#danma takeru fanfic

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Alice in Borderland characters at Thanksgiving

I am aware that this is incredibly dumb because Japan doesn’t have Thanksgiving lol but I just thought this would be funny. So enjoy!

Arisu

I could see Arisu not even being there because his family sucks and doing a little Friendsgiving thing with Karube and Chota instead

But for fun, let’s say he does go

He’s become a master at finding places to hide and play his games and knowing when and how many times to resurface to make it seem like he isn’t hiding

Sits at the kids table

The kids definitely love him more than the adults

He encourages his cousins to steal money to pay for Fortnite skins

He ends up being the one the shyer kids open up to about their interests, and lets them because he of all people knows how it feels to get put down for your allegedly stupid interests

He (begrudgingly) lets his little girl cousins drag him to the bathroom to raid the makeup drawers and put makeup on him

He dramatically gasps and tells the girls he loves it to make them happy though

Doesn’t get involved in the family drama, but definitely loves to watch the shit go down

Avoids his more conservative relatives and their political conversations like the plague

Karube

Last to arrive, first to leave

Also sits at the kids table because they’re way more fun than the adults

He gets food with his shyer cousins so they don’t have to go by themselves

His designated contribution is the alcohol (he also brings pop for the kids)

Sometimes he’ll make a side dish and it’s always surprisingly completely eaten by the time the night’s over

Tries not to get involved in the political debates… but he almost always gets involved because of that one homophobic uncle

That one homophobic uncle always leaves with a black eye

He watches the family drama and definitely spills the tea to Arisu and Chota at their Friendsgiving

Chota

First to arrive and is immediately put to work in the kitchen

He helps cook everything and actually gets stressed out himself in the process

He texts Arisu and Karube that he’s a horrible cook everything will taste awful this is a disaster… then two minutes later goes “Oh ok the pudding’s thickening now nevermind”

His aunts love how helpful he is and always says he’s such a Sweet Boy for helping them

Also sits at the kids table (let’s just say most of these characters sit at the kids table lol)

Knows from being Arisu’s friend that some kids will hide by themselves for a while, so he tries to make sure they don’t miss out on dinner and dessert

Has become a master at guilt tripping his more conservative family members

If one of his uncles starts saying trans kids have something wrong with them, he turns to him with the look of a kicked puppy and tearfully asks him why he would say something so mean

He doesn’t get involved in the family drama and doesn’t know the context, but when the shit starts going down he texts Karube and Arisu live updates

“Oh shit Aunt Janet told Aunt Carol she’s jealous she doesn’t have a husband OH SHIT AUNT CAROL THREW HER DRINK AT HER WHILE I WAS TYPING THAT”

Usagi

Doesn’t like Thanksgiving because of both the history behind it and her family, but always decides to suck it up and go anyway

Arisu keeps inviting her to Friendsgiving, but she doesn’t want to impose on the guys’ little tradition

If nothing else, than at least she won’t have to cook dinner for herself for once

She quietly helps out in the kitchen

If she brings anything, she brings a side dish that’s not too difficult to make

Either sits at the kids table or sits by herself

She sadly becomes the relative that listens intently to everyone else’s stories and chatter, but gets cut off when she tries to talk about what she’s been up to

She doesn’t get involved in any political debates, but has become an expert at humbling relatives who have awful takes with Judging Looks

She does get a little vindictive enjoy from telling her male relatives that politics makes them really emotional and she doesn’t want to talk to them when they’re so high-strung

Shares the family drama that goes down with Arisu and they laugh about it together

Chishiya

Hates Thanksgiving and everything about it

Only goes for three things: the food, the wine, and the drama

Inadvertently ends up becoming the babysitter of his toddler-age cousins

He has no idea why or how, but at least the toddlers provide some entertainment

Never brings anything, except a bottle of wine that he exclusively keeps for himself

(And maybe his teenage cousins if he feels like being an enabler)

He could hypothetically destroy any of his conservative relatives in a political debate, but chooses not to because he thinks it’s a waste of time

If there’s one thing he does live for at Thanksgiving though, it’s the drama

He’s the one who keeps track of it all and fills family members in on the context of the powder keg that’s exploded this year

“Yes, Aunt Janet, we’re all aware of your devotion to essential oils. It’s too bad you couldn’t find one to keep Uncle Carl from divorcing you.” he says, calmly taking a sip of wine.

Hatter

He’s been designated as the one who brings the wine because he always gets the best

Always arrives fashionably late in a flurry of flashy yet tasteful clothes and cologne

He probably ends up drinking more wine than eating the food

Jumps between sitting at the kids table and sitting with the adults

He’ll sit at the kids table because he always manages to get the kids (or Little Gremlins, as he’s affectionately nicknamed them) to spill the hot gossip to him

He’s become the relative that the younger queer relatives feel the safest coming out to

Because this man is as pan as the day is long and you cannot change my mind

Listen I genuinely feel like if I came out as non-binary to him he would cheer loudly, ask me my pronouns, then get me a celebratory drink

If any of the kids accidentally get drunk on Thanksgiving, it’s entirely his fault

He LIVES for the family drama

He not only participates, but actively instigates it

“Tell me, Carol, is Ken having another affair or was it your bleached blonde head I saw blowing him in his car?”

