#or in this case how the night and tiger used to scare atsushi but now provide him a source of comfort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cyanogastra · 4 years

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Did you know male cats have spines on their dicks?

Read on: AO3

"Do you have spines on your dick?"

He tries very hard to maintain a straight face as the jinko lifts his head slowly, revealing a very confused expression.

“What?” Atsushi blurts out, eyebrows pulling downward in bewilderment. “Why would you even—where did you even get that idea?”

Or: Akutagawa just really, really wants them to move to third base. He resorts to using a weird biological fact against Atsushi.

Starting note:

Hey guys. Biology student here. 100% not inventing this shit up. Male felines have dick spines because for some reason the females don't ovulate without getting their VJs shredded, which is why they're so fucking loud when having sex. That's a dramatized answer, but you get the point.

Akutagawa will be calling Atsushi "jinko" a lot in this fic, because imo I don't think Akutagawa refers to him using his real name even when it's just on his mind. They would have to be on Level 20 of romantic relationship before Akutagawa finally calls him by name. Not that you don't guys probably already know, but jinko = weretiger.

---

Fun fact: Did you know male cats have spines on their penises?

Akutagawa’s thumb freezes on his phone screen. He very nearly barks out a laugh which he hastily covers up by clearing his throat. Higuchi looks at him in question, looking ready to ask him the reason but Akutagawa just gives her a shake of his head.

Barbed penises? That’s interesting. He thinks to himself as he scrolls down, amused by the new discovery. There’s really only one person in mind who counts somewhat as a feline, and it’s none other than the jinko.

The jinko, whom he has been having an interesting relationship lately.

The arrangement Dazai set for them had been highly appalling at first, but no one can deny that they were indeed more powerful together. Which somehow led to the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency's cooperative relationship, for the first time ever. And by "cooperative" it means that he and the jinko don’t attempt to kill each other every meeting and are willing enough to work together (reluctantly) on joint missions.

Which then further led to this and that. Heated arguments turned to annoyed banters, which turned to almost comfortable silences.

Which then turned to fierce make-out sessions, apparently. Post mission make-out sessions and grinding against each other in back alleys, specifically.

It is incredibly absurd, he admits readily to himself. Absurd in the way that of all the people he’d be doing such things, it had to be jinko, the supposed object of his hatred. But also, it was absurd in that it had been so easy. It’s almost as a natural part of their relationship now, ending missions with the jinko stalking over to him and slotting their mouths together, shredded clothes and bloody overcoats be damned.

And well speaking of dick spines, he doubts that the jinko has them at all given their past excursions. But it would be a real problem if he actually did, though highly unlikely, because well…

It’s been 3 months and they still haven’t done anything on the down low. And Akutagawa is quickly becoming…impatient.

The scenery outside the car windows freezes in place, signalling their destination. Higuchi immediately fumbles to open the door to her side and rounds the car in record time to open Akutagawa’s.

“Senpai! We’re here!”

Akutagawa steps out of the black vehicle, trying very hard not to give Higuchi a full-on irritated face. He's always been annoyed Higuchi for her unnecessary actions, but he’s learned a long time ago that nothing he would say would ever faze her.

He gives their destination a cursory glance; a shipping dock near Osanbashi. Large enough to house multiple freights but small enough not to be considered as major, thereby making it perfect for contraband trade. One of these freight containers is not like the others.

“Senpai, Chuuya-san’s instructions were to either eliminate or capture the foreign syndicate’s ability users. We do not need to track down their upper brass as he thinks the Boss might make arrangements with their leader to be absorbed into the Port Mafia—”

“I know, Higuchi.” Akutagawa cuts her off firmly, trying to let her know that she does not need to reiterate everything to him every single damn time, he’s her superior for god’s sake. But all he gets is an enthusiastic “Yes! As expected from senpai!”.

He almost rolls his eyes, if not for the sudden cough that comes up from his chest. The sounds of his coughing were drowned out by the sound of another vehicle arriving on the scene. The car doors open, and out comes a bespectacled blond man sporting a ponytail, notebook in hand, and from the other side comes out…jinko.

Higuchi is immediately on guard beside him, but Akutagawa cracks up a smirk from behind the hand covering his mouth, gaze locked in with intense violet-yellow eyes.

---

“The Armed Detective Agency isn’t here to share your goal of eliminating the syndicate’s ability users. We are only here to gather intel about the syndicate’s top brass. We believe one of their leaders is connected to one of our ongoing cases.” Kunikida Doppo recites without looking up from his notebook, scribbling furiously with veins popping out on his forehead. “That damn Dazai messing up my schedule! The stupid bandage wasting machine was supposed to accompany Atsushi here but the idiot really chose this time to escape to god knows where…”

Akutagawa perks up at the mention of his former mentor’s name, surprised and crushed at the same time to know that he could have been here. If Dazai-san were here, I would have used this chance to finally prove myself worthy… Across him, Atsushi raises an eyebrow at his reaction to which Akutagawa pointedly ignores. Behind them, Higuchi is scanning the shipping dock with her binoculars.

“….anyway we don’t need your armed grunts to come rushing in.” Kunikida continues after his mini rant, gesturing to the multiple black cars parked around the vicinity. “I’d rather keep the element of surprise. And we do not have the slightest clue about the abilities of our opponents, which is worrying considering that the agency and the abilities division has nothing on record.”

“Hm. Pathetic.” Akutagawa grunts out. Kunikida’s eyebrow twitches, but he presses on.

“It is unfortunate. What we do know is that while the ability users are here guarding their cargo, their top brass is probably somewhere else. We will need to extricate information from one of their ability users regarding their leaders’ details. Will you be able to cooperate with us on that?”

“Do what you want. Just don’t get in my way.” Akutagawa replies, but he’s not looking at the blond man. Atsushi glares back, looking as if he wanted to say the same thing to him.

“Good. Okay, now here’s the plan…”

---

Suffice to say, the fight was greatly disappointing. The ability users turned out to be just two scared brothers, probably younger than 12. They were kidnapped by the syndicate from their family in Germany, and were given instructions to deter anyone who takes an interest on the cargo. The only action they got were the couple dozen of foreign armed goons who flanked the cargo ship, which was obviously a piece of cake for the combined prowess of Rashoumon and Beast Beneath the Moonlight.

The ability users weren’t even particularly troublesome; their ability, Grimm Fairytale could create grotesque versions of a person’s fantasies but only if both brothers were holding each of a target’s hands. Kunikida handled them well by addressing them gently, accompanied by some coaxing from Higuchi (a sight that was a bit disconcerting), and the brothers easily squealed their leaders’ details. Well as much as two scared children could possibly know, which was still apparently more than enough for one of the detectives in the agency to pinpoint the identities and locations of the syndicate's leaders.

“Okay. Alright. I’ll see you again at the office tomorrow. Yes. Take care, Kunikida-san!” Behind him, Atsushi ends his call. Higuchi had been forced to accompany the Grimm brothers, mostly because they wouldn’t let go of her pant legs. Akutagawa had waved her off, saying something about ordering her to accompany Kunikida to bring the children to a safehouse. He figures the mission counts as a success on Port Mafia’s end.

He feels an arm curl around his waist from behind, startling him mid-cough. He stiffens reflexively and he’s quick to clutch on the jinko’s forearm with both hands, nails digging into pale skin.

“You do that one more time and I will seriously kill you, jinko.”

Atsushi sighs, turning him around so they were face to face. “As if you haven't been doing that all this time." Atsushi mumbles, eyes not meeting Akutagawa's but rather at his lips. He leans in, and Akutagawa's eyes flutter closed.

They kiss languidly, arms around each other's waists, their similar heights providing them ease. Their tongues dance with no real rush, feeling completely relaxed in each other's embrace. Akutagawa notes something new every time they do this. How the jinko likes to pinch his hands on Akutagawa's waist, or how he likes it when he pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. Atsushi pulls him flush to his chest, deepening their kiss and Akutagawa lets him, placing both hands on the jinko's shoulders-

Somewhere behind them, one of the goons groans in pain. They pull apart reluctantly, sharing one look before peeking behind to check for the source of the noise. Akutagawa briefly considers stabbing the goon with Rashoumon, if not for the hand that pushes at his shoulder.

"Let's just get out of here."

---

They're walking along a desolate street, which was unsurprising at this time of the night. Beside him, Atsushi is wearing his spare shoes, but his shirt was tattered on the sleeves, a consequence of his man-tiger form. What a highly incovenient ability, and yet Dazai-san thinks you are better...

He knows an alley is coming up ahead, having memorized all of Yokohama's ins and outs. He wastes no time to grab at the jinko's arm and pulls him there. Atsushi tries to close in on him, going for another kiss when Akutagawa beats him to it, pushing him against the wall.

They're rougher with each other this time, more biting and angry moans spilling from their mouths as they push and pull against each other. He pulls at the hair on the base of Atsushi's neck and pulls their faces away, teeth latching his mouth on the side of the jinko's neck.

"You know..." Atsushi starts to say in between shaky breaths. "I'm starting to think making out in dirty alleys is a kink of yours."

Akutagawa huffs at that and pulls away to glare at Atsushi, not liking the comment. "Why, jinko? You think you can bring me somewhere fancy?" Atsushi smiles, dumbfounding Akutagawa for a moment. His stomach definitely did not do a flip after seeing that expression targeted at him.

"Only if you're paying." Atsushi replies as he promptly wrapping his arms around Akutagawa's waist to change their position. He lets himself be maneuvered, the back of his head hitting the wall behind him gently. Atsushi nips at his ear before leaving feather-light kisses down his neck, which Akutagawa obligingly cranes to the side, a satisfied sigh coming out from his nose. Atsushi’s arms presses them closer, chest-to-chest, Akutagawa’s torso bending back slightly.

Their crotches rub at each other at the action, hard-ons rubbing ever so slightly and—

Speaking of hard-ons…

He's not sure what comes over to him, but he pushes slightly at Atsushi's shoulders.

“Jinko.” Akutagawa breathes out. Atsushi lets out a vaguely annoyed hum, lips still continuing their ministrations at his throat. Akutagawa blurts out the question anyway.

“Do you have spines on your dick?”

...

A few moments of silence pass by, Atsushi suddenly freezing from the open mouthed kiss he was leaving on Akutagawa’s neck.

He tries very hard to maintain a straight face as the jinko lifts his head slowly, revealing a very confused expression.

“What?” Atsushi blurts out, eyebrows pulling downward in bewilderment. “Why would you even—where did you even get that idea?” He says quickly, taking a small step backwards and giving his own crotch a glance before snapping up to meet Akutagawa’s deadpan expression.

“I read earlier that male cats have spines on their penises. Is that true for you?” Akutagawa replies easily, one corner of his mouth twitching up. Atsushi’s face instantly flushes a shade of pink in front of him, mouth falling open in shock.

“I am not a cat!” Atsushi splutters, to which Akutagawa just raises an (invisible) eyebrow at.

“Well I am…s-sort of, but no, I mean!” Atsushi’s hands flail around for a bit before continuing. “No, I don’t have them! Why would you think that?” He finishes off lamely, crossing his arms while glaring at the dark-haired man.

Akutagawa lets out a hmph, though he sounds more amused that annoyed. He gives the other an unconvinced expression to rile him up further. “How unfortunate. To think you’ve been living like this all this time. Pitiful and pathetic.”

“I really don’t! Seriously!" Atsushi replies heatedly, taking the bait. "I don’t understand why you’d think that when we’ve been doing…” Atsushi trails off, glancing away. The redness from his cheek has spread all the way to his ears, making him look equal parts ashamed and angry.

“Oh really, jinko?” Akutagawa replies challengingly, a new glint in his eyes. He’s met with a violet-yellow glare.

“Prove it then.”

Akutagawa watches his reaction, a self-satisfied smirk on his own face, knowing his words will do something to the jinko.

The effect was almost immediate. Atsushi grits his teeth in annoyance before closing in on Akutagawa’s space in a fit of embarrassed rage. The sudden movement forces Akutagawa to step back and crash into the wall behind him, bracing for an impromptu fight-

But then Atsushi grabs at his wrist and places his hand firmly on his crotch.

"S-so? why don’t you see for yourself?" Atsushi says, face a mere centimeters away from his own. The effect of his glare ruined by the blush on his cheeks. Akutagawa's mouth hangs open in surprise, eyes wide, trying to think of a reply to the jinko’s sudden boldness.

Nothing comes out. Slowly he absorbs the intent behind the jinko's move, moving his gaze downwards. He can’t see much other than the dark fabric of the jinko’s pants and his own pale hand.

He presses harder and rubs tentatively on the sizeable tent underneath his palm. Atsushi swallows audibly, eyes closing and mouth falling open in relief. His still hasn’t let up on his hold on Akutagawa’s wrist, hand curling a little tighter as he grinds back slightly.

Inwardly, Akutagawa could not believe his luck, biting his lower lip as he watches Atsushi use his wrist as leverage. To think that jinko finally pushed things forward between them… He leans forward to press a kiss on Atsushi’s jaw, letting the jinko grind himself on his palm.

“I don’t know about seeing, jinko…” He breathes out, the air from his mouth fanning Atsushi’s pale hair. “Since I’m only feeling you.” He says to the other's ear, giving him a particularly hard rub to make his point clear, making Atushi's breath hitch.

His other hand reaches up to rest on the jinko's belt buckle, trying to give him a hint. Atsushi gets it immediately, pulling away from his shoulder. His hands shake a bit as he fumbles at the metal, pulling off the leather and hastily popping the button on his trousers. Akutagawa watches him work, mouth getting dryer in anticipation. He pushes a hand up at Atsushi's shirt to see him more clearly, resting his hands on his navel and feeling the lean muscles underneath. Atsushi's hands come up to rest on Akutagawa's waist the moment he pops the button open.

As they stand there, underneath the pale half-moon, Atsushi's trousers gaping wide at the front, the very obvious tent on his boxers out in the open for Akutagawa to see, he can't help but think to himself: Fucking finally.

One of his hand plays at the hem of the jinko's boxers while the other cups his hard-on appreciatively. Atsushi lets out a shaky moan, hands moving to nudge Akutagawa's coat open to rest on Akutagawa's hips. He thumbs at the hem of the other's slacks, trying to tell him the same thing.

Akutagawa ignores the action for the time-being, his bony fingers hooking on the hem of the jinko's boxers and dragging it down slowly. Atsushi lets out a hiss as his dick pops out from his boxers, the chill night air hitting his sensitive skin. He hides his face on Akutagawa's shoulder to stifle his obvious embarrassment.

Akutagawa huffs amusedly. The jinko has nothing to be embarrassed about, he thinks as he wraps a hand around the shaft and presses his thumb on the slit, spreading the precum around the head. He notes the differences between them, how the jinko feels thicker than his own, although they are similar in length. The thought annoys him just a tiny bit, feeling more pleased and excited at the fact that they have finally reached this far. He digs his thumb harder on the slit, prompting a high-pitched keen from Atsushi.

"Jinko. Look at me." He says softly. Atsushi's head rises, shy violet-yellow eyes meeting Akutagawa's grey ones. He feels himself get lost in the jinko's gaze as he gives him slow strokes, watching in appreciation as Atsushi moans, back bowing slightly in pleasure.

Atsushi lets him stroke a couple times, his cock coating the other's hand with more precum. His eyes slide back to Akutagawa's still clothed erection, and he feels a small ruge of irritation. Gritting his teeth, he straightens up, fully intent on bringing the other man on the same level. He grasps on the other's hand to halt his movements. The other man complies, but the grip never leaves his cock.

