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Anatomy of Control

Pairing: doctor! chishiya x f!resident! reader

Summary: you start working as a resident doctor at the sakurazawa university hospital. a certain paediatrician is not very fond of residents, but something about you catches him off guard

Warnings: mentions of hospitals and diseases, chishiya being a smug bastard, there are no explicit details, but some parts are highly suggestive (so I recommend not to read this if you're under 18!)

Word count: ~6.6k

Requested (multiple times)

HELLOOO

I love your writing, so could I ask for a Chishiya imagine where he meet reader in the borderland, and when he wakes up in the hospital he meet reader again and they both remember everything? In a romantic way please! Have a good day love you bye!

you and me found love / lost under the shade

(gn reader / comfort / 927 words) after the meteor hits tokyo, chishiya has an unlikely reunion in a hospital cafeteria

you rub elbows with a lot of people everyday. CHISHIYA SHUNTARO knew this better than most. he had learned to keep his head down; he never spoke of his personal life, only offering snarky comments as they came to mind. he threw himself into his studies, desperate to meet the expectations of a drunken father. it had worked - mostly.

the world had gone dark in the blink of an eye. chishiya had been walking home just after getting off a shift at work. the hospital, as dreary and depressing as it was, felt like home after a while. he had traded the traditional white coat for a thinner cardigan, wandering across the shibuya crosswalk as he made his way home.

then it happened.

a series of firsts

When you ask Chishiya for a simple favor, neither of you are prepared for what follows. tldr: you ask Chishiya to teach you how to kiss.

genre/notes: fluff, borderline smut, ooc-ish!Chishiya x fem!reader

rating: mature (smut implied but not explicit)

word count: 2k

You weren't sure when you had worked up the courage to ask Chishiya such an outrageous favor. Maybe it was the late nights spent together, both of you perched on the worn-out couch, his arm thrown lazily along the backrest, fingers sometimes brushing against your shoulders in a way that sent shivers down your spine. Or maybe it was those fleeting moments when his gaze lingered on your lips, and you couldn’t help but think – wish, even – that he wanted this too.

It was a quiet evening, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced up at him, his calm expression giving you just enough confidence to take a leap of faith.

“Chishiya,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Can you teach me how to kiss?”

Caught in the Fall (Chishiya x Reader)

Summary: “You shouldn’t have come back to my room.” - “You didn’t stop me.”

In the deadly chaos of Borderlands, trust is a luxury no one can afford—especially not with someone like Chishiya.

After barely escaping a brutal game, you find yourselves trapped in a crumbling building, forced to share a single threadbare blanket to survive the cold night.

What starts as necessity soon sparks something unexpected—secret kisses, quiet moments, and small acts of care breaking through the walls you’ve both built to survive

Part 2 here / Part 3 here

Words: 5925

You don’t even know how you ended up in this situation.

One moment you were both buried under a collapsing building, the next you’re cuddling with a person you swore never to be close with.

It wasn’t part of the plan.

Then again, nothing ever is in the Borderland.

The air inside the ruined structure is still thick with dust. Every breath feels like inhaling static—dry and bitter. Outside, the wind howls through the fractured walls, echoing against broken concrete and twisted rebar. The sky’s gone dark, not from nightfall but from the smoke and ash kicked up by the chaos.

And here you are—pressed shoulder to shoulder with him, under a scratchy emergency blanket salvaged from what’s left of a supply box. You’re both bruised and scraped up, the sharp sting of minor injuries flaring with every twitch. Blood crusts on your temple. You’re fairly sure something in your ankle isn’t right. But none of that compares to the surreal reality of being this close to Chishiya.

Shuntaro Chishiya, the infuriatingly brilliant man who rarely speaks unless he’s dissecting your every move. The man who plays games with people’s lives like he’s playing chess in his head. The one who always made it clear—he doesn’t do attachments. Doesn’t trust anyone. Certainly not you.

And yet... here he is. Lying beside you. Sharing body heat. Letting the silence stretch without breaking it.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye.

He’s on his side, facing the ceiling—or what's left of it. His silver hair is dusted with debris, and a thin trail of dried blood runs from the edge of his brow into his hairline. His arms are pulled close to his chest beneath the blanket, and you notice the way his fingers flex every so often, like he's testing for pain without making it obvious.

He’s trying to stay composed. Of course he is.

You shift slightly to ease the pressure on your side, and the movement draws his attention. His eyes slide toward you—calm, analytical, and yet... softer than usual.

He says nothing.

Neither do you.

For a moment, the world is just your breathing, his breathing, and the way the thin blanket does barely anything to keep out the cold seeping in from the broken floor beneath you.

"This wasn’t supposed to happen," you mutter, more to yourself than him.

He’s quiet for a second, then replies, voice low and even: "Neither was surviving that game."

A flicker of something passes through his expression—dry humor, maybe. Or fatigue. Or something he won’t name.