Then he sends Aguni pictures of Ken’s face as he tries to explain himself to a fuming Carol

Niragi

Always makes sure to bring a main course dish to show off how good at cooking he is

If any of his relatives tell him his cooking sucks, he laughs and flips them off

The one all the other cousins are scared of

And yet the one the great-aunts and grandmothers all think is a nice boy

Somehow gets along with his youngest cousins the best (they’re not old enough to think he’s weird yet lol)

Eggs on their roughhousing

His four-year-old cousin is kicking his sister, his sister is kicking back, and there’s Niragi on the couch with them going “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Could outdrink his uncles and does

Absolutely hates football games. Only puts up with them because he likes to make bets with his relatives and win every time.

Fuels the fervor of political debates by being a troll, just sits there and grins like he thinks Uncle Jim is so fucking stupid for having such incorrect opinions.

Eggs on drama from the sidelines.

Aunt Carol and Aunt Janet are squabbling, and he’s off to the side with a glass of wine going like “OHHH, are you gonna let her talk to you that way, Aunt Carol???”

Just contributes to all the chaos and does not help fix any of it lol

[nessinborderland]

Alice in Borderland -> Fanfiction

-> ♦️ Niragi Suguru ♦️

-> ♥️ Arisu Ryōhei ♥️

-> ♦️ Chishiya Shuntarō ♦️

-> ♠️ Last Boss | Samura Takatora ♠️

-> ♠️ Hatter | Danma Takeru ♠️

-> ♠️ Aguni Morizono ♠️

-> ♥️ Karube Daikichi ♥️

-> ♥️ Segawa Chōta ♥️

-> ♠️ Kuina Hikari ♠️

-> ♦️ An Rizuna ♦️

-> ♥️ Banda Sunato ♥️

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Hey hey hat Stan! Soo I am requesting for the prompt! Can you please write fluff for number 18 with Hatter, Aguni, Arisu,Chi, Kuina, Usagi, and Kuzu? Thanks :D!

@a-simp-20 you sent me this a LONG long time ago, and I JUST got around to finishing it! I'm so sorry for the long wait 😱 I hope you like it!

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

The Prompt: “Oh my god you never told me you could cook”

Midnight Snack

Rating: PG13

Genre: Fluff/Comedy

The kitchen is bustling.

All the lights are on, making the chromes and silvers of the industrial appliances gleam against the white tile walls. Music plays—the kind of thing one would hear in the bathroom of a chain Italian restaurant, jazzy and upbeat instrumentals that echo throughout the cavernous room. It makes it seem like there are more than a mere three individuals inhabiting the space.

Kuzuryuu stands at the stove with a glass of red wine in one hand and a large metal ladle in the other. He leans over a large metal pot and frowns when his glasses get fogged up by the steam.

At the center prep table is Aguni. The apron around his waist has done nothing to protect his shirt from smears of white flour, a fine dusting of the stuff covering him from the tips of his fingers up to his elbows. A collection of eight perfectly symmetrical dough balls rests to his left and he deftly sprinkles his work surface with even more flour.

Hatter has taken one of the other prep tables off to the side. His usual silk robe hangs on a hook by the door, an unbuttoned chef's jacket serving as a shirt. He hums along to the music as he happily runs a large block of some kind of cheese along the side of a box grater.

"Uh," Aguni says, "this isn't what it looks like."

"You mean you're not making pizza in the middle of the night?"

"Nope," Hatter replies, "we're having our post-meeting meeting. The pizza is irrelevant."

Kuzuryuu glares.

"I've been simmering this sauce for over an hour. There is not a single 'irrelevant' thing about it."

"Of course not, Keiichi—I misspoke. Your sauce is a triumph. What I meant to say is that we'd be having the meeting regardless of whether or not we were making pizza."

Kuzuryuu's displeased expression doesn't abate, but he takes another sip of wine and turns his attention back to his sauce.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry, I just," Kuina's expression is one of pleased disbelief, "I didn't think you guys could cook!"

"Au contraire, Chisiya's mysterious tall friend," Hatter says smugly, "I'll have you know that I am famous in a few social circles for making the best quiche in Tokyo."

"I've had it," Aguni adds, grabbing a ball of dough and slapping it down on the table, "For once, he's not exaggerating."

"Hey, I do not exaggerate," Hatter snips, "That is the worst lie anyone has ever told in the history of forever—"

Aguni smacks the dough again, this time in anger.

"Is it? Is it really the worst lie?" He starts aggressively kneading so the dough begins to stretch out into a small, lopsided circle. "Has nobody told a lie that is more deadly, more destructive, more dangerous—"

Kuzuryuu whacks the metal countertop with a stainless steel pan, creating a loud crash that echoes throughout the room. The squabbling stops immediately.