"I want to see you too." Atsushi breathes out, tugging insistently on the other man's trousers. Akutagawa lets out a soft hmph, his other hand coming between them to pop his own button open one-handedly. He pulls the zipper down and moves to reach the hem of his briefs, but the jinko beats him to it. Atsushi eagerly yanks his underwear down and wastes no time to envelope Akutagawa's cock in his fist, prompting a grunt from the dark-haired man.

Atsushi stares, wide-eyed and pleased, giving the other a few experimental strokes. Akutagawa flushes despite himself, exhaling with relief and feeling delighted that the jinko likes what he sees. Don't stare like it's your first time to see one... He strokes Atushi again, this time with more speed, before the jinko could say something about their dicks.

"Ah! Damn it, Akutagawa..." Atsushi groans but mirrors the action, matching Akutagawa's pace. He leans in to suck at the area under Akutagawa's jaw and leaves a small mark, listening closely to the other man's soft mewls and gasps.

A hand comes up behind his head to pull at his hair, but not enough force to pull him away from leaving kisses on the other man's neck. He snakes a hand up underneath Akutagawa's shirt in response, thumb grazing over the indents of his ribs before finding a pert nub. He toys with it using his thumb, Akutagawa letting out a surprised moan at the action.

"You-ah...what do you think you're doing-ngh" Akutagawa sighs out in between moans, and Atsushi quickly becomes attached to the sound of the other man losing his composure. He toys harder on the nipple, liking the way Akutagawa bit his lip in pleasure. Akutagawa picks up the pace on Atsushi's cock in retaliation, determined to make the jinko unravel first. Atsushi groans, long and low by his ear, making him shiver from the back of his eyes and all the way down his back. Atsushi picks his pace up as well, at the same time he drives his tongue inside Akutagawa's open mouth.

The sound of slick sliding between their hands resounds through the alley, making Akutagawa feel both self-conscious and hot at the same time. He responds eagerly to the kiss, tongues moving together in a heated dance before pulling back to gasp for air. The sounds of his moans become louder, but he's too far gone in his pleasure to remember to keep his voice down.

"Akutagawa..ah..." Atsushi gasps his name in between breathy moans, his other arm reaching around Akutagawa to pull them closer. He wraps his hand tighter on the other man's cock and gives firmer strokes, his pace never letting up. Akutagawa's eyes pinch closed at the action and lets out a long keen from gritted teeth, and Atsushi very nearly comes from the sight. He holds himself back, determined to make the experience last a little longer. He leaves more kisses on Akutagawa's jaw, his neck, his collarbone, thoroughly enjoying the sounds coming out from their mouths and from the hands between them.

"I'm close...ah...are you too?" He says breathlessly, whispering directly to the other's ear. Akutagawa shivers and nods shakily, not trusting his own voice. Atsushi almost feels disappointed from the other's refusal to open his mouth, but he's distracted by Akutagawa covering his hand with his own, blunt fingernails digging on Atsushi's knuckles.

A few more hard strokes from the jinko's hand and the pleasure spikes all the way up for Akutagawa who throws his head back in bliss, a dull pain spreading from his head as he hits the wall behind him. He's moaning, long and drawn out, voice breaking with trembling lips. The sight triggers something in Atsushi, quickly forcing him to follow with his own orgasm mere seconds later. His groan is muffled as he bites particularly hard on Akutagawa's neck, eyes closed and his torso bowing so far forward into Akutagawa's chest that he bends him at an uncomfortable angle.

They catch their breath, hands coated by the other's cum. Atsushi adjusts so he's resting his head on Akutagawa's shoulder instead, aware of the strain he put on Akutagawa's back. The other man lays flat on the wall, eyes still closed with gasping breaths falling out of his mouth.

After a few minutes of coming down from their high, Atsushi pulls back and steps away shakingly. Atsushi watches as Akutagawa tucks himself in and fishes for something in his coat pocket, pulling out a handkerchief which he wordlessly uses to wipe his hands clean of cum. Atsushi blushes at the sight and hastily tucks himself back in his boxers, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Akutagawa reaches for his hand the moment he pulls the button closed, using the same handkerchief to wipe off the mess. Atsushi mumbles out a small 'thanks' before moving to insert his belt back in the buckle, genuinely appreciative for the other man's initiative.

A small awkward silence fills the air as they both finish fixing themselves up. Atsushi fidgets on his feet, unsure of what to say after their tryst. Across him, Akutagawa feels pleased and relieved that they have finally done it.

"Well..." Akutagawa is the first to break the silence, letting out a small cough before continuing. "I guess I'm relieved to find out you don't have them."

Atsushi rolls his eyes, but there's a small smile on his face. He turns around to leave.

So the jinko doesn't have spines on his dick after all.

But that wasn't the point, really. Akutagawa thinks to himself, satisfied, before stepping out of the alley with the jinko.

---

Ending note:

Handjobs only lol. Mostly because I don’t think Akutagawa can give a blowjob without coughing every 10 seconds, which would have been a real mood killer.

Re:handkerchief. I just think Akutagawa is a neat guy, you know? And neat guys normally have hankies on them. Idk, it's probably the frilly blouse which made me think this way.

Grimm Brothers as in Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, who collected and wrote German fairytales including Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, Snow White, and Cinderella. Plot twist? They’re actually VERY FAR from Disney’s versions, with many of their stories containing disturbing content. For some weird reason Disney decided to turn them into rainbows and sparkles.

This is the first fic for a trilogy I'm writing. Hehe. Oh and this is the first time I have written smut. *finger guns* That's right, this is what 21 year old nerds do. I am proud of myself.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fic #fic #shin soukoku #akutagawa ryuunosuke #atsushi nakajima #shin soukoku fic #no beta we die like odasaku

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astxlphe · 4 years

Text

Day 2 // Kuniatsu

Kunikida and Atsushi’s relationship, a year after getting together.

love languages / enduring “Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away.” -Louis de Bernieres, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

( @bsd-rarepair-valentines-week)

(Not sure it fits the prompts that well, but well.)

“Atsushi?”

Atsushi looked up from his paperwork. “Is there something wrong?”

“I’m closing the office.” Kunikida approached to stand next to him, glancing at the files on his desk. “Are you finished?”

“Not yet — I’m checking a few details for tomorrow…” he trailed off as Kunikida scowled.

“You need to wake up early tomorrow. I’ve calculated, you will to be waking up at 5:15.”

“It’s way too early!”

Him and Dazai started the day in surveillance — tailing a suspect in the latest murder case the agency had been asked to help with in the hope of catching their accomplice. And Atsushi did not want to mess this up.

“Unless you go home now.” He checked the time. “To be at full capacity for your case tomorrow morning, you need to start sleeping in exactly 12 minutes.”

“But—”

“You’ll do fine,” Kunikida interrupts, leaning over his shoulder to close the file. “If you get some sleep.”

“…All right.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll go to bed.”

Kunikida nodded sharply, and waited for Atsushi to put his things away. They walked back to their shared dorm together, Atsushi’s hand resting at the crook of his elbow.

Precisely 12 minutes later, they were in bed. Atsushi curled himself up against Kunikida, head on his laps, and closed his eyes, willing to let himself drift to sleep.

The older man turned on his lamp and open his book, his fingers running through Atsushi’s hair, scratching his scalp just enough to make him more comfortable.

A soft scratch at the right spot dragged a low, rumble like sound out of him. “I like that,” he mumbled.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Kunikida asked.

“You made me purr.”

“Tigers don’t purr, they chuff. You chuffed. It was adorable.” He put off his reading light and closed his book. Then, he lied down into bed, pulling himself closer to Atsushi, who immediately grabbed him like a hug pillow.

“You usually read for longer than that.”

“As your senior,” Kunikida said, propping himself up on his elbow, “I need to be a good example for you, to make sure you actually sleep. I don’t want to keep you awake; it wouldn’t be professional.”

Unprofessional, as if said senior wasn’t currently sharing a bed with him.

“You’ve kept me awake plenty of times. Are you…” Atsushi chuckled. “Are you worried?”

“No, I’m not.” Seeing the way Atsushi’s eyebrow almost went over his hairline in disbelief, he elaborated: “I have no reason to.”

Atsushi pushed himself up and kissed Kunikida on the lips. He spluttered a little.

“Not even a little bit?” Atsushi asked playfully.

Face flushing, Kunikida huffed. “You don’t trust yourself enough, so I have to do it in your place. I know you, and even if your recklessness is the bane of my existence—"

“Wasn’t that Dazai?”

“Yes, it is, actually, Dazai,” he conceded. “But it comes close second!”

“You wouldn’t like me half as much if I wasn’t prone to recklessness?” Atsushi tried.

Kunikida wrinkled his nose. “Maybe.”

It made Atsushi smile. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For trusting me. Now just let me—” He snuggled some more against him, sighed in contentment, and promptly fell asleep.

After wondering how Atsushi could fall asleep so soon after closing his eyes, Kunikida marveled at how calm he felt.

Loving Atsushi was the most unexpected, yet the easiest thing Kunikida ever did. He had spent a long time denying the strange twist in his stomach every time he thought of him ever existed — because Atsushi didn’t meet 29 of his 58 requirements.

And now there was the calm settling inside him as he listened to Atsushi’s soft breathing, his arms thrown around him, making Kunikida feel warm enough to fall asleep content.

Perfect, he thought. Requirements met or not, this was perfect.

“So—”

Atsushi almost ignored him. “What is it?”

“I saw you and Kunikida leave together yesterday night.”

“How did you— you had already left for an hour!” Atsushi shook his head. “And of course, we left together, we live together.”

“But you never leave work together! He’s having a terrible influence on you. Now you work overtime.”

“I was only doing overtime because I was worried about today,” Atsushi admitted. ”Kunikida convinced me to stop working.” He shook his head when Dazai gasped loudly, and leaned against the wall. “He made me feel better.”

Dazai wiggled a suggestive eyebrow. “Did he?”

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you a 24 years old man?”

“You’ve changed so much, Atsushi! I can’t tease you anymore — you used to get all red whenever someone brought up you and Kunikida!”

“I’m not blushing anymore because I’m not exactly shy about it anymore. It’s —” he frowned, looking for the right word. “It’s different now.”

And he still wondered, over a year later, why this man had decided he was worth his time — he wasn’t the smartest, most well read, most punctual, most…whatever Kunikida had expected from partner. He was just the brat.

“Different,” Dazai repeated plainly. “Really?”

“Yeah! It’s…comfortable?” He tapped his chin, thinking. “Remember at the beginning? I was always nervous around him because I was so in love with him, and our relationship was really new, and I was thinking about what should I wear, what’s should I say, I was—”

“You were scared,” Dazai completed for him, “of not doing enough.”

Nodding, Atsushi twisted the collar of his coat. “I guess so? And once I wasn’t scared about it anymore, I was scared that my feelings were fading.”

“Couples starting out all over each other and it fades after some time.” He nodded as if he’d come up with the concept himself.

“That’s it. We were just…settling in some kind of normalcy. and I was worried over nothing.” He laughed awkwardly. “I’m still a bit of a scaredy cat.”

“I don’t think you are,” Dazai said pensively. “You were worried because you care.” He gave him a complicit smile. “Here is a secret: Kunikida was always worried about everything at the beginning too. But Dazai, he’s not going to like that. Dazai, do you think Atsushi would mind? Dazai, tell me if Atsushi likes this kind of flowers! Dazai, Dazai, Dazai—”

Atsushi hid his face behind his hand. “I don’t believe you.”

“I was his resident Atsushi expert. At least, until he figured the formula to make you happy.”

“Dazai—”

“But it’s true! Kunikida is a worrywart.”

“No, Dazai, look! That’s them!”

Dazai peaked from the corner of the street, following his gaze. “You’re right!”

Under Kunikida’s paperweight was a little note. Since Atsushi had left before he was awake, he had put it on their table in the morning, and it was covered with his scratchy, barely legible for the average human being handwriting.

“Have a nice day! I’ll see you tonight” it read. He slipped it out from under the paperweight and into his notebook to serve as a page marker.

The office door opened. “We’re back!” Dazai bellowed, and flounced across the room to end up at Kunikida’s desk. “The police almost didn’t let us go.”

Kunikida’s eyebrow twitched. “What did you do?”

“They just wanted our statements,” Atsushi told him as he walked in behind Dazai. Kunikida kissed him hello, and he noticed the rip in the sleeve of his shirt, just under the shoulder. “He tried to stab me,” Atsushi explained sheepishly.

“He means the criminal,” Dazai clarified when Kunikida’s sharp eyes focused on him.

“We managed to catch them and gather enough evidence to prove their guilt, and they’re now in police custody. We will give you the report tonight.” Atsushi went on, getting on his tiptoes to straighten Kunikida’s glasses. “They were askew.”

“Did I hear about paperwork? Aaaand that’s where I take my leave,” Dazai announced as he disappeared from their field of vision. “It’s been a long day!”

“Maybe you should wait for tomorrow for the report.” Kunikida looked miffed. “Dazai is bouncing on the walls, he’ll just distract everyone.”

“Are you telling me not to finish my paperwork early?” He smiled cheekily. “Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“See if I’m this lax with you again,” he scoffed. “It was supposed to be a reward for a job well done, but it seems like you don’t need it. I want that report in an hour.”

“Wait no! Please let me do it tomorrow! I was almost stabbed!”

“Fine! Tomorrow night. But don’t tell the others, they will think I’m going soft.”

“They already think that.”

“Tomorrow, lunchtime.”

“UUgh!”

“You don’t have to help me sew my clothes every time something happens.”

“We would have to buy a new one once a week. Besides, I want to help.”

“Thanks but, we wouldn’t —” Atsushi winced at the thought. “I would bribe Akutagawa into fixing it for me.”

They sat at their table; Atsushi’s ripped shirt spread in front of them. Kunikida held the sleeve as Atsushi did the needlework, closing the hole in the cloth.

“One day Akutagawa will stop taking your bribes.”

Atsushi snorted. “He won’t. He likes me too much for that.” Not that he would ever admit it. “Dazai was pretty happy when Akutagawa started dragging me to his team dinners.” He made a face. “It still feels weird saying it. You should come, sometimes.”

“I don’t think they would want me here.“

“They wouldn’t mind that much; they think you’re okay.” They had no reason to dislike Kunikida. “Oh, also, Dazai told me something about you today and…” He almost dropped his needle. “I’m not sure I really believe him—”

“What did he say, now?”

“He said you would always ask him for advice? About me? When we started dating last year.”

“That man—” Kunikida muttered. “He promised.”

“You mean it’s true?”

“Be careful with your finger.” With a short movement, Kunikida adjusted the sleeve’s position so Atsushi had easier access. “It’s true,” he ended up confessing. “I’m not sure how to express this.”

“If you throw random words out, I’ll probably be able to take a wild guess?”

“It’s just that I had such a clear idea of who I was going to fall in love with, I already knew who they were, what they were going to like and then—”

“And then it was me.”

“Don’t say it like that,” he scolded, and cut the thread once Atsushi was finished sewing. “But yes, it was you, and you threw a large, occasionally tiger-shaped wrench in my carefully crafted plans.”

The wording made Atsushi laughed. “So you asked Dazai for help?”

“You two are very close! It was a logical decision, if not a little risky. And I made a list in my notebook.”

“Alright now I’m curious about that. Is it about me?”

He tugged on the shirt’s sleeve, testing the strength of Atsushi’s sewing, and acquiesced.