You huff a tired laugh through your nose. “That’s comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He shrugs slightly, and you feel the movement through the blanket. “You’re the one who insisted we go back for the injured players.”

You glance down. “And you didn’t stop me.”

“I was curious how far your altruism would get you.” A pause. “Apparently, buried.”

You shoot him a look. “And cuddled.”

He doesn’t smirk—doesn’t even blink. But the faintest crease touches the corner of his mouth. “Unavoidable,” he murmurs. “Unless you’d rather freeze to death.”

You want to say something sharp, something that puts distance between you again. But you don’t. Because the truth is, it is freezing. Your fingers are already numb, and the warmth of his body against yours is the only thing keeping your teeth from chattering.

Still, it’s not just the cold that’s getting to you anymore.

It’s this… strange comfort. This closeness. His heartbeat, steady and human beneath all the armor he wears.

You’ve never seen Chishiya like this—silent, still, not calculating his next move like everyone else is a pawn. Just… being.

And you can’t help but ask, quietly, “Why haven’t you moved away?”

Another beat of silence.

Then, without looking at you, he replies, almost too soft to hear:

"Because... you're warm."

It’s the kind of answer you expect from him. Evasive. Simplified. But underneath it—layered between every carefully chosen word—is something else.

Something real.

And for once, you don’t question it.

You just let the silence stretch again, this time not uncomfortable, not heavy. Just there.

Like him.

Beside you.

You shift slightly under the blanket, feeling the dull ache in your shoulder and the weight of exhaustion finally settling in your limbs. Chishiya is quiet beside you, not asleep but still. Calm in the way only he can manage after everything collapses—literally and otherwise.

The silence brings memories with it, uninvited but not unwelcome.

And before you know it, you’re remembering the first time you saw him.

___________________________________________________________________________

It started simple. Almost forgettable.

A Diamonds game in a dimly lit tower where trust and logic were pitted against each other in equal measure. You worked in silence, scanning patterns on the wall, sorting false clues from real ones. Most players panicked. Some shouted. A few cried.

He didn’t.

You spotted him across the room—silver hair like a slash of moonlight, hands casually tucked into his hoodie pocket as if this whole life-and-death puzzle was mildly annoying rather than terrifying.

He didn’t try to lead. Didn’t bark orders.

He just watched.

Not the game.

The people.

And then he looked at you.

Only for a second. But it was enough. His eyes flicked to where you’d already solved one of the riddles before he had, and for a moment—just a flicker—his mouth quirked upward in the smallest, subtlest twitch of recognition.

You didn’t smile back.

But you didn’t look away either.

___________________________________________________________________________

Days later, you were sitting alone on the floor of an abandoned metro station, legs stretched out, the sting of shrapnel embedded in your calf making your breath catch. You’d just barely escaped a Hearts game that left more bodies than survivors.

He walked in from the far end of the platform, dragging a half-empty backpack, silent as ever. He looked around once, then spotted you. Paused.

No words.

He pulled out a medical kit—clearly from a previous win—and tossed a roll of gauze toward you with a lazy flick of his fingers.

You caught it midair, confused.

Before you could ask, he just said, “I had extras.” Then walked past you like it meant nothing.

You almost let him go. But something inside you—something stubborn—made you dig into your pack the next day and leave a water bottle in his usual spot on the upper balcony of the observatory. You didn’t wait to see if he took it.

But the next time you were out of supplies, you found a protein bar on your bag when you returned from the restroom.

No note.

But you knew.

___________________________________________________________________________

The shift came in a Hearts game.

You were both unlucky enough to get pulled into it. The rules were convoluted—classic psychological manipulation. One player could sabotage the rest, and the only way to win was to figure out who before time ran out.

Everything went sideways.

A panicked player pulled a concealed knife after being accused. Everyone scattered. The room became chaos.

You saw it before Chishiya did—he was focused on decoding something on the wall, the glint of the blade catching your eye just in time. Without thinking, you lunged. Your hand hit his shoulder, and the two of you went down hard.

The blade caught your back. Not deep, but enough to burn.

The pain didn’t register until you saw blood soaking through your shirt. Chishiya blinked up at you, stunned—more by your action than the fall.

You remember the look on his face.

For once, the usual calm calculation was replaced by something else.

Something like disbelief.

He didn't say thank you. Didn't joke. Just tore a piece of his hoodie sleeve and pressed it to the wound, his hands steady even as his jaw clenched.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said eventually, voice low.

You laughed bitterly. “Neither did you—when you tossed me that gauze.”

He said nothing else.

But when the game ended, and the smoke cleared, he walked beside you the entire way back to the safe zone.

Didn’t ask. Didn’t offer.

He just did.

After that, you never questioned why he kept showing up.

Or why you didn’t mind.

___________________________________________________________________________

Now, lying beside him again, that memory feels closer than it should. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally speaks.

“You remember that game?” he asks, like it’s an afterthought. But you can feel the tension in his voice, the careful way he phrases it—as if asking means something.

“The 7 of Hearts?” you ask, keeping your own tone neutral.