"Sauce is done," Kuzuryuu announces, taking the pot off the heat and transferring the pot to a wire rack to cool. He crosses his arms across his chest and addresses the quadrant of intruders. "You guys wanna stay? We've got enough to go around."

The young friends look to one another, silently discussing the offer. Finally, Arisu speaks.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

With more than double it's previous occupants, the kitchen becomes even more lively—the music can barely be heard over the various conversations being held between the blended group of unlikely pizza-makers. Wine is poured, plates are distributed, and for the first time in a very long time, everyone feels almost normal. Normal enough, anyways, to set aside their differences and pretend to be friendly.

"Hey, uh," Aguni says sheepishly as he pushes a plate of unbaked crust towards Usagi. He looks viscerally uncomfortable, his usual proud stance slightly hunched into a timid slump, "Sorry about the thing at the pool the other night. I should've...I mean, Niragi. I shouldn't have let him imply...what he was implying. It was wrong of me to let that go."

"And stupid," Hatter calls out. He stuffs a pinch of shredded cheese into his mouth like he's eating popcorn at a movie theater. "Arisu says she can do a backflip! She could kill you!"

"Not sure what backflips have to do with murder," Chisiya says, "but I'd love to find out."

"I think she should get to punch you," Kuina suggests. She has her head stuck in the refrigerator, inspecting the various random goods stocked inside. With a delighted little 'ah!' she pulls out a bag of vegan shredded cheese. "And then Arisu should get to punch you, too, because you were mean about his friends. And then I should get to punch you—"

"There will be no punching," Usagi decrees. She takes the unbaked crust and looks Aguni straight in the eye. "Aguni already knows how much of a pathetic disappointment he is. Why do I need to waste my time and energy reminding him?"

Everything falls silent. Aguni is a vicious shade of red-purple in the face, but he nods in acceptance. Usagi takes pity and pats him on the arm before leaving, mumbling something that sounds like "do better" as she walks away.

"Arisu," Kuzuryuu calls out, "I need someone to taste the sauce. Would you be up for the challenge?"

Arisu's whole expression lights up, head nodding at an almost incomprehensibly fast pace as he excitedly takes his plate over.

Kuzuryuu dips a metal teaspoon into the sauce and hands it to Arisu, who looks very pleased to have been given the important task of tasting the final product.

"This is good," Arisu praises. "What's in it?"

Kuzuryuu looks to the rest of group and sips his wine. No one appears to be paying attention to them, so he leans in a little closer to Arisu as if he's sharing a secret.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, kid," Kuzruyuu says. "This sauce is from the Pizza Hut down the street. All I did was throw in some extra garlic and heat it up."

Arisu furrows his brow.

"But didn't they notice—?"

Kuzuryuu shakes his head.

"Too busy flirting or fighting to pay attention. Honestly, I don't mind it," he says, "Not like we get TV here, so a man's gotta make do."

He ladles a generous helping of sauce onto Arisu's dough. Arisu watches as he spreads it to the edges, the circular motions of the ladle hypnotic in his eyes.

"I won't tell the others," Arisu promises. "Everyone has their secrets. I'm just glad I know yours."

Kuzuryuu stops for a second. Arisu's gaze snaps up, confused as to why his new friend has stopped saucing. Kuzuryuu clears his throat awkwardly.

"...Yeah," he says, ladling an extra amount onto Arisu's pizza. "Yeah, you got me all figured out, kid."

"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Over at the toppings station, crisis has apparently struck. Hatter looks horrified as he watches Chisiya spread a heaping spoonful of green onto the base of his dough.

"I'm making pizza Genovese," Chisiya replies, his Italian accent suspiciously perfect. "It was a favorite of mine when I was in Portofino."

"Pesto goes on top," Hatter argues. Like he is with everything else, he seems very passionate about pizza-making protocol. "You use it to make a little swirly pattern to make it pretty. Everybody knows that."

"You seem like you have it all figured out," Chisiya says snarkily. With practiced precision, he begins selecting slices of tomato and arranging them carefully on top of the Pesto. "Why don't you enlighten us?"

"You wouldn't get it," Hatter sniffs. He wraps an olive in a slice of pepperoni and puts it in his mouth. "I invoke the name of Papa John and let his spirit guide me."

"He closes his eyes and throws whatever we've got left onto the dough," Aguni explains dispassionately, "then cheese, then sauce. We always make him go last because it's such a mess."

"Hm. I should've known," Chisiya hums. "Only a man like you would be able to make pizza that incorrectly."

"You're just jealous," Hatter gloats. He snatches the tomato slice Chisiya had been intending to take and eats it, making sure to chew extra loudly as the younger man watches. "My method is genius. I don't know what's going to be on my pizza until I eat it. Every bite is an adventure. Your tiny, sad brain can't even begin to comprehend the symphonic flavors and textures I'm able to get—"

"Hey, uh," Arisu interjects. He stands between the feuding men awkwardly. "Sorry, I just wanna get some cheese. You guys are kinda...holding up the line."

