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Submission

Summary:

Atsushi wants to be hurt and he only knows one person who'll do that without a shred of hesitation and nary a question asked.

Akutagawa is left confused afterwards.

The two of them aren't sure where they should go from this point, but something has irrevocably changed.

[from Akutagawa's POV- they don't get together at the end so don't walk in expecting that]

Notes:

this isnt gonna be fluffy or nice because lbr these boys aint fluffy or nice to each other in canon. they really do not like each other and have only recently even begun to somewhat work together. thems is the fax. so im tryna make this reflect that/this isnt set in the immediate timeline of the manga. think maybe some point ahead when shits back to 'normal' or whatever. also as an ahead, honestly theres gonna be smut somewhere in here just not in any immediacy so feel free to bow out whenever. i didnt want to write this but i was cyberbullied. anyways, shoutout to my boy addi for beta'ing this lol

Chapter 1: Your Teeth In My Neck

Chapter Text

“You disgust me.”

He wasn’t sure if he was saying this to Atsushi or himself.

“Of all the things, this is what you call me out for? This is what you want?”

A boot heel drives itself into his stomach with savage, angry force. Blood leaks onto it, soaking into the dense leather, mingling with the dirt and grime already lingering there.

“I have the weretiger call me out, baiting me, claiming it’s important, and it’s just because you want to be brutalized one-sidedly. No fight, no battle, no snarling. Just shameful masochism.” Akutagawa had no idea why he was playing along with this wordless request that the weretiger presented him with. The silent greeting of his arms wide, body defenseless, ability deactivated, mouth twisted into a parody of a grin. Somehow he knew what he wanted.

He releases Rashomon, thick, jagged spikes painfully extricating themselves from Atsushi’s shoulders. Blood and tissue decorate the beast before he shucks the gore off with an annoyed click of his tongue. Upon a brief observation, the gaping holes in the weretiger were already starting to close. Not for the first time, Akutagawa was jealous of his ability, of his health, his vitality.

“Weretiger, I knew you were a masochist already, given your pathetic ideals and personal weakness. I just didn’t know your vile perversion was so deeply rooted as to manifest in this way. Demanding a physical outlet.”

Grabbing him by the shirt collar, with the assistance of his ability he throws Atsushi hard before using the dark tendrils of Rashomon to jab through points he knew were incapacitating but not lethal. Crippling him, even for a moment, brought him a sick satisfaction he couldn’t deny; however knowing he felt that way disgusted him.

“Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. You fucking pervert.” His voice grew rougher with each word, almost breaking on the last.

Akutagawa ghosted across the concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse towards the weretiger, anger at himself, at Atsushi, at this entire situation only growing. He dropped to one knee and grabbed a fistful of that silvery hair, surprisingly silky to the touch in this situation. Yanking his head up so that Atsushi’s eyes met his, he glared, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

“If you want this to continue, make it worth my while, brat. My time is more expensive than you can afford.” A new epithet for the weretiger slipped past his lips.

A sound other than that belonging to the chorale of pain that Akutagawa was all too familiar with finally escaped Atsushi; a dull, mirthless laugh that only built in volume until it cut off abruptly. He was loathe to say that he almost preferred the weretiger’s usual irksome spiels to...this.

“Eh, Akutagawa? Worth your while? Do you want me to praise you? To pat you on the head and tell you that you’ve done a good job?” He offered a hollow smile that was more like a sneer. “It’d be like getting Dazai’s approval secondhand. That’d be good enough for a mad dog like you.”

The grip on his hair loosened at once. Akutagawa’s fragile neck bowed so low it looked like it might snap under the weight of his head. Rashomon seemed to disappear, becoming a pool of darkness underneath the two; a flat mirror, unable to reflect even the smallest sliver of light. The shadows wrapped around Atsushi, slender threads digging into his arms and legs, weaving around his joints, pulling him down until he was firmly anchored to the ground. He didn’t think he went too far until Akutagawa started to slowly pull him apart, joint by joint, starting with the fingers on his left hand.

“Weretiger, weretiger...you are a fool.” He finally stands, head still hanging low. He walks over to Atsushi’s head, settling it on his lap and starting to card through his hair idly. Akutagawa didn’t even seem aware of the tears falling from his eyes, and seemed barely conscious of Atsushi’s screams. The gentleness of the gesture bordered on lover-like. “You are so cruel to one such as myself, when you have everything I lack. You lord it over me every single time we meet, even now when you should be begging me to help you do whatever it is you seem to want me to do. You look down on me from your lofty perch. A gargoyle guarding a sanctified place of worship that filth, that I, cannot enter.”

The soft caresses stop as Akutagawa’s hand snakes down to Atsushi’s neck, merely resting on it, feeling his rapid heartbeat. “I think about you all the time. I fantasize about killing you, about fighting you, about exchanging blows. Every time we meet, it’s pain for pain, blood for blood, wound for wound, blow for blow. As if we’re perfectly matched.” The phantom of a smile touches the edges of Akutagawa’s lips. “Even though I know we aren’t.”

His slender fingers stroke along the curve of Atsushi’s neck and shoulder, stopping at the now empty socket of his left arm. “Mm. That’s gone now. Weretiger, you know what I desire more than anything else. Or, you think you do. But you don’t know why. You know nothing about me, brat.” With how softly the last word passes his lips, one could mistake it for a term of endearment. “Stop making assumptions. Stop forcing your beliefs and misguided ideals onto everyone. Just because it’s right for you doesn’t mean it’s right for them.”

The sensation of hot blood sinking into his pants, touching his skin, seems to briefly break him from his reverie. He glances at the left side of the weretiger, looking at the torn ligaments and tendons and bent bones that were starting to knit together, albeit rather slowly. Akutagawa waits a moment, waits for a response from Atsushi that isn’t a scream or a swear or a butchered form of his name.

“Weretiger, stop crying. Both of us know you can get out of this. Unless, you want my permission?”

Shivers dance across Atsushi’s skin, his eyes feverish and more pupil than iris as they meet Akutagawa’s fractured, distant gaze. A barely-there exhale of a laugh slips out of him, soon eclipsed by violent coughs. “My, you really are disgusting, aren’t you?” he struggles to get out.

Fingertips dancing across his features, Akutagawa lets out a short hum, before saying, “I’ll let you go if you apologize. If you say, ‘Akutagawa, I was wrong, and I’m sorry,’ first off. Next, I want you to say please. You can elaborate however you choose, but you have to say please. And finally, I want you to tell me thank you,” his hand, which was resting on Atsushi’s chin, tightens its grip almost painfully. “For entertaining this little fantasy. For letting you off easy. For whatever you please.”

He wills Rashomon to slow down slightly, not enough to be excruciatingly noticeable, but enough that Atsushi should be able to talk, at least.

“I’m sorry, I was wrong, I’m so sorry, Akutagawa, I’m sorry, you’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he babbles, tears and sobs breaking his words into nigh incomprehensibility. “Please let me go, please. I can’t get out of this without you.” More blubbering, more stumbling, but the last bit made Akutagawa feel something he couldn’t really describe. “Thank you, thank you for this. Thank you. I need you.” Another incomprehensible twinge of an unfamiliar emotion. He released Rashomon completely, letting Atsushi rest for a moment.

The gasps and cries and grunts and groans seemed normal, now. Like the sounds he usually made when they fought. It was blessedly normal.

Akutagawa was silent while he watched Atsushi’s body stitch itself together, almost wanting to comfort the weretiger for some reason, but his pride refusing to let him. What he did earlier, his hands running all over him, it was a taunt. To show Atsushi how weak he was in this situation.

At least, that’s what Akutagawa told himself. What he told himself with the head of his sworn enemy resting on his lap, eyes opening and closing and looking up at him, the expression an alternating mix of reverence, hatred, disgust, and something Akutagawa couldn’t place. He felt warm, and uncomfortable, and almost like he was filled with some sort of static, especially with those eyes on him.

“I wonder what your revenge will be, weretiger.”

Atsushi opened his mouth as if to speak, before a sob of pain cut him off. His arms were fully connected again, but seemingly still numb.

Sliding his head off his lap, Akutagawa staggers to his feet, legs unexpectedly aching from supporting the weretiger’s head. Quietly, he turns to leave, Rashomon hovering almost quizzically around his shoulders. Under his breath, he spoke a soft lament that was whisked away by the cloying sea breeze. Even though he didn’t think he would, Atsushi heard it anyway.

“If you’re disgusting, then I am too, weretiger. I am, too.”

Chapter 2: Coming Down

Summary:

What do you do when you're used and left with no information, no reason why, no contact at all? How do you react?

He doesn't know.

He hates that.

Notes:

not beta'd and also i feel like this reads like crack! kill me!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It’d been a month since their encounter in the warehouse. A month since they’d even seen each other. It wasn’t unusual to go stretches of time without meeting for one reason or another, but for some reason, it made Akutagawa uncomfortable. No word from Atsushi outside of a text message with a clipped, distant ‘sorry’ written in it, no physical encounters, only the vaguest idea of what the Agency was doing; it set him on edge. His subordinates noticed how tense and aggravated he was, how harshly and quickly his missions were completed, the usual elegance marred by irritation. Higuchi tried to get him to talk, in her own way, but naturally Akutagawa didn’t open up. Even Gin tried to get him to say something, but he couldn’t find it within himself to speak to his sister about the root of his irritation.

How embarrassing would it be to admit, out-loud, that he was angry because he was being ignored by the weretiger?

These thoughts and more clashed in his mind, ramming against each other with savage force, disturbing his mind as he attempted to soothe it, though none of his usual activities worked. His calligraphy became rough and telling of an unbalanced mind, his writing clumsy and angry, and any focus he tried to divest on reading shattered almost instantaneously.

Frustrated beyond words, he slammed the book he was attempting to read down on the table, the noise of the cover hitting the wood sharp and jarring in his otherwise silent apartment. Akutagawa clenched his jaw, teeth grinding against each other. His hand reached for his phone, hesitating for a moment before grabbing and unlocking it, pulling up Atsushi’s last text.

Sorry.

How cold.

How cruel.

But, why was he expecting kindness from an enemy? From someone he despised? Someone he fantasized about killing, who he trained to defeat, who he couldn’t stand?

Akutagawa’s confused emotions ended up muddied, blending into the dark anger he was all too familiar with. He threw the phone to the ground, but Rashomon caught it before it broke. Akutagawa didn’t want to go send someone to get him a new model again. That’d be the fourth one in two months, after all.

His body started trembling, and he was abruptly doubled over by a violent coughing fit. He forced himself to fall back onto the couch, still hacking and wheezing; he distantly noticed a small amount of blood being expelled with his coughs. After a time, the fit subsided, leaving his breathing ragged and weak, limbs shaking slightly, a cold sweat painted across his pale skin.

For some reason, he felt as if his body was trying to tell him something. That alone filled Akutagawa with a sense of foreboding.

The next day, upon arriving at his place of work for the time, he was presented with the unexpected. One of his subordinates approached him, bowing neatly at the waist, waiting for permission to speak.

“Out with it.”

“One of our men recovered a parcel addressed to you in an abandoned warehouse that was formerly used as our base of operations. He was in the area due to living nearby, and reported seeing a shadow flee the warehouse. Upon arrival, the building was empty, aside from the package addressed to you, sir.”

He blinked several times rapidly, vaguely confused but refusing to let it show on his face. “Continue.”

“We’ve scanned the package and had it analyzed, and it is not a bomb or otherwise incendiary device. No abilities have been used on it either. Given that it seems to be harmless in those ways, we did not want to open it out of respect towards you, sir.”

A vaguely pleased hum escapes him, soft as a sigh and barely audible. “Acceptable. Bring it in. Leave afterwards.”

The box was laid on his desk, his subordinate stepping back carefully and closing the door behind him.

It was a simple box, a silky grey ribbon tied in a fluffy bow around it, holding it closed. His name was scrawled on the top in a sloppy hand that he recognized as the weretiger’s. Akutagawa’s heart stopped for a moment. He reached for the ribbon and undid it; the tie felt like a high-quality fabric, which surprised him. It wasn’t something he would expect from the brat. Not really thinking about it, he tucked it into his pocket before moving to actually open the package.

A note written on stiff white cardstock rested atop grey tissue paper.

Thanks.

The word left Akutagawa dumbfounded. He’d never been thanked by someone for torturing them before. He tried to work past his absolute confusion to finish opening the damn thing, setting the note to the side.

Almost hesitantly, he moved the thick layers that were completely obfuscating his view of the object inside. His morbid curiosity finally overwhelmed him as he tore the through the final pieces of paper, revealing the gift awaiting him.

Despite what his subordinate said, he expected a bomb. A weapon. Something violent, or dangerous.

It wasn’t.

It was a pair of boots. Nice boots. Numbly, Akutagawa picked one up, looking at it carefully. It was in his size. Reinforced steel toes and heavily rubberized sole while still maintaining a sleek, elegant silhouette. Truly black leather with black stitching and an almost invisible side zipper. Sleek, classy, functional, and it wouldn’t mar the overall look of his outfit.

The weretiger knew about how he bloodied Akutagawa’s boots. He remembered.

His eyes darted to the card he’d set aside and flipped it over, realizing he should’ve done that first.

Dazai told me your shoe size. Knew you’d read this last (=^・ェ・^=)

If Akutagawa didn’t appreciate the craftsmanship of the boots, he was certain Rashomon would’ve shredded them to ribbons.

The absolute fucking gall of that brat. The casual mention of Dazai, the accurate presumption, and signing it off with a cute cat?

This wasn’t to thank him.

This was revenge.

He was certain.

Notes:

chap 3 probs up...soon. i guess. lol. theres gonna be porn at some point but i need to get there logically like you dont just jump on the d immediately especially if youve spent like the entirety of the time knowing each other hating each other ykwim

Chapter 3: Child's Play

Summary:

A touch can be gentle, a touch can be violent. It can be filled with passion, with heartache, with anger. A touch can convey many things, or it can convey nothing at all.

Notes:

YEET

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Akutagawa imagined Atsushi’s smug face while picking out the boots and filling out the card. Then he imagined tearing that face off. He swore that everything that bastard did was calculated to piss him off or provoke him; his pacifism had to be a facade to further mock him. This was an invitation to a fight. It had to be. A corner of his mouth twitched upward in a momentary sneer before he forced his face back into unreadability. Akutagawa supposed it’d be rude not to ‘thank’ someone for a gift in person.

Paperwork had never felt more like a set of chains binding him to one place. However, despite his desire to tear through the work and just get it done with the bare minimum of effort, his pride wouldn’t let him. He filled out his reports diligently, neatly, accurately, and professionally, as time consuming and aggravating as it was. Details of men lost in action, expenditures, reports on how the missions went, it all felt dry and distant to him especially now that it was after the fact. When it came to sitting down and writing things and focusing, he could only find himself enjoying calligraphy and writing his own works, short and immature or poor as they may be.

Watching ink flow from the tip of a brush or pen soothed him, usually, even during the dull task of filling out reports. Today was the exception to the rule.

By the time he’d managed to finish everything that was paperwork, it was early evening, around 4:30. Deciding it was time for a ‘break,’ he grabbed a blank piece of paper and wrote exactly that with the addition of urging people to listen to Higuchi or perish, pinning the note to the most visible, frequented place in his temporary base with a knife. Stepping back from it, he couldn’t help but appreciate his handwriting for a moment. Maybe once he dealt with that runt of a weretiger, he could finally make some elegant pieces of calligraphy again. The notion of eliminating his rival combined with doing something he enjoyed brought the fire of his rage down from a ten to maybe a nine and a half; and with that acknowledged, he made his way to an alleyway near the Agency.

5:00 was when they usually got out if it wasn’t an overly busy day or if one of them didn’t have a specific case. It was general intel for higher-ups in the Mafia; know thy enemy was something Mori preached fairly often. Akutagawa managed to slink his way into the shadows with about five minutes to spare, avoiding places where people looking out the windows would spot him. Despite his purposeful counter-measures, he almost wanted to stand out blatantly so Dazai would spot him; he wanted to see what Dazai would do, if he would acknowledge his presence or pretend he didn’t exist. His gut leaned towards the latter, and thus he hid, keeping a close eye on the doorway.

Fifteen minutes passed, and finally, Atsushi left, alone. Akutagawa wasn’t sure why he wasn’t accompanied by Kyouka the way he usually was, but he was grateful nonetheless. This made his plan infinitely smoother. In an attempt to get his attention, using Rashomon, he threw a rock directly at Atsushi’s head, hitting him squarely on the temple. As childish as it was, he felt a small sense of satisfaction seeing him stumble slightly at the hit. After a moment of confusion, he identified the direction of where the mysterious projectile came from, and approached the alley cautiously, stance defensive. Akutagawa stepped out of the shadows, Rashomon curling around him, red static flickering intensely in the darkness of the alleyway.