A slow nod. “Why did you push me?”

The question hangs in the air.

You swallow, heart ticking just a little faster, surprised he’s asking after all this time.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Instinct, maybe. Or maybe I just didn’t want to deal with this place without at least one familiar face left in it.”

He hums softly, thoughtful.

Then, a beat later, his voice quieter:

“You could’ve died.”

You let out a breath. “So could you.”

There’s a pause.

Then you feel it—a small shift. His hand, resting between you both under the blanket, brushes against yours. Not intentional. Not overt.

But not accidental either.

You don’t say anything.

And he doesn’t move away.

___________________________________________________________________________

The hours stretch on. You're not sure how long you lie there, pressed against Chishiya beneath the thin blanket, but your body aches less from injury now and more from stillness. Your limbs are stiff. The air has only gotten colder, and you can see your breath in the pale morning light sneaking through the cracks of the broken ceiling.

Neither of you has spoken in a while.

But that’s never made you uncomfortable with him.

Eventually, Chishiya shifts beside you, slow and quiet. His breath hitches, like the movement strains something. You glance over and see him clench his jaw, eyes flicking down to his ribs.

He’s hurt. Worse than he let on.

“You’ve been hiding that,” you say gently.

He doesn’t deny it. “Didn’t seem relevant at the time.”

You sit up slightly, brushing off dust and broken drywall. “It’s relevant now if we’re going to get out of here.”

Chishiya doesn’t argue. Just nods once and watches you with that sharp, observant gaze of his—calculating even in silence.

You crawl to one of the fallen slabs of concrete blocking the doorway. It’s shifted a little since the collapse, probably unstable. You test the edge of it carefully with your fingers. It’s heavier than you expected, but movable. Maybe.

You glance over your shoulder.

He’s already beside you.

“I’ll lift,” he says. “You wedge something under.”

You pause. “You sure?”

He nods, already rolling his sleeves up, teeth grit against the pain. You don’t waste time arguing.

You move in sync—wordless, efficient.

It’s not easy. The slab grinds against the floor with a low groan, and dust rains down from above. Your muscles scream from the strain, and you hear Chishiya suppress a quiet grunt of pain.

But he doesn’t stop.

Not until the slab tips enough for you to wedge a twisted metal pole beneath it. It holds, barely.

There’s just enough space now for the two of you to squeeze through.

“You first,” he says.

You raise a brow. “You're injured. You should go.”

He eyes you, unreadable. “And let you stay behind and do something reckless again? No thanks.”

It’s… the closest thing to concern you’ve heard from him.

You don’t argue. Just crawl through the gap, careful of the jagged edges, until the rubble gives way to open air and biting wind.

Freedom.

You turn to offer your hand—and to your surprise, he takes it.

His grip is warm despite everything. Solid.

You pull him through slowly, his teeth clenched as he drags his body past the debris. He winces when he’s fully out, but the tension in his shoulders loosens once he’s free.

You both sit there for a moment in the grey light of morning. Exhausted. Filthy. Alive.

He exhales, leaning back against a broken concrete pillar, and closes his eyes for a beat. “Well,” he mutters, “that wasn’t ideal.”

You huff out a breath. “And yet, we survived.”

He glances sideways at you, something unreadable in his expression again. “We always do.”

The way he says we doesn’t go unnoticed.

It’s not gratitude. Not affection. Not even a confession.

It’s… acceptance.

Of your presence. Of your place beside him. Of the fact that, somewhere along the way, you stopped being someone he just noticed—and became someone he trusted.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a crushed energy bar, snapped in half. Without looking at you, he holds one half out.

You blink. “Is this your idea of breakfast?”

“Unless you want to fight a tiger next,” he replies flatly. “Take it or leave it.”

You take it.

Your fingers brush again—just briefly—and this time, he doesn’t pull away.

And neither do you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The sun begins to dip below the skyline, setting the shattered city in hues of gold and rust.

You’ve both walked for hours, navigating broken roads and hollow buildings. By the time you stumble across the half-collapsed hotel, your body aches in places you didn’t know could ache. Chishiya walks beside you, a little slower than usual—his side must still be bothering him, though he won’t admit it.

The hotel looks unstable, but familiar enough in its decay to be worth the risk.

Inside, the air is stale but dry. The lower floors are ruined, the lobby reduced to cracked tile and broken glass. But upstairs—after climbing past crumbled staircases and stepping over a dead vending machine—you find the jackpot.

Beds. Real ones.

Dusty. Lopsided. But beds nonetheless.

The rooms are mostly intact. There’s even a functioning door that clicks softly shut when you try it. Two rooms side by side. No threats. No other signs of life.

It almost feels like peace.

You spend the next hour scavenging. Chishiya finds a half-full medical box in what used to be a spa room. You dig through supply closets and snag a few protein bars and two bottles of mostly-clear water. One is slightly expired, but Chishiya just shrugs when you point it out.

“We’ve had worse,” he says.

Which is true.