Chisiya looks over his shoulder. Sure enough, Usagi and Kuina are waiting patiently for their turn to add toppings to their pizzas, Aguni queuing up a safe distance behind. Chisiya sighs and sprinkles his creation with a handful of finely-grated parmesan.

"My apologies," Chisiya says. He then turns his attention back to Hatter. "To everyone but you, of course."

And before Hatter can give a response, Chisiya saunters off towards the oven, not paying anyone any bit of mind.

The rest of the group assembles their pizzas. Arisu makes plain cheese, stating with confidence that the simplest things are sometimes the best. Usagi agrees, although her pie is topped with every kind of meat available. Kuina chooses olives and onions to top her heaping mound of vegan cheese, while Aguni makes himself one with pepperoni and mushrooms. Kuzuryuu's pizza is topped with arugula and prosciutto, and Hatter...well, he does exactly as Aguni described earlier, making a mess not only of the table but of himself.

During the time it takes for their pizzas to bake, the group settles into comfortable conversation. Wine helps ease the tensions between them and makes the conversation flow—and only a handful of squabbles break out, which are quickly squashed in favor of just having a good time.

And while they may all go their separate ways after the pizzas are eaten and the wine is gone, this unlikely group of amateur chefs will have at least one happy memory from their time in the Borderlands.

[daidonzo]

Stumbled Beginnings:

Chapter 1 - Dinner and Diatribes

Prologue

Co-written with @spacewitchqueen ♡

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Andrómeda García hated her own name. She never told it to anybody, unless they specifically asked for it. And, even if they did, it was quickly followed by ‘but you can call me Andro’, which was not any better because it made her sound like a humanoid robot, but at least it was easier to remember. What were they thinking, her parents, naming her after a constellation?

It had already been a few days since she had gone with her friends to that karaoke bar, and had given her number to the good-looking military guy who sang ABBA. He hadn’t called. Or texted. The first day, she had been waiting by the phone, looking excitedly at the screen every time it rang, hoping it was him. Then… She kind of had forgotten about it. If he hadn’t got in contact yet, he probably wouldn’t do it. It was fine, there were plenty of fish in the sea.

That’s why she was so surprised when she heard her phone’s ringtone and, after getting it out of the back pocket of her jeans, saw she didn’t have the number of whoever was calling in her contacts. Maybe spam? She was walking her dog, a huge rottweiler named Goliath, who had just decided to stop and sniff the corner of a building, where probably many other canines had gone to the toilet. This would take some time, then. She answered.

‘Hi, Andrómeda here.’

How she hated saying that.

‘Ah. That’s your name then.’

She frowned, slightly. She didn’t recognize the voice.

‘Yes, and you are…? Sorry, I don’t have your number registered.’

‘It’s Aguni. From the… Karaoke bar?’

The frown became a lopsided smile.

‘Ah, yes! Of course, sorry. How have you been?’

Goliath used the fact that they had stopped to go to the bathroom himself. Number two. She raised her eyebrows at him, mouthing ‘Are you serious, right now?’ and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, getting a plastic bag out of her jacket and squatting to pick up the surprise.

‘Good, good. I’m calling you so that you also have my number.’

‘Great, thanks!’

Was that it? Really? Andrómeda was holding Goliath’s leash with one hand, a plastic bag full of poop with the other and the phone with her shoulder as well as she could. She had seen jugglers doing less than what she was doing. And all so that she could also get his number?

Her playful smile reappeared. Maybe he just needed a little push and she had never been shy a day in her life.

‘So…’ She started, filling the silence. ‘Would you want to go get dinner? Maybe have a couple of drinks after? Tonight?’

She stood up and moved towards a trash can, dumping her dog’s excrements in there. She went back to holding the phone normally, with her hand, against her ear, stretching her neck first to one side, then to the other, until she heard a cracking sound. Then she kept walking.

‘Yes, I would like that.’

‘Perfect! Do you want me to choose the place? Is there anything in particular you want to eat or…?’

‘I don’t mind. My friend is allergic to tree nuts, though.’

‘Your friend?’ She pressed her lips together, trying hard not to laugh, not knowing if he was serious or not but finding the situation quite funny. She was asking him out on a date about a minute ago and he had already invited his friend.

‘Yes, Takeru. I think maybe you saw him in the karaoke bar.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember now.’ Also a handsome man, but not really her type. ‘Mind if I bring a friend of my own, then?’

But she had already put Aguni on speaker and was going through her contacts, trying to find someone who would agree to this travesty. She found nobody. Maybe someone who owed her a favor, then?

Andrómeda smiled, having thought of somebody already. She scrolled back to her Favorite contacts, clicking on her best friend’s name. She was already writing a text when Aguni replied. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Hi Airi, do you remember how you owed me a favor because of that thing I did for you? It’s time to pay your debts. Feel like going on a double date with me, the guy I’m interested in and his friend? :D’ The text read.

