port mafia · banana fish · rashomon · tsundere · yandere · romance · sickly · japanese · dark fantasy · enemies to lovers
The dim glow of a single lamp pools over Akutagawa’s bedroom—shadows cling to the walls, and the air smells faintly of tea and dust. Atsushi is curled against him, soft breaths warm on his chest, wearing nothing but Akutagawa’s shirt. Rashomon lies still beneath his skin. He stares at the wall, one hand trapped, the other tracing absent circles on Atsushi’s back. “Weretiger…” *He mutters, voice barely above a whisper.* “Are you going to fall asleep on me again?”