You both return to the room you picked—the one with a window that still opens—and divide the supplies without speaking much. There's no debate over who gets what. No bargaining. Just an easy, automatic understanding.

As the last of the sunlight filters through the dust-streaked glass, you glance over at him.

He’s seated on the edge of the bed now, arms loosely folded, head tilted toward the window. There’s a faint orange glow along his cheekbone, catching in his pale hair, making him look unreal. Like he doesn’t belong in this world.

But somehow, you’ve never felt more grounded.

You break the silence after a long moment. “Do you miss it?”

He turns toward you slowly. “Miss what?”

“Before.” You motion vaguely toward the city. “The real world. Whatever your life was.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then: “Not really.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“There’s nothing to miss,” he says simply. “Most people just survive pretending they’re alive. Here, at least, there’s no illusion.”

You stare at him, unsure what to say to that. The cynicism is pure Chishiya—but something about the way he says it makes your chest ache. Like maybe, despite the indifference in his voice, there's a quiet thread of loss buried under it.

After a pause, he turns the question back at you.

“You?”

You exhale slowly. “Yeah. I miss… having music in the background. Late trains. Stupid things. The smell of clean laundry. Having somewhere to go that wasn’t life or death.”

Chishiya watches you, eyes narrowed slightly. Not mocking. Not judging. Just… listening.

You offer a tired smile. “And I miss sleeping in a bed that doesn’t try to kill me.”

At that, the corner of his mouth twitches.

Progress.

___________________________________________________________________________

Eventually, night settles fully over the ruins.

Chishiya stands up and stretches, moving toward the door to the room next to yours.

“There are two beds this time,” he says lightly, one hand on the doorknob.

You nod, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah. Guess we don’t have to cuddle tonight.”

He pauses—not long, just for a breath. “Guess not.”

The door clicks softly shut behind him.

You lie down in your bed, adjusting the blanket around you. It's not bad. The mattress sinks in just enough to feel something like comfort. The room is quiet, still.

But it's cold.

And it’s worse, somehow, than last night.

You turn onto your side. Then your back. Then your stomach. Nothing helps. Your thoughts churn restlessly.

Last night… was warm. Peaceful, in a way nothing has been for a long time.

You hadn’t planned to fall asleep next to him, but once you were there—wrapped in that makeshift blanket, with the heat of his body close—you’d slept deeper than you had in weeks.

And now?

Now you're just cold and annoyed at your own neediness.

You stare at the cracked ceiling.

You wait ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.

And then, finally—quietly—you rise.

You don’t bother putting on shoes. Just cross the hallway in your socks, listening for any sound from inside his room. You pause with your hand on the doorknob, nerves fluttering in your chest.

Then you turn it.

The door creaks slightly as you open it. The room is dark, lit only by the city glow bleeding through the window. The bed creaks faintly as Chishiya shifts. You can see him clearly enough—propped on one elbow, watching you enter like he expected it.

Maybe he did.

You close the door behind you, slowly, and move toward the bed.

Chishiya doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask what you’re doing.

He just watches as you lift the blanket and crawl in next to him.

You settle in beside him again, careful not to touch too much. The mattress is smaller than the floor had been. Your shoulders brush. Your legs bump under the blanket.

It’s quiet.

Then, finally, he lifts one eyebrow, dry amusement in his voice.

“Couldn’t resist my charm, huh?”

You snort. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He hums, then lies back down fully, arm folding behind his head.

You lie beside him in silence. The warmth starts to spread again. Not just from his body—but from the stillness. The peace.

A beat passes.

Then another.

Chishiya speaks again—so softly you almost miss it.

“…You sleep better this way?”

You turn your head, surprised.

His face is turned toward the ceiling. He’s not looking at you.

You hesitate.

Then nod once. “Yeah. I do.”

He doesn’t respond right away. But then his arm shifts. Not touching you—just moving a little closer beneath the blanket.

The space between you shrinks again. Just enough.

You let your eyes drift closed, heart still pounding.

And then, in the dark, you hear him say—so quietly it might’ve been a thought rather than a voice:

“Me too.”

___________________________________________________________________________

You don’t remember falling asleep.

Only the steady rhythm of his breathing.

The warmth that slowly seeped through your skin.

The feeling of being held by silence, not alone in it.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the quiet.

Not the panicked kind. Not the empty kind, either.

Just… peaceful.

Then you notice the second thing: you’re not where you started.

You’re closer to him now.

Somewhere in the night—whether by choice or instinct—you must’ve shifted in your sleep. One of your legs is draped over his, and your head has ended up on his shoulder, nose buried slightly into the soft fabric of his hoodie. One of his hands rests loosely at your back. Not tight. Not holding you there.

But not letting you go, either.

The sunlight filters softly through the broken blinds, casting pale gold lines across the wall, the bed, the sharp line of Chishiya’s jaw.

He’s still asleep.

