I am.

Oh, what the hell? The lines have already been blurred, what’s the harm in actually crossing them? Or maybe that’s just the alcohol talking again.

But you know damn well that this is one drunken decision you will never regret, for as long as you live.

“…This might sound really stupid, but can I kiss you?”

Call yourself stupid for asking, but he’s just as stupid for nodding—and the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms, lips pressed together with the roars of the crowd inside echoing in your ears.

Who knows what the new year will bring? More of the same? A little bit of excitement? Only time will tell, you guess. You wonder how many parts of yourself you’ll start to shed, like a skin that’s grown far too tight for your liking. Or maybe you’ll fall in love with a few different parts, seeing them in a new way you’d never even thought of.

At least you’re not alone in it, no matter what your decision is.

#rip to the 'r' key on my laptop #this entire fic was written with that lil bugger broken #two pieces of tape saved me from going absolutely bonkers #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd fics

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