“What does it say?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You can’t just tell me you wrote in your notebook, about me, and not expect me to ask about it!”

It was a list of things Atsushi liked.

A long, bullet point list of everything that he could use to make Atsushi smile. Back then, he’d thought it necessary, but he knew all the information he’d gathered by heart now. Like the exact spot to scratch in Atsushi’s hair.

He’d started it without realizing it, and by the time he had over dozen entries, he’d wondered how he ever doubted loving Atsushi.

“Your shirt is fixed,” he simply said. “Do you want to try it on to make sure it’s fine?”

It took a second for Atsushi to answer, during which he stared for what seemed like a long time. “You’re really sweet, you know?” he declared, as if he’d guessed what Kunikida was thinking. Then, he pulled the shirt off the table and put it back on, flexing his arm a bit. “It’s perfect, thank you!”

“Just be thankful it wasn’t beyond repair.”

“I’ll try to keep the number of people trying to kill me to a minimum, I promise.”

#bsd #bsdrarepairvday #kuniatsu #nakajima atsushi #kunikida doppo #this is unedited word vomit i'm sorry #just wanted an excuse to write them being casually affectionate

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auroreswritings · 4 years

Text

Finally it’s here! Day 6 with Monochrome! Lots of troubles to get this story out, but I managed!! I didn’t want to do something angsty and yet it still ended up being kinda emotional ^^’

Hope you’ll enjoy it, it’s quite short but still long enough to have a little going on!

Find it on AO3!

The Canvas of Your Skin

Chuuya walked out of the bathroom only wearing dark blue briefs; a towel was loosely hanging around his damp hair. The light coming in from the windows was pouring over his body, remaining drops of water glistening in the yellow rays. Atsushi couldn’t take his eyes off the Mafioso’s figure. He knew from working with him that the man was strong yet seeing the red-head almost naked in front of him was shining a new light on the power the man possessed in him. Of course, his ability was destructive and Atsushi knew he wouldn’t have a chance against it, but now he was starting to think he probably wouldn’t fare too well either if Chuuya only were to use his natural strength.

They were on their fourth mission together. Nobody knew how it had happened, but somehow the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia had ended up working together more and more, Mafiosi and detectives sharing missions after missions, putting a common effort into pursuing their own interests. So, for the fourth time now, Chuuya and Atsushi were partnered up for a case. Despite the small amount of time they had shared, they had become a great team, working together with better synchronization each time. Tonight, they were staying in a hotel a little outside of Yokohama, trailing after yet another rogue ability user.

Chuuya walked to the window, looking over the city with an absent gaze while drying his hair with his towel. Atsushi, as if under a spell, stood up and stepped closer to him, eyes fixed on his bare back. The skin was covered in thin, translucent lines, almost invisible in the dim light. As he got closer, he understood what they were; white, faded scars were running all over his body, a monochromatic painting over the pale canvas of his skin. They were embracing his entire body, lacing around his legs and arms, slithering up his sides and back; Atsushi could only guess his torso was also full of these intricate lines. He was now standing right behind Chuuya, and couldn’t help the hand rising to the other’s back, fingertips lightly caressing the marks overprinted on his shoulder blades.

The feather-like contact made Chuuya jump and he turned around quickly, coming face to face with the tiger. The younger man still had his eyes glued to the red-head’s skin, this time intently gazing at his pectorals. Without noticing, his fingers approached Chuuya’s body again, following a pearly trail along his collarbone. The Mafioso smirked; he’d always had this effect on people, his toned body fascinating women and men alike, his scars always drawing a morbid fascination out of anyone seeing him without the armor of his clothes. He was about to make a sly remark but before he could say a thing he noticed Atsushi’s lower lips trembling a little, his chin twitching ever so slightly. Blue eyes traveled up to meet the tiger’s jeweled gaze and what he saw there took him aback a little: glistening in the street lamps’ light, a few teardrops were threatening to fall over delicate eyelashes, anger and sadness intertwining and lightly hardening the young man’s features. Confusion rushed through the Mafioso and he turned back to the window, traces of a frown curving his eyebrows.

Atsushi took his hand down, still in a dazed, unable to tear his eyes away from the scared skin. He cleared his throat, trying to shove down the ball that had appeared there without him realizing. His voice followed right after, whisper breaking the tensed silence that was surrounding the two men:

“-What have they done to you?” His tone was laced with the same bitter feelings Chuuya had seen on his face just a couple seconds before. Silence fell between them again. The Mafioso didn’t know what to say; should he tell him the truth, or brush it off with a witty joke? The young man seemed quite shaken, he surely wouldn’t judge him, whatever Chuuya would say. Maybe he could confide in him, even just a little. Maybe it would be of some help, and Atsushi wasn’t part of the mafia anyway, he wouldn’t have to see him all the time if things didn’t go well. With these thoughts twirling in his mind, Chuuya started talking, his voice low, his gaze still on the city outside.

“-I wasn’t born an ability user, it was a result of several years of experimentation. These scars… well, you know, these scars…” His voice died down, he felt a lump in his throat. Even if he wanted to keep up with his story, he couldn’t, emotion almost strangling him. He was never talking about his past, always avoiding the subject, mostly because he didn’t know much about what had happened, but also because he hated how emotional he’d get every time he mentioned it. He felt Atsushi’s hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“-It’s okay, you don’t have to say more if you don’t want to.” Chuuya’s shoulders relaxed at the soothing tone of the tiger’s voice. They stayed like this for a while, both looking out to the city, comfortable silence surrounding them. After some time, Atsushi spoke again, still whispering as to not break the silence entirely.

“-I was experimented on as well, when I was younger. I know what it feels like… what it’s like to be reminded of what happened to you, just by glancing at your own skin…” Their eyes met in their reflections on the window. Atsushi’s features had softened; sadness was still showing, but this time mixing with understanding and kindness instead of anger. Chuuya’s lips curved in a hint of a smile, his eyes closing a little. He raised his hand to cover Atsushi’s on his shoulder, holding onto it for a while, before letting out a sigh.

“-It is getting pretty late, we should go to bed. We have a long day ahead of us.” Atsushi only nodded, not moving a single muscle. They stayed like this a little longer, gazing at the city, their eyes sometimes meeting in their reflections, taking in the calming atmosphere around them.

After that night, their team work and synchronicity in combat grew even stronger, one understanding the other without saying a word, exchanged glances telling all they needed to say.

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bungostraydoggos · 5 years

Note

How about some imagines of Chuuya, Atsushi, and Tanizaki with an s/o is scared of thunder and lightning. I hate it so much scares me. Thank you so much!!!

Nakahara Chuuya

The Port Mafia headquarters was as dark and dim as usual. Chuuya’s office was located at the second top floor that’s just below Mori Ougai’s. It was another boring day of filing documents and signing papers but luckily for the mafia executive, his significant other was with him and so his feeling of boredom slightly lessened. Chuuya’s significant other walks around his room, admiring and looking at the fancy intricacies of the office design and furniture. They go over to the tall bookshelves first and scan through the various, interesting collections. To their surprise, there were so many collections and volumes of poems and most of them were about Dadaism. It’s strange to them that they could never imagine Chuuya owning and reading these kinds of complex topics. As they look at Chuuya’s books, Chuuya himself takes note of his significant other. He would get distracted here and there just to check up on them and a part of him feels bad because he was just working while they were waiting for him to finish. Although he did offer tea and cookies, they politely declined, saying that they weren’t really hungry nor thirsty. Chuuya takes a sigh and looks out the window. His office was spacious enough to have tall paneled windows stretching across the room. Chuuya immerses himself into the Yokohama night scenery. Soon, he took notice of dark cumulus clouds forming ominously. “It looks like a storm is about to come...” Chuuya’s partner’s fingers came to a sudden halt as they tried to reach out for a book. They swallowed the lump in their throat before resuming back to what they were doing. “Really? I hope not.” Without much of a thought, Chuuya went back to work and filled about another ten papers or so. He wrote down notes and reminders of his schedule for the week. As he began to finish up his last remaining work, the sounds of thunder began to clap sixfold and unbeknownst to Chuuya, his significant other crouched down from their spot with their hands covering their ears. Chuuya stands up from his seat and immediately goes over to his shaken companion. There was something wrong with them, and judging by the timing of their sudden fear matching up with the sounds of thunder, he figured it out. “So you’re afraid of thunder?” Their body shook in response. For Chuuya, he wasn’t afraid of something like this at all since the only thing he’s most afraid of in this damned world is himself, but he needed to do something in order to comfort his partner. Right then and there, he thought of a great idea. Chuuya walks on over to his record player and pulls out a dark red vinyl. He smirks in satisfaction and places the vinyl onto the player. Within seconds, hard rock began to play and its loud guitar riffs and synth melody reverberated throughout the room. Chuuya taps his feet and nods his head whilst his significant other looks up at him in awestruck. “This song... what is this?” Chuuya slightly blushes thinking it’s a little embarrassing to say. “Well, it’s by a band called GRANRODEO...” The lyrics cued and before they knew it, their attention completely shifted away from the weather to the music, and their fear was zapped away thanks to Chuuya’s brilliant distraction. The couple queued many songs afterwards and with that, time passed by that felt like hours and sooner or later, the treacherous thunder storm faded away as if it never happened.

Nakajima Atsushi

Although the weather forecast did mention the chance of rain, the two Armed Detective agents didn’t expect such a heavy rainfall instead. The couple were outside near the bay harbor working on a crime scene that they were assigned by Kunikida. The policemen and women were interviewing a few witnesses while the forensics team investigate and take pictures of the dead victim. Atsushi and his significant other waits for them to finish before collecting the police workers’ information on the case. Even though they are already soaked wet, the couple takes cover under a nearby warehouse. With Atsushi’s sharp ears of a tiger, he could feel that there’s going to be a storm coming any minute now. “This is such a bad day to work under this weather, huh?” The were-tiger notices his unresponsive significant other. They were crouched beside him, huddling their legs to their chest as their head hid between them. Atsushi wonders if they’re sick, and he immediately asks, “are you okay?” They answered him back, but it was mumbly. It wasn’t before long until the thunders came down. The booming sound echoed throughout the warehouse and the sudden lightning shock made them shudder. Atsushi looks at the with a concerned expression and realizes that they were afraid of thunder. Atsushi tries to think of ways to make them feel better, but fails. It was a little difficult since they were at work and he can’t leave to any other secluded places. Even though there was no better solution, he could only think of doing one thing and hopes that this can help lessen their fear just a little bit. Atsushi steps in front of them and kneels down at their level. He activates his beast beneath the moonlight and transformed his hands into paws. His then presses his soft black paws against his significant other’s ears. The sudden feeling made them jitter, and they look at Atsushi with bewildered eyes. His big paws incredibly muffled the sound of thunder, and Atsushi looks into their eyes with such kindness and gentleness. “It isn’t much, but it’s the least I can do.” They must admit, this was a bad time for them to be so cowardly under the stupid sound of thunder especially at work. It’s only the sound of thunder yet they were so afraid. Their insecurity crept a little, thinking that they must look so weak to Atsushi, but they know that he doesn’t think like that at all since he himself believes he’s the weakest. The considerate thought made them smile, and they get closer to Atsushi as they embrace his warmth. “Thank you. If you let me stay like this just until the storm’s over then...” Their voice cooed like a dove’s whisper, and Atsushi smiles at their now relaxed expression. He promises them that he’ll be by their side watching and protecting over them until the storm goes away.

Tanizaki Junichirou

It was a gloomy Sunday in amidst the summer season. Although there should be bright sunshine and rays of light pouring through the day, there was a different kind of light that filled the sky. Lightning bolts danced like a forbidden ritual around the black sky. Tanizaki looks up from the magazine he was reading and notices the terrible weather condition. “Looks like it’s gonna rain…” Tanizaki’s significant other was beside him reading a magazine as well. They came over to his apartment while Naomi was out. Just when they thought that they were going to have a good time together, the storm interrupted their mood. In truth, they haven’t told Tanizaki of their fear of thunder storms because they thought it was lame. They can only hope that the storm will pass on quickly and that they won’t cower in fear in embarrassment. Tanizaki gets up from his seat and offers his partner some drinks. As he went to the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of green tea, the sound of thunder shook the room like an earthquake. It was so loud, he felt vibrations crawling under his skin. What a loud thunder, he thought to himself, but with an immediate shrug, Tanizaki goes back to his room to where his significant other was waiting for him. When he entered, he was surprised to witness his partner curl into a ball under the futon like a scared little squirrel. Tanizaki was taken aback for a moment. Could they be afraid of thunder? He wonders as he walks over to their side and sits beside them. “I got your drink…” They snatched the bottle of tea out of Tanizaki’s hand under the thick blanket. They looked like a hermit crab. “Are you perhaps afraid of thunder?" They retorted, “n-no…” Tanizaki chuckles at their dishonesty, “liar.” The young man recalls his distant memory of when his little sister was once afraid of thunder. What did he do to comfort Naomi back then? As Tanizaki smiles, he tells his significant other. “Pull out your hand.” After being a little hesitant, they gave out their hand under the blanket as Tanizaki holds it. His cool hands from holding cold bottles of tea gave them a sense of calmness. Tanizaki uses his thumb to caress the back of their hand and soon after, he began to hum a tune that sounded like a nursery song. He must’ve done this before with Naomi, they thought, but Tanizaki’s significant other smiles at his thoughtfulness for trying to make them feel better. In his own way, he was comforting them and easing their fear of a silly little thunder. The couple continued to hold hands as Tanizaki’s soft humming echoed between them in which that seemed louder than the storm. The warmth of being under the futon with Tanizaki’s cool hands and his gentle humming strung the chords of their frazzled, melted heart.

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leonawriter · 5 years

Text

Stray Dogs and Tiger Cubs

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Dazai, Kunikida, Atsushi (so far).

Pairings: Gen, may change in later chapters.

Summary: What started out as rumours of a dangerous beast on the loose not far from Yokohama turn into Dazai carrying an eight year old boy back to the the Agency.

A boy whose name is Atsushi, and will now not let go of Dazai, who hadn't signed up to be a parent, but it looks like that's the way things are going regardless.

...

Two years.

Two years, Dazai had been a member of the Armed Detective Agency, had become a trusted employee (somehow, he still isn't quite sure how that happened), and had gone on many investigations for them, at times pushing him to the edge of his capabilities as someone who no longer used all of the skills he had learned while in the mafia.

And yet... two years had passed, and Kunikida still wouldn't let him back behind the wheel of a car.

Needless to say, driving out to some place out in the sticks, away from Yokohama, while being subjected to Kunikida's slow and near-torturous driving was not his idea of fun, and yet, he couldn't even place the blame solely on someone else.

He had, after all, volunteered.

More to the point, Dazai had heard about the stories, these rumours of a wild animal loose in the outskirts of the area, close enough to the city and so many people to be a worry, yet having stories that never quite made sense - since, if a wild beast had suddenly appeared, then where could it have come from? Where did it go, when it disappeared, for days, sometimes even weeks on end? - and told everyone that he would investigate the matter, and that should have been the end of it, if it weren't for the entire Agency deciding that he was by no means allowed to drive, and since there weren't any buses, and who knew if he'd need back-up on a case like this...

And so, that was how they came to - slowly - pull up at a large, forbidding looking building, and why, when Kunikida made to get out of the car once they were parked, Dazai managed to slip out with enough time to lean over at the driver's side window with a smile on his face.

"Nowadays, if two men go into a place like an orphanage together, it'll be taken as a given that they're a couple! We can't possibly have that, now can we?"