‘Perfect! It’s a double date then. I’ll text you the details. Byeeeee.’ She made sure to pronounce the words ‘double date’ as clearly as she could and to pause before and after them. She wanted him to have no doubts about this whole thing.

She smiled to herself, slightly confused, but also entertained by this whole situation and kept walking Goliath.

Aguni hung up the phone. It had gone well, in his opinion. He was going to see Andrómeda, now he knew her name, that same evening. So he had secured a date. Way better than Takeru had thought.

He called his friend.

‘Hello, tiger, how did it go with your girl?’

‘Her name’s Andrómeda.’

‘Exotic, interesting. Loving it. Did you ask her out?’

‘Actually, she did. She asked me to go to dinner.’

‘Fierce.’

He heard the sound of a notification - a text message from Andrómeda. There was an address of a restaurant and some text accompanying it. ‘Is 8 pm good for you?’

‘Yeah, we are meeting at 8 pm. Does it work for you?’

‘What do you mean for me?’ Takeru asked, the tone of his voice revealing surprise.

‘I told her I was bringing you.’

His friend burst into laughter.

‘Unbelievable,’ he said, after he calmed down. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think she wanted to meet just the two of you, man.’

Aguni hadn’t even considered that possibility, but now… He shrugged. There was nothing to be done about it.

‘Well, she didn’t seem to mind. She said something about a double date.’

‘So I have to go on a date too?’

‘So it seems.’

It was a busy day for Airi, she’d been rushing all morning and had barely had the chance to look at her phone. She had half a dozen texts when she finally took a break. One of them caught her attention. Airi reread it just to make sure she was not misunderstanding.

‘A double date? Oh, Andi.’ Airi sighed but started texting her friend back, she knew she couldn’t refuse her that small favor, Andrómeda had been there for her when she had needed someone and Airi was glad to hear she was interested in a guy, whoever it was. How bad could it be? ‘I’ll be there, text me the details.’

Later that day, Airi was having second thoughts. She was tired after a long day at work and wasn’t feeling particularly social. She thought about backing out of the deal but she felt bad, she had already bailed out on the karaoke bar a few nights ago, she could not possibly cancel again.

‘I just have to do it this one time.’ Airi reasoned with herself as she changed into a dress. She would have worn her usual black but she knew Andrómeda would roll her eyes and say something like ‘too gloomy for a first date’ so she settled for a light pink dress but she added an extra coat of the blackest mascara she owned to her lashes, for balance.

Airi arrived at the restaurant five minutes before the agreed time.

‘Good evening. Do you have a reservation?’ the hostess asked, smiling brightly.

‘Hi, yes. Ah, it should be in Andrómeda García’s name.’

The hostess checked her list and nodded. ‘This way, please.’

As she walked to the table Airi felt something very much like nerves somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t been on a date in a few months, much less a blind date. What if the guy was unpleasant? What if he was boring? It’s not your date , she reminded herself. You’re here so your friend can hang out with the guy she likes… who apparently can’t come on a date alone .

Airi greeted her friend with a hug, she was alone at the table, the guys hadn’t arrived yet. Good, she was hoping she’d have some time to talk to Andro about them.

‘So, what’s the deal with this guy you like, what’s his name and why does he need a chaperone?’ Airi asked her friend.

‘Honestly? I don’t know.’ Andrómeda shrugged, lips pursed. ‘His name’s Aguni, he’s part of the military. So you know, exactly what I like - big, rough, strong.’ She lifted both her arms, flexing her biceps to make her point. ‘We met in the karaoke bar, he called me today, and didn’t ask me out, so I did. I was asking him if he had any preferences regarding the restaurant and that’s when he told me his friend is allergic to… seafood? Nuts? Something like that.’ She kept gesturing with her hands as she spoke, a spark of amusement in her eyes as if she found this whole thing funny. ‘To be honest, he was not very forward before either. Maybe he hasn’t dated in a while and needs emotional support, and instead of getting a dog, he gets this Takeru friend of his. But it’s cool! Maybe you could take him to the bar after dinner so that we can be alone for a little bit?’

Their conversation was interrupted when two men approached their table, they stood up to meet them. Going by Andrómeda’s description, Airi recognized the man with the military haircut as Aguni. So the other man, the one with long hair and a carefree attitude must be his friend, Takeru. Airi had to admit he was handsome.

Aguni greeted them politely. He seemed reserved but he looked truly pleased to see Andrómeda. Airi liked that.

‘What’s with the formality?’ Takeru asked. Airi was shocked when Takeru pulled Andrómeda and her into a hug, as if they had known each other for ages.

Here we go, Airi thought as she sat down. It was going to be an interesting night.

Andrómeda had been in the middle of her monologue, trying to summarize to Airi everything that had happened with Aguni in around thirty seconds, like an elevator pitch, when the guys came in.