And that alone surprises you. You didn’t think he could sleep like this. So open. So exposed. But he does — his features slack and unguarded, lips parted slightly in rest. The ever-present edge in him has softened.

For a long, suspended moment, you just watch him.

You don’t want to move. Not because of the comfort — though that’s part of it — but because if you shift too loudly, if you break the spell of morning stillness, you might have to face it.

Face what this has become.

Because this is not nothing anymore.

You close your eyes again. Let yourself stay there. Just for a little longer.

But, as if he can hear the thoughts rattling inside your skull, Chishiya stirs beneath you.

His breath catches lightly, then evens again.

A slow blink. Then two.

He opens his eyes, turns his head slightly toward you, and you feel him go still.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t push you away.

Instead, his fingers flex just slightly against your back — the only sign he’s even registered the intimacy of the position.

And then, of course, in classic Chishiya fashion, he breaks the silence with dry irony.

“…You drooled on me.”

You gasp and lift your head instinctively, already about to deny it—before catching the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You scowl. “I did not.”

“Mm. Must’ve been rain, then,” he deadpans, one eyebrow lifting. “From inside the building.”

You groan and shove his shoulder lightly. He allows the push, shifting under you with a soft exhale that’s almost—almost—a laugh.

You move to sit up, but his hand lingers just briefly at your back.

Not to stop you. Just… stays.

And that hesitation—that small, unconscious tether—makes your chest tighten.

When you finally sit upright, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, he follows a beat later, dragging a hand through his hair, still disheveled from sleep. He doesn’t meet your eyes at first.

Neither do you.

But the silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. Not like before. It’s thicker now, weighted with everything you didn’t say.

After a long moment, Chishiya stands and moves toward the window, peeking through the blinds.

“Still clear,” he says. “We should move soon if we want to get to the Beach by sundown.”

You nod and rise, stretching your sore limbs, still feeling the ghost of where your body had pressed against his.

You glance at him again before leaving the room.

He’s looking out the window, but his voice follows you as you step toward the door.

“…If we find another place like this,” he says, quiet but even, “and there’s only one bed again…”

You turn your head, waiting.

He still doesn’t look at you.

“…I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Your breath catches.

But you don’t tease him. Don’t ruin it with a joke. Instead, you nod once — small, sincere — and step into the hallway.

He follows after a moment.

And neither of you say another word about it.

But you both know:

It won’t be the last time.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Beach is louder than you remember.

You walk through the gates with aching legs and dirt on your face, but it’s the noise that hits you hardest: laughter, splashing water, music from someone’s half-broken speaker. It feels wrong, somehow—this joy in the middle of hell. But you suppose survival breeds strange coping mechanisms.

Chishiya walks beside you, his hoodie pulled up to shade his face. He doesn’t speak as you pass through the clusters of half-naked strangers. He doesn’t have to. His posture tells you enough: tense, alert, calculating.

As always.

Still, you notice how his shoulder stays just close enough to yours to be deliberate.

A few heads turn as you both pass. Some recognize him. A few glance at you, eyes lingering—noticing the proximity, the silence between you that's less awkward and more… familiar.

Hatter’s not around, but Kuina spots you almost immediately and jogs over, her usual smirk widening as she takes you both in.

“Well well,” she says, sweeping her eyes over you with a grin. “I didn’t think I’d see both of you again. Figured one of you would have murdered the other by now.”

You glance at Chishiya. “Tempting.”

He hums. “You sleep too deeply to be worth the effort.”

Kuina laughs, but her gaze sharpens slightly as she looks between you. She picks up on it. Of course she does. The small shifts. The softer edges.

“So…” she drawls, eyes twinkling. “You two close now, or just sharing body heat to conserve resources?”

You open your mouth to deflect, but Chishiya cuts in first:

“Both.”

Your head whips toward him in shock. His face is unreadable—but his lips twitch ever so slightly, betraying that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Kuina raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but lets it go. For now.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Beach is quiet at night.

Too quiet.

You lie on the stiff cot in your assigned room, blankets pulled up to your chin. You stare at the ceiling and pretend the bed feels fine, the air feels warm, and the space beside you doesn’t feel… empty.

You last about fifteen minutes.

Then you're up.

Quiet steps across the hallway.

No shoes. No excuses. No hesitation.

The door to his room creaks slightly as you push it open. He doesn’t turn — doesn’t even flinch — just watches you with that unreadable expression as you pad across the room and crawl into his bed.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

You slip under the blanket. He shifts slightly, just enough to make space for you without making it obvious that he was waiting.

His shoulder brushes yours again.

It's familiar now — that quiet warmth. That silence that doesn't ask for permission.

You rest your cheek against the curve of his upper arm and exhale softly. “Separate beds are overrated.”

He hums. “So is pretending this means nothing.”

You don’t answer.

Neither does he.

But you both fall asleep faster than you have in days.

__________________________________________________________________________

The next game is a 8 of Diamone — logic, psychology, trust.

And, of course, betrayal.