And Dazai wasn't sure if they would make such assumptions, or if they'd care, but there was Kunikida's list of fifty-eight requirements for the ideal woman that he still had yet to find (if she even existed) and he could hardly get in the way of that, now could he?

Nor was Kunikida himself the kind of person that Dazai himself would want to be seen as getting involved with in such a way, partnership in the Agency notwithstanding.

Which was how he came to walk up to that building, eyes narrowed somewhat in dark suspicion, hands still in his pockets.

...

Only the deepest of respect for a guest, and even more for someone who - according to their hopes, at least - might walk away with one of the many children staring at him from the corners of the hallways, the cracks in the doors.

Odasaku had told him to save the children, the orphans, but there were so many, too many, and he was here for a reason. On a mission.

He had to know if this was truly the source of all of those rumours... the sounds that people heard at night, of a beast.

It was child's play to slip past while no one was paying attention, to as a few leading questions, to listen to the children, to pretend that he didn't know what he was doing, or where he was going.

...

The cage - because what else could it be called, really - reminded him far too much of the basements and soundproofed hidden rooms in the mafia buildings, where torture and interrogation had always taken place.

But that wasn't an adult being held for questioning, down there, but a child, held in place by means that only increased his suspicions and the number of questions he needed answers to.

Odasaku would know what to do, he couldn't help but think, seeing the child glaring. It's one thing to ask that of me, but...

...

You shouldn't be here, the man was saying, you can't handle that child.

Dazai saw as the evening moonlight slowly lit up the area they were in, turning a scared boy into an enraged tiger.

Perhaps he should have been more concerned. That would have been the normal, human sort of reaction to such a thing occurring, Dazai thinks, and yet he can't feel such things at all.

Instead of fear for his life, or those around him, he simply feels anger.

I think, he hears himself say, reaching out a hand to white fur that he's only able to touch for a moment, that I can.

The locks were clearly only meant to prevent a child - or a tiger - from escaping, but not to truly prevent anyone from getting in. It's ridiculously simple for him to open them up, to reach in, to take out the child who had fallen to the hard ground in a complete faint.

I'm leaving, he says, and he does.

Or rather, they do.

...

Kunikida sees him come back up to the car and gets out of the seat where he had to have been dozing off, after the amount of time Dazai had taken, and the lack of signals sent to suggest that he would actually need any help, ready to berate him for wasting their time, no doubt.

And then he sees the child in Dazai's arms, and he asks the question that Dazai had been dreading ever since he had first realised what it was that he was doing, back in there.

"Dazai... what are you doing with a child?"

He blinks, because, honestly speaking he doesn't have a decent answer.

"Kunikida-kun, the door. I have my hands full."

Kunikida doesn't open the door to the back seats behind the passenger, where Dazai would be sitting, straight away.

"We came out here to find a dangerous beast, not a-"

"We did," Dazai says, still finding it surprisingly hard to keep his voice level, and low. "This is Nakajima Atsushi," he says, by means of introduction. Atsushi, for what it's worth, doesn't shift a muscle. "Atsushi turns into a white tiger in the moonlight."

The door finally opens, and Dazai doesn't just strap the boy in, but follows, rather than sitting in the front like he had before. After all, if they were going to be driving at night, the safest thing would be to ensure that Atsushi wouldn't be able to unconsciously trigger off his ability again.

"Do you have any idea," Kunikida says through gritted teeth as they pull away from the orphanage, "how to look after a child?"

"Ah... no?"

Kunikida's frustrated huff was expected, but at the same time, it was one of those rare occasions when the reaction made Dazai wonder if he was up to the task - of being a good person like Odasaku had asked of him, of being a decent member of the Agency, of society in general, and now, on top of it all, he had somehow become responsible for a boy with no control over his own ability, who was too young to be recruited into the Agency in order for the President's own ability to work its magic.

Odasaku, help, he found himself thinking, hand curled up in a young boy's hair. What do I do?

...

AN: I've seen a fair few "Dazai adopts Atsushi" AUs floating around, and a lot more "no powers" AUs at that. This is my take on the former, but without the latter.

For extra fun, anyone who's read the manga chapter (or watched the episode, once it's out) "Portrait of a Father", please imagine what's going on in the minds of the people on the other side of things here.

I'm really only planning on writing important snippets and stuff, but we've seen how that goes with other stories, so... watch this space?

Oh, and, important note: there's a feeling I get from Dazai that, well... no, he's not being homophobic or anything, he's just Taken, and in denial, and, well, someone please teach him better ways to say these things. Please.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd stuff #Leona fic #dadzai au

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izanyas · 6 years

Text

Nothing Noble (3)

Here it is at last. The third chapter of the agency!Chuuya and mafia!Dazai fic.

Rating: M Words: 8,000 Warnings: very vague allusion to potential sexual assault (no actual assault takes place).

[Read from Chapter 1]

Nothing Noble Chapter 3

Something about the air that day should have given Chuuya warning.

The sky had opened sometime during the night, letting through needles of starlight. He had spent those unslept hours pouring over the files obtained through Sasaki, listening to the whispers of the city and the soft murmur of Katai's snoring. Katai never did close his bedroom door fully. The change in weather had resulted in a sun-bright morning, colder maybe for it than it would have been through the thick of clouds.

Chuuya was too used to insomnia by now for it to bother him. He showered leisurely as the city awoke, scorching water unknotting his back and flattening his hair against his scalp. The bangs over his forehead were almost long enough to reach his eyes; he'd have to take care of that soon.

He brushed his teeth, dried himself, put on clean clothes. He glanced at his fogged reflection in the mirror; he traced the ugly scar on his cheekbone habitually, feeling the depth and width of it with his index finger; he plastered gauze on it, hiding it from view.

"You're always up so early," Katai mumbled when he emerged from the bathroom.

He was stumbling half-blindly toward the couch, a bowl of cereal threatening to spill its content in hand. Chuuya kept it from doing so without thought, milk turning pink under the glow of his power until Katai was seated at last. His roommate thanked him with what sounded more like a groan than an actual word. The TV lit up without any of them touching the remote—whose location had long been forgotten by both of them anyway.

"Gotta get to the agency early anyway," Chuuya said, grabbing his coat from where it hung on the back of a kitchen chair. "I said I'd help Yosano sort through the archives."

"Mrrph," was Katai's answer. His mouth was full.

"See you later."

Katai swallowed hurriedly. "Tell them I'll be around at ten! I promised Kunikida I'd take Atsushi out on his first mission."

Chuuya waved at him and left, the door creaking loudly behind him.

The outside air hit him like an ice wall once he exited the building. Everywhere he looked people were walking by, scarves wound around their faces and hats pulled over their ears. Chuuya tightened his collar around his throat in a meager attempt to ward off the cold, his scarred cheek flaring with pain under the dry and icy wind. Not even his leather gloves could prevent it from filtering in like tiny little knives, their tips pricking his fingers to numbness. Walking did little to keep him warm that day.

"Hey," Yosano greeted him once he hurried inside the office.

"You turned on the heaters," he huffed, tugging off his gloves. "Thank fuck."

"I'm not about to work in a freezer, am I?"

He shot her an absent smile. It seemed they were the only ones in yet; Kunikida's desk was stacked neatly with the files of the day, not yet opened for perusal, and Edogawa's wasn't yet covered in wrappings or empty bottles of soft drinks.

A loud thumping sound broke him out of his observations. He turned back toward Yosano, standing near the newbie's—Nakajima's—desk with several piles of old carton binders. Some were so full of documents that only thick rubber bands held them together, their spine long torn or gone away.

Chuuya frowned. "Is that it?"

"Oh no," Yosano replied, smiling darkly. "That's just the first row. We're going in alphabetical order."

Great.

They sat on either side of the desk and went to work.

The good thing with Yosano was that she valued silence. As flashy as her personality could be given the right circumstances, as dark as her words and eyes could get, she was an accommodating woman. Their interactions easily reduced themselves to asking each other for one file or the next, she telling him what to do and he requesting her advice. The rest was comfortable and quiet in the soft, curtained light, their side warmed by the wall heater and paper shuffling between their fingers. If comments there were, they were equally peaceful. Chuuya couldn't imagine working with any other member of the agency with such ease. Kunikida would be tense by his side as he always was, Katai nervous and distracted, the Tanizaki siblings or Miyazawa playful. He preferred not to think at all of working with Edogawa.

The others trickled in one by one—or two, in the Tanizakis' case. Chuuya let their greetings go unanswered, though Yosano took the time to salute each of them. He filtered through the archives, noting down the ones to be copied by hand or on a screen, putting aside those too damaged to be read by anyone but Yosano herself.

"This is gonna take us weeks," he muttered once they reached the bottom of the third stack Yosano had brought out of the archive room. "Some of this stuff isn't even from the agency."

"My old clinic," Yosano replied. "I still see some of the patients. And Fukuzawa brought in relics of his work to get the agency opened in the first place, alongside Souseki's own stuff. Plus a ton of other things from the previous occupants of this floor."

"Loan sharks," Chuuya said. He'd never been very good at numbers, but he knew suspicious money exchanges when he saw them. Not to mention a few familiar names.

Yosano frowned. "I thought they worked in real estate."

"Loan sharks parading as real estate agents, then. It's not unheard of."

"Bringing back memories?"

Chuuya hadn't stooped so low as to startle, but the sound of Edogawa's voice was always an unwelcome one. He eyed with disdain the mug full of hot cocoa that the man put on the desk beside them—firmly enough that droplets of the beverage stained the old documents brown in places, he noticed irritatedly—and then his face, once he had brought close a chair and sat in it. "Morning, sensei," Edogawa chirped, his piercing eyes fixed on Chuuya.

"Hey," Yosano replied. "How's it going?"

"Good, good. Excellent, even."

Chuuya once more thanked Yosano, internally, for her tact. He had no doubt that she had heard Edogawa's comment, as she must have all the comments he had made since Chuuya had joined the agency, but as usual she paid it no mind at all. She simply went back to her work.

It gave him the energy to withstand Edogawa's stare. "Are you gonna help us?" he asked.

"No," Edogawa answered happily.

"Then fuck off."

"That's no way to talk to a senior," Kunikida declared, announcing his arrival and making a beeline for his desk. "Ranpo-san, Yosano-sensei, good morning." His eyes landed on Chuuya. "Kashiwamura," he added.

"Not my name," Chuuya said.

Kunikida's face pinched into some sort of pained expression. It was becoming a permanent fixture every time they interacted.

Though by now the exchange was more game than anything else, at least for Chuuya, he still didn't enjoy being called by that name. It hadn't been his since he was only a boy, hadn't been his when Kouyou had forged a new one for him and he had adopted it into the depth of his heart like a secret treasure, a bounty of love and acceptance, the kind he had never felt before.

It was a weakness. He knew it. Having most everyone he met call him by his first name was easily done, but it wasn't something he should do. Not anymore. He might as well have introduced himself as Nakahara to them, for all that his birth mother's name was worth as a disguise.

Pain rang hollowly through his chest at the thought of Kouyou, images flashing through his mind as they did every time he slept, every time he let down his guard—the mansion floor awash with sticky blood, her ashen face and limp hair and torn clothes as he stood, still, in the knowledge that he had been too late.

Her cold hand in his as he forgot how to breathe.

It grew inside him like a weed, rotted his heart and lungs with the acrid bite of anger, burned his words to ash at the back of his throat.

Mori Ougai. Sakaguchi Ango.

Chuuya exhaled.

His eyes landed on the timid silhouette of Nakajima Atsushi, who had trailed into the office behind Kunikida like a scared cat. The boy hadn't addressed him a word since Chuuya had run his entrance exam, which might have been understandable for someone without the guts to throw themself into the way of a flying knife; yet that had been almost a week ago. Nakajima had opened up to almost everyone else, the eldest Tanizaki especially. He hadn't stopped looking at Chuuya with worry tensing up his shoulders.

"Hey," Chuuya called out to him.

The boy jumped as if electrified.

"Er, me?" he said weakly.

"Yeah." Chuuya turned around in his chair to look at him more closely. Now that he thought about it, he and Yosano were occupying the boy's desk. No one else's had enough room for them to sort through the thick binders. "Katai says he'll be here later to take you out. Show you the ropes. A client has an appointment with us, something about smugglers around her neighborhood."

"Oh." The boy blinked, some of his fear abating, probably out of understanding that Chuuya was not about to try and stab him again. "That's great, then. I need to apologize to him."

"No need for that. I'm sure he doesn't even think about it anymore."

Or at least, Katai had stopped having night terrors about a great white tiger and taking refuge at the foot of Chuuya's bed for protection.

"Still," Nakajima mumbled.

There was nothing else Chuuya could think of saying. Nakajima's eyes had lowered, no doubt to stare at the bandage on his cheek as he had been wont to do since they met. "I'll take that back with me," Chuuya told Yosano, grabbing what was left of the pile they had been working on, turning away from the boy entirely. "Same time tomorrow?"

"And the next, and probably the whole week after," Yosano promised grimly.

Chuuya allowed himself a sharp laugh.

Their short morning hours slugged by uneventfully. The heated air inside the office, coupled with sunlight streaming through the windows, made it feel like a spring day rather than a cold winter one. Chuuya's desk was next to Kunikida's, his back to one of the windows, a space made stifling by weather and tension both. Chuuya hadn't been sent out to do more than investigation and paperwork in a while, and so his workload had consistently dimmed over the days. He took the opportunity to sort through more of the archives, eyeing the elegant penmanship of their director and the unreadable scribbles of who he guessed to be Souseki Natsume, the man's mentor and the one who had supposedly acquired a permit for the agency in the first place.

Weirdly enough, most of the pages left by him looked like manuscripts of short stories. Maybe even a scrapped novel idea or two. Chuuya let his eyes wander upon the words and thought, not for the first time, of the half-finished poems he had left behind in Kouyou's mansion.

(A mocking voice by his ear, like a cold breeze on canicular evenings—"Poems."

"Shut up."

"Of all useless things you could be writing—"

Hitches in the words, a paltry attempt at keeping things the same, even as Chuuya could feel the arm around his shoulders grip him for dear life. Even as he could sense the struggle, even as he had to all but drag the weight on his back to the closest place he could find help.

Stop talking. Stop, stop, stop.

There was a bullet lodged between Dazai's ribs.)

"What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't say."

"Ah, um… yes, yes. You didn't, did you."

Chuuya paid very little attention to the discussion taking place on the other side of the office. From his desk he could only see a fragment of the reception area anyway: the cut-off silhouette of the sharply-dressed young woman who was their only appointment of the day. It was amusing to hear Katai blubber his way through the questions he ought to ask her and trying his best to appear unbothered and professional in front of Nakajima, who was probably sitting by his side and hunching in on himself.

He was proud of the progress Katai had made, though. He still remembered the pale man he had met all those years ago who couldn't stand to step foot outside of his home.

"He's doing well," Kunikida said quietly, echoing his thoughts, his eyes fixed to the green plants giving the lounge a semblance of privacy. The scent of green tea wafted through the air, similar to the kind Katai always prepared at home.

"He had an appointment in town the other day too," Chuuya replied. Kunikida gave him a startled glance. "Went out all on his own and everything."

"That's… good. That's extremely good."

He seemed surprised. Chuuya told him as much.

"I am surprised." Kunikida's pen was not touching the paper on which he was drafting his report anymore; it spun between his fingers deftly, an anxious habit that had more than once thrown Chuuya back years ago to another desk and another person playing idly instead of doing any work.