She stood up, just a tad bit uncomfortable in the skin-tight very-itchy golden dress she was wearing to greet both of them. Especially Aguni, who looked even better than the night they had met.

‘Andrómeda, right? Is that the correct pronunciation?’

She cringed at the mention of her own name. ‘It is, but ditch it. We can go by Andro, Andi, Meda… Whatever you want. It’s a constellation, one of the biggest ones… My parents are hippies.’

‘It’s beautiful. It suits you.’

The evening might not be a total loss. She thought to herself, smiling and biting her lower lip at the same time. Din, din, din, he had just scored so many points. She was about to reply when Takeru pulled her and Airi into a hug, which she awkwardly returned, looking at Aguni with a face that she hoped meant ‘Is he always like this!?’. The military man just nodded almost imperceptibly and chuckled.

Andrómeda looked at her friend, knowing she was more of an introvert. She gave her a quick, apologetic, thankful smile while sitting down next to Aguni. She was now in her debt, forever and always.

‘So, girls.’ Takeru clapped, attracting their attention. He was very… Energetic, to say the least. Andrómeda wished her and Airi would have a telepathic channel just to know what she was thinking at this particular moment. ‘Let’s start off with the easy questions. What do you do?’

Andrómeda leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and steepling her fingers before her. ‘What do you think I do?’ She gave a playful smile, but went back to her original position within a few seconds. ‘I am a kindergarten teacher.’

She watched Aguni’s reaction from the corner of her eye. He seemed to like that. Seems like she also had scored some points.

Airi was still processing Andi’s casual suggestion to ask Takeru to go get a drink at the bar, feeling like another one of their friends would have been a better fit for the task, maybe Kuina, but even though she felt slightly out of place, some part of her was glad she was the one here. Andrómeda’s voice brought Airi out of her reverie just in time to say what she did. ‘I am a makeup artist.’

‘It shows.’ Takeru winked.

‘Thanks?’ Airi said, unsure if he was serious or not. She looked at Andrómeda for help, luckily she understood the cue and turned towards Aguni.

‘I know you are part of the JSDF.’ She looked Aguni in the eye. Showing him she remembered what he had said in the karaoke bar was also a way to let him know she was very interested, right? ‘So the only unknown is you.’ She pointed towards Takeru, who laughed.

‘I am a hatter.’ That was really not the answer Andrómeda was expecting, and it was reflected on her expression. He laughed again, harder this time. ‘I used to run a club in Tokyo, but when my father passed away, I took care of the family business.’

That did make more sense. It did suit him a lot better.

A waiter came by with a notepad and a pen, to ask if they wanted anything to drink.

Andrómeda opened her mouth, and was about to answer, but then thought better. She moved her body so that it faced Aguni. ‘Hm, it depends. Are you going to take me home tonight?’ She asked straightaway, apparently serious, but anyone who knew her enough could see the way the edges of her lips curved, if only slightly. ‘I don’t mean your house, I mean if you could drop me at mine, of course,’ she added, innocently, fluttering her eyelashes.

Aguni did look taken aback for a second, but had a quick recovery. ‘Of course.’

‘Then a glass of red wine, please,’ She told the server, flashing them a brilliant smile.

‘Bring the bottle,’ Takeru said, and now it was Andrómeda’s time to laugh. A man after my own heart.

She was trying hard to divide her attention between Airi, hoping she would not be too uncomfortable or better yet, that Takeru would not make her too uncomfortable and Aguni, who she was just swooning over, but she wouldn’t admit it. Not just yet.

While they were checking the menu, he asked her more about her life, her work, her hippie parents, Goliath, her home country - which he was surprised to find was basically Japan, because she had lived here since she was three years old - and her tastes in music, movies, food, hobbies and everything in between. She answered all of his questions, but had some of her own. And while the exchange of information was not a hundred percent equal, him being more reserved than her, she didn’t mind. She was not in a rush to discover everything about him and the secrecy, for now, kept her very interested.

The conversation slowed down while they ate. Airi was happy to see Aguni and Andrómeda appeared to be very much into each other already. Good, it meant that they would not need a similar arrangement for their next date.

She was glad about that, right? Takeru was attractive and had a very interesting vibe about him, like one of those people who just get up one day and decide to move to another country, that sort of spontaneity, but would she really like to see him again, to date him? And that’s when Airi realized he was there to support Aguni, just as she was doing for Andi, it didn’t mean he wanted a date. For all she knew Takeru had a girlfriend, a boyfriend, maybe he was married?

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Takeru asked, refilling Airi’s wine glass. ‘Say when.’

‘When,’ Airi said, taking her glass and thanking him with a nod. ‘I was just thinking—’

‘About me, obviously,’ Takeru interrupted her.

Airi would have laughed it off but the comment caught her by surprise, and since she had actually been thinking about him she couldn’t come up with a witty reply as fast as she would usually have. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Takeru.’ Airi shook her head. ‘I was just trying to picture both of you at the karaoke. I don’t believe Andi told me how you did?’