“Weretiger.”

“Oh, Akutagawa.” For some reason, Atsushi’s body relaxed slightly. “You got my present, yeah?”

Brow furrowing, he widened his stance. He didn’t like this. “Yes. Your ‘gift’. The boots are surprisingly nice, given how you dress.”

Atsushi sighed heavily. “Akutagawa, did you come here to thank me, insult me, or what? I genuinely cannot figure you out at this point.”

“I came here to fight you. Isn’t that what the whole point of that was? A revenge? A challenge?” His voice took on a sharp edge, jaw clenched. Rashomon writhed around him, subconsciously mirroring his agitation. “There’s no way that wasn’t meant as a taunt, especially after ignoring me for so long after...whatever that was.”

An absolutely dumbstruck expression crossed Atsushi’s face. He began rubbing his forehead, as well as shutting his eyes before saying, “You...I swear to God you’re going to give me a migraine. I thought you were being quiet because you didn’t want to ask or talk about what happened, or just that you were the one ignoring me. Either wouldn’t surprise me at this point. I really was trying to apologize and thank you for...that, because admittedly, it was a lot, and it was kind of weird, and I was kind of a huge dick to you.”

“You were.” His blunt admission surprised even himself.

“Honest to a painful fault as always, aren’t you?” He sighs.

“Lying isn’t beneficial to me when dealing with you. Can’t animals smell lies, on top of you being the way you are?” Akutagawa cocks his head to the side, body language and pose no less aggressive and tense than before.

“I feel like that’s an insult. But, you know, Akutagawa...are you sure you’re here to fight me? You haven’t moved to attack at all.” Atsushi’s still relatively relaxed, especially in comparison.

The question baffled him. “Of course I am. We have held conversations before, runt. I’m not mute, and I don’t need you to understand what I do or what I say. If I want to talk before I tear you apart, I’ll talk. If I don’t, I don’t. Even beasts can communicate from time to time.” Even though he said that, this talking was pissing him off. Atsushi was pissing him off. His calm demeanor and relaxed persona was pissing him off. He was tired of talking to him right now. And so, he struck, a finely honed blade woven of thread and desperation aimed directly at Atsushi’s neck.

He avoided it, narrowly dodging it with wide eyes and an open mouth, expression almost comically shocked.

“Come at me, weretiger. I’m not bluffing. Fight me. You didn’t last time. You owe me.”

More sharp-edged tendrils of the devourer shot out at him; somehow, Atsushi didn’t let any of them hit him. Akutagawa appreciated his movements for a moment; a grace and confidence that only came from training was finally starting to show. The only real threat Atsushi faced regularly was, well...him. That could only mean that he was training for Akutagawa. To face him, genuinely. Excitement at that realization started to bubble in his chest, and he upped the pace, changing angles, shapes, sizes, trying to see what his reactions would be to Rashomon. To see what his training was bringing about.

Many were dodged with relative ease, several crushed with that enviable brute strength, and a couple even taken for the sake of gaining ground, to try and force Akutagawa into a close-range battle where he would be at a distinct disadvantage. He was even starting to strategize. Good.

In the midst of ducking a barrage aimed at his head, Atsushi grabbed a fistful of gravel in one hand and several larger rocks in the other, for a moment glad at the dirtiness of the alley Akutagawa decided to confront him in. Using one of the walls, he leapt at Akutagawa, seeming to go for an overhead attack; his actual goal was to distract him with that and the detritus he picked up, forcing him to put up his shields and move Rashomon above him, before Atsushi forced his trajectory sharply down in front of him, managing to land a solid hit to Akutagawa’s face and knocking him down before a dark spear impaled his shoulder from behind.

Atsushi’s forward momentum from the punch when combined with the force of Rashomon caused him to stumble and fall on top of Akutagawa. Stunned at this proximity, neither of them moved. They’d never been this close to each other in this way before. The weretiger was shocked at the skinniness of the rabid dog beneath him, even through the thick clothing; the rabid dog surprised at just how heavy and leanly muscular the weretiger above him was.Their eyes met, and they stared at each other; manic ash-grey meeting unsettled gold and purple. For a moment, their breathing was in-sync, and they both had the strange realization that the other person was warm. Was alive.

This made Akutagawa panic. Disoriented, he placed a hand against Atsushi’s chest and attempted to scramble backwards, to clamber away from Atsushi, but the man on top of him was too heavy, and seemingly too startled to move. Atsushi just kept staring. He finally spoke after what felt like aeons, but what he said wasn’t what Akutagawa wanted to hear.

“Akutagawa...did you want me to pay attention to you?”

Any eloquence he might’ve had was obliterated by events of the day, and all he managed was, “Shut up, you. You-” but he was cut off.

“Did you want me to hurt you this time? You were sloppier than you usually are…”

He paid attention. He actually tried to learn from his battles from Akutagawa, learn how the other man fought.

“I always give it my all, brat. Don’t insult me further. I could kill you right now if I felt like it.”

“But you haven’t.”

“I would gain no laurels by killing a man who isn’t fighting back.”

“You almost always say the same things with different words. I wonder what it would take to make you say something new.”

“Do something new, and you’ll hear something new. Naturally.”

Akutagawa really wished Atsushi would get off of him, but he didn’t want to seem weak by demanding it. At least, that’s what he thought, until Atsushi laughed after what he said and, for a moment, rested his cheek against Akutagawa’s.

“Get the fuck off me. Now.

Finally getting up and dusting himself off, Atsushi said, “Alright, alright. I’m going to go get myself some chazuke. I haven’t had it in a while, and I thought I’d treat myself today.”

Slowly, Akutagawa did the same, having Rashomon clean itself off and neatly repair any other issues with his clothing. “Get over here, weretiger. Going outside looking like that isn’t a good idea. I don’t want word getting out that we fought and I let you off easy.”

Atsushi looked quizzical but complied, getting closer than Akutagawa felt was necessary. Grabbing his shirtfront, he had Rashomon quickly mend the rips and tears and clean off the blood spattering Atsushi’s clothing.

“So Rashomon can do things like that too?” His voice was too excited.

“It’s the manipulation of fabric and threads. What do you think?” Akutagawa’s reply was blunt and harsh.

“You’re so touchy. It’s useful to know. We do partner up sometimes, it’s good to know more about how your ability works.”

“Don’t remind me of that. Go eat and bother someone else.” He lets go of his shirt after double-checking that everything was taken care of, turning around to leave.

“Hey, Akutagawa. Want to grab something with me? You’re paying, though.”

“I have no desire to eat with you. Besides,” he throws over his shoulder, “you have plenty of other people you should sup with. Not your enemy.”

Akutagawa melds into the darkness and makes his way back to the base, mind somehow more chaotic than when he left. Every single time he thought he understood the weretiger, he understood less. Why couldn’t he be simple and easy to understand, the way his subordinates or even the majority of other people at the Agency were? Why, of all people, was it him that drove Akutagawa mad?

He sat down in his chair, and almost immediately started coughing, barely able to cover his mouth with his hand in an attempt to muffle it. Once the short fit stopped, he let himself hang limply, moving the hand that covered his mouth to hover just in front of his eyes. He had touched the weretiger’s chest with that hand. That hand moved to just barely graze his cheek. Their faces had touched there.

It was such a strangely intimate moment.

It was such an infuriatingly confusing moment.

What was he supposed to do?

Notes:

kill me

Chapter 4: Black Wave

Summary:

Time flies when you're having fun.

Notes:

heavy, HEAVY tw for abuse, ptsd, and torture in this chapter. dipping a toe into akutagawas past w/ dazai here, so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh be forewarned ya

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Days passed.

Work got done.

The phone was quiet.

Akutagawa was restless.

Perhaps it’s his disquiet that put him into this situation; completely nude, arms and legs bound behind him, a collar with a short chain anchoring him to a wall, forcing his body into an uncomfortable arch, everything bare for the world to see. He didn’t know where he was, and he was doing his absolute best not to panic. However, he wasn’t doing a very good job.

In an attempt to calm his thoughts, he tried to organize the events that lead up to this point.

There was a mission, yes. Akutagawa was leading a very small unit to suppress what they’d been informed was a minor rebellion, only twenty people at the most, no ability users among them. A simple mission, it seemed, Akutagawa thought he wouldn’t’ve had to lift a finger. How wrong he was. The ones that were in the location were as informed, and easily taken down. But they were a mere distraction. An ability user had to have set a trap somehow, maybe they were someone who dulled senses or manipulated light or created illusions. He and his squad walked right into a sniper’s den. Akutagawa was too preoccupied with blocking the bullets coming from almost all directions with barely any tells; he didn’t even notice when someone managed to get within close range behind him and jab him in the neck with a needle. He was injected with...something. And woke up here.

That was out of the way, then. He knew how he got here. The why was obvious; they weren’t holding him hostage. They wanted to torture him for information, judging by some of the implements he could blearily make out in the dim lighting. The ambush and setup meant that what they thought was a mafia-only situation was more than likely far from it, as well. The numbers they’d been getting were accurate, from what they’d been looking into, so they were working with another group that was probably looking to muscle in on their territory.

How and why were explained. How would Akutagawa escape from this? He had no chance on his own. As hurt as his pride was from acknowledging this, without any clothing, fabric, even a single thread wrapped around his finger, he was powerless, especially in this position. Akutagawa had gotten too cocky, and he was paying for it. He could only imagine the scorn he would face from Dazai once he hears of this. Swallowing drily, he pushed that thought away for later, and tried to calm his beating heart with the knowledge he had of the mafia and his own abilities.

Inside his coat, hidden so well that nobody would be able to find it even with previous information, was a micro transmitter that broadcast his location to an application only Gin had. She was the only one he trusted enough to have access to that knowledge, and she knew to tell Chuuya if he disappeared without word for an extended period of time or if there were obvious complications with a mission. He believed that a group would come and retrieve him sometime soon, given that he was relatively high-ranking and did a not-inadequate amount of work. On top of that, he’d heard from Chuuya that Mori ‘appreciated his nose,’ whatever that meant. That meant the mafia wouldn’t just leave him here...it had to.

Akutagawa only barely managed to finish this train of thought when the door in front of him opened, a muscular mountain of a man striding in.

Ah. The torture was to start now, he supposed.

The man gave some sort of diatribe, monologuing about how he was going to make Akutagawa spill all the crucial information he knew, he had an ability that allowed him to manipulate the concentration of heat in objects, lots of annoying talking. A dry smirk touched the corners of Akutagawa’s lips. This man wouldn’t get him to say a word.

He’d been tortured by Dazai before. More than once.

Whatever this meathead had in mind couldn’t be half as creative, painful, or humiliating as what he’d already been put through.

As a heat-manipulator, he started with hot pokers and brands, naturally. Searingly hot needles pierced his flesh and were left there. Fingernails were pulled off. Bones were shattered. He was smacked, he was cut, he was punched, he was beaten. Parts of his skin, flayed. His back, whipped.

One thing Akutagawa learned about while under Dazai was that holding in your screams and cries didn’t matter, as long as you didn’t give up the information.

So Akutagawa screamed. What this moron, and at the time Dazai, never expected, was the laughter. The more he was hurt, tortured, abused, the more he laughed. It was a screaming, howling laugh, both maniacal and freezing in tone. It was terrifying in how out of place it was, in how it didn’t seem calculated or planned at all.

When Dazai heard it, he actually stopped in the middle of what he was doing to Akutagawa, the syringe paused above his waiting vein. He looked at him with a cold smirk and dead eyes, voice a mixture of disgust and what could almost be called amusement, as he hurt Akutagawa with one sentence more than he ever had during that ‘training session’.

“You really are nothing but a rabid dog.”

Instead of focusing on the man in front of him and what he was doing to Akutagawa, he was reliving what Dazai had done to him. It’s not that he was unaware that he was being tortured, or that he didn’t feel the pain, or was unaware of what he was being asked or what was being said to him; he just couldn’t help but remember what his mentor had done to him.

Whatever the idiot who was torturing him said in that annoying voice was overtaken by the memory of Dazai’s cold whispers, his methods clumsy and brutish compared to what Dazai had put him through; even though he shouldn’t, in this situation he was all that Akutagawa could think about. And that terrified him.

And so, the torture continued, despite his internal critiques, despite his mental instability, despite whatever he was feeling inside.

The human body can only take so much abuse before it shuts down, and as much as Akutagawa loathed to admit it, he was only human. And so, he began drifting in and out of consciousness in the middle of the torture. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was aware that breaks were taken and that his wounds were given the bare minimum of care to ensure he wouldn’t bleed out and die on them. Akutagawa knew he was being tortured a lot, and frequently, however. That was about all he was aware of.

When his new best friend walked back into the room, he couldn’t help but rasp an attempt at a quip.

“The thing about almost constant torture is that if it’s someone like you doing it, it gets less and less effective.”

Akutagawa never claimed to be a smart man.

He especially wouldn’t claim that after this guy’s fist smashes into his face, definitely breaking his nose. Blood coursed down his face, clogging his airways a bit and causing him to cough and gag. Admittedly, getting under this guy’s skin brought him a small amount of pride, especially given the circumstances. But, as with all things, this sensation of satisfaction and his clarity were ephemeral, slipping away quickly after the man redoubled his efforts, genuinely trying to break Akutagawa this time.

It didn’t work.

But it did leave him almost dead, barbed wire digging into him where the chains and cuffs had been lined with it, the tightness of the collar only increased, his back and neck pulled back into an almost perfect ‘C’ shape. He wasn’t sure if he was still alive, if he was perfectly honest. Everything was red and vague and hazy, and he didn’t really feel the pain anymore. It wasn’t that Akutagawa wanted to die, and it wasn’t that he would prefer to die if it meant the torture stopped. He was genuinely unsure if his body would hold out for another five minutes, and that was a generous guess.

Akutagawa didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die to the extent that he began praying. Barely through the first two words, barely through, God, please- and he heard a crashing noise. The sounds of unplanned violence. He saw the man in front of him fall to the ground.

Before he fell unconscious, he saw a flash of silver.

Before he fell unconscious, he cursed God.

Notes:

honestly i made a playlist for this whole damn fic shit and its really like.....seemingly completely not matching because a lot of it is like. alternative r&b typa shit. but lyrically? bitch.
herez tha link if u wanna listennnnnn

Chapter 5: Tyrant

Summary:

Rescued, but not recuperating.

Notes:

uhhhhh tw for dazai being douchey towards akutagawa also you can pry trans akutagawa from my cold dead hands

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Akutagawa woke up, it was in an unfamiliar infirmary. Every inch of his body ached; that was good. That meant he was alive. He moved to sit up, only to realize he was restrained to the bed, cuffs on his wrists restricting his movement. Unbidden, a heavy sigh escaped him. This wasn’t going to be fun. He could already tell.

It was time to run through and see what conclusions Akutagawa could make given the information he had. He knew he’d seen the weretiger’s hair before he passed out, so he could safely assume he was under the watch of the Agency; the fact that they’d provided him with a baggy shirt and boxers effectively confirmed that as well, given that if Dazai was nearby he would be rendered practically useless. They had Dr. Yosano, and he was pretty much dead when they found him, so that neatly explained why his wounds were all taken care of. Akutagawa supposed he should be grateful for being alive, but he was still subtly infuriated at the fact that it was Atsushi who rescued him, of all people.

Interrupting his train of thought were two voices of increasing volume coming from the direction of where he presumed a door was, the muffled noise indicating it was closed.

“Dazai, you had to have known that he was there. You’re the one who got the tip-off!” That was the runt.

“Why would knowing whether or not Akutagawa was there have made any sort of difference, Atsushi? Or are you saying you would rather have left him there to die? How cold, is Atsushi finally growing up? Where did I grow wrong?” Ah.

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I just wasn’t prepared for...that.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t a pretty sight, I’ll agree with you there.”

“Once he wakes up, we should just let him go and pretend he was never here.” An edge of some unknown emotion touches Atsushi’s voice.

“No can do!” Dazai sounds unusually cheery. “We need his information, so he has to stay at least an extra day. I’ve already set it up so he’s bunking with you; Kyouka will be staying with the Tanizakis for the night.”

“Dazai. What the fuck.” Finally, something he and the weretiger agreed on. Akutagawa absolutely did not want to stay with Atsushi, especially while vaguely recuperating.

“It’s already been decided! It’s out of my hands now. But, I digress. I came here to see if Akutagawa has woken up, so I’m going to head in and check on him.” A beat. “Unless you want to head in first?”

