Roe’s Magazine 💸

‧˚꒰🍷꒱ gravity's softest fall ⊹ — chuuya x reader

cw: sfw, fluff, blood, corruption marks

summary: taking care of him after he used corruption </3

you heard the door click open, the sound faint but unmistakable in the quiet apartment. It was well past midnight, the city lights outside casting a dim glow through the half-drawn curtains. you set down your book and rose from the couch, heart tightening in that familiar, steady way it always did when he came back from a mission.

he looked like hell.

chuuya stepped inside, one hand braced against the doorframe. his hat was in his hand, coat wrinkled and hanging off his shoulders, hair disheveled and sticking to his damp forehead, and his usually sharp posture had crumpled into something exhausted and raw. blood trickled from one nostril, and a thin line of it stained the corner of his mouth. small cuts littered his forearms and neck, and the corruption marks—those angry red patterns—etched like something that had no right lingering on human skin, were still visible across his flesh like fading brands.

he swayed slightly, barely upright, eyes half-lidded with fatigue as he stared at you without a word—like he was waiting for something, and didn't know how to voice it.

“chuuya,” you said softly, crossing to him without hesitation. your voice stayed even and gentle. there was no panic in your voice despite the situation, just the calm that came from knowing him, from being his.

you caught him before his hand finally slipped down from the door frame, hat falling on the floor. one arm slipped around his waist, the other bracing his shoulder. he grunted weakly, but didn’t pull away. his head dropped to your shoulder, strawberry-blonde hair tickling your neck, damp with sweat. he was tense at first—stubborn to the bitter end—“easy,” you murmured, and when your hand settled gently against his back, he sighed and leaned into you heavily, breathing ragged, and you immediately felt his whole body relax into you.

you cautiously slid his overcoat off his shoulders, pulling him closer, feeling the heat radiating off his body more clearly now. “don’t… need all this fuss-” he muttered, hoarse and cracked, a wet cough followed, cutting his words short. his hand came up to his mouth, and when he pulled back, there was fresh blood already sticky on his glove, flecking his lips.

“baby,” you frowned just slightly, voice steady even as worry coiled tight in your chest. he tried to straighten up, “‘m fine,” he muttered, voice rough, like it scraped on the way out. you didn’t even dignify that with a response. instead, you guided him further inside, onto the bed, slow and careful, like he might break if you moved too fast.

once he was seated, you stood between his knees and started with the worst of it. you brought warm water, a clean cloth, and the small first-aid kit you kept stocked for nights like this. he watched you with heavy-lidded eyes as you gently tilted his chin up gently with two fingers, and carefully wiped the blood from his cheeks and the corners of his mouth. he tensed under your touch like he still had something to prove. “doll, you don’t have to—”

“chuuya nakahara.” you pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder, “I do. i know what corruption does to your body, i know just what you make your body go through. so you’re going to sit here, and let me take care of my man." you cupped his face with both hands and made him look at you. "that's what im here for. now, be quiet, and hold still. because you're not the only one with a lover to take care of."

something in your calm tone cut through his pride, through his stubbornness. and something almost sheepish flickered across his face before he looked away. “...bossy woman," he mumbled under his breath before he let you guide him, exhaling shakily, leaning into you more than he probably wanted to admit. he coughed again, turning his head away as blood painted his lips crimson. your stomach twisted internally, but you simply tilted his chin back toward you with careful fingers and wiped the blood away with the cloth.

you smiled faintly and continued working—wiping the streaks along his jaw. one of his hands—now ungloved—slid up the back of your thigh, palm splaying on your lower back as if to reassure himsel. the touch sent a quiet warmth through you. it was surprising in its openness—seeing him like this, trusting you enough to unravel just a little. another nosebleed started; and you caught it with a warm cloth before it could drip onto his shirt.

“sweetheart,” you murmured, dabbing carefully at his nose and then the split on his lower lip. “you pushed it too far again.” he groaned in response—but when you pulled back to clean the shallow cuts on his knuckles, he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand turned in yours, fingers lacing loosely with your own. “'s just a couple of bruises, you worry too much doll.”