Funny how such different people could develop the same ticks.

"I've never managed to really help him with his agoraphobia," Kunikida said. "I tried, but he never really wanted to improve."

Once, twice, thud. Rinse and repeat. Kunikida spun the pen and touched it to the desk and spun it again in perfect, precise order.

You've got your own issues to deal with, Chuuya thought.

"I guess," Kunikida continued, voice tense, "I have you to thank for this."

"I did nothing," Chuuya replied. It was true; Katai had changed all on his own. "No need to push yourself into having a good opinion of me."

Katai may have once seen him at his worst, and Fukuzawa offered him pity, but Kunikida would never extend the same mercy. Not after Chuuya had sequestered and threatened his oldest friend, not with what he knew of Chuuya's past exactions, however little that was.

Kunikida rubbed the lacquered length of his black pen with his thumb. "Kashiwamura—"

Noise from the reception area interrupted him. They both turned their heads toward it, watching Katai and Atsushi rise from their couch and the young woman do the same, her fine suit uncreased despite the long time spent sitting down.

It was rare of a woman to pick such stiff fabric at any tailor's, Chuuya wondered, eyeing the gloss of the suit's finish, the sharp and steely gleam of the buttons keeping it close over her upper body. This wasn't just any wear. It was fitted to her, expansive and practical at once, betraying the youth in her face for a lie—no soft-spoken, demure lady wore such things. If anything the bulky handbag she carried on her arm clashed with the rest of her outfit; it was shiny, cream-colored, digging deep into her sleeve as she carried it up. There was no makeup on her face that he could see, nor jewelry or heeled shoes to balance the femininity of it.

Chuuya frowned.

"We'll join you in a few minutes, then," Katai told her, hand trembling at his side as he probably considered offering to shake hers. The woman made no such offer on her end, and so Katai refrained with obvious relief. "Feel free to use the bathroom, or… there's a café downstairs?"

"I'll wait in front of the building," she replied bluntly.

She had taken a step toward the exit when her eyes met Chuuya's. He expected her to stare at the side of his face, but instead her pace turned hesitant for the briefest second.

"Have we met somewhere?" she asked, her voice steady across the room.

All heads turned to look at her and Chuuya both.

He had no memories of ever meeting her. Chuuya didn't fancy himself able to remember names and faces any better than the next man, but he thought distantly that he would not soon forget someone who cut as striking a figure as she did.

This consideration drowned under the tension suddenly gripping his spine. He felt his heart beat against his palate as he answered, "No," keeping his voice even.

The woman stared at him for another second, the glimmer of recognition in her eyes igniting something akin to fear in Chuuya himself; it vanished, however, and her face went back to looking as it had since she came into the office.

She left.

Chuuya leaned back into his chair, heart beating off-tempo, the collar of his own jacket suddenly suffocating. He undid it a bit too forcefully; the button holding it close to his sternum pulled harshly, its string loosening in the process.

"I wonder what that was about," Katai said in a strangled voice, shooting Chuuya panicked glances. "Well, Atsushi-kun, we better get going and all. See you guys later!"

Nakajima must have been in the process of saying something—his mouth closed sharply as Katai tugged him toward the exit as well.

Kunikida took a deep breath. Chuuya turned his back to him and said, "I've got work to do."

He couldn't read a single word anymore.

There were so many reasons this could have been a scare without substance. Chuuya had roamed the streets of the city so many times, face open to the sights of the crowd, attracting looks for his outfits and hair color; he could have met the woman in any sort of way through the years even without remembering it—she could be family of any worker on the docks, perhaps a worker there herself, though he doubted it. She could be one of the paper-filling employees of the city's many construction companies, which he had visited on behalf of the mafia for so many reasons. Maybe it didn't have to do with his days in the mafia at all. Maybe he had crossed paths with her in the streets during the past months, maybe she had noticed him and simply had a knack for remembering faces that he himself lacked.

The possibility that she was affiliated with the port mafia, with the ministry, was so thin. No employee of the mafia would come to a detective agency to deal with smugglers, for one. Neither would anyone working for the special ability department.

Sometimes people met by sheer, simple luck—and Chuuya had no memory of her at all. None that could indicate she was a threat to him.

He barely saw Yosano sitting down on the corner of his desk. "You know, I could take care of that if you want," she said, and for a second he had no idea what she was talking about.

It was only when she pointed to her own cheek that he realized he had been thumbing the gauze on his, feeling the shape of the scar under it unthinkingly.

"There's nothing to take care of," he replied at last, lowering his hand.

Yosano's look was skeptical. "It won't be pleasant, but I can make any scar disappear. You wouldn't have to walk around looking like you've lost a fight anymore."

"I don't give a shit about that."

His tone had been harsh, perhaps, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Yosano simply shrugged and walked way, the door to her office left ajar behind her.

Chuuya looked back at his desk, at the scratched and scribbled words left by a man who must have fancied himself an author, and closed the binder sharply.

He spent the following half-hour pushing all thought out of his mind, inhaling dust as he filed the archives of the agency one by one and left traces of his fingers onto paper, the buzz of Miyazawa's young voice and Edogawa's snide comments hanging over his head like a wasps' nest.

He fooled himself so well into complacency that he thought perhaps this would be the end of the day's surprises. That he would be going home later that night and ask Katai how Nakajima had dealt with his first official mission, that he would spend the dark hours that followed browsing once more through the piles and piles of information he had gathered over the years for a glance, a trace, a whisper of Sakaguchi Ango's whereabouts.

Yokohama shone in the sun like a beacon, winter making way to spring for the first time of the year. Cold air crawled between the feet of passersby; light flashed off of the ocean's wave and pulled out of the dark things ready to be woken.

"Shit," Kunikida murmured after a long string of silence. "I forgot to give them one of the flyers."

"What flyers?" Chuuya asked mechanically.

"The director got them from the police last night," Kunikida said, opening the first drawer of his desk and quickly pulling a stack of thin-papered photographs out of it. He slid one of them toward Chuuya, his other hand pulling up his phone. "This guy—no one knows his name—he was witnessed murdering a member of the city council yesterday morning, you must've heard about it on the news. He's an ability user, very dangerous…"

Kunikida's voice drowned out of Chuuya's focus.

He picked up the picture. It wasn't blurry at all, as though its subject had chosen to pose for the snap. Another man may have smiled at the camera, even, smothered in the certainty of his own strength, but not this one. Though he had been caught red-handed and never before cared for witnesses, Akutagawa didn't smile.

"Kunikida," Chuuya said, cutting the man in the middle of his monologue. He hadn't realized that the other was still talking. "Where was it that the woman earlier said there were smugglers to take care of?"

"What?"

"I just remembered I forgot to tell Katai something."

Kunikida didn't immediately answer. Chuuya wondered if it had anything to do with what Kunikida knew of him—that he seldom forgot to do anything—or if he suspected something, the way Edogawa, staring at them from his side of the room, probably did.

"Behind the Red Brick Warehouse," he said at last. "She said that's where she suspected the transactions were taking place."

Chuuya rose from his desk. He grabbed his coat from where he had left it at the entrance of the office, sparing no thought for gloves, and closed the door behind himself carefully.

Then he rushed to the nearest window.

The streets were populated at this time of day. Lunch break was near for many, and although Chuuya could find no one watching up from the street, he had no doubt that someone, somewhere, must have caught on to the exceptionally clement weather and be staring out from a neighboring building. He'd have to take the risk.

He opened the latch with one last glance behind himself and floated out of the window, kicking against the building to drive himself up to the roof.

The Warehouse was about twenty minutes away by foot. Thirty if they took their time, which they must have, with Katai explaining to Nakajima what they would do on the way. Chuuya could make his way there in five with the help of his ability and as long as no one spotted him on the way—and he prayed, for a silent second, that no one would, that by some miracle no port mafia or ministry scion would be out and about at this time and in this perimeter, or at least none who would recognize him.

He flew from rooftop to rooftop with as much speed as he could gather, his feet digging into concrete as if it were butter each time he landed and leaped again. Another day perhaps he would've relished in the feeling of flight, in the wind stabbing his marred face, but with Akutagawa's somber face still gripped tight in his hand, he had not the heart to.

What kind of person would come to the armed detective agency for a matter of non-gifted smuggling that could be handled by the police? What kind of woman wore suits made of fabric so stiff it gave nary a crease—the kind he himself had worn to conceal much more than simple body shape?

He was a fucking idiot. Of course she would have known his face.

Air whistled past his ears at every turn he made, numbing his skin until he couldn't feel anything at all, not even the sharp tugs his scar gave into the dry and cold. One of the roofs he landed on had clothes and sheets hung up on strings to dry; Chuuya tore a beanie from one of them and shoved it onto his head as far down as it would go. He closed his coat, raised its collar, concealing what he could.

Gunshots rang through the silence when he reached the Warehouse. Chuuya perched himself atop its tower-like peak, heart solidified to ice, listening as screams echoed down in the street and people started panicking.

In a way, it saved him the trouble of trying to be discreet. No one would pay attention to the roofs when a machine gun could be heard from one of the alleyways and all were too busy running to safety. He flew over the red building and the narrow streets behind, fearing the sound of violence as much as he sought it.

Katai was there. He was there, unarmed, with for only defense a boy who couldn't control his powers.

Chuuya found them in the dark of the smallest alley. It was a foray between buildings with only one exit, like an accidental turn of the pen on the map of the city—and the woman from earlier, whose heavy handbag now rested at her feet, had both arms loaded with firearms.

He didn't pay attention to what she was saying, or to Nakajima's screams of anger and terror. It was obvious that she had already proved her willingness to aim and shoot; Chuuya felt no need for sympathy.

He jumped down, lading behind her and kicking her knees out from under her.

One of them cracked ominously, and to her credit the woman only grunted. Chuuya grabbed both her arms and twisted until she did yell out; the guns fell from her lax hands.

"You—"

"Where's Katai?" Chuuya interrupted, looking up from the bent back of the woman to meet Nakajima's eyes.

They were ever so bright.

He didn't answer, but Chuuya didn't need him to. The lack of light around them could not mask the slick sound of spilled blood, nor the brownish tint that the ground was taking in the shadow of the farthest building. Katai was lying on the ground, and he wasn't moving.

"Go see if he's alive," he heard himself order.

Nakajima didn't move.

"Now!"

Chuuya didn't watch him scramble away. The woman had started squirming under his hold, twisting this way and that in familiar movements. Whatever martial art training she had received would not be enough to push him away, however; he swept her off her knees entirely, making sure her head hit the pavement as she landed on her back, and pressed a foot against her throat.

She choked, pain and anger warring over her face in equal measures. Chuuya bent down to pick up one of the guns. He kicked the other one away, and her bag with it for good measure.

"He's breathing," came Nakajima's trembling voice, "but he's bleeding so much, I don't know—"

"Take off your shirt and use it to put pressure on the wound," Chuuya replied. He didn't let relief take him, not yet. "Use his phone to call an ambulance and then call Yosano, he's got her as an emergency contact. The pin code is 0830."

He looked down at the woman again. She grinned viciously at him, though her leg must be in agony.

"It's useless," she wheezed out. "We'll get the man-tiger, your tiny little agency can't protect him against the port mafia—"

Chuuya pressed down onto her neck with his foot until she choked again. "I don't care," he replied, "I just want to know who you called for back-up."

Her smile was gone. She didn't answer him.

For a long while nothing else happened. Chuuya was reluctant to knock her out on the off-chance she would talk; he was reluctant to force answers out of her in one of the many ways he knew as well, not only because of Nakajima's presence, not only because Katai had such faith in his being able to turn a page from his past.

He hadn't come back to Yokohama to torture the port mafia's lower ranks. There was only one among them he planned to find and bring vengeance upon.

Nakajima's labored breathing came to him in the dark. Chuuya focused on it rather than anything else, though his eyes never left the woman's face. There was no sound yet of an ambulance coming; no sign of Yosano or anyone else coming to their aid.

"You should kill me," the woman said.

Chuuya leveled a warning glance at her. Her next words were spat, and no doubt that he would have felt them on his face had she been in any state to stand.

"You moralistic, idealistic fools—if you don't kill me now you'll only regret it later," she said.

"Shut up before I make you."

"With what?" she laughed roughly, a hint of hysteria shooting through her from adrenaline alone. Her twisted knee spasmed once against the ground. "People like you don't have the balls to prove your words with action. Pathetic."

"Nakajima," Chuuya called instead of answering her, "any update?"

"He's still alive," the boy replied. "I don't—I don't know how bad it is."

Chuuya wished he could go and see for himself. If he could get close enough to Katai then he could use the Tainted Sorrow to at least stop the bleeding efficiently, but he dared not leave Nakajima in charge of a port mafia member by himself. She wouldn't hesitate to shoot again if she got her hands back on a weapon.

Frowning, his tension kept at bay by the news of Katai's continued living, Chuuya crouched above the woman's body. He replaced his foot with a hand, gripping her knee in warning so that she wouldn't move, and used his other to pat her sides.

Her eyes widened. "What are you—"

"Checking for weapons," he told her.

Her fear was not unjustified. It did little to stop the disgust that washed through him once he understood it. Chuuya focused on stripping her of the knives strapped to her forearms and the handgun concealed at her hip, and only when he pulled back did her eyes stop staring at him in open fright.

She must not be as old as her outfit and attitude would let think. The mafia had always liked to hire them young.

"Did you call for back-up?" he asked her once again.

Now that he was within breathing distance, she did spit at his face. Chuuya wiped it off with a mere grunt of distaste.

"It would be easier for you if you cooperated."

"Loosen your tongue and lose your life," she replied.

He smiled tersely. Those words were as familiar to him as nursery rhymes were to some.

He might as well knock her out, then. They needed to be off as soon as the ambulance arrived, and she would be difficult to transport if she fought him the whole way. At least it seemed she hadn't recognized him; Chuuya was in the middle of thinking through what he should do to make sure she never heard his name or wondered who he was while in agency custody, when she started laughing.

"What is it?" he snapped.

She breathed in deeply, choked by her own laughter. "You're dead, detective," she replied.

The very air split around them.

Chuuya used his powers without thinking; a tendril of black matter, sharp as a blade, stabbed the place where he was crouched a second ago. His feet buried themselves deep into the ground as he landed a few feet away, holding the stolen beanie down on his head and waiting for the wind of the attack to stop slapping around him like the heart of a hurricane.

Nakajima was not so lucky; Chuuya felt his heart lurch at the scream of agony he let out and didn't dare turn around to look, not when all he could stare at was the thin silhouette of Akutagawa emerging from the shadows.

"Move around and I'll cut the other one, were-tiger," Akutagawa rasped out.

The woman had moved as soon as she had felt Chuuya's hands leave her. She managed to get herself up, somehow, limping toward Akutagawa and picking up the gun Chuuya had dropped on the way. She aimed it at him as soon as she was by Akutagawa's side.

"Senpai—"

"Shut up," Akutagawa cut in. "I thought you could handle this."

She hesitated, sweating bullets from the pain of standing but still keeping her composure somehow. "I could, but that man…"

For the first time in years, Akutagawa met Chuuya's eyes.

He could have thought himself back at the black tower, in one of the training rooms, looking from the side as Dazai disciplined his student. Akutagawa had changed without changing; the white streaks in his hair had not regained color, he was still thin as a skeleton, he still dressed like someone come from a past century. He was taller, though. His steps quiet enough not to be heard even by Chuuya. The black coat Dazai had once given him didn't hang limply from his shoulders anymore.

