...Passion Is the Gale.
16! Stormbringer chuuya x reader
(I gave the reader a name because I hate writing y/n but ya'll can read it as your own name. Note for the uncultured people, Takako was the poet's wife. I thought since Nobuko Sasaki was the name of kunikida's lover both in real life and in the Osamu dazai's entrance exam (kinda), I could do the same thing with chuuya.)
"You're sooo tiny, chuuya..."
"huh?"
If she wasn't shit-faced at the moment, he would've thrown her out the window like yeeting a fucking piece of trash outside.
Takako came closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. His nervous system went haywire, blood rushing to his face as she looked up at him through her lashes. How could he forgive her so in the blink of an eye when not even a minute ago he was planning to toss her out the window? Heh, weird...
God, it hurt. His head felt dizzy, eyes unable to focus. Maybe he'd gulped down more champagne than he could possibly handle. His surroundings were blurring, his grip on reality was starting to crumble. He was about to faint. Interesting... But he couldn't feel the buzz of alcohol quite yet, the sweet feeling of release, the same one that filled his head with momentary peacefulness and a feeling of happiness. He was at ease.
But now, at the moment, he wasn't. His mouth was dry, it tasted like blood... He felt like times when dazai was wasted, when that guy drank, he couldn't escape his thoughts, he couldn't bask in the same sense of satisfaction and ease as the rest of them. Dazai, with whiskey, further drowned in his own agony, his thoughts were leeches, sucking the will to live out of him. Like a wounded animal choking on its own blood. No, maybe that wasn't dazai...
That was him.
He felt takako's lips pressing against his skin, soft and gentle unlike every other touch he's known. He could feel her shifting on his lap, giggling. God, she was perfect like that... And he had her all to himself. Ane-san was right. Maybe... Just maybe... He *could* maybe spend the rest of his life drunk on her affection. And she was willing to give it all to him, after all she had no one else to cherish. This was the only way this girl ever got affection. So she kept him around like a precious doll she could take care of...
Her mouth reeked of alcohol, her breath felt hot against his face. Takako was right there, she was looking at him, she was kissing him, she was right there...
SHE WAS RIGHT THERE...
Chuuya was feeling more human and hooked on his flesh. It wasn't wrong, right? That felt raw, human... when he pressed her down on the couch, having her lay on her back with him on top. Her cheeks were rosy and it was as if she'd just remembered to act all shy and embarrassed. She kept glancing away from him, unable to hold his gaze but she was all he could look at. Her hair was splayed out on the couch like a masterpiece from the greatest of the great artists.
He reassured.
What he did... felt strange, but right. It wasn't wrong to act on his instincts, was it?
She laughed... takako would laugh at him for thinking like that, probably asking him "what 'bout that felt wrong?"
and he'd answer: "Me. I don't know what possessed me to do that..."
"Ha! What? that was amazing~ oof, really... Fucking amazing..."
She was right, it was amazing. *She* was amazing.
"Shhh, not another word. What's with the sudden change of heart? You wanted to have lit candles and stuff for your first time? How about roses? We can make like that next time, if you're still interested..."
He could almost see her clearly, hear her talk, tease him, ramble, curse... Oh God, his eyes were playing tricks on him.
His vision swam.
Takako was asleep... but her chest wasn't moving up and down. She was laying flat on her stomach, her arm loosely hanging over the edge of the bed, almost touching the ground. Black hair splayed out as beautifully as ever and... there was peace in her expression.
Her room didn't get as messed up as The Old World after verlaine's visit. She wasn't dismembered or brutally murdered. He wished she wasn't. He couldn't imagine the thought of...
She'd put up quite the fight, apparently. Face bruised, and when he lifted the blanket that was so carefully brought all the way up to her neck, he felt his stomach churn in disgust.
Takako's leg was missing from the knee down. The sheets were red, bloody red. He looked down at his bloodsoaked gloves for a moment, before lifting her shirt.
He took a step back.
It was no pleasant sight, but in all honesty, he'd seen worse... But this was takako, SHE was the one whose skin was peeled off like peeling an orange.
"Chuuya-sama, are you well? You don't seem to be in a very good mental state, I'll figure out a way to cheer you-"
Adam was interrupted by the sound of someone puking.
Chuuya knelt down to catch his breath.
Goddammit... Why did he feel like crying like a little kid? He'd never cried before, not even when the flags died, not even his so called 'family', The Sheep, betrayed him. Not when he betrayed them.
He'd failed to protect her, he'd failed to protect them all. Adam rushed to his side but he pushed the european detective aside.
He got the massage and didn't step forward.
Chuuya wiped the corner of his mouth, looking at the vomit on the ground that was mixed with blood. What a nasty combination...
One last look at her face, and he was done.
Takako was dead.
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