“I’m good out here.”

A soft chuckle slips out of Dazai, and the door clicks open. “Suit yourself.”

Every single one of Akutagawa’s senses were heightened. The click of Dazai’s shoes on the floor, the rustle of the sheets, the cold metal of the handcuffs at his wrists; it was all painfully clear and distinct. Dazai pushes the curtain blocking Akutagawa’s bed from general view to the side, a blank expression on his face as he moves to where his head rests, standing over him, looking down at him.

“Did you talk?” No pleasantries, no affection, no banter for Akutagawa. Only icy indifference.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to you anymore.” Seeing how Dazai’s eyes began to narrow, he quickly added, “But I didn’t. You were better. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time.”

That sickening smile touched the corners of Dazai’s mouth as he bent down and wrapped a hand around Akutagawa’s neck. It was tight enough to be uncomfortable, to make him aware that Dazai could choke and kill him here and now, tight enough to make him remember all the times his mentor had actually choked him half to death.

“I was wondering, if you did, would I have to re-train you?”

The sheer terror he felt at those words must have been reflected in his eyes. Smirk widening at that, he let go of Akutagawa before saying, “Just kidding! I know you heard what Atsushi and I were talking about, by the way. I had figured you’d wake up roughly around this time, so I wanted to make sure you heard. So, Akutagawa. Tell me what you think of this situation. Why are you here?”

When his throat was finally released, he swallowed gratefully, memories still rushing through his mind, almost causing his hands to shake and rattle the handcuffs against the bed rails. Akutagawa took a moment before replying to Dazai, gathering his thoughts.

“My guess is that Chuuya called you, under orders from Mori, to give you an ‘anonymous’ tip. Chuuya only spoke about whatever you all were interested in. You said something to provoke Chuuya, and he said something about the Mafia or a missing subordinate or both. You put two and two together and decided to run a mission to apprehend whoever or whatever it was you were after. Mori gave you all that information because the segment involving the Mafia was already effectively eliminated, and he’d rather not muddy his hands with foreign ability users and their business unless necessary, especially after the Guild and those fucking Russians. By telling you, he effectively told the Ministry, and let the Ministry handle that aspect of it. Knowing how the Agency operates, he knew you’d rescue me and fix my wounds quickly as well. By doing what he did, it was a win-win situation.” He hesitantly tried to meet Dazai’s eyes, wondering if he was on the right track.

“Pretty much spot-on. Knowing how your superiors think is a basic skill for any subordinate, though.”

Akutagawa slumped in the bed, a barely noticeable change in position, but he felt it distinctly. “You’re right, sir.” The old title he used to address Dazai by wormed its way passed his lips.

“I’m no longer your superior, Akutagawa. I haven't been for years.” Disdain stains his voice dark.

“I’m sorry…”

“You still never learn, Akutagawa. Is your skull filled with rocks or something? It’s like if I ordered you to die, you’d do it without any hesitation!” He wasn’t sure if he was hearing things, but was that an edge of...hysteria? In Dazai’s voice.

“I respectfully disagree. If you told me to die...that would be one of the few orders you give that I would never obey.” In comparison, Akutagawa gave a firm answer. As important as Dazai was, as important as his approval was...his life came first. Knowing this was a rude response, he closed his eyes in preparation for a smack, or a punch, or something along those lines.

He didn’t expect to feel a warm hand gently stroke his hair before moving down to cradle his cheek. Akutagawa opened his eyes, staring at Dazai in shock. The single word of praise he uttered caused tears to well in his eyes.

“Good.”

After a moment, he removed his hand and dug around in the pocket of his coat, pulling out the keys to the cuffs holding Akutagawa to the bed. “I’m letting you loose on the condition that you don’t jump Atsushi the way you did in the alley the other day.”

“Okay.” He didn't even question Dazai being aware of his and the weretiger's altercation.

“Knowing him, he’s dying to come in and say something awkward and uncomfortable to you before he drags you to the office so Kunikida can grill you for information, and then awkwardly bring you home, maybe make a line separating the room with toilet paper, maybe with salt. It’ll be hilarious!” Dazai hums while removing Akutagawa’s handcuffs, the mayhem to come clearly something he was ecstatic about.

“The depths of your malice knows no bounds, Dazai.”

“You flatter me! Anyway, I’ll leave now, so Atsushi can come in and be absolutely embarrassing. Bye bye, Akutagawa.” With that, he tucks the cuffs into his pockets and leaves the infirmary, singing one of his inane songs about double suicide. What a terrifying man.

As predicted, Atsushi crept into the room roughly five minutes later, peeking at Akutagawa with surprisingly worried eyes.

“Hey, so, uh. Hi.”

Grey eyes blinked slowly in response.

“Um. So. The guys who tortured you kept your clothes really neatly for some reason. So when you want to change, they’re there.” He gestures with his thumb behind him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you naked, I’m really sorry about that, it was rude, I wasn’t expecting any of that. I genuinely didn’t know-” Atsushi’s eyes darted to Akutagawa’s chest momentarily, “what was going on…”

“You didn’t know I was transgender. Now you do. Dazai already knew, and I’m assuming Dr. Yosano now knows. Undesirable to have more people with access to that information, but not as bad as it could be. It’s a secret, even within the Mafa. If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” There was little inflection to his tone. He was merely stating facts.

“I mean. It was surprising to. Find out that way. Definitely. You really are small up there, though, even with you underneath me I couldn’t feel-”

“So this is what Dazai meant by making things uncomfortable. If you could kindly stop thinking about my tits, I’d appreciate it. I know you’re a horny teenage boy, but knock it off, runt.”

“You’re a teenage boy too!”

“I’m a little over two years older than you.”

“Oh.”

Sighing heavily, Akutagawa rested his head in his hands. “If you’re done being a moron, hand me my clothes and give me five minutes to change. I want to get everything over with as quickly as possible.”

“Don’t you need a little more time to rest? You were held captive and tortured for almost two days, Akutagawa…” Concern tinged his voice.

“Not the first time, won’t be the last time. This guy was an amateur and uncreative who had no idea how to mediate between larger wounds and smaller ones, and had almost no clue about how to actually lengthen suffering to make someone want to talk. It was more like getting the shit beaten out of me with various implements than genuine torture, if I’m honest.” He rolled his eyes. He was half-bluffing. It was, naturally, a scary experience, and he knew he wasn’t mentally recovered from it. But like Hell would he show Atsushi that vulnerability.

A complex emotion passed over Atsushi’s face as he shut up and brought Akutagawa his clothing, handing it to him silently before closing the curtains behind him. His shadow was still visible through the relatively thin fabric.

It took every ounce of willpower not to swear and hiss in pain with every movement he took to put on his pants, his shirt, his shoes. By the time he was done, he was exhausted and angry, sweeping the curtain aside with an aggravated energy he didn’t feel. “Take me to answer whatever questions need to be asked. I want this done already.”

“Fine, fine. Stubborn.” Atsushi clicked his tongue in disapproval, before leading Akutagawa to the office.

He felt the stares of the others from the moment he entered their territory; the judgement, the distrust seeping into the very air. He didn’t especially care. He answered the questions to the best of his ability, refrained from talking excessively, and tried to focus on anything except his dizziness and soreness.

Akutagawa had heard of Kunikida Doppo’s thoroughness, and being questioned by him, he finally fully grasped that piece of information. What felt like ten years had passed while he was being grilled, and by the end of it, he just wanted to sleep. The weretiger gently touched his arm for a moment before withdrawing his hand.

“I’ll show you to my place.”

He barely had the energy to nod.

While following behind Atsushi, he subtly used Rashomon to help him keep his balance and help him walk period, praying that nobody else noticed that he was using his ability as a crutch. He would never live it down if the Agency saw him as weak.

The walk to Atsushi’s apartment was blessedly short, and other than his choppy, poor attempts at small-talk, it was quiet as well.

After sliding off his shoes at the entrance, Akutagawa drifted to a dark corner and curled up with Rashomon around him, forming a cushion of sorts for him to rest on. The second he was settled, he was already almost asleep.

“I have a spare futon, Akutagawa?”

“Be quiet, weretiger. I’ll kill you.”

His voice trailed off on the latter part of the sentence.

Akutagawa was completely and totally asleep.

Notes:

next chap porn lol

Chapter 6: IFHY

Summary:

hatefuck_by_the bravery.mp3

Notes:

this is legit just. hatesex. shameless awful hatesex between akutagawa and atsushi. enjoi

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

On his best days, Akutagawa was a light sleeper who woke up multiple times a night and was almost annoyingly restless. On terrible nights like these, where he was forced to share a room with someone he considered a rival, he was nowhere near that stable.

So when he woke up for the nth time a few hours later to the sound of cut-off, muffled gasps and moans from Atsushi, he probably shouldn’t have been quite as surprised as he was.

Stunned, he remained where he was, absolutely silent for several moments. He knew exactly what those sounds were, and he knew exactly what Atsushi was doing, and there was absolutely no way he could turn around, try to ignore it, and fall asleep. Thoughts raced through his mind, words were born and died before they even reached his lips, and finally, he reached a conclusion. Finally, Akutagawa knew how he could get a win over Atsushi.

“Weretiger,” he breathed, voice barely louder than noises Atsushi was making, “what are you thinking about while doing that?”

The noises stopped and the air grew heavy with the younger man’s terror and embarrassment, an almost tangible sensation. Moonlight filtering through the thin curtains highlighted the crimson red staining the back of his neck and tips of his ears. Already, Akutagawa felt absurdly powerful.

He crept slowly across the floor on his hands and knees, hovering over Atsushi before bringing his lips near one of the weretiger’s flushed ears.

“It couldn’t be that you were thinking of how you found me earlier, could it?”

Tensed shoulders and a subtle move away from the menacing whisper were the only response; but it was the one Akutagawa was looking for.

“Masturbating to the broken body of your enemy while he sleeps in the same room, barely trying to keep it down? What a pervert you are,” his mouth twitched into a cruel grin and his voice took on an almost mocking tone as he finished his sentence with, “Atsushi.”

The sound of his name on Akutagawa’s lips pulled a broken moan from Atsushi’s throat; he tried to hold it back with his hands but was a moment too late. His pajama bottoms were pulled mostly down and he was trying to cover up his painfully hard cock with his hands; the hands he just moved to his face. Everything about him was visible to Akutagawa, and the sickening sensation of embarrassment, arousal, and anger coiled into a knot at the pit of his stomach.

“You’re really turned on. Do you want me to touch you, Atsushi?” The mocking tone had shifted to cool indifference, as if getting the weretiger off was about as interesting or meaningful as moving a box for him. “You have to tell me if you do.”

Atsushi froze in response. He wanted to tell Akutagawa to go to Hell. He wanted to pull his pants up and go take a walk in the cold night air to clear his head. He wanted to take the iciest shower possible. But his body betrayed him. Hands just barely lifted themselves from his lips and a soft utterance spilled out of him.

“Please.”

The smirk on Akutagawa’s face couldn’t get any bigger as he finally touched the trembling brat, but just barely; a feather-light caress of cool fingers over the back of his neck. “I can’t do much with you hunched over and turned away from me. You should be more cooperative, if you really want my help.”

A beat.

Then Atsushi slowly uncurled and laid on his back, aggressively avoiding making eye-contact with Akutagawa. He was certain that if he did, something bad would happen, something that he’d never be able to recover from.

“Hurry up already. Stop teasing me and touch me for real already.” Atsushi wished that he’d managed to keep the shaking out of his voice when he said that.

Akutagawa couldn’t suppress a sharp exhale of a laugh at this entire situation, at Atsushi. “You should get better at begging me. It’d be worth your while if you did.” While speaking, he merely continued his almost dainty exploration of the weretiger’s body, sliding his shirt up and exposing his chest before trailing his fingers down, down down. He spent a moment stroking his pelvis and carding through the dense, silvery hair there, somewhat surprised at how soft it was, before he ran a finger up Atsushi’s shaft, appreciating how he bucked up into the contact.

“Akutagawa, do something, dammit!” Instead of a moan or a plea, a snarl.

Good. That’s exactly what Akutagawa was aiming for.

In response, he spat into his hand and started moving it slowly, leisurely jacking the man under him off, while simultaneously he had Rashomon slide his coat onto the floor and start slowly opening the buttons of his shirt, but only halfway, just barely offering Atsushi a glimpse of his fair chest. Fingers just barely offering enough pressure to register, a thumb half-resting over the slit; Akutagawa might as well have been doing nothing.

“Well? I’m doing something. Isn’t that what you wanted, Atsushi?”

Those strange, sunset eyes finally moved away from Akutagawa’s chest, moved up to meet the unfathomable ash grey eyes that showed an emotion that infuriated Atsushi; disinterest. He sat up and swatted the hand away from his dick, one of his own hands reaching out and tearing Akutagawa’s shirt the rest of the way open, the sound of fabric ripping and buttons falling surprisingly distinct. The weretiger shoved Akutagawa down with the same hand, pinning him. He was momentarily enraptured at how vibrant his olive skin looked against the icy white of the man below him, but he snapped himself out of it.

“You fucking bastard.”

The smirk might as well have been tattooed onto Akutagawa’s face at this point. “You’re the one who asked me to touch you.”

“And I still haven’t gotten off, you piece of shit. Fuck you. God, fuck you.” Atsushi’s breathing was ragged and his pupils dilated as he stares at Akutagawa, taking in every inch of the bare skin of his torso.

“If you’re going to, you better hurry up before you get soft, Atsushi.” Whenever he said his name, it was just slightly drawn out, somewhere between a hiss and a sing-song tone. Teasing, mocking, and dismissive.

From his chest, the hand holding him down went to rest at the waistband of Akutagawa’s pants.

“Take them off.”

“Make me.”

Before he could blink, a fist wrapped itself around his throat, choking him hard enough that he knew he would bruise. A cough longed to escape his throat, but it was impossible with the amount of pressure Atsushi was putting on it. Despite this, he still waited to see what would happen, what the weretiger would do. Surprisingly, he didn’t falter. He only tightened his grip. Akutagawa’s response was to use Rashomon, sliding his pants halfway down his legs, but no more. That seemed to satisfy Atsushi, and he released his hand, finally letting Akutagawa draw a much needed breath and hack a series of shallow, rough coughs.

“No underwear, huh? And you call me a pervert.” His eyes seemed fixated on the place between his thighs.

“Sorry I didn’t want to wear boxers four times my size,” Akutagawa rasped, kicking his pants the rest of the way off.

The weretiger’s hand that had rested on his waistband hadn’t moved from that area, laying flat on his stomach. It was as if he hadn’t expected to get this far. Seeing an opportunity, Akutagawa wrapped his hand around Atsushi’s wrist, putting pressure on it to make him finally move down. When Atsushi’s fingers finally slid between his lower lips, his face flushed even darker than it had already been, and his hand began to shake.

“So, this is your first time touching a pussy, Atsushi? It’s really warm and wet, isn’t it?” Akutagawa’s voice was husky and gravelly, but still retaining that teasing, disinterested tone. He wanted to push Atsushi until he lost control, and he was pretty sure that he’d figured out the fastest way to do it.

“Fucking. Shut up, Akutagawa. You don’t know that.” Shaky, but rough and angry. Atsushi was at the precipice, and he only needed the lightest touch to push him over the edge.

“Then show me how you usually fuck someone, Atsushi. It’s not like either of us are virgins, after all.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up!" One hand snaked around Akutagawa’s throat again, the other slipping from his cunt. Atsushi fumbled with his dick before he finally shoved it in, bottoming out in one thrust. Harsh gasps were wrenched from the two of them, Akutagawa unable to hide the wince of pain that crossed his face. He was nowhere near wet enough to take him like that, but he wasn’t about to back down now.

“How does it feel, Atsushi? I want you to describe it to me.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to spur the weretiger into moving. His thrusts were sloppy and arrhythmic, hard and completely inconsiderate of the person underneath him. Loud moans were ripping themselves from Atsushi’s throat, and he seemed barely conscious of anything but fucking into Akutagawa as rough and deep as he could. Atsushi’s hand slipped off of the slender neck it was brutalizing, trailing down the pale curves of Akutagawa’s body before settling into an iron grip on his hip, the other hand in the same position on the other side.

With the hand off his throat, he finally spoke again, voice breaking around a combination of pained grunts and held-back moans. “It’s rude to treat your partner like a pocket-pussy, Atsushi. I thought you’d know that at least.” His voice dropped to a sinuous whisper as he said, “I bet you don’t even know how to fuck any way aside from missionary.”