‘We were magnificent, of course,’ Takeru replied.

‘Ah, and he’s modest as well, charming,’ Airi ribbed.

‘Modesty is overrated, we were really good. How do you think your pretty friend noticed my unassuming man?’ Everyone laughed.

The waiter came back to ask if anyone wanted dessert. Both men declined but Airi and Andi’s eyes lit up and decided to share a slice of chocolate cake. The guys were talking about their day, finishing the last of the wine. Andrómeda looked at Airi and mouthed the word ‘bar’, pushing the last piece of cake towards her as a peace offering. Airi rolled her eyes but nodded.

Airi turned towards Takeru. ‘Do you want to get another drink, fruity cocktail maybe?’ she asked him, trying to sound as natural as she could, and why was she suddenly nervous?

‘Lead the way.’ Takeru stood up at once, bowing to Aguni and Andrómeda and helping Airi push her chair back.

Andrómeda feigned surprise when Airi asked Takeru to get a drink at the bar and they both stood up from the table. But it seemed Aguni had been paying more attention to her than she had thought, because he could already recognize the mischievous spark suddenly appearing in her dark eyes.

‘Was this your idea?’

‘My idea?’ She shook her hand, as if that thought was smoke lingering in the air and she wanted to dissipate it quickly. ‘Not at all.’

But her grin and the way she looked at him told a different answer.

He simply chuckled, and then turned serious for a moment.

‘Actually, I wanted to apologize. When you asked me to go to dinner I didn’t really think it through. I just assumed you meant with friends, as friends.’

She raised one eyebrow. She wasn’t expecting that.

‘Aguni��’ She was already pronouncing his name as if it was an incantation by a very powerful wizard. Almost with reverence. She liked the guy more than she had thought at the beginning. What was this tingling sensation? Oh, she was about to grab the glass of water and throw it to her own face. They were not teenagers any longer, but she was feeling butterflies. ‘Don’t worry about it, really.’ She patted him on the arm, reassuringly, but let her fingers rest there a few moments longer. She almost forced herself to take them away. ‘Plus, look at it this way. This is something that has never happened to me. It’s new, it keeps me interested.’

His smile left Andrómeda feeling like she needed some extra air. She grabbed her glass of wine and swallowed the remnants. Suddenly her tight dress felt like a boa constricting and suffocating its prey.

She kept talking, only then. ‘But I don’t want to be friends. Unless that is the only thing you want, of course.’

There it was. The cards were now on the table.

And she felt nervous, which was not something she was really used to.

‘No, it’s not the only thing I want.’

Andrómeda had to stop herself from doing a little celebratory dance.

Instead, she opted for smiling, like a normal person.

‘Good.’

Fuck, Airi. She suddenly thought. She, very reluctantly, took her eyes off of Aguni’s and stood up so that she could see the bar area over the heads of the people dining. She thought she saw them talking while having a drink, but couldn’t really be sure. After all, she was not wearing contacts and she was slightly nearsighted. She sat back down.

‘Do you think we need to go save them?’

Aguni lifted his shoulders. ‘I think Takeru likes her.’

He, very casually, moved his hand towards hers, which laid on top of the table, so that they would come in contact.

‘I’m worried about whether she likes him,’ she emphasized.

But their hands felt good together and those two would be okay for five more minutes.

Right?

There were just a few other people at the bar: a man in a business suit, clearly having a drink before going home; and a couple of lovebirds, so into each other they hadn’t even touched their drinks.

‘I’ll have what they’re having,’ Takeru said, louder than Airi would have liked. She felt her cheeks turning red. The fact that Takeru took her hand to help her get onto the barstool did not help with the blushing. He sat next to her, their knees touching.

The bartender approached them. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Vodka ginger ale,’ Airi said, glad that her voice was steadier than she felt.

‘Vodka soda splash,’ Takeru said at the same time. ‘Aha! Vodka! Flawless taste.’

Airi smiled. ‘Likewise.’

‘Yeah, but we already knew that.’ He looked her up and down.

And Airi’s face was burning again. The bartender set two coasters down and placed their drinks in front of them. Airi grabbed her glass, drinking deeper than she intended. Takeru was still looking at her with an amused expression.

‘I think you should pace yourself, unless you’re trying to get me drunk.’ He winked and downed half his glass in one gulp.

‘Shouldn’t you pace yourself?’

‘Nah, Aguni’s the designated driver.’ Takeru shrugged. ‘So. Why did you want to get me alone?’

‘What?’ Airi asked, taken aback.

‘That’s why you suggested coming to the bar, right?’

‘No? Andrómeda wanted to have some time with Aguni, I thought you’d—’

‘Relax, I got it.’ Takeru interrupted her, throwing his head back and laughing. ‘Still, glad you asked. Now, we could sit quietly with our drinks, but since we’re here, we might as well talk.’

