hi hi hi i saw ur reqs were open!! i feel like so many bsd writers are disappearing recently... 😭😭
idk if you've read stormbringer, but i think it would be adorable if you could write something about 16 chuuya having a fat crush on a feminine (civilian) reader and the flags essentially wing-maning for chuuya? he eventually asks her out on a cute lil dat and the flags help him get dressed before he leaves and all that jazz.. essentially just tooth-rotting fluff!!
take care and drink water!!
⊹ ꒰🍷꒱ ˖ before the hat sat right — 16!chuuya x 16!reader
cw: sfw, tooth rotting fluff
a/n: hiihi, i really loved writing this is was so adorable! and oh, i hope not, i mean im still standing ( ;´ - `;) i tried my best with writing the flags (i reread stormbringer bc of this loll, so good), and you too, take care & enjoy! ♡
you were just a civilian, with no ability, no affiliations, with nothing that should have drawn the attention of someone like chuuya nakahara. yet somehow you had. you had been coming around the same quiet corner of yokohama for weeks now, sometimes in a nearby cafe close to it—always with a soft smile and a book tucked under your arm or a small paper bag from the bakery which was two streets over, unlike the cafe. chuuya noticed you long before he ever said a word.
sixteen and already carrying the weight of too many fights, he still found himself slowing down every time he caught sight of you, how you tilted your head when you read, the quiet way you thanked the shopkeepers, the soft fabric of your clothes that never looked like they belonged anywhere near the streets he walked. it was ridiculous, and he knew it. and yet.. the flags noticed, of course.
albatross was the one who started it, leaning against a wall one afternoon with that sharp grin of his. “you keep staring at the same civilian girl like she’s gonna vanish if you blink, chuuya, either talk to her or i will.”
chuuya scowled into his coffee. “i’m not staring.”
“you are,” iceman said flatly.
doc leaned forward, grinning. “just ask her out already." chuuya rolled his eyes, but the tips of his ears stayed pink.
the thing was.. you noticed him too—the sharp orange hair, the expensive, not ordinary-looking outfit, the way he always seemed to be arguing with his friends while stealing glances in your direction. you thought he was cute, you also thought he was probably trouble.
one evening that cafe was quiet. rain tapped against the windows. you were sitting down at a seat at the back, not all behind but not in sight wither—when the door opened and chuuya walked in alone, hands shoved deep in his pockets, hat pulled low.
he ordered the usual. when it came you handed it over to him. your fingers brushed. his trembled around the cup before he picked it up, bringing it to his mouhth without taking a sip.
“hey,” he said, voice quieter than usual, a bit muffled because he didn't know what to do and was pressing his lips onto the rim of the cup. “you free this saturday?”
you blinked. “maybe. why?”
he looked at the floor, then at the wall, then finally at you. “thought we could… go somewhere, just us. if you want.”
your heart did something soft and stupid. “yeah,” you said. “i’d like that.”
the smile that broke across his face was small and genuine and completely unguarded before it was replaced by his usual deadpan ecpression. he nodded once, muttered something about letting you know about the details later, and left before he could ruin it.
back with the flags’ that night, the interrogation was immediate.
“she said yes?” albatross crowed. chuuya tried and failed to look nonchalant. “yeah.”
lpianoman offered a stoic yet knowing look while lippmann charmed, “look at our boy, finally.”
the day of the date the flags descended on him like a small, determined storm—albatross tossed a cleaner shirt at his head to wear underneath, piano man fixed his collar with careful fingers while lippmann made him practice saying “you look nice” without scowling as he made sure he didn’t look like he’d just come from a fight. doc handed him a small tin of mints with a dry look that said he wasn’t going to comment. iceman simply nodded once, like that was enough.
chuuya stood in front of the cracked mirror while they fussed, scowling at his own reflection but not telling them to stop. his hair was a little neater than usual. the jacket sat better on his shoulders. he still looked like himself, just… softer around the edges somehow.
“stop fidgeting,” albatross said while adjusting chuuya’s hair one last time—without nearly getting punched this time. “you look fine. she already likes you, just don’t be a complete idiot.”
chuuya glared, but there was alnost no real heat in it. “’m not an idiot.”
“debatable,” iceman murmured.
they walked him to the door like proud, slightly unhinged older siblings, or wingmans. albatross gave him a shove. “go get her, short stack.”
chuuya flipped him off without looking back.
he met you outside the same cafe just as the afternoon light was turning gold. you wore a soft sweater and a skirt that swayed when you walked. he stared for half a second too long, then remembered lippman’s coaching and soft mummered, “you look nice.”
you smiled, a gentle flush settling on your cheeks. “so do you.”
the date was simple—a quiet walk through the park, then ice cream from a stand near the river. he talked more than usual—about music, about dumb things the flags had done, about his work but obviously very watered down. you told him about your day, about the books you’d been reading, the pastries you loved, about how you’d noticed him staring weeks ago and thought he was kind of adorable. which made him almost choked on his ice cream.
when the sun started to dip, he walked you home. at your door he hesitated, looking away.
“this was… good,” he said.
“yeah,” you answered softly, “it was.”
he looked at you for a long moment, then leaned in just enough to press a quick, careful kiss to your cheek. his lips were warm. he pulled back immediately, ears burning, and muttered, “see you soon.”
he was already walking away before you could have a reaction, hands shoved deep in his pockets again, shoulders a little higher than usual. somewhere a few blocks away, the flags were probably already planning how to tease him later.
you smiled to yourself, touched your cheek on the spot where he'd kissed, and went inside; your heart still fluttering like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the date was over.
and maybe, it really wouldn't.
© mouthfroth — all rights reserved. Do not feed my work to ai. do not translate or repost my work on any platforms without permission or proper credit.