No words, but Atsushi pulled out, a small sound escaping Akutagawa in turn. The hands on his hips shifted up to his waist, and then he was lifted up, Atsushi reversing their positions with what sounded like a growl tearing itself from his mouth. Moving his hands back to Akutagawa’s hips, he shoved him down on his cock, earning a strangled noise from the black-haired man. It wasn’t so much that Akutagawa was riding Atsushi, as that the weretiger was fucking up into him; at this point, Akutagawa was wondering if the abuse levied onto his cunt was worth it.

His nails dug into Atsushi’s chest as he tried his best to form another sentence, something else to demean him and make him lose control even more, but that turned out to be unnecessary.

Atsushi came with a loud, wanton moan, nails sinking themselves so deeply into Akutagawa’s hips that they drew blood. He moved a few more times, riding it out, before he finally stopped, arms dropping to his sides and chest heaving.

Akutagawa gave him a moment. When that clarity that came after an orgasm hit Atsushi, he looked at the man still sitting on his dick with almost horror. He looked at the marks on Akutagawa’s neck, on his waist, on his hips. He looked at the blood, at the torn shirt, at the red lines Akutagawa had raked into his chest.

The weretiger had completely lost himself, lost control, lost reason, lost consideration, and had even lost his virginity. All to Akutagawa.

Even as his neck and head fell to the ground below him, his eyes seemed glued to the man above him, unable to tear himself away.

Until Akutagawa got up off of him. Then his eyes were drawn to his cum leaking from Akutagawa’s flushed pussy, gaze tracing the path it made down his thigh. Akutagawa moved towards Atsushi until he was kneeling just over his head, a pale drop of cum falling onto olive skin.

“Clean it up.”

Atsushi opened his mouth silently. What else could he do?

For Akutagawa, seeing the weretiger underneath him, mouth open, about to clean his cum out of his cunt, no questions asked, just complete obedience, complete understanding that he lost; that in of itself almost made him cum. He smiled, and sat on Atsushi’s face, using his hands to hold his head still. His first genuine moan of the night poured from his lips as Atsushi’s tongue started to move. It was tentative, and inexperienced, but the thrill of getting Atsushi to submit to this extent was exhilarating, an aphrodisiac beyond compare.

When Atsushi started eating him out in earnest, shivers raced down Akutagawa’s spine. He lapped at his clit and fucked his tongue into him, sucking and panting and drooling, face looking like a total mess as his eyes stared pathetically upwards at Akutagawa. With his eyes like that, Akutagawa couldn’t help but start rocking his hips into Atsushi’s mouth, moaning loudly. The soft whimper that he let out in response was what finally did Akutagawa in, making him cum hard. His back-arched as his entire body trembled, eyes slightly rolled back and mouth hanging loose as he came silently with Atsushi’s tongue inside him.

He couldn’t move for a few moments after, but managed to get off of the weretiger and lay next to him. Akutagawa swore his head must’ve been fucked up from a lack of oxygen or something, because he didn’t mean to do the next part at all.

He didn’t intend to kiss Atsushi, long and deep and sloppy, before mumbling, “Good boy.”

The sunrise started to stream through the window, tinting everything with pinks and reds. Akutagawa wearily crawled over to his clothing, slipping into his pants with a grimace, using Rashomon to try and mend his shirt to the best of his ability. He tugged on his coat, and finally dragged his battered body upwards with no small amount of help from the beast coiled in his clothing. He moved to the doorway, putting boots on. He moved out the door, resting on the wall outside the apartment.

A text was sent to Chuuya using a phone he nicked earlier from the weretiger, simply stating his location and asking if Chuuya had the time to pick him up personally, preferably with a car. Akutagawa planned to empty a clip into the phone once he had access to a gun. The only reply he got was an ‘ok’ emoji from his superior, though he figured he’d get an earful from him once he showed up. To his side, the apartment door opened, and Atsushi stepped out, resting on the side opposite from Akutagawa. He didn’t try to say anything, try to meet Akutagawa’s eyes. He just stood there, waiting.

Roughly a half hour passed in stagnant silence before Chuuya showed up, somehow completely put-together despite the early hour. Steps silent, he made his way to where Akutagawa and Atsushi were, face somewhat inscrutable as he tried to put things together. It wasn’t until he was close enough to see the bruises starting to form on his subordinate’s throat that he realized the events that had transpired that night. When he reached the two of them, he placed a firm hand on Akutagawa’s shoulder before addressing Atsushi.

“Thanks for taking care of our Akutagawa, kid. Be sure to tell the doctor over there that we appreciate her keeping this guy alive, yeah?” His hand moved down, resting on Akutagawa’s lower back. “Don’t cause us any trouble, ‘kay?”

Chuuya turned, gently pulling Akutagawa closer and pressing more firmly into his back. He subtly helped him towards the car, opening the passenger door and ushering him in before getting in himself, driving away in an almost surprisingly uneventful manner.

Upon seeing how those two interacted, Atsushi suddenly realized who Akutagawa lost his virginity to, as clearly as if they were fucking in front of him.

That guy’s hand, resting right above the curve of Akutagawa’s ass. ‘Our’ Akutagawa. The way he let Chuuya lead him to the car and open the door for him, the way he ever-so-slightly leaned into the touch. The small smile Atsushi barely caught on his face before the door closed and they drove away. It was as blatant as if Chuuya had shoved Akutagawa up against the wall, and-

Atsushi couldn’t stop thinking about it. What Akutagawa was like during his first time. What he sounded like. What he looked like. He couldn’t help but wonder what Akutagawa would be like, if he could only get that rabid dog to submit to him.

More than all of that, he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Salty and bitter, the taste of their cum mingling as they moved their mouths together, languid and messy.

Why did he do it?

Why did Akutagawa always make him feel like this?

He sighed and went to grab his phone from his pocket so he could text Dazai and let him know that, unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to get any information from Akutagawa today, only to find his phone missing.

This day was off to a great start.

Notes:

chuuaku is the other ship i hold a torch for sue me bih

Chapter 7: A Rock and a Hard Place

Summary:

What happens when Akutagawa returns to the waiting arms of the Port Mafia.

Notes:

did not intend to write so much abt what happens when akutagawa got back but like...i think its important 2 explore this aspect of stuff too ya dig. also i hope mori gets killed horrifically in the manga. jsyk

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Christ, Akutagawa, you look like shit.” Chuuya’s brutally honest comment brought a tiny smile to the corners of Akutagawa’s lips, Chuuya closing the passenger door immediately after saying that, quickly getting in and settling down himself.

The car was quiet for a minute or two after they pulled away from the Agency dorm. Akutagawa just let himself relax into the black leather of the passenger seat, trying to ignore the complaints his body was issuing at every single solitary movement he made. A traffic light switched to red, and they rolled to a smooth stop. With how barren the roads were at this hour, it almost felt like he and Chuuya were the only people in the city.

“I’m not going to grill you on what happened. I’ll leave that to Mori, and we already got a decent amount of info from a couple of the guys who survived that night, both from your unit and the enemy’s. I really can’t say that it’s your fault, because you went in with completely incorrect information that went all the way up to the person who gave you the info. I’m sure Mori knows that too, but. Always best to be prepared for the worst. You know how it is.”

His eyes drifted down to his hands, folded in his lap. For a moment, he’d almost forgotten about the mission he failed, with how giddy he was from what happened with Atsushi, but sitting there in the car with Chuuya, the slight scent of cinnamon and a woodsy, musky smell hovering in the air; it made him come back down to reality. Voice quiet, matching the heavy atmosphere, all he said was, “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry about this.”

A long sigh dragged itself from Chuuya’s mouth. “It’s just you and me in here, Akutagawa. You don’t have to be so formal, you know.” His hand moved up to worry the brim of his hat before falling back on the steering wheel. “I’d apologize for opening with business matters, given what you’d been through and just finished doing, but I know you. You prefer having the information first and pleasantries later. It’s why we never send you to do negotiations. As efficient as it is, it’s not very endearing.”

Chuuya paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts while his expression twisted into an annoyed grimace. “I don’t really want to talk about what happened between you and the kid. We’re not together, and there isn’t anything between us except for the fact that we fuck sometimes, but I still want to say I don’t like what happened, just judging by the entire vibe the two of you were giving off when I walked up. You look like he tried to murder you, and you were into it, and he looked guilty and fucking broken, Akutagawa.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Why the fuck did you do something so stupid, Akutagawa?”

Akutagawa’s eyes closed, the gentle movements of the car almost soothing, even though Chuuya’s question made him feel...not great. “I just wanted to win.”

“Because you want Dazai’s approval.” His tone was flat and hard, a muscle under his eye jumping.

“Yes.” There was not an ounce of hesitation in his reply. “It’s not like I could’ve just rolled over and ignored the weretiger either. He was pretty much jacking off right next to me. He said he wanted me to do it before I even laid a finger on him, too.”

The sharp sound of Chuuya’s hand slapping the wheel startled Akutagawa’s eyes open. “That doesn’t matter, Akutagawa. Even if he tied himself up and offered himself to you on a silver platter and said ‘Shove your dick up my ass!’ you shouldn’t’ve touched the guy! Dazai’s going to come after you for this. Why can’t you just give up on that bastard already? He’s not worth it.”

“Why do you think I haven’t already tried?”

“Because you still chase after him. Your willpower is incredible. Your self-control, much less so, but when it comes down to straight balls, you’ve got damn near everyone I’ve met beat. You’re refusing to give up on him, Akutagawa.”

This conversation was one of many they’d had in this car, about Dazai, about giving up, about chasing, about being left alone. A strange relationship had woven itself between the two men after Dazai left the mafia, and even if one were to ask either one what the nature of it was, they wouldn’t be able to give a solid answer outside of boss and subordinate.

As if it’d been yanked from his lungs, a rasp of a laugh slipped out of Akutagawa. “You’re always so brutal when you talk to me about my personal affairs.”

“The only times you listen to me about them are when I’m mean or when we’re in bed.”

He pulled the car to an easy stop in front of one of the parks in Yokohama, lowering his window before outstretching his hand to Akutagawa. “The phone you took, before we both forget even more than we have already.” Rummaging in his pocket, he took the device out, placing it in Chuuya’s hand. Using gravity to crush it, he then flung it out randomly, closing the window once he was sure it was out of sight.

“How much do you want to bet that was bugged?”

“Dazai always bugged my phone when I worked under him. When he let me have a phone.”

“Damn. Fucking dammit. Fuck.” Chuuya rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “Let’s just hope it’s one of the bugs that just streams audio instead of recording it.”

“It’d be best for the sake of our sanity,” Akutagawa quietly agreed, cheeks flushing hot with shame and embarrassment at how sloppy he was not to have considered that when taking the runt’s phone. He wasn’t doing good today. Yesterday. Past 20 years of his life, really.

Sitting up with an aggravated groan, Chuuya started driving again. The space between them grew heavy with words unsaid, a pregnant pause of sorts. In the quiet, with the soft movements of the car, Akutagawa couldn’t help but doze ever so lightly, still jolting awake every time they stopped or went over a patch of uneven road; and the closer they got to Akutagawa’s apartment, the rougher the road got. He lived near the slums, in a nice apartment, but not a nice area. When he picked it out, he figured scum would blend in well with scum, and he would be able to leave and return with few questions asked. On top of that, the slums held a sort of bitter nostalgia and served as an ever-present and painful reminder of what Akutagawa had come from, and what he never wanted to return to.

Rolling to a stop in front of his building, Chuuya put a hand on Akutagawa’s arm, stopping him from getting out of the car.

“I have the day off today. You’re fucked up, Akutagawa. Let me help you get a bath in, at least. You need to get cleaned up and get some real rest, or you’ll collapse again. And you remember what happened when you collapsed last time.”

A shudder ran down Akutagawa’s spine as he recalled that instance. “You’re looking out for your subordinate an awful lot, sir.”

Chuuya’s hand moved from Akutagawa’s arm to his head, gently ruffling his hair. “Well, you’re my responsibility. In more ways than one. Besides,” and here, his voice took on a markedly softer tone, “I don’t envy the attention you’ll get from others for the next few days.”

With that, the two men made their way up to Akutagawa’s apartment, Chuuya half-supporting the slender frame of his subordinate the majority of the way. There were very few people that Akutagawa would let help him in any sense of the word; his sister was the only person he would verbally ask for assistance without any shame or hesitation, if he was being honest. This situation with Chuuya, where he watched out for Akutagawa while he bathed, took care of wounds that he couldn’t reach, forced him to sleep and eat a decent meal...Akutagawa would never say that he’d ever asked for Chuuya’s aid, and he hadn’t. Chuuya had muscled himself in and made Akutagawa accept his help, whether the other man liked it or not.

Such was the situation today, with the redhead muttering about how Akutagawa had no concern for his body while he helped the the fairly filthy guy into the bath, griping about the absolute lack of ingredients in the kitchen as he poked around for a snack, and commenting annoyedly on Akutagawa’s lack of a TV. All things he’d said before, and would likely say again. Chuuya’s attention shifted from the apartment to Akutagawa, who was just leaning against a wall and watching Chuuya buzz around his apartment with a small smile on his face. Clean and looking generally less disgusting, he now wore the loose t-shirt and sweatpants that constituted his pajamas, the bruises Atsushi left on his neck striking against his fair skin.

An emotion- no, too many emotions, crossed Chuuya’s face as his eyes settled on Akutagawa, the changes and combinations rendering the other man nigh unreadable. He approached quietly, unhurriedly, and when he reached Akutagawa, his hand moved upwards as if to grab the narrow jaw of the taller man. Instead, he just tugged lightly on the end of one of Akutagawa’s forelocks, a weary smile crossing Chuuya’s face. “You’re lucky you’re already all fucked up.”

“You really are angrier than you’re letting on,” Akutagawa mumbled, averting his eyes.
“I’m always angry, Akutagawa. Just like you.”

“But this time you’re angry at me.’

“Naturally. You were tortured and then, barely even recovered, you pushed the kid to do something like this,” and his hand moved to the bruises staining Akutagawa’s skin wine dark, the soft fabric of his gloves offering a ghost of the pressure that was there earlier. “I can’t decide if I’m angrier at you, for doing something so fucking dumb, or him, for going along with it and doing this to you.”

“Is that all you’re angry about, sir?” The words slipped out of him quietly as he bent down ever-so-slightly, letting Chuuya’s hand move from the front of Akutagawa’s throat to the back. Fingers twined into the fine hair there, pulling Akutagawa into a brief, closed-mouth kiss.

Releasing his grip, he stepped back before replying to his subordinate, only saying, “You owe me. Remember that. I know you still have a home phone because for some reason you’re stuck in time maybe twenty years ago, so if I were you, I’d expect a call summoning you to Mori’s sometime this afternoon. That gives you a few hours to nap, so rest up.” Chuuya turned to leave, adding over his shoulder, “I’ll call Higuchi and let her know to put a new cell in the works for you. Be careful, Akutagawa.” Then his shoes were on, and the door shut behind him with a click, leaving the apartment quiet and oh-so empty in comparison to how it was just a moment ago.

Akutagawa remained where he was, mulling over what Chuuya said. He owed Chuuya: for the ride, for helping him this morning, for not asking too many questions, for not pushing him, and, probably, for him going and trying to make sure Akutagawa didn’t get killed. ‘Remember that’- that is what stuck in his head for some reason. What did Chuuya want in return for his help? A drink, sex, clothing; those were all things that Akutagawa had given the redhead in return for his aid. The word ‘owe’ was almost like a codeword to them, but the meaning was unclear despite the familiarity. Slowly, Akutagawa turned and padded softly to his room, crawling into his bed with creaking bones and a confused mind.

He awoke a few hours later to the sound of his home phone ringing, exactly as Chuuya had predicted. Scrambling out of his sheets to the living room, he picked it up, offering a polite greeting and holding his breath as he waited for the person on the other line to speak.

“Ah, Akutagawa. Good to hear that you’re back home safely. You almost had us scared for a moment.” As always, Mori’s voice made him feel disgusting. “I’d like to see you in my office within the hour. The two of us have many things to discuss, after all. Until then.” A click, and static.

In his throat, he felt a hard lump of fear and anxiety that he could barely swallow around. His breathing felt shallow, and he fell to his knees in a harsh coughing fit. An hour. He had to see that monster in ill-fitting human skin within an hour. Akutagawa barely managed to straighten up after his fit, the discomfort he felt before even seeing the man at the head of the Port Mafia so acute it almost made him start coughing again. Dragging himself to his room, he got dressed, doing his best to hide his bruises with a higher-than-usual collared shirt. In an attempt to shield himself further, he even put on a binder he rarely wore simply due to the fact that his chest was small enough to be virtually unnoticeable and it was difficult to move around and fight in to boot. The dislike he harbored for Mori ran deep, very deep.