The room is a maze of mirrors and timers, each choice leading to a countdown, a riddle, or a trap. You and Chishiya are separated halfway through. You can still hear his voice sometimes through the walls — clipped commands, calm assessments, telling others where not to go.

You hold your own. Until you don't.

One wrong answer. One misstep.

You're cornered in a dead-end hallway with a pressure floor and no visible way out. The timer above your head flashes red — 00:09, 00:08 — and you're too far to run.

You freeze.

Then the door behind you bursts open.

Chishiya is there.

His hoodie is soaked with sweat, chest rising with sharp breaths. “Move!” he yells.

You do — not because your body listens, but because his voice cuts through the panic.

He grabs you roughly by the wrist and yanks you into the corridor just as the trap triggers. The door slams shut. There's a thunderous BOOM behind you, and the force knocks you both forward.

Your knees hit the ground hard. He lands beside you, his arm thrown around your back to brace your fall.

The silence after is deafening.

You're alive.

You turn your head, eyes wide. “How did you—?”

“I heard the timer.”

“You were three zones over—”

“I heard it,” he snaps, sharper than you’ve ever heard from him. His voice trembles at the edges.

You stare at him.

His jaw is clenched. His fingers dig into your wrist, too tight to be casual. His breath shakes. Just once.

And that’s when it hits you.

He was scared.

You’ve never seen it before — not like this. Not from him.

His walls don’t crack. They shatter, just for a second, and you see the truth behind them.

You weren’t just another player to him anymore. You were something else. Something dangerous.

Something that could be lost.

__________________________________________________________________________

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, but it’s already too late for silence.

Without a word, your bodies slam together.

Your lips crash hard and hungry against his, urgent and desperate—like you’re trying to make up for all the time lost, the dangers faced, and the unspoken truths hanging between you.

His hands move fast, rough and possessive, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him with fierce intensity. The fabric of his jacket wrinkles under your fingers as you dig in, anchoring yourself to something solid in the chaos of your racing heart.

His breath is ragged, hot and trembling against your skin, and your own gasps mingle with his in a frantic rhythm.

You’re not gentle. You don’t want gentle. You want raw. Real.

His fingers thread into your hair, tugging you closer, tilting your head with an insistence that makes your pulse spike.

Your arms wrap tight around his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair at the nape, as if holding on is the only thing that might keep you both from falling apart.

There’s no hesitation, no delicate testing — just pure need, spilling out all at once in the rough brush of lips and the sharp bite of teeth.

Your teeth graze his bottom lip, a spark igniting low in his throat as he groans—a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through your chest.

He opens for you, tongue slipping in, claiming and tasting, a silent confession in every movement.

Your body melts into his, the heat between you a sharp contrast to the cool night air drifting through the cracked window. The faint scent of saltwater and sweat and something uniquely him clings to your skin, making the world outside this room vanish completely.

Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it, but his hands never loosen their grip, never let you forget that you’re here, real, and not alone.

You push closer, body pressed tight against his, and feel him respond — a low hum of something fierce and guarded.

His jaw is tense under your fingertips, but his hold never falters.

When you break apart, gasping for air, your foreheads press together, breaths mingling, hearts beating out a wild, shaky rhythm.

His dark eyes hold yours — fierce, unreadable, raw with something unspoken.

Neither of you speaks.

Neither needs to.

You just stay there — caught in the fragile, burning silence of a moment that says more than words ever could.

___________________________________________________________________________

The morning light slips through the cracked blinds, casting thin stripes of gold across the floor.

You’re still there, pressed close against Chishiya, the warmth of his body the only shield against the chill in the air.

Neither of you moves for a long time — just breaths, soft and uneven, the silence heavier than the night before.

His hand finds yours, fingers curling around yours almost instinctively, but his gaze stays fixed somewhere past your shoulder.

You squeeze his hand gently, waiting for him to say something — anything — but he doesn’t.

Instead, he shifts, pulling the blanket tighter around you both, anchoring you in the moment without a single word.

When he finally speaks, it’s quiet, rough at the edges.

“Don’t expect this to change anything.”

You meet his eyes, steady now, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips.

“I don’t.”

But you know it already has.

The unspoken promises, the guarded glances, the way his hand lingers a little longer when he thinks you’re not looking—

It’s all there, under the surface, quietly reshaping everything.

And maybe that’s enough.

For now.

___________________________________________________________________________

Even when he said nothing changed, everything had.

He let you into his heart in the smallest ways — the ones no one else could see.

You understood how you two kissed when nobody was looking — quick, secret touches of lips that spoke more than words ever could.

How he let you borrow his hoodie before the harsh games, the fabric hanging oversized on you but carrying his scent like a shield.

How, without a word, he took care of you in quiet ways — a bandage wrapped a little tighter, a glance that said stay close, a hand resting lightly on your back when you didn’t even realize you needed it.

He wasn’t one for grand declarations or easy emotions, but you saw it all in the way he stood a little closer, in the moments he didn’t pull away.

The diamond game had changed something — not in what he said, but in what he showed.

