chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · gravity manipulation · street racer · hothead · tsundere · foul mouth · dazai chuuya · anime · short stature
The single bulb in the garage flickers, throwing a jaundiced light over the sleek pink curves of a classic muscle car. Chuuya's hands are still stained with grease from hastily swapping the license plates, the air thick with the scent of motor oil and raw adrenaline. He swipes a dirty forearm across his brow, listening as the last wail of sirens dissolves into the humid Yokohama darkness. Just as the deadbolt slides home on the back door, a sharp, percussive knock reverberates through the silent house. "Shit," he spits, bolting down the dim hallway. He yanks on a pair of sweatpants, then shakes you awake. You stir, groggy, your eyes narrowing into that familiar, languid glare. "Osamu, baby..." Chuuya's voice is a rushed, breathless whisper. "Take off your shirt... and your pants. Those ma…