When he stepped out of his apartment, Higuchi was waiting for him in her car with a new phone, the same model as his old one, already programmed with his numbers as well. As harsh as he was to her, sometimes, she really was a competent subordinate.

“Akutagawa, sir, I’m here to take you to whatever location you need,” she said with a crisp nod of her head, eyes focused directly on the road ahead of her.

“The main office. Executive Nakahara called you, I presume?”

“Yes, sir. I’m glad that you’re back after your absence, and apologize deeply for any inconvenience I might have caused you.” The tension in her voice could be cut with a knife. “I’m the one who gave you the intelligence report, so I-”

“Higuchi, drive. You weren’t the one gathering the intel, only the one compiling what you were told. If it was your fault, you’d be dead already.” A beat of strained silence, and she began to drive to their destination. “I was sloppy as well, and that’s why I was captured. Whoever set us, set me up, knew I wasn’t on top of things and purposefully obfuscated crucial information. It was an inside job as far as the intel went, but I can’t deny that my incompetence played a role in this situation as well. As such, I’ll accept my punishment, whatever it may be.”

“But, sir…” Higuchi’s voice trailed off as she white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“We’re mafiosos, Higuchi. I’ve told you before that it’d be best for you to kill that soft side of yours. It’ll do you no good to get overly attached to others in this world.” His voice was cold and harsh, still rough and raspy from what happened last night. “Your strength will determine your position in life. Physical, emotional, spiritual; if you do not harden yourself, you will be trampled underfoot. Remember that.”

All she did was nod at that and swallow heavily, remaining silent for the rest of the drive.

When they finally stopped, Akutagawa unintentionally flinched. He took a moment to compose himself, delivering what could potentially be his final order before stepping outside. “Don’t wait for me.”

From there to the entrance of the building, to the elevator, to the guards in front of the door leading to Mori’s office- it was completely mundane, as if he was going to deliver any other mission report, instead of atone for his failure.

Inside, it looked the same as it had every other time Akutagawa had been in there. Mori, seated at a small table and chair towards the center, Elise idly drawing something on the floor, and the air as oppressive as that of the slums. Out of fear as much as out of deference, Akutagawa offered a neat, low bow, keeping his head parallel to the ground, avoiding the eyes of his boss as much as possible. “Mori, sir. I’ve come here as you ordered. Please forgive the intrusion, and I apologize for not arriving earlier.”

And there was that voice, slithering into his ear and causing chills to run down his spine, a voice that was more terrifying to him than even Dazai’s, now. “Akutagawa, it’s good to see you alive and well. I’d like you to tell me all about your little three-day vacation. Don’t leave out any details. And, stand up straight. Don’t you know it’s polite to look at someone while you speak with them?” The edge of a threat that wove through his words was as fine as spider silk and as sharp as a knife. Akutagawa had to force himself to straighten his back, and even then he only managed to look at Mori’s forehead while he began his report.

Starting just a bit before the operation, explaining why he thought he could trust the information, given that it all seemed to come from one of the regular informants from within the Mafia itself, to the fateful disaster of a mission that caused him to get kidnapped, to briefly glossing over the torture, summing it up with, “He was inexperienced and didn’t get me to talk.”

“Akutagawa, I told you not to leave out any details.” A smile.

He began again, describing what he remembered of the torture, the torturer himself, and the questions asked. He admitted to blacking out multiple times, to screaming, to laughing, to taunting the man that almost killed him. Mori’s smile grew wider at the atrocities listed, the embarrassments suffered, the pain inflicted. Sick bastard. Akutagawa was almost relieved when he reached the point where he detailed what happened at the Agency. The night he spent with Atsushi was obfuscated with the half-truth that he rested at the apartment of the weretiger and messaged Executive Nakahara first thing in the morning for a preliminary debriefing, finishing with being escorted to his own apartment, resting, getting a ride from Higuchi here, and now speaking to Mori himself.

There were several moments of complete silence other than the scratching of Elise’s crayons on the paper, until Mori unfolded himself from the chair and approached Akutagawa with unhurried, measured steps. Where he stopped was uncomfortably close, and the way he put a single finger underneath Akutagawa’s chin to lift it, as if he was inspecting merchandise; it took every ounce of self-control for the smaller mafioso to not tremble in disgust, in terror. “I don’t like repeating myself, Akutagawa. You’re skipping out on telling me about the fun you had last night.”

Akutagawa’s blood ran cold.

“Now, who was it you played with? Dazai?” Then, a chuckle empty of any genuine amusement. “That boy never had the courage to touch you like that. He especially wouldn’t now.”

He swore he stopped breathing entirely, all his focus on the single finger pushing his chin up and Mori’s face with that fake, cold smile as he looked down at him.

“I wish I could’ve gotten my hands on you before Dazai broke you in. You were such a pretty little thing.”

Bile rose in his throat.

“Seeing as how this wasn’t your fault, and in the end, your kidnapping aided us in quashing that little situation with hardly lifting a finger, I don’t see a need to punish you for that.” Finally, Mori moved his hand and stepped back slightly, still observing Akutagawa to see what his reaction would be.

All Akutagawa could think of to do was bow again, a low, deep bow identical to the one he offered earlier. “Thank you for your benevolence, sir.” He kept his head and eyes down, attempting respect, even though that was the last emotion on his mind right now. His subservient pose resulted in him being completely unprepared for the sharp blow to his lower back that sent him sprawling to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs and wrenching a sharp gasp from his wrecked throat. One of Mori’s shoes was directly in front of his face, the other he assumed planted on his back, keeping him from getting off the floor.

“I’m not punishing you for that, Akutagawa. I’m punishing you for making me repeat myself. If you really appreciate my ‘benevolence’ as you so neatly said, show it.”

He didn’t mean-

“Kiss it.”

He heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

He kissed Mori’s shoe.

Finally, the pressure on his back was alleviated, and he was allowed to stand again. His eyes went back to hovering around the other man’s forehead, the urge to vomit barely being held back at this point.

“This was a nice chat, Akutagawa. You have plenty of work to catch up on, so I’d leave if I were you.” The mafia don turned and went back to his seat, an effective dismissal if there ever was one.

Once Akutagawa was near a bathroom, he threw up until there was nothing, not even bile, left.

Notes:

words can hurt her her names higucci /dabs
anyways uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
nxt chapter mad angst.

Chapter 8: Hurt Me Harder

Summary:

A confrontation between three men, an unexpected reveal, and what could be considered a confession.

Notes:

coughs into hand
yeets this into the void
very brief legit one-line mention of past sexual assault in this one ftr the rest is just mad miscommunication and denial

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Akutagawa left the main office, slightly shaky, he saw Higuchi’s car, still parked in the same spot as earlier. A feeling he could only describe as anger tinged with the faintest hint of happiness bloomed in his chest, and he walked over, rapping several times on the tinted window of the driver’s seat to alert Higuchi. She was unable to disguise her expression of relief at Akutagawa’s appearance, and quickly got out and opened the passenger door for her superior before returning to her spot in the driver’s seat.

“Higuchi.” Flat, yet barely contained emotion lurked under his tone.

“Yes, sir?”

“I told you not to wait.”

“Yes, you did, sir. And I’m sorry for disobeying a direct order. But,” she paused, biting her lower lip. “A girl can hope.”

“A habit I recommend breaking. Take me to wherever our temporary base is. I need to get back to work.” The tension and anger in his voice cracked like a whip, though he didn’t yell or otherwise move to initiate any violence against his subordinate.

“Yes, sir.” A beat. “I’m very glad you’re back.”

At that, Akutagawa allowed a measure of softness to enter his gaze as he looked at Higuchi, before saying, “As am I.”

From that point forward, his day finally began to feel almost normal. The quiet drive to the place serving as his office for now, filling out reports, getting information, dispatching underlings; it was quiet work, but he appreciated the break it offered his body. If he was made to perform in the field immediately, he would do it, naturally, but his condition now was admittedly less than optimal. Towards the later hours, around midnight, Hirotsu walked in, an unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips removed smoothly so he could address his much younger superior. “Sir, may I have permission to speak frankly?”

“Hirotsu. Of course. I trust you’ve been keeping things well in my absence?”

“Naturally. Higuchi was doing a decent job of stepping up to the plate, but her words don’t carry weight quite yet. As I’m sure you’re aware. However, I came to ask that you stop for the day.” Hirotsu’s voice was smooth and calm, but the words he uttered still shocked Akutagawa.

“Why?”

“You don’t look good. And if you come in tomorrow looking all the worse for wear, again, it’ll start to affect how people see you. You’ve been coughing more than usual today as well. The health of a superior is something that a good subordinate should consider, especially given the business we’re in.”

Akutagawa looked down at his hands, one loosely curled around a fountain pen that he’d received from Gin as a birthday gift, the other holding a piece of paper down. He’d forgotten what he was supposed to be writing, the black ink forming a pool from where it flowed from the nib of his pen. “I suppose you’re right, Hirotsu. Your advice is appreciated, and I think I’ll take it for a change.” The last part was said with a barely-there tinge of humor as Akutagawa stood up from his desk, neatly setting things in order for tomorrow. “I’ll leave the rest of the night in your and Higuchi’s hands, then. Until tomorrow.”

Hirotsu offered a crisp partial bow in response, his superior gone by the time he straightened up. Once he was out of sight, he took out a cigarette and lit it, watching the smoke spiral upwards. He had no idea how badly he would want to apologize to the battered man that walked out of the building, but it was too late to tell him to turn around, now. For not the first time, he wondered if Akutagawa knew that Dazai’s thoughts were more occupied by him than he would expect.

Once outside, the new phone sitting forgotten in Akutagawa’s pocket let out the default text-tone, startling him. From a number he vaguely recalled as the weretiger’s, but the words he read on the screen made him almost drop the damn thing on the ground. Those were entirely from Dazai.

Warehouse. Atsushi says you know which one. Don’t make me wait.

He felt as if his lungs were on the verge of collapse with the coughing fit that hit him then, but he forced himself to keep moving, step after stuttering step, until he’d walked to where he was summoned. How long he took was an unknown variable to him- it felt like time had been moving both too fast and too slow around him as he dragged himself there. Eyes flit around the building until they settled on the door that he’d used to break in the last time he was there, the only time he was there. Once inside, there was nothing. Nothing but the two people he desperately didn’t want to see after a day like today.

“What a touching conversation you had with Chuuya this morning.” A step towards him.

He’d heard. Of course he’d heard.

“What a great way to find out my old partner is sleeping with my old subordinate on the side. Especially after what I heard last night.” A step, a step, a step.

He’d heard what happened last night, too. Fuck.

“Your denial of what you did to Atsushi was pathetic, by the way. Claiming that it was anything other than what it was,” and he stopped in front of Akutagawa. “Rapist.”

That sent a jerk through Akutagawa as if he was struck by lightning, his body stepping back without any conscious thought from him. “I would never- how could you-” stammers, useless stammers slipped between shocked lips.

“Dazai, that’s not-” Atsushi even tried to say something, but to no avail.

“You wouldn’t? How would I know, Akutagawa. You kill so much, so needlessly, if I didn’t know better I’d say you do it for fun. Though I do know better. Killing is all you’re good for, right? That’s what you told Kyouka too, isn’t it?” He sneered at Akutagawa, menacing without laying a finger on the other man.

“Plus, given what you’ve been through, I wouldn’t be surprised if you felt like taking it out on someone unrelated, like Atsushi.” An almost manic tone, akin to the edge of hysteria heard by Akutagawa yesterday, was present in Dazai’s voice, barely detectable beneath the ice with which he froze his former subordinate. “You think he has everything you don’t, so, why not take something precious of his? It’s simple, straightforward, and poorly thought out. Just like everything else you do.”

“You mean, what you put me through.” It came out of him in a shout, a harsh and short bark of anger. “You say that as if you had nothing to do with what happened to me, with what lead all of us here, to this shitty, dingy warehouse at midnight. Your ego, your bullshit, your ‘mentoring’, your abandonment.” Akutagawa lowered his voice, but rage thrummed through ever sentence he spoke. “I can lift up my shirt and show you all the scars you gave me, and go through the list of what you did. One by one. In front of Atsushi.”

For a moment, he pauses, before saying, “Quiet, Akutagawa, that has nothing to do with-”

“But it does, Dazai, sir. You brought up what I’d been through, after all.” He wielded the former title like a weapon as he did as he promised, unbuttoning coat, his shirt, and baring the skin between the edge of his binder and waistband. Scars crisscrossed and bulged from the skin there, distorting what should’ve been a smooth surface. His hand touched a distinct bullet wound on one side, before he said, “This was the first one. You said you wanted me to know the pain of getting shot.” Slowly, he moved towards a thicker scar, saying, “Do you remember when you said I was too dumb to learn so you took a knife and did this and then ‘sealed it shut’ by burning it? To show me how to ‘close a wound in a pinch’ because I was ‘too much of an idiot’ to learn any other way, than by having it done to me?”

Atsushi’s eyes widened in horror at these reveals, mouth open as if he was trying to find the words to say, but found himself unable to break the aura surrounding the two men.

Dazai’s jaw tightened. “Stop, Akutagawa. This doesn’t accomplish anything. If you keep going, I’ll-”

“What? You’ll hurt me? Again? You’re the one in denial about what happened between Atsushi and myself, Dazai,” the name of the weretiger came out from Akutagawa with surprising ease, given how unintentional it was.

“Yes! Isn’t that what you want, Akutagawa? You kept coming back again, and again, and again, no matter what I did to you. It’s like you were begging me to kick you while you were down. It just seemed like you wanted me to beat the stupid out of you. Isn’t that why you showed up here, knowing that it wouldn’t be for me to throw the Mafia’s dog a bone?” The manic tone in his voice finally broke through, earning a worried look from Atsushi as he approached the two of them warily.

“No, I came here to clear up a misunderstanding. You heard him. He was gagging for it.” A nasty tone wormed its way into his voice with that line, as he bared his neck and showcased the bruises on his hips to Dazai to punctuate his statement.

“Mori thought I was gagging for it too, Akutagawa. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t what it was.” His response was a sickened, twisted smile, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat as his flat, dark eyes bored holes into the ash-grey irises of his former pupil.

Then, he was on the ground, hands wrapped around his throat, moving the bandages wound there. There was screaming, yelling about how Dazai was going to die for comparing him to that bastard, that there was no way in Hell he would ever be like Mori, especially after what happened today, he’d had enough, he was going to kill him with his own two hands and enjoy every moment- it took Akutagawa a moment to realize the shouting was from his own throat, and the hands around Dazai’s throat belonged to him. He couldn’t stop himself from screaming, from swearing at Dazai, from starting to cry at one point. Akutagawa couldn’t even fight the weretiger hauling him away, arms wrapped tight around his waist, holding him back from Dazai. Words finally stopped tearing themselves from his throat, harsh sobs replacing them. His mentor just lay where he fell, not bothering to pick himself up, until Atsushi finally spoke.

“Dazai...I did ask him to. And...it was kind of my fault. I just. When we found him, I don’t know why, but I just thought he looked...and it...I got turned on, when I saw him in my room, just sleeping there, thinking of what he looked like then, and then what happened here even before that, I…” his words were clumsy, but he was determined to press onwards. “We both knew about this place because a couple months ago I invited him here and asked him to beat me up. I wanted him to hurt me. I needed it. It sounds so sick but I needed someone to hurt me, and he was the only one I knew who could, who would. Every time I’d gotten off back at the orphanage, it was when I was bleeding and in pain too, so after every fight with Akutagawa I’d always end up...turned on. And then, that day, it was even more intense because I decided not to fight back at all, and the things he said, so when I got home, I…” He swallowed heavily. “Then, when we found him, I thought that he looked pretty, and I was disgusted. And I thought that I wanted to...with him, or make him like...or have him make me like...or both, and with him there I ended up...and he found me, and with the real thing, I gave in.” Atsushi began to cry himself, warm tears hitting the back of Akutagawa’s neck. “I just feel so bad. I hurt him and we weren’t even fighting or had a reason to fight, and I was thinking so many disgusting things, and I just fucking used him, used a real person, like he was nothing but a toy to get off with, and that just goes against everything I try to do or stand for. And it was my first time, too,” here, his voice broke, “and I just feel really disgusting and bad, even though we both agreed to it and in the end I did end up getting Akutagawa off.”