And you knew, no matter how much he tried to hide it, that you’d become something he couldn’t let go.

___________________________________________________________________________

The night is cold and unforgiving, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones no matter how tightly you cling to a threadbare blanket.

The echoes of the King of Spades’ attack still ring in your ears — shouts, frantic footsteps, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the heavy weight of dread pressing down on your chest.

Somehow, you and Chishiya have been separated from the others, finding refuge in a crumbling building that smells of dust and rust.

You don’t speak. Words feel unnecessary.

Instead, you huddle together beneath the single, thin blanket, the chill forcing your bodies closer.

His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you flush against his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear is a fragile anchor in the chaos.

You close your eyes, letting yourself be held, the warmth slowly replacing the cold that had settled deep inside.

After a long silence, your voice breaks the quiet — a whisper trembling with something more than fear.

“I… love you.”

Chishiya doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers tighten gently around your shoulder, a silent promise.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost reluctant, but laced with something unmistakably real:

“After this… after Borderlands… meet me.”

His words are simple, but they carry a weight heavier than any confession.

It’s a quiet hope, a promise of something beyond the endless games and death.

You look up, searching his eyes — dark, guarded, but shining with a fragile vulnerability.

He doesn’t say ‘me too,’ but you know what he means.

His quiet invitation says it all: he cares.

He wants more.

And for the first time in this cruel game, you feel a flicker of something that feels like hope.

Wrapped in his arms, with the night pressing close around you, you let yourself believe that maybe — just maybe — there’s a future waiting beyond the Borderlands.

___________________________________________________________________________

The first light of dawn creeps through the cracked windows, softening the shadows in the room.

You’re still nestled against Chishiya, the thin blanket now a fragile shield between you and the cold world outside.

Neither of you speaks—there’s no need.

His quiet invitation to meet after Borderlands lingers in the air, a fragile thread of hope woven between the two of you.

You squeeze his hand gently, a silent vow passing between you — that no matter what the games throw at you, you’ll face it together.

Because in this brutal, unforgiving world, you’ve found something rare.

Something real.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s enough.

teach me

pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader

summary: Chishiya is forced to teach a class of medical students. The class is incredibly hard but lucky for you, the professor agrees to tutor you. A dream come true if only he wasn't so distracting

warnings: smut (minors dni), swearing, pwp pretty much, reader has a fat crush on chishiya, she also seduces chishiya for a good grade lol, tension, dom!chishiya, he kinda has a thing for being called professor, dry humping, fingering and oral (fem receiving), y/n is called "good girl" once, unprotected sex + creampie

word count: 5,209

a/n: I'm just horny for Chishiya :D this shit is soooo ooc without proper buildup, but he would be such a sexy professor.

Minors...get out of here

hi bub!! happy 1.5k!🥳💗 this is such a cute and fun celebration, i can't wait to see all the submissions 🤭 i'd like to request prompt 20 from the touch prompts: "fingertips tracing the notches of a spine" with my art buddy, chishiya from aib 💕

hiii miko thank you! i love you 💗

chishiya shuntaro x reader, 540 words

You hear him even in your sleep. The sound of his bag hitting the ground makes you stir slightly, and you force yourself to open your eyes.

It takes a second for you to locate his blurry outline in the dark. He shrugs his coat off at the other side of the room, adjusts it on the hanger you put out for him. Your heart squeezes with something familiar.

“Shiya?” You croak out, trying not to yawn. Your eyes fall shut against your will and you peel them open again. “You’re home late.”

Chishiya chuckles. “I’m always home late.”

He makes his way to you, leaning over and pressing his palm to your cheek. The bed creaks with his weight.

His thumb ghosts over your eyebrow, cold to the touch. “Did I wake you?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, nuzzling into his hand. Something in him thaws at the sight. “I was up already, waiting for you.”

He laughs quietly. “Liar.”

Chishiya couldn’t deny that coming home to you was the best part of each day. He didn’t hate his job, he knew someone had to do the hard stuff, and he didn’t mind doing them. But it didn’t hurt to do the easy things too. To feel your love in person, to be loved by someone with a heart as sweet as yours. He liked everything about you. And he liked that he couldn’t say that about anyone else.

You tsk, wrapping your hands around his arm. Your eyes flutter shut again, sleepiness overbearing. You cling to him like you can’t get enough and tug him towards you.

He lets you pull him into bed next to you. He pretends like he wasn’t just going to do that anyway.

You swathe yourself around Chishiya as soon as he’s close, leg hooking over his and arm going around his waist.

“I missed you,” you murmur, exhaustion colouring your voice. You press your face into the dent of his collarbone. “Could you press my back for me?”

He hums, adjusting so your legs lay more comfortably across his. “Is this why you keep me around?” He asks humorously. “So I can relieve you when you’re in pain?”

Despite this, Chishiya’s hand slips under your tee to splay against your back, fingertips tracing the notches of your spine. Your muscles melt under the pleasant pressure.