Chuuya realized how futile his own disguise was at the same time Akutagawa did. He could cut and dye his hair, he could dress as banally as possible, hide himself behind high collars and low hats all he wanted… there was nothing to be done about the recognition twisting Akutagawa's fine features into shock.

For the most fleeting of seconds, he almost wanted to say Hi.

The air moved once more. White light unfurled around them as if a sun had suddenly appeared in the alley, blinding the sky and blinding them, and this time Chuuya did turn around to look at Nakajima.

Except it wasn't Nakajima anymore.

He had heard all about the white tiger from Katai and Kunikida before. Shapeshifting wasn't an uncommon ability to have, and Chuuya had expected the creature to look like the ones he had seen in photographs during his life. The beast that emerged out of the pool of blood Nakajima had been lying in was none of that.

Twice as big as a normal tiger and at least thrice as powerful, it sat on the gored ground like a nightmare come alive. Saliva steamed out of its open mouth and light shone brightly off of its claws, each as long as a blade. The tiger's growl resonated through the very walls. Its golden eyes were fixed to Chuuya's left.

Before he could do anything, it had leaped at Akutagawa.

Rashoumon opened around Akutagawa like black wings to parry its attack, yet it could not seem to hurt it at all. Its black tendrils, which Chuuya had watched cut through rock and steel in the past, ricocheted off the beast's fur as if stopped by an invisible wall. Through the chaos of the fight he saw the blond woman open fire on the tiger—saw with his own eyes the bullets fall uselessly to the ground, their target unharmed.

Chuuya took his chance while she was reloading. Her attention was completely caught by the monstrous battle happening a few feet away; she made the mistake of taking her eyes off of her remaining opponent, allowing him to sweep her feet from under her once more and knock her out for good this time.

In the back of his mind, thoughts of Katai bleeding out without anyone to tend to him kept his heart athrill. Chuuya ran to his side and pressed the man's own hand over his bleeding belly—he could see two holes through it, closer to his flank than his center—and pushed gravity into doing its job. Only then did he turn back to the carnage that the other two were making.

The tiger's massive jaw had opened around Rashoumon's barrier. It pierced through it as if breaking simple glass, and in the ashen glow radiating from its form, Akutagawa's face seemed like a corpse's.

Chuuya planted his foot into the ground and pulled the beast down.

It fell with a roar, thrashing against the invisible bonds keeping it tied to earth; Chuuya had never had to struggle so to keep anything in his grip, be it man or army, and sweat slicked his temples under the woolen beanie. He fended off Rashoumon's next attacks more easily, focusing his energy on the coat Akutagawa wore until the man himself had no choice but to kneel down under its weight.

Only then did he let go of his breath. At least seventy percent of his strength had to be focused on the tiger alone, which left very little for the fine control required to keep Katai's wound pressurized and Rashoumon down. He could only hope that Akutagawa would not notice how thinly he was stretched as he approached him.

Though the tiger was still squirming and growling, its claws scratching the pavement as if tearing through mere paper, Akutagawa was not watching it anymore.

"Nakahara Chuuya," he murmured, staring at Chuuya with apprehension.

Chuuya stopped a few feet away from him. "I half-expected to see you here, to be honest."

Akutagawa bristled, Rashoumon fluttering in vain over his back and shoulders.

Chuuya ignored the painful tightness in his chest. He looked at Nakajima's struggling form for a moment and wondered how to proceed.

He wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer. Whatever Nakajima's true form was, it was no simple animal. Chuuya felt as though his strength were being siphoned out of him, each second leaving him more brittle, his hands threatening to shake. He wouldn't be able to apprehend Akutagawa by himself, not if he had to maintain control on Nakajima and Katai at the same time.

"Fuck," he said between his teeth.

He glanced at Akutagawa again. The other was still looking at him, face impenetrable.

Then, to Chuuya's surprise, he asked: "Are you going to kill me now?"

Chuuya found himself entirely wordless.

Akutagawa had never been one to fool around. His bluntness and single-minded attitude had been his downfall the entire time Dazai had trained him; Chuuya had too many memories to count of trying to talk sense into his then-kouhai, only for his words to fall on deaf ears. There was only ever one person who could get Akutagawa to listen, and even he had struggled to.

Akutagawa didn't back down. He didn't surrender. He never asked such questions, no matter how battered he was.

"Why would I kill you?" Chuuya replied warily.

The look he was given was even more confusing; Akutagawa seemed more astonished by his words than his very presence.

"I thought—"

The sound of a siren reached them, growing stronger by the second and cutting Akutagawa short. His face paled even further. Chuuya felt him start to resist gravity's hold.

He let go of it.

Part of him expected Akutagawa to attack him on the spot. The man wasn't exactly the type to pull his punches, no matter how many times it had landed him in trouble. But Akutagawa only rose to his feet and brushed the dirt from his sleeves and legs, still looking like a man headed to the gallows.

Nakajima chose this moment to revert back to his human shape. White light once more enveloped the narrow street, blinding Chuuya to all but its source. When it was gone, the boy lay on the ground, unconscious but unscathed.

"Take the girl and go," Chuuya said, releasing his grip on Nakajima's body. He almost reeled back with relief. "Unless you want to try and fight me with the military police on its way."

Akutagawa was at least smart enough not to tempt the devil. Rashoumon's tendrils picked up his subordinate with less care than they probably should, and he stepped away from Chuuya without showing his back to him.

The realization made Chuuya ache in a new way. This pain was distant and fogged, like something half-forgotten which he ought to have prepared for.

"You won't escape alive," Akutagawa said, almost a whisper. His asthma must not have improved over the years, for he coughed afterward, a frightening gargle rising from his throat. He wiped spit from his lips and added, "Not now that we know where you are."

"I'm not that easy to kill," Chuuya retorted.

"Dazai-san—"

"I don't want to hear it."

He felt exhausted. The ambulance must be very close now, and its siren rang through Chuuya's head like the beginning of a migraine. He shot Akutagawa another glare, as dark and furious as he could make it when his heart still stung with nostalgia.

"Tell that shitty Dazai not to get in my way," he gritted out. "Or I'll grant his wishes and have him eat grass by the root."

His anger broke apart as the words left his lips.

In the second that followed, Chuuya felt the kind of exhaustion he hadn't known since that night of blood and grief. He wanted to say something without knowing what to say; he watched Akutagawa hesitate, caught in that same fragile reluctance to part, his thin lips open on air.

He said nothing. The unconscious woman held up by Rashoumon floated away from them both, and Akutagawa followed her, his grey eyes leaving Chuuya's at last.

Now he was alone, Nakajima's soft breathing in his ears and in his mind the awareness of Katai's still-moving chest, caught under the pressure keeping him alive. For now.

There wouldn't be anyone waiting for him at the apartment. No tea to warm his hands and hollow heart, no voice to quiet the horror and fear in a child leaving his home behind.

Akutagawa didn't linger in the hospital wing of headquarters after leaving Higuchi there. She had remained unconscious through the journey home, though the resident nurse had assured him that outside of a twisted knee and sprained wrist, there was nothing to worry about. The bump on her head wasn't dangerous at all—the blow there had been delivered, he knew, with great precision.

He made his way through the long corridors without speaking to anyone. At noon the activities in headquarters weren't so intense, at least, lessening the risk of someone stopping him on his way. Night was the port mafia's time, the moon-silver hours the ones which they tainted with their presence.

You may yet claim responsibility for Kouyou's death.

Why would I kill you?

It made no sense at all.

Akutagawa knew fear very well. He had grown nurtured and shaped by it through all of his formative years; fear for himself, fear for Gin, fear of the world and what it could do to them. His fear had been honed into a weapon in the hands of his mentor, to the point of leaving him estranged from his body each time they met.

Yet he hadn't known the kind of fear he discovered upon recognizing Nakahara Chuuya in that alleyway earlier.

The man had seemed a ghost himself, utterly unrecognizable if not for his eyes and voice. Akutagawa had not forgot that voice talking to him eons ago, soothing aches he hadn't noticed with its mere presence. He could never forget the times he had met Nakahara Chuuya as a superior, as a mentor figure of his own, someone he ached to reach for as he failed and failed and failed to win Dazai's approval.

Dazai had told him that Chuuya would kill him; Dazai had said that his poorly-played part in the Mimic conflict four years ago had been one of the causes for Ozaki's untimely demise, one of the reasons for Nakahara's defection and vow of vengeance.

When he had seen him earlier—when he had met his cold eyes in the dark of the city—Akutagawa had felt death stare him in the face. He had felt the need to fall to his knees and beg; he had felt remorse like a bite at the throat, so much more frightening than the man-tiger's sharp fangs breaking Rashoumon apart.

After this kind of fear, walking to his superior's office with the news of his failure was nothing at all.

"Enter," came Dazai's bored voice when he knocked on the door.

"Akutagawa-kun!" He was greeted thus, Dazai's obviously fake enthusiasm failing for once to make him shudder. "I've been waiting all morning for you. How went the hunt? I expect great things from you, you know."

"Higuchi and I failed to retrieve the shapeshifter," Akutagawa replied bluntly.

There was no point in beating around the bush. Dazai would punish him more for excuses than he would for honesty.

Dazai sighed dramatically, letting his chin hit his desk in a mockery of disappointment. His eyes slid away from Akutagawa and toward the man who was always by his side. "Why do I always get my hopes up, Odasaku?" he asked plaintively.

"You like to see the best in others," Oda replied.

"That is hilarious. Truly, truly hilarious."

Akutagawa watched the theatrics unfold wordlessly. His fear of Dazai felt for once detached from him, as though dimmed by the absolute terror he had experienced in front of Nakahara earlier. He didn't twitch even as Dazai rose from his chair and made his way around the desk, his eyes dull with distaste.

"I thought my orders were so simple," he bemoaned, and Akutagawa tensed only when Dazai was but a foot away, staring down at him. "I said 'get the tiger boy back alive and as unharmed as possible', didn't I?"

"You did," Akutagawa replied between his teeth.

Dazai shook his head. He was so close that Akutagawa felt the air move against his face. "So tell me, how do the port mafia's most destructive ability user and his trigger-happy subordinate fail to recover a teenager with no training or control whatsoever? I'm sure this is gonna be a fascinating story."

Akutagawa could have told him of the tiger's monstrous strength, of its claws tearing stone apart like mud or its immense, gaping jaw. He could've told him that not even Rashoumon's control of matter had resisted its assault—something that was bound to impress even Dazai, considering his involvement in shaping that defense technique to perfection.

He said, "I found Nakahara Chuuya."

Dazai didn't still, per se. He didn't gasp or widen his eyes or sneer at the name like he had so many times before. Instead Oda was the one whose movements stopped altogether, his bright blue eyes open to the light of late-winter.

Dazai hummed, considering, and the thumb of his right hand started rubbing its neighboring index rhythmically. Back and forth, back and forth, as if massaging pain away.

"Well," he said in the silence. "This is getting interesting."

[PREVIOUS]

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #soukoku #fic: nothing noble

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non-writingwriter · 6 years

Text

During the storm

Hello Tumblr! Again! And I’m back with more Dazushi! Mostly cause I’m at home sick with four orphaned kittens and I literally couldn’t think of anything else to relieve me from my boredom.

Oh well. This is fluff. Totally useless fluff, written with the main purpose of distracting me from the fact that I’ve finished reading FMA and now I’m sad and miserable and empty inside.

And yes, once again the title sucks. And once again, please forgive me and ignore the honorifics.

Hope you enjoy this little thing! (＾＾)ｂ

Atsushi is not entirely sure how they ended up like this.

It just happened, one way or another.

An attentive look, their hands brushing over paperwork, their faces too close to be casual. Dazai's smiles when they are real, eyes that never look away first, the way his hair curls slightly at the tips when it's wet.

It was easy. Like falling.

Now he knows things he never thought he would know.

He knows Dazai has a terrible bedhead in the mornings, he knows he likes to get up first and make breakfast for him and Kyouka even though he's kind-of-probably still a guest, he knows he drinks definitely too much coffee, black and too strong for Atsushi to even tolerate its smell.

He knows what it feels like waking up next to someone and seeing their face still drowsy with sleep, he knows what it means to fall asleep to steady breathing close to him and an arm casually wrapped around his middle. He knows Dazai doesn't sleep as much as he should, and he knows that he has nightmares on rainy nights.

He often has, but rainy nights are the worst. Atsushi is not about to ask why.

He doesn't say anything, when he reads until his eyes close, or when he kisses him so forcefully his lips feel bruised after. He never questions him about the names he calls, about the things he whispers.

They're Dazai's to tell, and not his to ask.

He can't help knowing, though.

At first, he thinks it's the thunderstorm that woke him. It startles him out of sleep suddenly, eyes snapping open in absolute darkness. The other side of the bed is cold, strangely empty.

There's the sound of heavy rain pounding on the roof, and as he looks around the brightness of lightning hurts his eyes, still too sensitive. Then, through the confusion making his mind hazy, his ears picking up on too many sounds, he finally hears him.

He recalls briefly waking up, earlier in the night, when he had sensed him shifting – remembers Dazai's hand on the top of his head, pleading for him to go back to sleep. His voice was shaky, uncertain.

He doesn't remember falling asleep again, but he must have. Now he's alone in a cold nest of covers, and he can make out faint whimpering from the living room.

His heart clenches at that, fondness and love and worry making his throat tight. He doesn't hesitate, shuddering lightly when his feet touch the cool floor.

He moves in the dark, the tiger's sight guiding him without forcing to turn on all the lights and bother Kyouka, and he follows the noise.

It's not hard, per se. But he's not sure if Dazai's awake, and he doesn't want to frighten him if he's not, and so he goes slowly, making his way towards the centre of the room.

He can hear him more clearly, now. Atsushi sinks to his knees, then proceeding with crawling under the kotatsu, trying not to hit his head.

(He fails.)

He feels blindly around, the heavy blanket blocking out every hint of light, eyes struggling to get used to complete darkness. He finds his hair before everything else, soft strands tangled together, and under them his forehead, his nose, his cheek.

His skin is slightly damp with sweat, and Atsushi can feel his jaw clench when he cups his face, trying to calm him down.

It doesn't work – it never does –, doesn't tear him away from whatever memories or fantasies are torturing him. Atsushi can't make out anything of what he's whispering.

He sounds feverish, frenetic – nothing like the calm and collected façade he's used to. He sounds young, younger than he is or that he wants to look.

It used to scare him, the first times. Atsushi isn't good at reading people, and Dazai hadn't been an exception.

It took time, to understand him. It took time, and it took tears, and it took screaming and fighting and resignation to the fact one day Atsushi will lose him, as inevitably as he loses everything and everyone else.

That day is not today.

He tries shaking him awake, grasping his shoulder not too hard, to not trigger an aggressive reaction in case he's dreaming of enemies. They don't have the physical space to fight, not under the table, and most of all, that would definitely wake Kyouka.

«Dazai-san?» he asks, and Dazai's eyes snap open suddenly, and before he can even consider reacting he's being pinned down to the floor, Dazai's body pressed flat against his, an iron grip on both his wrists.

So much for not fighting under the kotatsu.

Dazai is not fighting, though, or looking to start a fight. He's just laying there, on top of him, head moving quickly from side to side like he's assessing the situation, even though the darkness is so absolute Atsushi is sure he can't see. And he's shaking, he's shaking so hard that it makes his heart break.

(Atsushi wonders for a moment from whom he's being protected, and what is enough to scare Dazai Osamu to the point of reducing him to a shuddering, sweat-drenched boy.