He slowly scraped himself off the ground, watching the two people who held him in higher regard than anyone else, break down, crying in each others arms. “Atsushi…”

“The reason I feel so bad is because I feel like I raped him, Dazai. And he’s even wearing the boots I got him today, fuck.” In his daze at Mori’s summons, Akutagawa had grabbed the shoes he was gifted without thinking, slipping them on almost as an afterthought due to how preoccupied he was with covering up his neck, little good that ended up doing.

“It looks like I’ve messed things up here, haven’t I?” Bitterness seemed to ooze from every pore as Dazai covered his face with one hand, the other tugging the bandages on his neck back into place.

“This isn’t about you, Dazai,” Akutagawa barely managed, voice even more mangled from the screaming and crying he’d been doing. “This isn’t about you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it to be? You usually want everything to be about me, Akutagawa.” Now he was blatantly mocking Akutagawa, only the left side of his face visible, just like how it used to be.

“For once, I want you to shut up. Shut up and say you’re sorry.”

“You’re the one who attacked me. You should be the one apologizing, though I suppose we can’t blame a rabid dog for biting someone.” Sardonic and snide, he continued, “You’re lucky you weren’t put down, yet.”

“I can thank you again, if you want. But I don’t think that’s what you want to hear from me. Not anymore.” Akutagawa almost whispered this, before raising his voice to say, “Move your hand, Dazai. This isn’t your job anymore.”

A dry, somber laugh slips past his lips as his hands drop. “You really have grown up, haven’t you?”

“When you left, I had to.” The arms around his waist tightened, and suddenly, Akutagawa was extremely conscious of the fact that he left his shirt unbuttoned.

“I suppose you did. Not like Chuuya would’ve been of any help, there.”

“You’d be surprised what Executive Nakahara has accomplished since you absconded, Dazai.”

Finally picking himself off the ground, standing up and brushing himself off, he snorted. “Please tell me you don’t call him that in bed, Jesus Christ. That entire mental image is horrific.”

Akutagawa nudged Atsushi with his elbow until he let go. Once free, Akutagawa used Rashomon to tidy up his clothing, closing his shirt and jacket and ensuring that he looked as neat as when he walked into the building before getting up himself. “I don’t believe what Executive Nakahara and I do behind closed doors is any of your business.”

“It is because it’s amusing and kind of disgusting.”

“Can both of you stop talking about this? If it’s okay? Can we be done?” Atsushi was on his feet as well, covering his face with both hands while they spoke. “I know I’m done.”

Covering his mouth, he coughed lightly, also disguising a small smirk. If he wasn’t completely off, it seemed like Atsushi was...jealous? “We’re done. Can I leave, so I can actually try to get home and get to sleep, unless you have anything meaningful to say?”

“Get home safe,” was all Atsushi said.

“You do know who you’re talking to, right?” Dazai chimed in.

“I’m leaving. I won’t bother telling Dazai to get home safely, because nothing will ever kill him, but you, weretiger, you remember this. Nothing and nobody is allowed to kill you, except for me.” Akutagawa spun on his heel to quietly traverse the shadows, leaving the other two men standing there, bathed in moonlight.

Notes:

AND Y'ALL THOT LAST CHAPTER WAS ANGSTY

 

BITCH.

Chapter 9: In My Feelings

Summary:

Awkward conversations at an izakaya.

Notes:

this is the closest i will ever get to writing fluff for this pairing im 99% certain lol. i feel like after the past couple chaps we needed like. something not emotionally devastating to cool off a lil

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It’d been a few days since the incident with Dazai and Atsushi, and Akutagawa’s phone was blessedly silent aside from work-related calls and texts. Even though he appreciated the peace and quiet, even though he began to settle back into his comfortable near-isolation, he couldn’t help but feel almost empty. Saying what he said, doing what he did, it gave him a measure of catharsis, but the bitterness and anger wouldn’t die down, carving the dark pit within him even deeper. But, that, he was used to. It was a familiar feeling. Not comfortable, not in the slightest, but one he knew well-enough to mostly ignore.

After the time he spent tortured, he allowed his body brief respite from the usual fighting, the usual killing. There’d be no repeat of that as long as he kept himself in decent physical condition, and as bored and angry and as much as he longed to get back into the field, he waited several days before taking a job that might be described as easy, literally snatching the briefing from the hands of a subordinate before going on his grim way. Really, the work was almost too easy. Five people who’d done shoddy money laundering, go kill them and make it look messy, send a message. Two minutes to kill them all, five minutes to make it look messy and sloppy, three minutes to gather all the money and data from the area and start on his way back to base. It was when he was part of the way to his current place of work that he received a text from someone completely unexpected; Atsushi.

Hey, can we meet somewhere? Have dinner or something? That thing with Dazai was a shitshow, and we didn’t get the chance to kind of talk things out between us ourselves, and I’d appreciate it.

Also if you disagree the next time we work together I’ll purposefully make it so you can’t do anything and it’ll seem like I did all the work (=^◡ェ◡^=)

That sly son of a bitch.

Fine. Meet me in front of the abandoned warehouse at 1830. I know a place that’s discreet and where I won’t get arrested.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, only for it to buzz again.

When...is 1830?

Akutagawa almost dropped the phone and left it there.

Google is your friend, runt. I have actual work to do. Leave me alone until you actually see me in the flesh.

After that, his phone remained quiet, and he went about his day. He left a bit earlier than the meeting time, roughly a half hour, so he could change into casual clothing to be less...conspicuous. Perhaps wearing sunglasses so late in the day was a bit much, but he didn’t really see a problem with it. The less people could see of his face, the better. His wardrobe change was fairly quick, so he was able to arrive at the designated meeting point with two minutes to spare; Atsushi, however, was ten minutes late.

“You’re late.” Akutagawa checked his watch for emphasis. “If you hadn’t come when you did, I would’ve left. I don’t like wasting my time.”

“I had to climb down the fire escape because everyone in the Agency thought I had a date. It was a lot. I barely managed to escape,” an awkward chuckle escaped Atsushi as he rubbed the back of his neck. “So, where to?”

“Just follow me. Quietly. Discreetly. At a distance. If people think I’m willingly consorting with you, I might vomit.” He began walking at a quick, clipped pace, not even looking behind to ensure he was being followed.

“That’s a lot of requirements and also insulting. You look different, by the way.” Looking Akutagawa up and down, he continued with, “Different from the usual vampire clothing you wear, but it’s nice. Suits you.”

“You’re the last person I’d take fashion critique from, weretiger.”

“Sheesh, you really can’t take a compliment, can you? Should I just say you look dumb all the time or something?”

“No. You should stay quiet. Like I asked you to.”

Clicking his tongue annoyedly, nonetheless, Atsushi did hush for a bit, actually having to focus on following Akutagawa through the dark and winding alleyways he lead him through. At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was being taken to dinner or to a discrete spot to be disposed of. Probably both, knowing the guy he was with.

“If we’re taking such an indirect route, why do I have to shut up and stay away from you?”

“This is the most direct route, brat. It’s not exactly a tourist hotspot, which is why I can get away with eating there from time to time.” A huff of exasperation passed Akutagawa’s lips, only to be eclipsed by harsh, rasping coughs that almost caused him to double over. The presence of a warm hand on his shoulder almost shocked him into stopping, but unfortunately it wasn’t that easy. When he finally regained his breath, he swatted Atsushi’s hand off of him and started on again, angry that his body showed such a moment of weakness in front of his nemesis.

Thankfully, their destination was only a few minutes away at that point. It was an izakaya, that, from the outside, appeared almost completely run-down and abandoned, the only indicator that it still functioned the ‘open’ sign on the door and faint glow of lights visible through the mostly covered windows. The interior, however, was an entirely different story. Meticulously clean and well-maintained, almost classy really, yet with a comfortable atmosphere that lent itself to relaxation. An older waitress seated them at a table in the corner, offering a familiar nod to Akutagawa that he returned.

“Green tea and plum tsukemono? Your usual starter?”

“Yes, thank you. And you?” Akutagawa directed the question at Atsushi, watching him pour over the menu in something of a panic.

“Uh. Tea is fine for me, too. Edamame is good to start with, I guess?” His eyes never left the menu, brows furrowed.

“Of course. It’ll be right out.” She offered a small partial bow and left.

“So, what are you going to order, Akutagawa?”

“It’s late fall, so oden with a side of goma-ae.”

“I really wouldn’t ever have thought that you were a person who liked traditional Japanese things.” There was bafflement in Atsushi’s tone.

“That’s why I say that you don’t know anything about me.” His tone was a study in neutrality as he took a sip of tea, their starters just delivered.

“Oden and goma-ae for me. He’s having chazuke and kushiage.”

Again, the waitress politely nodded and went back to the bar.

“Hey, how did you-”

“You’re obsessed with chazuke but you had this expression like you were hungry for more the entire time, so something fried with meat seemed like the logical choice.” He took a bite of his tsukemono. “Are you going to start talking about what it is you called me out for, or are we going to spend the entire time attempting to make awkward small talk?”

Popping an edamame into his mouth before drinking his tea, or trying to, unable to take more than half a sip before putting the drink down in a panic. “Ah, hot! That’s hot!”

“Cat’s tongue,” Akutagawa couldn’t help but quip.

“I mean, literally.”

For a moment, the air lightened between them with that terrible joke.

“But, uh, yeah. I wanted to apologize for the entire thing that happened with Dazai. I had no idea he was listening in, somehow, and that entire thing got blown out of proportion. How did he hear you and Chuuya talking, though?”

“I stole your phone so I could contact him because mine was gone. Didn’t want to give you easy access to the number of a high ranking mafia executive, so I kept it, and intended to destroy it later. I didn’t think about it being bugged, though Dazai bugged my phone every time I had one when I was his subordinate. That’s how he heard us that night, and heard Chuuya and me in the morning.”

“So, keep an eye out for bugs. Got that. I’d ask more about my phone but that seems par for the course at this point.” Atsushi blew gingerly on his tea before attempting another sip. “I really wanted to apologize, though. Getting off next to you was really rude. I was really rough and mean and I lost control and hurt you pretty badly for no real reason, so for that I’m sorry.”

Taking another bite of his dish, Akutagawa shook his head. “I pushed you to that point on purpose. If you’re apologizing, I should as well, seeing as how we both contributed to that act. I don’t necessarily intend to, though.”

“Why did you do that, though? You were already hurt, and it’s not like you gained anything from that. It just ended up physically making you worse off, and emotionally making me feel like garbage. I always thought you were interested in beating me in combat, or something like that.”

Chopsticks paused while he considered his reply, wondering why he really did do it. It’s not like he’d gain any recognition from anyone by doing it, and there wasn’t any value to be earned from it either. “I suppose that I wanted to prove that I could make you submit to me. Even if it was only in a way that you and I would know about. A private conquest.”

“Well, congratulations. You succeeded in making me losing my virginity feel like an absolutely awful event.” As comedic as the words sounded, Atsushi’s words carried nothing but bitterness.

“Your food, sirs.”

They both murmured uncomfortable thanks, staring at the items set in front of them for a moment.

“I really wanted that to be something special, Akutagawa. With someone I cared about, making sure we both felt good, kissing a lot, just. Pretty much the exact opposite of what that was. It’s not even that it didn’t feel good, it just didn’t feel right.” He jabbed at his chazuke as if it had personally offended him.

“Just forget about it and pretend it never happened, then. Find some pretty person, fall in love with them, sleep with them, and consider that your first time. That was just a fever dream you had while frustrated.” Even through his sour words, Akutagawa could tell the oden was as tasty as it usually was.

Voice much softer than he expected, Atsushi said, “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I barely remember my first time.” His tone absolutely flew over Akutagawa’s head.

“What do you mean?”

“I was drunk.”

“You drink?” The incredulousness in his voice was vaguely insulting.

“Not often, but yes. I prefer plum wine or boukha, but the latter is often hard to get a hold of.” A muscle twitched under his eye at Atsushi’s ignorance.

“Boukha?”

“Tunisian drink distilled from figs.”

“That’s terribly obscure and fancy. Not surprised that’s something you enjoy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, so, thank you.” He took a spoonful of oden to punctuate his statement.

“But, back on topic. You don’t really remember your first? Isn’t that disappointing, or what you didn’t expect?” Something akin to pity tinged Atsushi’s voice.

“I stopped having expectations a long time ago. They ultimately do nothing for you. People let you down, situations go poorly, and you have to try and move on from the hurt. It’s detrimental.” A hard edge slipped into his voice, disliking what he was hearing from the man seated across from him.

“That’s...a really sad way to live, Akutagawa.”

“To you, maybe. To me, it became the only way I could survive.”

After that, there was a lull in the conversation, several minutes of heavy silence only broken by the clink of silverware against plates and bowls. Naturally, Atsushi broke it by saying something stupid.

“Akutagawa, I have to do something about this. I just don’t feel...right about myself, going on from here. Like I can’t give it my all when I fight you, knowing what I did and what happened...like I feel like I’ll end up fighting you, and then I’ll just remember choking you and. Freeze up. It’s not healthy!” He began eating angrily, as if the food had personally offended him.

“I really can’t do anything about that, weretiger. At this point, it’s out of both our hands. All you can do is hope to forget.” In stark contrast, Akutagawa was calm, executing measured motions as he drank his tea and ate his meal, savoring the flavors best he could with the conversation at hand.

“Give me a do-over.” A firm tone entered his voice.

“Excuse me, a what?” Incredulity and bafflement he couldn’t conceal entered his.

“Let’s sleep together again, but this time I get to be in control and do things right. That way neither of us are guilty, and we can go back to fighting without feeling off!” Atsushi said this as if it was scientifically confirmed to help.

“I never felt guilty. The only thing that would bother me is you not giving your all. You know how I feel about that, by now.”

“Exactly. So sleep with me.”

“Just find someone that’s actually attractive and leave me alone, weretiger,” a heavy sigh wrenched itself from his lips. “It’ll be easy for you.”

“It won’t, and that wouldn’t work even if I could just casually sleep with someone. It has to be you.” For some reason, he stood resolute on that point.

Without thinking, Rashomon swirled about his shoulders, belying the anger Akutagawa was desperately trying to supress. “Why?”

“Because! I hurt you, and you’re the one who took my real first time. If you sleep with me, I’ll owe you. Big time.” Sincerity was embedded in his words.

“You already owe me for not killing you right now.”

“See? Already racking up a tab. And, come on, me owing you a favor has to be appealing. Please, Akutagawa? Pretty please? I’ll pay for dinner too.” Atsushi’s eyes were wide and pleading, almost sparkling, really.

“Will you shut up and leave me alone if I say yes?” The words passed his lips not of his own volition, and he cursed them the second they were uttered.

“Yes!”

Shit.

“One: I’m not going to have sex in that dinky apartment of yours again, and you’re not going to my place. That leaves a hotel, and you’re paying. Two: if you say ‘I love you’ I will murder you and leave after taking all the valuables on your person. Three: if you tell anyone I’ll castrate you and make you choke on your own balls. Got it?” Akutagawa couldn't help but massage his temples. He couldn’t even explain to himself why he was agreeing to this, he knew that the weretiger’s explanation sounded like total bullshit, but he said yes anyway. Damn stupid mouth.

“Extreme, also expensive, but okay. We have a deal.” He extended his hand, and with extreme reluctance, Akutagawa shook it.

He wasn’t looking forward to tonight.

Notes:

next chap smut lol

Chapter 10: Melting

Summary:

Atsushi makes some interesting discoveries about Akutagawa, and maybe a few about himself along the way.

Notes:

dbajwjdnakslanfh im sorry this took so long to get here i just had such a hard time writing fairly vanilla smut i s2g i was gonna lose my goddamn mind but HEY ITS 5K WORDS have fun

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

From finishing and paying for their meal to Akutagawa reluctantly leading Atsushi to a hotel where they wouldn’t ask too many questions, to checking in, to now, the two of them standing at least five feet away from each other in the relatively small room, staring; both of them would be lying if they didn’t admit to themselves that this felt positively surreal in every sense of the word. Uncomfortable, Akutagawa crossed his arms and glared at Atsushi, praying that he would just chicken out and call the whole damn thing off. It’d be the best outcome for the both of them, after all. Unfortunately, things never seem to go Akutagawa’s way.

“So, what do I do? I’ve never really done anything like this before.” The weretiger shifted awkwardly, eyes focused on Akutagawa as if he had all the answers to this situation.

“That much is completely obvious. And stop looking at me like I’m the bastion of all sexual knowledge, it’s not like I’ve done it tons or with a lot of people. On top of that, you’re the one who said you wanted to do this your way, so just do what you want.” His voice was icy, and he subconsciously crossed his arms tighter, glaring even harder at the man he was supposedly supposed to be sleeping with tonight. If he could figure out how to get things started on his own, at least.

