— an idol x bodyguard soukoku fic inspired by the life of a showgirl by taylor swift
previous chapters
O1. Dancing Through the Lightning Strikes/Sleepless in the Onyx Night
O2. Cloaked in Gucci and in Scandal
prefer to read on ao3? click here!
Blinding paparazzi flashes hit like lightning the moment Dazai stepped out of the car. The noise of the crowd hit like a banshee scream: reporters shouted questions and fans tried to reach out over the barricade.
By “public appearance” it seemed Ranpo really meant that he was going to leak the hotel he and Chuuya were staying at so the press and general public that had nothing better to do could see the “relationship” for themselves. They hadn’t changed from the previous interview, leaving it looking like this was all mere coincidence that their hotel was leaked right after.
Chuuya walked around the car to escort Dazai, every inch the still professional handler.
Dazai slid his hand down until their fingers brushed.
“Don’t,” Chuuya muttered, just loud enough for only Dazai to hear.
“But the narrative, dear,” Dazai murmured back, voice honeyed for the cameras. “We’re supposed to at least look in love”
“We’re supposed to look like we haven’t committed a PR scandal.”
Dazai’s laugh was perfectly timed, bright, careless, and expensive. It sent the crowd into another frenzy.
One reporter shoved his way to the front of the crowd, shoving his camera and microphone in front of Dazai.
Chuuya was about to shove him back before Dazai stopped him.
“Can you comment on the rumors about your relationship?” The reporter shouted over the crowd.
“Rumors?” Dazai repeated, tilting his head just enough for the lights to catch his smile. “Maybe they finally got one right.”
The crowd screamed louder.
Chuuya didn’t flinch, but Dazai could feel the tension in his grip.
“You’re enjoying this,” Chuuya hissed under his breath.
“I’m just giving them what they want,” Dazai said smiling, as if they were having a polite conversation.
The reporters continued to shout questions that tangled together like string lights: “When did it start?”, “How long have you been seeing him?”, the other pointless questions.
Flash after flash seared Dazai’s grin into something almost ethereal.
Chuuya’s patience frayed. He tightened his grip and pulled Dazai closer; more a practical move to cut through the crowd than affection, though to the crowd it sure looked like the latter.
The cameras loved it.
Dazai leaned into the act effortlessly, hand rising to rest upon the smaller’s waist.
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Just keep moving.”
“Don’t look so grim, sweetheart,” Dazai said, pitching his voice low so only Chuuya could hear (even if that defeated the point of using the petname for the act) “You’ll ruin our brand.”
“You mean your brand.” Chuuya shot back.
“Ours, now”
Once they finally maneuvered their way through the crowd, the hotel doors slid open on command and swallowed the noise whole. The sudden quiet was so stark it made Chuuya’s pulse the only sound he could hear.
“Well,” Dazai said softly, “that should keep them fed for a week.”
“You’re unbelievable”
“Flattery?”
Chuuya turned sharply toward him, ready to say something sharp, but stopped.
Dazai looked almost normal again. Not smiling, not posing. Just there, like every other person. A little windblown and collar askew, sure, but it was like his metaphorical mask was cracked at the edges.
“What?” Dazai asked finally, tone a shade quieter than normal.
“Nothing,” Chuuya muttered, holding back his words. He didn’t care about him enough to peer into something so personal. Yet, at least.
Chuuya continued walking forward towards the elevator.
The silence on the ride up was more awkward than normal. Going from way-too-close then right back to professional so quickly threw him off just a bit, but he just brushed it off, this wouldn’t last forever.
Chuuya unlocked the door to their hotel room in silence. As soon as he got in he quickly shot around all areas; the common room, his room, Dazai’s impeccably messy room, the balcony, anywhere someone could be hiding. Every muscle in him was still coiled from the crowd, btu Dazai looked perfectly at ease, maybe even pleased with himself.
“Don’t you think you might have overplayed it a little?” Chuuya broke the silence.
“What ever do you mean?” Dazai feigned innocence.
“We’re supposed to keep it ambiguous, you just outright told them we were dating basically.” He continued, walking into his room to double check the premises.
“Not my fault if they decide to take it that way.” Dazai shrugged, voice closer.
Chuuya turned just as Dazai appeared in his doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Relax. No one’s here.” Dazai said, as if he had already checked everything.
“I’m just doing my job.” Chuuya said annoyed, a little exhausted from being on guard all day.
Dazai watched him from the doorway, arms crossed loosely, taking in his features.
“You should sleep.” He finally said. His tone was odd for him, almost caring.
“I’ll sleep when you stop scheming.”
“It seems you won’t be getting any sleep then, what a shame.” Dazai smiled, barely visible, barely a smile.
“Figures,” Chuuya scoffed, moving toward the window, pulling the curtains closed, too roughly maybe. One caught on the latch and nearly tore.
“Hm.” Dazai made a knowing noise, as if he noticed something intriguing that he hadn’t before.
Chuuya finally looked back, Dazai was still standing there, half in shadow with an unreadable gaze.