He decides he doesn't want to know.)

Dazai speaks first, his voice too loud in the sudden quiet that had dawned upon them, broke only by panting breaths.

«You're trembling.» he says, and Atsushi isn't sure how to answer him. So he doesn't, wrapping his arms around Dazai's shoulders instead, guiding him to nuzzle his neck.

Maybe he is trembling, just a bit. Dazai feels fragile in his hands, like he could break under the weight of his past and his fears and his life.

And Atsushi is keeping him together with just the mere force of a hug.

That doesn't seem nearly enough, but it will have to do. Just for tonight.

They stay like that for a while. Atsushi stares at the darkness over their heads, questions whether or not it would be tactful to ask Dazai if he can hear the sound of the storm, and in case if he wants Atsushi to go close the curtains better, hoping to close it off. He waits.

Dazai doesn't talk, and he didn't really expect him to.

But it's okay, like this. He trusts him enough to fall asleep on top of him, his breath slowly becoming more regular against his ear, even though No Longer Human doesn't work when he sleeps.

That's enough.

Atsushi doesn't sleep. Instead, he listens to the rain. Stroking his hair, the back of his neck, purring from deep into his chest to drown out the thunder.

He allows himself to doze off only when he's sure the storm has finished its course, leaving only the steady ticking of drops of water on the roof.

The next morning, he wakes alone under the kotatsu. He can smell black coffee and rice, and he can hear Dazai's humming, clear and off-key.

When he pops his head out, he's met with a bright smile and tired eyes, an omelette waiting for him on the table.

«A wonderful morning to take a dip into the river, Atsushi-kun!» he says, and it takes everything he has not to look worried.

It never does him any good.

«Too cold for that, Dazai-san. Freezing is not a good death.» he replies instead, taking one careful bite from his omelette.

Dazai only steals a kiss, one of his real smiles on his lips, and doesn't answer.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #atsushi nakajima #dazai x atsushi #dazushi #dazatsu #fluff #ficlet #drabble #alternative title: in which dazai's scared of thunder #because heavy rain reminds him of gunshots or something #idk #i haven't really thought it out #but #i don't regret anything #writing #my writing #fanfiction

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nolongerbeneaththemoonlight-a · 5 years

Text

Atsushi Nakajima

Here’s one (1) good boy, Atsushi Nakajima, tiger boi and loyal worker of the Armed Detective Agency! Now, to the important stuff...

Basics:

Atsushi is an orphan with a tragic backstory, but one he is trying to discard as he finds his home in the ADA with his mentor, Dazai.

His ability is “Beast Beneath the Moonlight”, meaning he can turn into a tiger underneath the night sky. At least, that was the case before he joined the ADA, for now he has far more control over his ability. He can control which parts of him become influenced by the ability, and his tiger claws can cut through any material. He still has a lot to learn, but he’s more than willing to do so.

Appearance:

Atsushi has white hair and bangs that cut across his forehead. His eyes are purple and lime green, the colors of the tiger’s eyes that he turns into.

The outfit he wears was given to him by the ADA (specifically Dazai), and includes a white shirt with dark chocolate colored pants. Black suspenders keep up his pants, as well as a matching black belt that is far too large for the male, dangling behind him like a tail.

He has a skinny frame with few muscles in his normal form, but once he uses his ability on one of his limbs, he grows exponentially more muscular.

Personality:

This tiger boi has very low self esteem because of how he was raised in the orphanage. Because of this, he sees himself unworthy most of the time and doesn’t know how to deal with certain situations, like people depending on him or being in a dangerous situation. However, when the situation is serious enough, he gets himself under control and does whatever he can to help those he cares about.

Atsushi is very selfless and would risk everything for his friends and the people he cares about. He also has a strong sense of morality, being able to convince even the ex. mafiosi Kyouka to join his side and the ADA. He values all life and thinks it is all worth something, and he even tries to help his enemies see life the way he does.

He is easily scared and at times pretty naive, trying to see the best in anyone and in any situation. He is probably the most sane person in the ADA, and often freaks out when his coworkers do something out of the norm.

Since he was raised in the orphanage with no possessions, he has a very mild obsession with the idea of money. While he is never greedy about it, he does do a lot of work and crazy things to gain yen. Still, his friends always outweigh any cost and though he may be reluctant to spend his hard earned money, he’ll do it for his coworkers.

Past:

Atsushi was raised in an orphanage and was beaten and abused by the adults who watched over him. They said he was worthless and, for quite a while, he believed them. While Dazai escaped from the orphanage he was bound to, Atsushi was kicked out with the excuse of “there wasn’t enough money nor food to take care of him”.

He met Dazai on the brink of starvation, about to rob the next person he saw. But the white haired male saw the man drifting down the river upside down and suddenly dove into the water, saving his life. It turns out that was just another attempt of suicide by Dazai, but Atsushi was still treated to all the food he could possibly eat.

While he was eating with Dazai and Kunikida, Osamu revealed that they were working on case to find a tiger. Atsushi didn’t know this at first, but Dazai thought him to be the tiger all along, and he was right! Later that night, the two were in a warehouse together and Atsushi turned into the tiger. Dazai nullified him with his ability, and thus the case was solved.

Atsushi was accepted into the ADA after a bombing was staged and the young man tried to save everyone in the building by holding the bomb to his chest. However, it was only an act, but Atsushi’s selfless actions granted him a place in the ADA.

Misc:

Atsushi is really bad when it comes to relationships. He’s never been in one before, and he doesn’t think he would ever. Not only that, but when it comes to romance he is horribly dense.

Verses:

~ı ċåṅ‘ṭ Ŀıṿє å ṅọŗṃåĿ Ŀıғє; ı ẇåṡ ŗåıṡєԀ ɞʏ ṭһє ṡṭŗєєṭṡ~ [Beast AU] — Like with Dazai’s, I really know very little about the Beast AU. I’ll look into it soon, since it seems really interesting, but as of right now, this verse is a WIP.

~ı‘ṃ jȗṡṭ Ŀıҡє ʏọȗ!!; ʏọȗ‘ŗє jȗṡṭ Ŀıҡє ṃє!!~ [Twin Verse] — Atsushi and Atsuki (my boi) Nakajima were both twin orphans in the orphanage before they were kicked out. They share a name for their ability, but Atsuki turns into a white direwolf instead of a tiger like his twin does. They both joined the ADA together and are the closest of siblings. When they were in pain back in the orphanage, the other was always right there. So now, they must learn to navigate this new world together. When it comes to a twin verse, my “twin” will have the same backstory as yours unless stated otherwise. This is to prevent confusion with differing headcanons and backgrounds.

~єṿєṅ ıғ ı Ԁọṅ‘ṭ ƿȗĿĿ ṭһŗọȗɢһ; åṃ ı å һєŗọ ṭọ ʏọȗ?~ [MHA Verse (Atsushi)] — Here, Atsushi is a 3rd year student in the hero department, in the class 3-A taught by Osamu Dazai. Atsushi is an orphan and had lived in an orphanage all his life until he was kicked out at the age of 14 instead of 18. He fled from Yokohama after learning of his quirk, which he previously had no knowledge about, to train to get his powerful quirk under control and become a hero so he can save people, which is his true passion. (Learn more here!)

LIKE THIS POST IF YOU HAVE READ IT AND AGREE TO IT, PLEASE.

#~wíth єvєrчσnє αrσund hєr tєllíng hєr thє wαч tσ gσ; чєαh ѕhє wαlkѕ thrσugh wσrldѕ αlσnє~ [OOC]#~ṡåʏıṅɢ ı‘ĿĿ ɞŗєåҡ ọȗṭ ọғ åĿĿ ṭһє ċһåıṅṡ ṭһåṭ Ŀọċҡ ṃє ıṅ ṃʏ һєåԀ~ [Atsushi Nakajima]#{ Atsushi About }

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styxjuice · 7 years

Text

I’ll Do Better

title insp

You can pry this AU from my cold dead hands.

Trying to branch out into a different fandom. I'm pretty proud of this; tell me what you think! (Also this is partially make it up to one of my friends who keeps inviting me over but we have conflicting schedules. I hope we get to spend time together soon!)

EDIT: Fixed some characterization issues. Enjoy the updated version!

Dazai never expected his life to change this rapidly.

He wanted his life to end rapidly, but that was something entirely different from having two infants handed to him within the course of three months and being told that he was the father of both of them.

Akutagawa is first. His mother drops him off sobbing after their breakup over a year prior, handing Dazai a small child that she can’t provide for. The second, Atsushi, is the cause of the breakup between Dazai and the boy’s mother, who throws their son at Dazai the first chance she gets and never looks back.

He considers dropping them off at an orphanage, but he repeatedly puts it off, and his excuses for keeping them keep changing. First it’s that he doesn’t have the time. After that it’s because they’re not old enough. A while later he reminds himself that he’s orphaned a few children before and he doesn’t want to go there in case any of them recognize him, so it’s best he wait.

And yet, he never makes any move to send his sons away. Perhaps it has something to do with finally being able to care about something that’s a part of him, in a way. His own life is useless, and Dazai knows this, but Akutagawa’s and Atsushi’s aren’t. Their lives have barely started, and maybe he can raise them to not make the same mistakes as him. And if they turn out better than him, well, maybe he can prove to himself that not everything he’s done has been worthless. So be not-so-begrudgingly accepts this abrupt shift into a life of diapers and formula bottles.

That isn’t to say he doesn’t rethink his choice sometimes. Juggling two children while holding a job – a job in the Port Mafia, no less – causes him to stagger into work with bags under his eyes and a lack of focus that almost costs him his life on a few occasions.

“You’re going to kill me,” Dazai mutters one morning, laying down on the rug, watching Atsushi as Akutagawa climbs on his back. “One way or another, you’re going to kill me.”

Atsushi turns his head to look at him quizzically, his golden-purple eyes blinking. Slowly, he grins with just his two front teeth, rattling the small tiger-shaped plush in his hands.

“Da!” he beams.

Dazai stares at him a moment, eyes wide. Atsushi crawls forward, placing his small, pink hand on his father’s face. “Da!” he says again.

Dazai reaches one hand out to gently tussle Atsushi’s hair, causing his son to giggle. He smiles slowly.

“I’ll keep you around until you do me the honor of killing me, then,” he says softly, while Akutagawa pulls at the bandages around his eye and babbles in his ear.

Dazai soon falls into a rhythm. He works when he can, finding babysitters that can show up at a moment’s notice if he’s needed elsewhere, and he begins to learn more about his boys.

Akutagawa screams the loudest and the most often. He always wants attention, and he takes every opportunity to remind his father of this. More violent than his brother, Akutagawa often pushes Atsushi over and forcefully takes toys from him. Atsushi, the quieter one, cries only briefly until he distracts himself with something else. He falls asleep the easiest and is content to merely sit in Dazai’s lap and chew on teethers, rather than play with noisy toys or continually stick foreign objects in his mouth like his brother.

Gradually, as Dazai begins to ask for more days off, he realizes that he’s never told his boss or any of his coworkers about his sons. It isn’t as if he doesn’t want them to know, it’s just never come up. He and the rest of the Port Mafia don’t really have time or reason for small talk or updates on each other’s lives; no one cares anyway. He’ll tell them if they ask.

That’s what he tells himself until the attack.

He’s late getting the boys to bed. The dishes sit piled up on the counter because he hasn’t washed them in days, so he leaves his sons to play with each other in the living room while he finally tries to chisel the crusted food off of their plates. Letting Atsushi and Akutagawa stay up late isn’t a big deal to him; they’ll fall asleep on their own if they’re tired enough, and Akutagawa is always reluctant to leave his toys and go to bed anyway. The longer Dazai can postpone that struggle, the better.

Suddenly something in the living room falls with a crash. Akutagawa screams. Dazai’s eyes grow wide and the plate in his hands falls to the floor and shatters.

“Akutagawa!” he shouts, racing into the living room. He isn’t sure what to think. All he knows is that his son has never screamed like that before. He thinks he hears something growling in the split seconds before he sees what’s happened.

Claw marks slice through the walls. The TV’s fallen over and cushions have been knocked off the couch, but Dazai barely notices them. All he sees is Akutagawa, tears streaming down his face as he screams, a huge white tiger cub looming above him and snarling.

He doesn’t question it. His brain doesn’t give him time to question it. His arms move before his thoughts tell them to and he grabs the beast by its neck. Yet as he makes contact with it, a blue glow emanates from the tiger and his palm, shining through his fevered thoughts like a lighthouse.

The form of the tiger shifts and changes in his hands as Dazai puts the pieces together. The fury in his eyes recesses as they widen, and his grip loosens around the beast’s neck. Still shaking as the glow fades entirely, he pulls what remains of the tiger to his chest. Atsushi lays unconscious in his arms.

Few things in life scare Dazai anymore; death will be a welcome relief when it comes, and he doesn’t care what others think of him. But as he sits in the floor, panting, trembling, fear penetrates him and sinks into his stomach.

He stays awake long past after Atsushi and Akutagawa are settled in their cribs, his mind racing while he stares blankly at the scars across the walls. If Atsushi inherited an Ability from his father, what if Akutagawa did?

The boys aren’t aware of the turn their lives take that night. They have no idea of the pact their father makes with himself as his fists clench, his brow furrowing.

He’ll protect them, both from each other’s Abilities and from the Port Mafia. To them, two Gifted children are just future soldiers.

Dazai makes sure he’s at work more often, but not too often, and he eases back into more work hours as to not raise suspicion. Babysitters are replaced with a nanny that is willing to spend more than half of her week with those boys. She practically lives at Dazai’s house during the day.

“The boys should be in bed by seven, as usual,” he explains as he pulls his coat on. “But I should be back before then.”

Kuniko nods, holding Atsushi in her arms and bouncing him slightly. She won’t meet his eyes today and seems to be holding onto Atsushi a little more tightly than normal. Dazai smirks.

“Are those the signs of infatuation I see?” he purrs, playfully offering her his hand. “Finally fallen for me?”

Kuniko looks at him long enough to raise one eyebrow. “Not on your life,” she says firmly. Dazai chuckles.

“Still as strong-willed as ever. That’s my Kuniko.”

“Not yours,” she remarks as she turns her back on him, walking back into the house. Atsushi waves a little over her shoulder.

“Bye-bye Daz.”

Somehow that small gesture makes Dazai’s chest swell more than Kuniko’s love could ever could.

“I’m home!” Dazai announces, throwing open the door. His cheerful expression quickly becomes a frown; the lights are off. The apartment’s quiet. “Kuniko?”

Silence.

Dazai slips off his shoes and starts to walk into the hall. “Kuniko?” he calls again. His heart rate is speeding up. “Atsushi?” He peers into the kitchen. The light’s off and dirty dishes sit piled up in the sink. “Akutagawa?”

He’s starting to run now. Panic fills him as he sprints towards the bedrooms. “Atsushi! Akutagawa!”

“How long were you planning on keeping them hidden?”

Dazai stops dead. Slowly, he steps backwards, turning to face the living room. The couch is occupied.

“What are you doing here?” Dazai breathes.

His guest sighs, twirling his hat on his finger. “I haven’t been to your place in over a year and this is how you greet me?” Chuuya mutters.

Dazai is on him before he can react, slamming him into the wall behind the couch by grabbing onto his collar and lifting him.

“Where are they?” He hisses.

Chuuya chokes, eyes wide. “They’re in their room! They’re fine! Let go!” He says quickly. Dazai narrows his eyes but releases his hold, letting Chuuya fall back onto the couch to rub his neck.