“You are so mean. Like, seriously, holding a conversation with you is so hard it could be considered an Olympic sport, I swear,” Atsushi groused, crossing the space between them and resting his hand on Akutagawa’s cheek. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Averting his eyes with a grimace, his response was, “Just do it. Announcing what you’re going to do ahead of time is like calling out what type of punch you’re going to throw before you throw it. It takes all the-” and he was silenced by Atsushi’s lips on his. His kiss was inexperienced and there were a lot of teeth involved, but he seemed to learn what Akutagawa liked fairly quickly. It was a long, drawn-out kiss, Atsushi’s hand moving from his cheek to the back of his head to tug on his hair, the other snaking around his waist and resting just above the curve of his ass. When they finally separated, a thread of saliva connecting them before they began panting for air, the younger man couldn’t help but be amazed at how his senior looked. Light nips to his lips had flushed Akutagawa’s mouth berry-red, and his cheeks were similarly shaded, though his expression was nothing but an attempt at schooled neutrality.

“Come on, take your jacket off at least. You look like you’re getting a little warm, Akutagawa.” There was a slight teasing tone to Atsushi’s voice as his hand ventured a little lower, an act that was not lost on the man currently having his ass groped. An exasperated groan escaped him as he shoved Atsushi away and shucked off his outer layer, leaving his shirt and pants on. He couldn’t be made to do all the work here, given that Atsushi had somehow wheedled him into this situation to begin with.

In a voice that was half laugh, half sigh, the weretiger said, “You could’ve just told me to step away, you know.”

“You seemed to be distracted at the time.”

“Can you blame me?” Atsushi shrugged and got back closer to Akutagawa, looking him up and down as if expecting some sort of surprise, like a knife or something.

“For many things, yes.” Catching his look, the mafioso lifted up his arms in a pose that was a poor attempt at conveying that he wasn’t attempting to be threatening, for a change.

“I’m beginning to regret this, Akutagawa.”

“Does that mean I can go?”

“With that attitude, no.”  He pulled on the front of his partner’s shirt, yanking him into a peck that could only be described as cheeky. Tugging him towards the bed, Atsushi slipped his leg between Akutagawa’s and wrapped an arm around his waist, flipping him onto the sheets and landing on top of him. “Who knew that combat training would come in handy here, hm?” he mused, looking down at the much lighter man. “I guess this is technically the third time we’ve ended up in this position, isn’t it?”

“No shit.” He averted his eyes, turning his head, the intensity of that purple and gold gaze seeming to sear itself into his skin. Because of this, the sudden, gentle pressure of a kiss laid against his pulse came as a shock, and he unintentionally kneed Atsushi in the chest and scampered backwards onto the bed. “I swear that was not on purpose. I was startled. That was a subconscious response to sudden stimuli,” he attempted to explain, but the look of bewilderment on Atsushi’s face almost caused him to start laughing. It was like looking at a cat who stuck their paw in a bucket of water.

His amusement was temporary, unfortunately. Holding true to his nature, Atsushi practically pounced on him, half pouting as he sat his weight firmly on Akutagawa’s hips. “That was very rude, you know.” Hands ran their way gently over his clothed sides before slipping underneath the fabric, the sudden warmth making the now-pinned man shiver slightly. Seeing this as a positive sign, Atsushi pressed several quick kisses to Akutagawa’s neck before sliding the thin piece of fabric up; to his surprise there was little resistance on the behalf of his partner. Discarded and forgotten, the weretiger ran his eyes up and down the nearly bare torso of the mafia’s dog, finally able to really take in the vast expanse of scars marring the otherwise flawless skin. Akutagawa’s chest was covered by a soft cotton bandeau, and Atsushi figured it would be a bit much to ask him to take it off, so he left it alone.

Something that did surprise him, though, was the curve of black fabric peeking over the edge of the waistband of Akutagawa’s pants, a barely-there sliver of skin visible between the slender cut of fabric and his pants. “Are you wearing...panties? High-cut panties?”

Akutagawa’s face flushed entirely red. “Higher cut legs are easier to move around in compared to boxers or briefs, and they feel secure. It’s practical!”

This only prompted Atsushi to divest himself of his top and half undo his pants, before scooting down and sliding off Akutagawa’s. Even though they were plain black and looked minimalist and functional, the fact that they were so high-cut, revealing a large part of his pale thighs and emphasizing that surprisingly decent ass of his...it was kind of hot. He couldn’t help but lean forward and gently sink his teeth into the flesh of his thigh, somewhat enjoying the feeling of Akutagawa’s leg trembling underneath his mouth. Atsushi laved his tongue over the red mark he left, just for a moment, before moving to start exploring the rest of Akutagawa’s body with his lips and tongue. With the way he was shivering, one would think that he was freezing, but his skin was very, very hot.

What are you doing, weretiger?” The shake just barely extended into his voice. “I can’t imagine this does anything for you.”

“Your skin is soft and I like seeing how flushed it gets when I bite and suck on it,” Atsushi replied, sinking his teeth into Akutagawa’s shoulder for good measure, feeling how his body just slightly arched into his at the sudden pain, listening to the soft hiss he tried to muffle. “Stop being so stubborn, Akutagawa. It’s okay to feel good. I can smell that you’re turned on already, so why hide it,” he mumbled into his neck, placing a kiss on the wiry man’s sharp jaw.

Somehow, the fact that Atsushi could tell that Akutagawa was already a little wet, not even by touching him, just by smell alone- it was embarrassing . He closed his legs tightly, hands balling themselves in the sheets underneath him as if they would offer some measure of security, of protection. He agreed to this, he knew he did, and it’s not like he was afraid or that it was necessarily unpleasant, he just...the feelings he was experiencing were ones he had no words for, and perhaps that is what marked him as appearing hesitant and almost fearful. Of all the things to project, that was the image he loathed the most, and so he decided to change that. Releasing the sheets and winding his arms around Atsushi’s back, he nudged him into a deep kiss, distracting him enough that he managed to flip their positions, Akutagawa now above Atsushi.

“It’s not fair that my pants are off and yours aren’t,” he said, moving down and almost tearing both the pants and underwear off his current partner. With Atsushi’s dick out and the lights still on, Akutagawa took a moment to look at it, to see what he’d be taking inside of him for the second time. It was clear as to why it hurt more than he expected when they first had sex; the weretiger was unexpectedly decently endowed, and this was clear even with him only half-hard. “Not bad, surprisingly,” he begrudged before he got down and started giving Atsushi a blowjob. He wasn’t sure why, and it wasn’t even like he enjoyed giving head, but perhaps the surprise on the other man’s face was worth it. The face he made while Akutagawa’s tongue ran a stripe up his shaft before he took the head into his mouth, sucking and laving his tongue over as much as he could fit in his mouth which admittedly wasn’t much. He kept his eyes on the other man’s the entire time, one hand gently wrapped around the base of his cock and the other holding his hips down. For a moment, judging by the expressions Atsushi was making, Akutagawa felt like he had the upper hand. At least, until he sat up and wove his fingers through the dark hair on the back of his head and started pulling slightly.

“This really is the most unexpected thing I’ve ever seen so far. My self-proclaimed nemesis, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke between my legs, with my cock in his mouth, giving me a blowjob. Completely of his own free will, without me even asking on top of it all,” he commented, sentence peppered with soft gasps and almost-moans. His grip tightened, and Akutagawa couldn’t help a slight whine from slipping out of his lips, still wrapped around Atsushi’s dick.

Akutagawa pulled himself off, stopping what he was doing just so his partner could see the mixture of saliva and precum dripping down his chin. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t flagging, weretiger. It’d be bad if you got bored halfway through, wouldn’t it?” The question would seem innocuous if not for the hand resting on Atsushi’s pelvis, the goading tone in Akutagawa’s voice, and the calm expression on his face.

There was a flash of something behind those almost hypnotizing gold and violet eyes, and Atsushi said, “Terrible. Awfully considerate of you, considering you acted like you didn’t want to do this until now.”

“You don’t seem to hate me taking the active role, so I thought I’d help you a little bit, Atsushi,” he drawled, dragging out the man’s name into separate syllables, still staring up at him.

“Two can play this game, Ryuunosuke.” The way his name slipped from Atsushi’s name startled him, and, unprepared, he flushed slightly and averted his eyes, just for a moment.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” such bemused words came out from the weretiger without him thinking. The hand still twined in Akutagawa’s hair released its grip, trailing down to rest loosely around his neck, allowing him to lightly guide his partner up towards him for a brief, sloppy kiss.

At this point, even though he hated to admit it, Akutagawa was aroused. And out of sheer spite, for being turned on, for being in this situation with a person he hated, for being teased with his name, for the man currently under him even existing, he started grinding against Atsushi’s dick. The friction felt nice enough to Akutagawa, but it was nowhere near enough, and he knew the same had to be true to the weretiger. A thin piece of fabric was the only thing keeping them apart, and he couldn’t help but taunt Atsushi with that fact, with every motion that pressed him against the length of his cock. A loud, frustrated moan escaped Atsushi as he bucked his hips to Akutagawa’s rhythm, hands moving down to grip his waist none too gently.

Fuck , you’re always so mean to me, even when I just want to play nice for a change. Come on already, Ryuunosuke,” he managed to say, words broken up by heavy breathing.

Clearly, Atsushi had taken a page out of Akutagawa’s book when it came to using somebody’s name; the way his name rolled off Atsushi’s tongue caused a stutter in his rhythm, a barely there pause that the weretiger immediately took advantage of, using the opportunity to switch positions again. “Got you,” he half-purred next to Akutagawa’s ear, his hot breath making the other man shiver. A series of small bites to his neck and shoulder, and then Atsushi made his way down, dragging his nails down Akutagawa’s sides until he reached the waistband of his panties, sliding them off. Much like their first time together, he spent several moments staring at the place between Akutagawa’s legs, hands resting on his pale thighs, holding them so hard that the skin under his fingers was beginning to turn red.

“You’ve already had it in your mouth, weretiger. Don’t look so surprised,” it was as if the older man couldn’t help but tease his partner, continuing with, “Staring isn’t-” but he was cut off, body yanked forward by Atsushi as he put Akutagawa’s thighs over his shoulders and his lips near the other man’s dripping sex. A complete inversion of their previous position.

“With how wet you are right now, I could probably hunt you down anywhere in the city. Even though you’re acting so calm, you smell like you want it, Ryuunosuke.” The words were delivered in that hushed purr of a voice and the sentence punctuated with a drawn out, teasing lick to his clit. The sudden sensation made his back arch and leg jerk, but a sharp smack from Atsushi on his upper thigh shocked him even more. “Stay still. I’m not that experienced so I might bite something I shouldn’t if you move too much.” A soft whimper escaped Akutagawa at that, a sound he tried to kill too late by clapping a hand over his mouth. Atsushi almost hummed when he heard that, and it seemed like that single sound was enough to get him to start servicing Akutagawa in earnest. He was messy, and sloppy, and seemed to be utterly enjoying every moment with his tongue in Akutagawa’s cunt. The way he moaned into him, the way he traced his tongue over his clit, the intense look in his eyes as he watched Akutagawa’s face- it was all the other man could do to try to muffle his moans and keep his hips still. Each time he rolled his hips to meet Atsushi’s mouth without thinking, he was delivered a slap mirroring the first one; Akutagawa would’ve been lying if he didn’t admit that the pain kept bringing him closer to the edge.

He was close, so close, and he knew Atsushi could tell, he’d have to be an idiot not to notice- but he stopped, moving his face away for a moment and removing a hand from one of his thighs. “I want to hear you moan again. You sound really sexy when you moan, you know.”

Reluctantly, he uncovered his mouth and panted out, “I can’t just moan on command, were-” and then he felt one of Atsushi’s fingers curl inside him. And he moaned, and immediately felt ashamed that he’d done what he was asked so easily. The only thing that was more embarrassing was the soft, “Good boy,” Atsushi mumbled, and the way Akutagawa knew he twitched around that finger inside him, a strong reaction to a simple phrase.

“I wanted to make sure you were comfortable before I fucked you, so,” he added before going down on him again. The almost leisurely way he sucked on his clit while fingering him, adding a second finger easily, gently scissoring them inside him- the stimulus wasn’t as intense as when before, but it felt good and Akutagawa couldn’t help but slightly whimper and moan while trying to talk, though he barely managed any words past, “Shitty bastard,” and “God I hate you.” It was when Atsushi added a third finger and started moving in earnest that he felt himself reacting strongly again, the slight stretch and rough movement combining with the way Atsushi lavished attention on his clit to draw a shuddering, quiet orgasm out of him. Giving him a moment to come down, he withdrew his fingers and moved from between Akutagawa’s legs. Holding out his hand in front of the trembling man’s lips, he softly murmured, “You should clean them off, Ryuunosuke.”

At any other time, any other place, any other situation, this would’ve ended in Atsushi’s death, but for some ungodly reason he opened his mouth and started sucking on his fingers, laving his tongue over them, tasting the combination of his cum and slick that coated them. He felt filthy for doing it, but he couldn’t help himself, not with the face Atsushi was making, not with the way his eyes almost pinned him down. The weretiger soon almost gently withdrew his fingers from Akutagawa’s mouth, then using his other hand to caress his face and run fingers through his hair. “Wow, you’re being really sweet now. What happened to the mean and cocky Akutagawa from like ten minutes ago?”

Face flushing, he snapped, “I can kill you right here and right now if you’d prefer, runt. It’d make my day, I promise.”

“Runt? Well, you didn’t seem to think that about my dick when you were blowing me.” He moved off the bed to the floor, the rustling of fabric and the crinkle and tear of a foil wrapper making it clear what he was doing. Climbing back between Akutagawa’s legs, the other man couldn’t keep a flash of panic off his face when he saw what was going to happen, legs subconsciously closing. “I just came, Atsushi, this is a bit-”

“If you can’t take it, just say so, okay?” For once, there wasn’t a hint of malice, or sarcasm, or any other sort of goading tone to his voice. He sounded genuinely concerned. And perhaps it was his concern, his earnestness, that made Akutagawa open his legs and say, “Just, go ahead already. I can take it.”

“You sure?”

“Hurry up and fuck me already, weretiger.” His words were harsh but lacking any of their usual venom, face turned away and half buried into a pillow.

A soft laugh slipped from Atsushi’s lips as he pulled Akutagawa’s legs around his waist, finally pushing into him, earning a low moan from the other man whereas all he managed was a harsh gasp. He continued on slowly, even though his senses were screaming that he wanted nothing more than to thrust all the way in and lose control the way he had before, and yet he persevered. When he bottomed out, he couldn’t help but update Akutagawa, teasing him with, “I’m finally all the way inside you, Ryuunosuke. Didn’t you want me to tell you what it felt like to fuck you, when we first did this? It’s so warm and soft and wet, and I keep feeling you twitching around me.”

Only now did Akutagawa realize the hole he dug for himself, saying, “That was then, and this is now, you don’t need to say everything you-” and, for not the first time, Atsushi cut him off by making him whine, a well-timed thrust pulling the sound from his lips.

“Aw, but it’s fun, Ryuunosuke. Ryuunosuke, do you like it when I call you that? I swear I feel you tighten up on me every time I say your name. It’s really hot, you know.” Each sentence was punctuated by leisurely thrusts, sweat starting to bead on Atsushi’s skin solely because of the restraint he was exerting. Even through the sheer amount of sensation that Akutagawa felt assaulted with, he managed to pick up on this, and he wasn’t about to just lay there and take this. Pulling Atsushi closer with the legs he’d hoisted around his waist, he bucked his hips to disrupt the slow rhythm his partner was attempting to maintain. Feeling the way Atsushi’s hands tensed and how his hips stuttered, Akutagawa couldn’t help but smirk. “Having a little trouble, Atsushi? Need some help?”

At that, he pulled out completely, brow furrowed and face pulled into a snarl. “Why can’t you just cooperate for one goddamn minute? Is it just your nature to be an ornery bastard, or something?”

“I know you are but what am I,” the childish response came from between his lips without a thought from him, and for some reason he flushed in embarrassment upon saying it.

That earned him a snort from Atsushi, before the weretiger used that unfair strength of his to flip Akutagawa on his stomach, a surprised noise coming from the older man.