“Well,” you say lightly, tilting your face up to look at him. Your nose bumps against his chin as you do, and you’re treated to the sight of his small smile. “You are a doctor. What other use would I have with you?”

Chishiya snorts, but it’s more fond than anything else. “Right, of course. It’s not like you love me or anything of the sort.”

“Of course not.” You grin, even as you press a kiss to his jaw. Your tummy tingles pleasantly with affection.

He sighs, his lips going to your forehead. It’s gentle, but it’s there. “Well, I unfortunately have to admit, I feel the same way.”

You giggle. “That’s obviously a lie. You’re giving me a back massage at, like, 2 a.m.” You yawn, looking up at him triumphantly. “That means you love me.”

For all his intelligence, Chishiya couldn’t argue with your logic.

Post-credits scene

Summary: After a playful date where you scold Arisu for breaking your no-gifts rule, his recorded “post-credits scene” turns into a beautiful reality when the video later plays at your wedding.

Ryōhei Arisu x reader

A/N: My friend convinced me to watch Alice in Borderland after Season 3 came out, and I ended up finishing all three seasons in just two days. I know I’ve been missing out all these years, but anyway, here’s the story you all voted for! Also; how is Arisu underrated in his own show??

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A happy surprise

Arisu x Y/N x Usagi (fluff,polyamory,gender neutral reader)

Warning!: This is not proofread

/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\

You've reunited with Usagi at your highschool reunion. At first you started off as a third but the three of you ended up developing feelings for one another.

You've been living with your boyfriend and girlfriend for over a year now and things were going great.

"How do you think he's gonna react?" Usagi asked hesitantly as she helped you ice the words We're pregnant! on a vanilla cake.

You were a bit surprised when she told you she was pregnant at first but you were going to support your beautiful girlfriend every step of the way.

You planned on surprising Arisu by telling him today. Hence the cake.

"Hmm I think hes gonna be surprised but overjoyed" You smiled,dabbing some icing on her nose,making Usagi smile slightly. You laughed when she gave you a playful shove.

"Hey! cut that out it's bad for the baby"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. "You have no shame pulling that card huh?"

She shrugged before pulling you into a hug. You never understood how such a small action from this woman just made you give in instantly.

"Maybe"

"You're lucky you're cute"

"And you're lucky I like you"

You two spent an extra fifteen minutes just in decorating the cake.

Finally everything was sent up asking with the pregnancy test in the plastic baggy.

You kept watch while Usagi was laying on the couch and taking a nap. It was only the first trimester but this pregnancy was making her tired with all the nausea.

You kept up as the door unlocked and shook Usagi. She merely stirred but wasn't fully awake yet. You didn't want him to find out without her so you were quick to keep your boyfriend by the doorway for now by engulfing him in a hug. "Hi darling" you greeted before giving the signal hoping it'd wake Usagi. "Ka Kah"

Arisu was surprised by the sudden hug but happily embraced it. He was even more surprised by the random bird noises but tried to join in. "Ka Kah?" he smiled albeit he looked confused and desperate for answers.

Usagi was finally up and asleep beautiful as ever. Her hair was slightly messy from the nap but you had to resist the urge to kiss her then and there. "Welcome back,love" she smiled,joining in on the hug.

"Hi" Arisu smiled, hugging you both tighter and placing a kiss on the top of your and Usagi's heads. After that you three finally broke away from your embrace.

"We have something to show you" She smiled and you both held one of Arisu's hands as you lead him to the kitchen.

"Um okay" He smiled, honestly just happy to be here as usual

In the kitchen was a pink frosted cake with the words We're pregnant! written in white. There was pastel balloons on the floor and some soda and three cups on the counter.

"Easy there" You tried to support Arisu as his legs caved in but fell over. Usagi had to help you both up. You felt guilty for making her put work in with her current state but she was the strongest out of you three. Atleast she seemed amused by this whole situation. "Maybe we should've let him sit down first" You muttered with a grunt and rubbed out your sore back.

"Maybe"

For a split second you could see the fear in Usagi's eyes as she met her husband's gaze. She was scared and you couldn't blame her. You tried to be supportive and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

After the shock wore down Arisu was smiling brighter than ever. He hugged her tightly. "We're having a baby?"

She smiled and nodded. "I'm having a baby" He smiled as if it finally dawned upon him. Arisu then ran over to the balcony "We're having a baby!!" he announced to the entire world.

Usagi was dying of embarrassment but you thought it was hilarious. You joined him on the balcony. "We're having a baby!"

You both cheered until Usagi hit you both lightly on the back of your heads. "Shh we'll get a noise complaint. Stop being silly and come get some cake"

Despite her stern tone she had a small smile on her face. You were all overjoyed by this news and it showed.

Masterlist

#alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #aib fluff #aib x reader #arisu x reader #arisu aib #arisu alice in borderland #arisu x you #arisu x usagi #usagi x arisu #usagi x reader #usagi alice in borderland #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #aib season 3