If asked, Chuuya Nakahara wouldn’t hesitate to say he hates you and would gladly kill you.

That’s his outer shell, anyway. All tough and arrogant and dangerous. The way he confidently makes fun of you (a fellow Executive of ALL people) of in-front of your subordinates. Brushing his lips against your ear when he insults you. Grabbing your hips if you try and leave his endless cocky smile.

But on the inside, he’s a lovestruck fool who doesn’t know how to properly express his love without anger. The way he makes fun of you in-front of your subordinates? He punishes the living fuck out of them if they dare badmouth you. When he brushes his lips against your ears, his heart is thumping so much he’s afraid it’s going to shoot out of his chest and he’s praying you don’t feel the heat of the blush on his face. When he grabs your hips, his touch is firm yet soft, careful not to hurt you as he brings you back in for another playful bantering session.

No wonder you two fuckers are unofficially the Mafia’s married couple.

EVERYONE but you two knows it.

Just like now, because you two idiots don’t know how to confess for the love of fucking god.

Chuuya whistles a bit at the bloody carnage surrounding you two, the faint red aura around him dying down as he deactives Upon The Tainted Sorrow, standing on the ground once more as he turns around, flashing you a smug self-sufficient smirk as he walks over to you, taking off his fedora and plopping it on your head.

“Well, shitty Isabelle, seems like we got the job done, hm?”

In reality, he fucking killed everyone and left you to do clean-up. Even though he’s short as fuck, right now he’s trying to act all tall and prideful, holding his chin high in the air as he calls for the clean-up team on the Mafia’s radio system.

But goddamn- internally, he’s screaming over how good his hat looks on you.

He’s decided it already. He's gonna lend you some of his clothes