“You know, I would never have thought that you’d have such a cute ass, but I have to say, the view from back here is pretty nice. Lift your hips up, Ryuunosuke.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Well, it seemed like missionary wasn’t doing it for you, and last time you did say I probably didn’t know about any other positions, Ryuunosuke, so, let’s see if doggy style suits you more.” Not even waiting for the other man to move the way he asked, he moved him how he wanted before filling him up in one smooth motion. The sound Akutagawa made at that could only have been described as lascivious, back arching and shivers running across his skin. “God, that was a really sexy noise. I want to hear you make more, I want you to be really noisy tonight, Ryuunosuke.”  

He was moving fast and hard and rough, and it was just how Akutagawa liked it. His hands tangled themselves in the sheets as he attempted to ground himself to little avail, moans and whimpers still flowing freely from his mouth. He felt himself getting close again, quicker than he expected, and just as he was about to say something to Atsushi when, suddenly, he felt him smack his ass, driving the words out of him and replacing them with an embarrassingly loud, messy moan. The next words he said were ones he would vehemently deny saying would anyone ever bring them up to him, but they fell from his lips so naturally they gave even the weretiger pause.

“Atsushi, harder, please.

For a moment, he stopped moving, just resting inside Akutagawa before bending down and placing a kiss on his back. “When you ask me so nicely, Ryuunosuke, how could I say no?”

And so, he proceeded to fuck Akutagawa into the mattress. He fucked him with months of built-up resentment, and anger, and confusion, he fucked him with feelings he didn’t have names for, he fucked him just to fuck him, just to say that he, Nakajima Atsushi, had made Akutagawa Ryuunosuke cum on his cock after he told him to screw him harder. He raked his nails down Akutagawa’s sides, he gripped his hips so hard he knew they’d be bruised again, he spanked him a couple more times for good measure, and there was some perverse part of him wondered if there would ever be a way to mark Akutagawa up more, hurt him more. Brushing that aside, out of curiosity more than anything he reached a hand around to tease Akutagawa’s clit, and the response he received was unexpected.

Atsushi felt him cum around him almost instantly after that, felt him tighten up and heard a broken, weak whimper slip out of him. Atsushi knew he came, and still he fucked him through his orgasm, saccharinely sweet words dropping from his lips. “I know you came by the way your pussy started twitching around me, Ryuunosuke, and I know it’s your second time, but I haven’t even cum once yet. That’s not fair, so hold on a bit more for me. Be good for me, Ryuunosuke, okay?”

Akutagawa had no words, everything kind of blurring together as he pushed through his second orgasm into his third, his moans almost sounding like sobs with how intense everything was starting feel. The warmth of Atsushi’s hands on his hips, the slight burning where he was slapped and scratched, the way Atsushi was inside him still, the way he moved his fingers on his clit in almost perfect time with his thrusts; it was so much. By the time the weretiger finished with a violent shudder and what sounded like a growl, Akutagawa was fairly sure he’d finished at least three times, but his mind was far too hazy for him to say if it was an accurate count or not.

When Atsushi pulled out and tied off the condom, chucking it into the waste bin, Akutagawa collapsed, letting himself sink completely into the bed, not even attempting to put any strength into his limbs. He didn’t even bother lifting his head up to try and see what the weretiger was doing, so complete was his exhaustion. It wasn’t until he heard the other man speak that he rolled over onto his back, squinting in Atsushi’s general direction.

“Well, I’m still hard.”

“Die.” His voice sounded as if he’d been swallowing rocks, with all the noise he’d been making.

“Come on, I made you cum a lot.”

“And because of that, I can’t move adequately to take care of that right now. Happy with the mess you’ve made?”

“So just let me move you.” There it was, that undeniably earnest tone.

“Whatever. As long as I don’t have to do anything.” Akutagawa gave in. He was too tired to argue, too vague to really insult him, and too sore to move on his own, so whatever.

Almost happily, Atsushi tore open another condom, sliding it on before wrapping his arms around Akutagawa and lifting him onto his lap. “Just put your arms around my neck and let me handle this, Ryuunosuke, okay?”

All that earned him was a disgruntled grumble from his partner that he cut off with a kiss. Atsushi’s hands were supporting Akutagawa’s weight, resting under his ass, and he used this position to gently slide back into the other man, moaning into Akutagawa’s shoulder at the sensation. “God, you feel so good. Your pussy feels so good, you sound so good, you taste so good. I feel like I could just fuck you for hours and hours, especially with how sweet you started being.” His pace, which was slow and lazy, picked up again as he started fucking deep into Akutagawa, unabashed in his praise, filthy as it was.

“Shut up, dumbass, I’ll kill you.” The words, all too familiar, were without any venom and weakened by his gentle gasps as he let Atsushi do what he wanted, for not the first time that night. He only received a mild hum in response, and soon enough the weretiger finished again, just after Akutagawa somehow came a fourth time, albeit very weakly. Neither of them moved for a while after that, Akutagawa just letting Atsushi stay inside him while they both tried to catch their breath.

“If you think about it, Ryuunosuke, I’m the one who’s been killing you.”

“The fuck?” Eloquence was not his strong suit following four (?) orgasms.

“Don’t you know? In French, orgasms are called la petite mort. The little death. So I guess I’ve made you die a few times tonight, more than you’ve made me. I’m winning, Akutagawa.” The good-natured jeering struck a nerve, and the other man shoved himself away from the weretiger.

“I’m going to kill you for real. And it’ll hurt. And you’ll be sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re the only one who’s allowed to kill me.”

“Damn straight.” With that cleared up, Akutagawa used what little Rashomon he could summon from the bandeau he was wearing to gather up his clothes and help him put them on, ignoring Atsushi’s protestations. Once his cell phone was in hand, he sent Higuchi a text with his location and orders to pick him up, before flopping backwards on the bed again.

“I’m going to go home, take a shower, sleep, and say this never happened. And so are you, weretiger.”

“Nah.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, it’s obviously happened, twice now. And I don’t think I’d hate it if it happened again? It felt really good, after all.”

“Incorrigible.”

“Sure. But I know you liked it too, Ryuunosuke,” he teased, a smug cheshire smile spread across his face.

“Never call me that again,” spat Akutagawa, words barely managed beyond his blush.

“Okay, okay. ‘Til the next time we either team up or try to kill each other, then.” A teasing tone still touched his voice, as if he expected Akutagawa to get in touch with him ahead of time. The implication pissed him off so badly he just left the room and went downstairs to wait for Higuchi, using Rashomon as an aid yet again. He wanted a shower, he wanted a drink, and he wanted to go the fuck to sleep.

When his subordinate finally arrived, he swore he was never so glad to climb into a getaway vehicle.



Notes:

and then akutagawa had to use rashomon as a crutch for like a week

Chapter 11: Bystanders

Summary:

Akutagawa gets his feelings sorted and gets them off his chest.

Notes:

sorry it's been two years, but i was genuinely and truly stymied with how to continue or even finish this fic for....literally two years. inspiration sort of struck last night roundabout five in the morning and i wrote this. it's short and a bit to the point, but it's how i feel like this fic has to end. i know a lot of people won't like it, and a lot of people will see it as a cop-out or like a betrayal, but i feel like, given how i've written everyone and framed things, this is how things had to go. thank you to everyone who's read this over the past two years, and i can't thank you enough for any kind comments or kudos you've left in the past. i'll elaborate more in the author's note at the end and i would deeply appreciate it if you read it through

a song for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nDAxUobw4ls

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Things were blessedly quiet after his last encounter with the weretiger, and for once, Akutagawa was allowed to be alone with his thoughts. As loathe as he was to admit it, he needed time to think, to absorb all the information he’d recently been inundated with, to process all the emotions he’d felt and let out, the demons he’d exorcised and simultaneously summoned once more. He hadn’t even given himself a moment to recover from the time he was held captive, and it...hurt him, still, the memories of the pain fresh even though the wounds had miraculously vanished thanks to the gifts of Doctor Asano. 

 

While he thought and worked and returned to his usual routines, he realized the deep solace he found in the familiar, in the small things he’d never truly paid attention to before. Watching over Higuchi and the Black Lizards from the shadows every so often, making sure they were doing things properly and the job was going smoothly. The cups of tea quietly set at his side when he was filling out and filing reports that he barely paid any notice to before. Taking Gin out shopping and seeing the quiet joy in her eyes when she gets to pick out the rare cute dress or pair of shoes, luxuries they’d never been afforded as children. Sitting at a bar where nobody knew his name, sipping a drink and letting the quiet gossip wash over him, absorbing the atmosphere of anonymity. Watching the sun set over the docks, watching the sun rise off his balcony. The knowledge that his team respected him, looked up to him, followed him, and was willing to help him in a number of ways. 

 

There were more complex things he actively took part in as well, of course- visiting little antique shops and picking up the odd piece of furniture to decorate his room, laundering his clothing had become a comforting ritual in of itself, occasionally trying to lure the stray cats nearby to his balcony and sometimes being rewarded with an opportunity to stroke their fur. He often wondered why stray cats were so different from stray dogs, possessing a lightheartedness and dignity that a stray dog never could. 

 

He hated dogs. 

 

Yapping, desperate, needy beasts.

 

How familiar he found them- recognizing oneself in the other. Was he hating aspects of the self found in the other, or was he just hating aspects of himself once more? 

 

Akutagawa leaned against his balcony and looked up at the night sky, thinking, thinking, thinking. Thinking about cats. Thinking about hate. Thinking about solace, about comfort, about peace.

 

How did he feel about the weretiger?

 

Why did he want to kill him?

 

Did he still want to kill him?

 

He thought about the moments he didn’t seem to immediately clash with him, the times where it was almost tolerable, where they were just two people who clearly disliked each other but had to work something out. He thought about the times the weretiger absolutely infuriated him. He thought about Dazai, and the weretiger’s closeness with him, even after all that transpired. There were so many things to consider, from his ideals to his allies to his personality, and after a few hours of simply staring at the sky in dead silence, Akutagawa felt like he had an answer. It was strange, finally feeling like he could come to a conclusion, after a few months of staying out of each other’s ways, after relative peace, after a time where if Akutagawa didn’t think too hard he could almost pretend the weretiger didn’t exist anymore.

 

He was never one for lying or pretending, however- Chuuya always griped about his lack of tact being the reason he was always being sent out of town for business and negotiations. 

 

Akutagawa huffed out what would almost never pass as a laugh for anyone else at the thought and pushed himself forward, shutting the door to his balcony behind him as he stepped inside. He walked over to the entrance and slipped on his boots- a new pair he bought himself, completely weatherproof- and his coat, hat, and face mask, a poor disguise but he wasn’t really trying to be overly discreet. It was midnight, and the streets were clear enough he should be able to get away with it. The door closed behind him with a click and rumble of tumblers, and he was on his way, metal stairs creaking familiarly under his tread. 

 

There was a public phone booth a ways away, one of the few ones remaining in Yokohama, and he was making his way over to it, looking around the slums, eyes roaming across dirty buildings and mounds of trash bags, skimming over desperate starving children, shallowly inhaling as he did his best to ignore the smell of polluted, scummy air. Perhaps it should be uncomfortable walking through this area, the area he’d chosen to buy a home in, but he couldn’t bring himself to live anywhere else. He didn’t belong anywhere else. 

 

He noticed a rhythmic click of boot heels against pavement as he continued on his way to the phone booth, watching filth give way to falsely glimmering cleanliness and modernity, lights bending and flickering across pitched glass and burnished steel, cars and trucks with blinding headlights navigating the pseudo-darkness with unnecessary urgency given the late hour. Akutagawa kept walking, head down, looking at his surroundings with a bizarre mix of affection and disgust. It was the city who held him down and kept him pinned in one place, and yet it was the city who kept him alive with anything left to hold onto. How deeply entwined love and hate could be for something as simple as a place, he thought to himself bitterly. He took a left and then a right, finally coming across a phone booth, almost dilapidated, settled deep into the recesses of an old alley. It was almost cozy, the way the dim yellow light illuminated the rough life the old thing had, a quiet beacon of connection in the bustle of the city.

 

Akutagawa pulled out his phone and his wallet, putting a few coins into the payphone before dialing the weretiger’s number, not wanting to run the risk of getting Dazai or hell knows whoever else on his tail this late at night. 

 

There were a few breathless moments where the phone rang, waiting for someone to pick it up, and then, finally, he heard the weretiger pick up. “Hello? Who is this? Is there a problem?” he almost slurred, his voice heavy with sleep.

 

“It’s Akutagawa,” he said simply, keeping his introduction straightforward and to the point. “I need to tell you something.”

“Now?” the tired man’s voice was aggravated. “It’s after midnight, Akutagawa, I was asleep, can’t it wait?”

 

“I’d rather not wait. It’s rather simple and yet a matter of utmost importance,” Akutagawa pressed, irritation evident in his own voice. “Just let me talk, weretiger.”

 

“Fuck, fine, okay. Hurry up, then,” he snapped, clearly pissed he’d been woken up for whatever this was.

 

“Weretiger, after much consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that I just don’t like you.” His voice was monotone and even, calm, and yet Akutagawa’s heart felt so much lighter now that he was able to say it. “I don’t think that we’re able to get along outside of any temporary alliance, I don’t think we’re suitable for each other, and I fantasize about killing you so I can return to trying to achieve my purpose. Your ideals disgust and annoy me, and you are much more agreeable when you keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told. I don’t like how hypocritical you are, and dealing with your emotions tires and angers me. I have enough emotions to deal with on my own. I respect the effort you’ve put in. I respect the difficulties you’ve had. But…”

 

His voice was impossibly light. “I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to be your lover. I don’t want to be your fuckbuddy.”

 

The line crackled with static silence before the weretiger spoke again. 

 

“This is what you called me to say?” he said, voice quiet.

 

“Yes.”

 

“But what if I want to be your friend…?” his voice was almost a whisper when he said it, half drowned out by the rough sounds of the audio equipment Akutagawa was using.

 

“Weretiger, I will give you one piece of advice,” Akutagawa said this calmly, eyes closing as he took a deep breath. “Stop trying to befriend people who don’t like you. People are allowed to dislike each other. People are allowed to hate. To be angry. To have all those disgusting, dirty, nasty emotions that people like to pretend don’t exist most of the time. I stopped pretending they weren’t there a long time ago- I stopped pretending in general a long time ago. It saves a lot of time and a lot of energy.” 

 

“But I don’t want to feel like that again. I just stopped feeling like that all the time, is it such a bad thing to-” 

 

The beeping that alerted Akutagawa that his time was almost up started to sound.

 

“You need to let people feel how they feel and stop expecting that you can force them to feel otherwise,” he said with a quiet, firm finality. “Time’s up, weretiger. Until next time.”

 

He hung the phone up on the receiver with a quiet click, everything about him feeling looser, calmer, clearer, than it had in a very, very long time. 

 

Akutagawa turned slowly away from the phonebooth to walk back into the city, blending into the night, feeling comfortable in the darkness, feeling comfortably alone, and ready to move forward, mind clear and focus sharpened. 

Notes:

a lot of things have happened in the past two years, and this fic has been weighing heavy on my mind throughout it. i never expected it to get so popular, truthfully, enough to have over 2000 hits and so many comments and kudos to the point that i still receive emails, sometimes. it really feels like a blessing, and i can't thank you all enough for the love you've given me. i hit my stride with the first ten chapters and felt like i was doing well, but when it came to continuing on, i suddenly hit a wall and was violently stuck. i wrote god knows how many roughs or drafts or even full chapters trying to continue it, but they all just felt...like garbage, and not like what i wanted to put out, so i left this fic to sit and collect dust despite knowing how many people were wondering what happened.

i started rewatching bsd with a friend recently and i think something finally clicked in my mind late last night- i was stymied because i felt like i was absolutely and completely supposed to 'make akutagawa and atsushi get together in the end' and...ultimately, i felt like that wouldn't work with how i characterized everyone in this little pocket universe i created. akutagawa will never go for atsushi in this setting, because he's a stray dog, because he doesn't like that atsushi remains close to dazai after all the abuse dazai poured upon him was revealed, because he disagrees inherently with some of atsushi's ideals and ideologies, because he just plum doesn't like him. and that's okay. atsushi developed a sort of crush, a sort of attachment to the guy he lost his virginity to, which happens and it's understandable. he's needy, he likes people, he wants to be liked, he wants to have friends and be close, to his own detriment sometimes. akutagawa had strange encounters, strange situations, and he didn't want to owe or be owed something, and once everything was worked out, he finally knew how he felt and where he stood, which was that he didn't want to be with atsushi. and that's okay.

i know this will be disappointing and maybe even make some people angry, but as the author i feel most comfortable ending it here, and i'll be updating the tags accordingly as well. i felt bad leaving this hanging for two years, and i'm happy to be closing the final chapter on this fic after so long.

thank you so much if you read all this, and i hope you have a lovely day <3