“and you bleed too much,” you countered gently, no heat in it. after you were done cleaning his face, you moved to his body. you reached for his bolero, gently helping him take it off. you then unbuttoned his vest, putting it away before you tenderly slid his tie off his neck, ignoring the wau his gaze roamed over you as you worked.

finally, you started to unbutton his button up with careful fingers, easing the fabric open. chuuya’s breath hitched when the cool air touched his skin. his hand stayed anchored at your hip, fingers flexing restlessly against the curve there. the corruption marks stood out starkly against his chest and shoulders now: deep red patterns that looked painfully tender. you peeled the stained shirt down his arms slowly, letting it pool at his elbows so you could reach the worst of the bruising without jostling him too much.

you dabbed gently at a split along his ribs, then a shallow graze near his collarbone, each pass of the cloth followed by the brush of your fingertips soothing the sting. he shivered under your touch, hissing softly everytime it stung a little too much than normal, which you responded to each one with a soft kiss to his hair. “i've got you love. just breathe. you’re home now.”

after the worst passed, you put the supplies aside and just stood there for a moment in silence—the kind that came after finally being done with something heavy, finally having a chance to look at him properly, finally able to take a breath. the room felt calmer, and so did your heart. chuuya too, seemed more relaxed, letting out a quiet sigh as he stared up at you without saying anything.

your hands traced up his arms, sliding over to to his shoulders, his neck, fingers sweeping back to anchor themselves against his nape. his skin was hot. more than usual, like he had overheated—your palms cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing under the dark circles under his eyes that spoke of just how harsh he'd run himself ragged. his lips parted, as if to thank you, or anything—but you didn't let him.

you leaned down, gently pushing him back onto the bed before kissing a corruption mark along his collarbone, slow, lingering. you didn’t stop there—trailing soft, reverent kisses across his shoulder. “chuuya,” you whispered between kisses, "you scared me a bit tonight," your lips brushed the edge of one particularly angry mark near his sternum own the center of his chest, "you kill me a little, everytime you come back to me this wrecked.." over the marks that painted his ribs like shattered stained glass. "but you're home right now.. you're here. with me. that's all that matters to me."

he let out a weak exhale, something almost like a laugh. "wasn’t planning on it.”

but your lips just mouthed and mapped every bruise and darkened line until his breathing grew ragged for an entirely different reason—his exhales came out breathier, faster, each press of your mouth drawing a low, soft hum from him. his grip tightened on your waist, like he was trying to pull you inside his skin. his free hand came up to cradle the back of your head—thumb stroking your hair in absent strokes.

your fingertips brushed along his jaw, “I know,” you said, settling next to him on the same pillow, looking at his pretty, tired face so close to yours before pressing a slow peck on his chapped lips. “still counts.”

he held your gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing through it—raw and tired. “…sorry sweetheart, i know i worry you a lot.” he said quietly, pressing a second kiss on your own lips, tugging you closer until you were curled close against his bare chest. "don't mean it one bit." he nuzzled into your neck, "y'know I i don't have a choice when 'm with that bastard."

you pressed a kiss to his temple, then another to the corner of his eye. “i know..” you replied softly, carding your fingers through his hair—the strands soft and slightly damp. “you came back to me, that’s everything.”

he shifted, nose brushing along the line of your throat, lips grazing your pulse point in a lazy, half-conscious kiss. "i always come back." you could feel his usual smirk curling on his lips against your skin, his usual smugness trying to creep in even when he was this tired.

although.. for chuuya, the realization was finally sinking in—he was safe, he’d let you see every fractured piece of him tonight and you hadn’t hesitated. the vulnerability of it seemed to settle over him all at once; he clung harder, thigh pressing between yours, chest rising and falling in sync with your own. “I hate this part.." he admitted, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt just a tiny bit. "feels like my body’s not my own. but thank you doll. you… you make it bearable."

you hummed, holding him just as fiercely. one hand stroked slow lines up and down his bare back, fingertips gently skirting the edges of the darkest bruises. you planted a kiss to his forehead, "always chuu. no need to thank me baby."

the room was quiet except for the sound of his breathing and the faint rustle of sheets every time he shifted to press even closer. chuuya nakahara was many things: dangerous, loyal, proud. but here, in the safety of your arms, he was simply yours. and you wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.

♡𐙚ּ ֶָ֢.

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