TOO SWEET

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 . . .

For a terrifying mafia crook, your Nakahara Chuuya definitely took being well mannered to an entire new level. But perhaps, that side of him was only reserved for you.

Even before you inevitably became an item — the infamous General and you, a private mafia secretary — you noticed how he never forgot the nuances. Whenever you both walked together in the same hallway; he'd always make sure to hold the door open for you. And if you were too far behind, he'd wait, holding the doorframe ajar with his long leather-bound fingers. He'd never bark at you to hurry the fuck up, like you've heard him quip at some of his underlings. He was patient. And in those moments, secretly, you took your time — stretching the precious encounter out for as long as possible.

Of course, you had no idea he was doing the exact same thing.

And when you did start dating, Chuuya picked the lavish, most impressive restaurants to take you to. He pulled up and got out of the driver-seat door first, only to saunter around to your side and open the car door for you. He always offered his arm. He always whispered in your ear how beautiful you looked and that he had the best seat in the house waiting for you.

Chuuya liked to spoil you, you had noticed quite quickly. But even above that, the mafia General liked to make you feel special a whole lot more. Loved, cherished, like you were the only girl in the entire world. And in that restaurant where he reserved the best seat in the house, Chuuya circled around until he stood behind you and pulled out your chair. He was being a gentleman, of course, but he also leaned over to whisper against the shell of your sensitive ear:

"But I think you'd look even more beautiful with that dress off of ya. But let's get dinner first, hm? You'll need your energy."

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 . . .

The first thing you learned about Armed Detective Agent Dazai Osamu — he was a womaniser. And a damn good sweet-talker. And had large, mocha-coloured eyes that shifted between ochre and gold in the sunshine.

You never really stood a chance.

The first thing Dazai learned about you, was that you took your coffee with three spoonful's of sugar. That you bit the sides of your nails while concentrating. But your expressions — they always reminded him of crystal glass. You were so transparent, so easy to look through, to judge. But in that transparency lay a type of genuineness. In a world where Dazai struggled to belong, he found you. You did not give him a reason to live — but you held his sinful, blood-stained hands without flinching and reminded him to eat his meals on time.

He never really stood a chance, either.

You hated crowds.

Dazai felt your entire body tense when you both rounded the corner of the Agency's building, only to be greeted by a gaggle of excited reporters. The ADA had recently cleared a high-profile case involving a Gifted government official — and although Director Fukuzawa had warned about the potential backlash from the media; it was still a surprise. The blood drained from your face at the sight of so many people; swarming you, suffocating you. There was too many — you couldn't escape, how would you—

Then, there was something warm and firm; flattening against the small of your back. You gasped out of the stupor, eyes flying up to Dazai gazing down at you.

"I'm here," Was all he said, his voice a soothing velvet. "Don't concentrate on anything else."

The soft-spoken order was a lullaby, a balm to your erratic heart. Owlishly, you nodded your head once, surrendering your trust to this enigmatic man and all that you loved about him. And so he took your other hand and began to lead you forward — the entire time, listening to his musical humming vibrating in his chest that sometimes lifted to say;

"Now, now, I know you are all excited — but please direct all your queries to our media consultant Kunikida Doppo-kun! Me and my colleague are simple office workers, after all~"

✎ . . . requested by lovely nonnie!