“How did you find out about them?” he snaps.

Chuuya picks up his hat and sets it back on his head, looking up at Dazai from under its rim. What Dazai can see of his face is a foreign mix of hurt and indifference.

“Certainly not from you,” he mumbles.

Dazai’s expression doesn’t change. “You never asked.”

“I shouldn’t have needed to!” Chuuya bursts out. “You’re the one who didn’t think to tell your partner that you had kids!”

Dazai frowns. “You know what’ll happen to them if Mori finds out,” he replies calmly. But when Chuuya shrinks back and says nothing, Dazai feels his heart stop for a moment.

“I was sent to tell you,” Chuuya says quietly, not meeting his eyes. “Mori thought that if he sent anyone else, you might kill them.”

Dazai stands stock-still as the world seems to collapse around him.

“He noticed you were acting strange and sent a scout to investigate. After he found out, it was easy to get your nanny to work with us.”

Dazai feels as if he wants to scream, run, and empty his stomach onto the floor all at the same time.

“All it took was a little cash and a gun in her face. She let me in and all I just had to wait.”

Dazai stares at him. For once, he has nothing to say. No witty remarks come from his dry throat.

Chuuya watches him. “It’s not all bad,” he says, almost sheepishly. “They’re under the full protection of the Port Mafia now. Nothing can touch them.”

Something in Dazai snaps. “Protect?” he spits. “Mori says he’ll protect them?” Fury seems to pour from his very soul, pulsing through his veins like acid. “He’ll protect them until they’re strong enough to kill for him,” he growls, venom dripping from his words. “He’ll protect them as long as they’re useful to him, but if they slip up one too many times, all bets are off. He’ll protect them until they’re grown into the perfect soldiers and are old enough to fend for themselves.”

Chuuya stares at him with wide eyes. On the surface, Dazai seems eerily calm. But Chuuya’s known him long enough to know the rage behind his clenched fists, the hatred within his dark eyes. “Hey, Dazai, calm down,” he urges, but Dazai’s doesn’t see or hear him.

“They’ll either die or turn into me,” he says with awful realization, his visible eye filled with loathing as he stares at nothing. It was the worst thought of all; that his own sons might turn out like him, as suicidal Mafia members that can’t even manage to save two little boys from a life of misery and bloodshed.

Chuuya’s palm across his face strikes him like a bolt of lightning. “Snap out of it!” he shouts, grabbing Dazai’s shoulders and looking up into his face. “There’s no use pitying yourself! What’s done is done, and it’s not your fault that it happened!”

Dazai stares at him, the lines on his forehead growing deeper. “I could’ve done something-!”

“No you couldn’t have!” Chuuya shoots back. “And you can’t do anything now, Dazai! Now that Mori knows you’ve been keeping secrets from him, he’ll have eyes on you all the time!” Chuuya’s shaking, gripping Dazai’s shoulders as if he’s the sole thing keeping him tethered to sanity. “Dazai, I know better than anyone how much you’re capable of,” he says, his voice dropping. “But just this once, for your sake, there’s nothing you can do.”

Crying suddenly reaches their ears, drawing their gaze towards the bedrooms. Chuuya swiftly releases his grip.

“Dazai…” He says again, slowly, but Dazai closes his eyes and holds up his hand for silence. His breath’s still shaky as he straightens his back and clears his throat. He opens his mouth to speak, but he cuts himself off with a sigh before saying anything.

“You’re right,” he admits softly. He says nothing else. Losing his temper won’t help Atsushi and Akutagawa. Nothing will.

With that, he walks into the hallway to soothe the Port Mafia’s latest soldiers.

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #osamu dazai #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #nakahara chuuya #let's see how this goes

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auroreswritings · 4 years

Text

Aaaaaaaand here comes the last entry for the Dazatsu Halloween event! It’s a little late because life, and stuff, you know, but it’s finally done! Hope you like it, it’s a light piece to finish the week on a cute note! (Can you tell I’m a big scaredy-cat and just CANNOT DEAL with horror stuff? haha)

I would like to thank the mods who made this event possible, Cherish, Datura and Mango, thank you soooo much, I had so much fun writing all these stories! It got me out of my writing comfoort zone and made me explore genres or themes I probably wouldn’t have explored on my own. Thank you!!

Now that I’m done, I’ll be reading through all the other works submitted and enjoy eveyone’s hard work!

Find this on A03.

Demon in the Dark

The Armed Detective Agency was as busy as ever, but for once, the detectives were not drowning in paperwork. Halloween was approaching and they had decided to host a costume party. All the staff was invited of course, as well as notable clients and other officials who had worked with the agency before. The office had been entirely decorated for the occasion, ghosts and bats hanging here and there, pumpkins and spiders adorning desks and walls; even a bloody trail had been drawn on the floor of the corridor, leading the way from the elevator to the office’s door. As evening was approaching, the detectives were making sure it was all perfect, dusting a shelf here and there or adjusting a decoration on a desk. Food and drinks would be served at the arrival of the first guests. They had spent the day cooking and baking, preparing all sorts of savory and sweet appetizers and cookies: pumpkin tarts, tiny spider-shaped rice balls, cupcakes topped with orange or white buttercream, cinnamon-flavored ghost cookies and other deliciously evil dishes were patiently waiting to be eaten. Several cocktails, with and without alcohol, had been mixed up, ready to be served in massive punch bowls. Some even had lychees filled with cherries floating in them, mimicking a soup made of eyes floating in blood.

All the detectives had dressed up with their best costumes: Kunikida had put extra care in his vampire costume, even bringing a huge coffin to the office, Kyouka was posing as a puppet master, walking around with a stuffed rabbit wearing a dress similar to hers, Rampo was dressed as a witch, massive bag of candies attached to his broom, the Tanizaki siblings were impersonating the monster of Frankenstein and its wife, Yosano was a spider queen, black dress gracefully undulating around her, Kenji had a forest spirit costume on, with moss and leaves hanging from his little antlers, Dazai was wearing the long cape of a reaper and swinging around a giant scythe, and Atsushi had become a mummy, bandages usually reserved for Dazai now dangling around him, sometimes dangerously getting caught around his feet. Even Fukuzawa had dressed up, impersonating what looked like a vampire hunter, having traded his usual kimono for a more Western-looking outfit.

The first guests arrived with nightfall, and soon the office was filled with animated conversations, loud laughter and the sound of clinging glasses. Music was playing in the background, keeping all the costumed guests entertained. Candles had been put around, giving the room a somehow mystic atmosphere despite the electric lights shining above heads. Most of the detectives were delighting the guests with conversations of past cases. Most of them, because Atsushi was just awkwardly standing in a corner, not really sure how to approach the important people filling up the room. As he was new to the agency, he didn’t have much to talk about and was a little intimidated by the fantastic stories his colleagues were narrating. Kenji, who had noticed him from the buffet, approached him with a sweet smile.

“-Atsushi, why are you alone here? You should go and talk to people, it will be fun!

-But I don’t know what to tell them!

-Don’t worry about it. You can just join in one of the others’ conversations, I’m sure you will find some interesting things to say!” The teenager tried to reassure him, pointing to a small crowd that had gathered around Dazai.

Taking the hint, Atsushi left his corner and walked to his mentor, who was extravagantly retelling their last investigation, clearly including exaggerated details here and there. His scythe was only adding to the dramatic effects in his storytelling. The people around him were holding their breath, hanging to his every words, relishing in the nerve wrecking stories. Atsushi blended in the group, amused by Dazai’s manners. The older man’s gaze fell on him, and with a wide flailing of his arms, he wrapped himself around the tiger, continuing his story.

“-Atsushi! This young kid, here! He was so brave! Oh, you should have seen it, my belladonna!” he reached for one of the women’s hand, who blushed and giggled at the gesture, “He ran to the villain head on, not caring for anything else but MY LIFE, and tackled him to the floor, restraining his moves so he couldn’t touch me anymore. I wouldn’t be here to tell this story if it wasn’t for him!” He rubbed his knuckles against the weretiger’s head, ruffling his hair playfully.

The young man didn’t remember any of these things but he smiled as people were praising him, humbly accepting the kind words. Dazai kept with his tale, sometimes coaxing Atsushi into agreeing to a weird detail here and there, although most of them were obvious lies. The tiger was slowly getting more comfortable with the crowd, easing up into his own conversations. Dazai was glancing at him from time to time, happy to see his junior gaining confidence.

Suddenly, the lights flickered a couple times. A few people around the room joked about a ghost or spirit roaming the building, others were laughing nervously. Atsushi looked around, a little anxious. Nothing happened in the following minutes, and everybody went back to what they were doing. The tiger, still tensed, engaged in a conversation with a client he had met a few months back. After about ten minutes however, the lights turned off completely. The only light left was the ominous glow of the candles casting long shadows against the walls. Silence had fallen around the room, people not daring to make too much noise. A few nervous whispers were running around the crowd.

“-I will check the electricity panel, everyone stay put!” Kunikida’s voice flew up from a corner of the office, and soon he passed through the crowd with a candle in his hand, walking out the find the source of the problem.

Atsushi could feel his nervousness grow. As much as he liked Halloween and other spooky things, it still made him a little jittery to think about ghosts and haunting spirits. He suddenly felt a cold breeze blowing against his neck. A high pitched shriek escaped him before he could stop it.

“-Aren’t you a little jumpy, my dear Atsushi?” Dazai voice was whispering right in his ear; the weretiger could sense the mocking smirk gracing the man’s face.

“-D-D-Dazai! That’s not funny!” Atsushi rubbed his neck, trying to erase the uncomfortable feeling creeping up his skin.

“-But I find it extremely amusing.” His voice was teasing, tone a little darker than usual.

Atsushi’s body stiffed at the words. Dazai was up to something, and he was going to be his victim, he was sure of it. Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt the man’s hands on his shoulders, making him jump a little. Dazai’s fingers were trailing up to Atsushi’s throat, tugging at the bandages. As he was about to rebuke his mentor, the lights turned on again, blinding everybody around. The weight of Dazai’s hands lifted from his shoulders, and he clearly heard a frustrated sight behind him. Turning around, he saw his mentor running towards the tall blond who was entering the office again.

“-Kunikida! You saved us! I was so scared; I thought a demon was going to attack me in the dark!

-Shut it, Dazai!”

Atsushi couldn’t help but scoff at the remark. A demon in the dark, he was one to talk! The party went back in full swing. The tiger tried to forget about Dazai and immersed himself in the festive atmosphere again, enjoying the food and entertaining the guests.

Eventually, as night progressed, the office emptied out, people returning home after having enjoyed the thrilling stories and filled their bellies to the brim. Soon enough, only the detectives were left, a little drained from all the socializing. Kenji and Kyouka had fallen asleep on the sofa, Rampo was sprawling on a chair, rubbing his candy-filled stomach. The siblings had just left and Kunikida was already clearing up his desk, while Yosano and Fukuzawa were putting the remaining food and drinks away in the fridge. Dazai was sitting at his desk, lost in thoughts and Atsushi was nibbling on one of the last cookies he had found. Everybody had fun and clients and officials had assured they would ask for the agency’s services in the future when needed. It had been a successful night.

The detectives eventually left the building, leaving Atsushi to close everything. He had stayed behind to swipe the floor a little; they would have a big cleaning day tomorrow, but he had still wanted to get most of the crumbs away before leaving to avoid having any crawling visitors during the night. After he was done with his broom, he checked around the office one last time to make sure no food had been left behind and turned the lights off. As he was about to close the door, a strange noise made his whole body tense. All his senses were alert. A soft scratching sound was resonating through the corridor, as though mice were digging their way through a wall. Atsushi tried to ignore it and closed the office entrance. He put the key in its hole and as he turned it, the sound intensified, getting closer to him. Loud steps were now resonating through the hall as well. Atsushi took a step away from the door as silently as possible. His heart was beating uncontrollably, filling his ears with its frantic pumping. He raised a hand to his chest, clutching the bandages of his costume, hoping whatever was in the room wouldn’t hear the fear inside of him. A small whisper suddenly echoed:

“-Atsushi! I know what you’ve done!” The tiger jumped at the sound. What had he done? His heart started pumping faster, his breathing getting shallower. He tried to reach the elevator, the only light helping him the faint one of the emergency exit sign. The scratching intensified, and the voice started again:

“-Atsushiiiiii! I know what happened! You will be punished for your wrong doing!” Fear made Atsushi’s legs a little wobbly, and as he tried to step back some more, his feet got caught in one of the dangling bandages and he fell back to the floor. He let out a small cry, pain and panic mixing together in his voice. He crawled back a little but was soon stopped by something pulling at the bandages around his legs. The voice, louder than earlier, rose through the air once more, sending horrible shivers down Atsushi’s spine:

“-Atsushi! You have abandoned me! You will pay for this!” The poor man’s mind was filling up with incoherent thoughts, trying to understand what was happening.

He tried to crawl back again but his legs were still stuck. Was he going to die here tonight? As the dreadful thought took over his mind, the lights went on, revealing the tall silhouette of the Reaper standing in front of him, large scythe glistening under the electric light. A loud scream escaped Atsushi’s lips. This was it, this was the end. A sudden clear, happy laugh filled the corridor, stunning Atsushi for a second. The Reaper took its hoodie off, revealing a cackling Dazai, tears almost running from his eyes. Realization soon hit the weretiger and he tried to get up without success, bandages still stuck under his mentor’s feet.

“-Dazai! Stop it already, this is not funny! I was so scared!” The man moved away from him, freeing his legs, but kept on laughing, unable to stop himself.

“-A-A-Atsushi! You should have seen yo-your face!” he managed to let out between giggles.

The younger man huffed, his heart and breathing slowly coming back to normal. Now that fear had washed out of him, he was slowly getting pissed. He couldn’t believe Dazai had played such a trick on him. He knew the man had something planned, but still, this was actually pretty mean. Atsushi gave an annoyed look to his mentor and turned around, deciding to take the stairs instead of the elevator. As he stomped down, he heard Dazai call his name. He didn’t stop until he reached the door downstairs. Running steps were coming towards him.

“-Atsushi, wait!” Dazai quickly reached him and stopped him from opening the front door. “I probably shouldn’t have gone all out like this, but you’re so cute when you’re scared. It’s Halloween after all, I just wanted to mess with you a little.

-I know, Dazai, but still, that was mean! I can’t believe you waited for me just pull this out!” Atsushi turned around to face him, accusing look in his eyes.

“-Actually, I didn’t really wait for you, you almost locked me in the building.” A smirk appeared on his face.

“-Wait, is that what you meant by ‘abandoning you’? Seriously…” Atsushi let out an exasperated sigh, hints of a smile tugging at his lips. He couldn’t remember seeing Dazai leave but hadn’t seen him in a while so he obviously concluded the man had left and was going to close the front door without checking the toilets or anything, which would have successfully locked the man in for the night. He looked up at Dazai, his mischievous look infecting him right away and making him smile back.

“-Okay, maybe I deserved a little scolding. But all that… That was too much.

-I’m sorry, Atsushi. But as I said before, you look adorable when you’re scared, I couldn’t help it.” The young man blushed at the words, gazing at the floor, smile still gracing his lips.

Dazai patted his head softly then walked past him, holding the door for his flustered junior to walk out. He knew Atsushi couldn’t stay mad at him for too long. He had been lucky to see his cute scared face tonight but, most importantly, the look of relief he liked to see on his features so much. It had really been a successful night.

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