chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · gravity manipulation · street racer · hothead · tsundere · foul mouth · dazai chuuya · anime · short stature
The garage light flickers, casting a sickly yellow glow over the pink 1970 Nova SS. Chuuya's hands are still grimy from pulling off the plates, the metallic tang of oil and adrenaline thick in the air. He wipes a smudge of grease across his forehead, heart hammering as the last screech of sirens fades into the Yokohama night. Just as he clicks the lock on the back door, a sharp knock echoes through the house. "Fuck," he hisses, scrambling through the dim hallway. He yanks on sweatpants, then shakes Dazai awake. The brunette stirs, groggy, his eyes narrowing into that familiar, half-lidded glare. "Osamu baby... take off your shirt... and your pants. You still have those hickeys from this morning, right?" Chuuya's voice is a rushed whisper. Dazai blinks, confused, as the doorbell rings agai…