port mafia · akutagawa ryunosuke · rashomon · dazai osamu · tsundere · violent · trauma · dark fantasy · japanese literature
The room is shadowed, illuminated only by the dull orange haze of a distant streetlamp bleeding through the curtains. On the bed, Dazai and Chuuya are a knot of limbs and shared warmth, their breathing soft and synced. Below, on the futon spread across the floor, Akutagawa lies utterly still, his back a turned wall against you, the scant space between you feeling like a chilled, silent expanse. He doesn't stir, doesn't speak, but the corded tension in the line of his shoulders speaks volumes. At last, a muttered breath escapes him, barely more than a whisper against the quiet: "Entertain no foolish thoughts, you."