“Why are you still here?” he asked sharply.
Dazai smiled, teasing now, “I was hoping to watch you sleep.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, playfully shoving Dazai out of the doorway.
Before he shut the door he muttered an oddly soft, “Night.”
Dazai didn’t respond, just walked away.
He never heard the door click shut, the faint light of a lamp shone through.
- - - - -
The suite had long since settled into silence.
Chuuya turned off the lamp in his room, leaving on the dim city glow spilling in through the thin curtains. Staring at the blank white ceiling, he could still feel the weight of the crowd in his chest, the echo of cameras flashing like afterimages.
Sleep never came.
Through the slightly ajar door he could hear Dazai scuffling around, the light thud of footsteps, the soft thud of something benign set on a table, then the faint pop of a bottle.
Chuuya groaned under his breath and rolled onto his side. “You better not be raiding the bar,” he called out.
A pause. Then Dazai’s voice, low but amused: “It’s medicinal.”
“Yeah? For what?” Chuuya called out still from his room as he threw a shirt on.
“Existence.”
Chuuya huffed out something between a sigh and a laugh as he finally crossed into the common room. “You’re insufferable.”
“As I’ve been told.”
When Chuuya finally caught a glimpse of Dazai he was a little taken aback. The idol was sitting at the table in his undershirt, bottle in hand, head tilted ever-so-slightly back, cheeks just drunken-rosy enough to look like a renaissance painting. The city lights painted thin lines across his face. He looked still. Not smug or dramatic, just tired.
Chuuya almost backed out quietly. Dazai looked so. Human, in a way he hadn’t before. The cameras never caught him like this, too still, too raw, too real.
He cleared his throat anyway. “You shouldn’t be drinking this late.”
Dazai didn’t move. “And you shouldn’t be working so late.”
“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t end up drinking yourself into another scandal.”
That earned him a soft, humorless laugh. “Ah, my hero.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes and stepped further in, folding his arms. “You think this is funny?”
“Not really,” Dazai murmured. “But if I start taking everything seriously, I’ll have to admit how miserable this all is.”
That shut Chuuya up for a beat. The unexpected honesty in Dazai’s tone didn't sound like the man who smiled through interviews and scandals.
Chuuya leaned against the table’s edge, not sitting, not leaving. “You chose this.”
Dazai finally looked at him. His eyes were darker in the half-light, unfocused from drunkenness but sharp enough to hit their mark. “You think choice has much to do with it?”
Chuuya frowned. “You’re saying you were forced into fame?”
“I’m saying some cages have velvet bars,” Dazai said simply.
The line lingered in the air between them.
Chuuya let out a quiet breath, rubbing a hand on his neck. “You always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to sound poetic instead of just admitting you’re tired.”
That almost drew a smile out of Dazai, small, crooked, but faintly amused. “Maybe I am tired, exhausted even. Would that make you feel better?”
“I’d feel better if you stopped talking and went to sleep. You’re going to have a nasty hangover tomorrow.” Chuuya’s voice came out softer than he meant it to.
Dazai turned the bottle in his hand, the glass reflecting the faint light from the window. “You ever wonder what happens when it all stops?”
“What stops?”
“The noise. The cameras. The pretending.”
Chuuya stared at him for a long moment. “Can’t say I have. Not my world.”
“Lucky you.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time. Chuuya wanted to say something else, something practical to break it, but Dazai’s expression made him hesitate. There was something in it that didn’t fit who he’d been assigned to. It was too vulnerable, too trusting.
He reached for the bottle, fingers brushing Dazai’s for a brief second as he pulled it away. “You’ve had enough.”
Dazai didn’t fight him. Just let his hand drop back onto the table. “You’re good at this,” he said quietly.
Chuuya frowned. “Good at what?”
“Taking care of people who don’t deserve it.”
Chuuya tensed for a moment before setting the bottle out of reach. “Get some sleep, Dazai.”
Dazai leaned back, closing his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “If I do, will you stop looking at me like that?”
Chuuya blinked. “Like what?”
“Like you might actually care.” He tilted his head towards Chuuya, looking up at him through his messy bangs, mahogany eyes gleaming at him. It wasn’t like the look he gave his fans or the crowd, it seemed more personal, but he couldn’t quite make out what it meant.
He didn’t have an answer for that.
So he turned away, muttering, “You’re drunk,” before heading toward his room, picking back up the bottle on his way, making sure he couldn’t sneak it back. Even as he shut the door behind him, he could still that image burned into his mind: Dazai in the half-light, tired with messy hair and those stupid, stupid glittering eyes staring out at a city that adored him without knowing him at all.
And for reasons he didn’t want to think about, it took much longer before Chuuya could finally ease into sleep.
even more for the fem idol au because i am in lesbians with these women- also pls pls pls give any ideas for first album names!!! their duo name is still gonna be soukoku/double black and dazais title as the demon prodigy stay same i just- i have no clue what to title any of their albums- also will probs mabey make more chehdhsbdjdvshdbs