Airi dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from grinning like a silly girl. He had a point. Just because this wasn’t a date for the two of them, it didn’t mean she couldn’t ask him about himself, right? What did she want to know? ‘How was it like, running a club?’ Airi asked the first question that popped into her mind.

‘Not as fancy as it’s cracked up to be.’

‘Oh, right.’ Airi snorted. ‘I’m sure you didn’t get to party at all, and I’m also sure you don’t have any fun stories.’

Takeru laughed out loud. ‘There was some of that, sure. But it was also a lot of bookkeeping and boring administrative stuff.’

‘But you still liked it, right? Don’t you miss it?’ Airi propped her elbow on the bar and rested her face on her hand.

‘Sometimes,’ Takeru admitted. ‘I have thought about trying it again. Opening a club, maybe with a beach theme. There would be a dress code, of course, everyone has to wear beach-appropriate clothes.’

‘I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.’ Airi’s shoulders shook with laughter. ‘But you’re funny, I’ll give you that.’

‘Girls love a good sense of humor.’

‘And there’s that modesty again, you’re quite the catch.’ Airi was joking, but she could imagine him to be a bit of a ladies’ man. Or maybe not just a bit?

‘Not that anyone has managed to catch me,’ Takeru said proudly.

And there it was. To Airi that meant he wasn’t interested in dating her. Her phone buzzed giving her an excuse to look away from him. ‘I see. Well, I think it’s time to go.’

‘My little brother’s name is Hércules and my sister’s Cassiopeia.’

‘Your parents were really committed to the names.’

‘Indeed.’ Andrómeda laughed, her fingers now intertwined with Aguni’s.

It had been a long time since she was this comfortable with someone.

She almost didn’t want the date to end, which was surprising. Usually she would pretend to go to the toilet and then run away before even ordering any starters. But with Aguni… Well, it was different. She was not in love, and she was not dumb enough to believe he was either. But he was a safe place. He listened to her. He treated her with respect. And, on top of everything, he was easy on the eyes. It was a nice change.

‘Is there anything else I need to know?’

‘Before our next date that you are going to be the one planning?’ They had come to that agreement a few minutes ago. Andrómeda had no doubt that Takeru would be involved in the organization somehow - maybe even in the date itself, but she didn’t say anything. ‘Hm… I love dancing.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. Any type of dancing. I went to classes of literally everything when I was a kid: flamenco, ballet, urban, belly dancing… You name it, I have done it.’

‘Do you want to go dancing?’

‘When?’

‘Now?’

His smile was a catalyst for her own. She rubbed her chin, thinking about it. Or pretending to think about it, because she already had the answer.

‘I’d love that.’

Her eyes moved towards the bar, narrowing them until they were nothing but two brown slits so that she was able to see a little bit better. ‘Should we tell…?’

‘I know Takeru will come if we ask him. We can also just dump him home and go just the two of us.’

Andrómeda pondered for a second what the best way to approach this was. She looked for her phone in her bag, hoping Airi wouldn’t have it on mute.

‘One sec,’ she said, letting go of Aguni’s hand reluctantly. But she didn’t want to just show up out of nowhere and tell her friend ‘hey, do you want to go dancing?’ and create an uncomfortable situation. She didn’t know whether she liked Takeru or found him an ass. So she texted her.

‘Airi, dancing now? Yes/no? Takeru in general? Yes/no?’ She wrote as fast as she could, adding a bunch of smiling emojis. Then she looked at Aguni.

‘I’m asking Airi before we actually go and ask them .’

‘You’re a good friend.’

‘Am I, really? Maybe Airi will murder me in my sleep tonight if she doesn’t like Takeru. No offense whatsoever towards him.’

‘None taken.’ She had already explained to him that Airi was more of an introvert, so Takeru and her were polar opposites. And yes, opposites attract, or so the saying went, but… ‘Maybe I’ll have to stay with you tonight to make sure that doesn’t happen.’

Andrómeda could have screamed at that, but she kept her composure. Her heart was hammering.

‘You don’t think my dog, who weighs forty-something kilograms and is considered potentially dangerous could protect me?’ She joked. Her internal monologue went something more like please stay, please stay, please stay, please stay, please stay…

‘Best to make sure.’

She checked her phone, trying to hide her blushing face and her idiot smile behind the device.

‘Let’s go, she already answered.’

Airi reread the text Andi had just sent her. She bit her lip thinking how best to reply. How could she say no to dancing? Andrómeda and her had always loved dancing, that’s how they had met, at a dance class a few years ago, and they had been good friends ever since. Airi looked over at the table, Andi and Aguni were smiling at each other. She knew she could call it a night and ask them to take her home, but if she had to be honest with herself, she wasn’t having a bad time. Sure, it had bummed her out to hear that Takeru might not be interested in going out with her after tonight but hell, they were already here and she had dressed up, it would be a shame to let that go to waste.

‘Dancing, YES! Takeru, complicated???’ Airi texted back. She knew Andi would ask her what all the question marks meant but she couldn’t very well explain that with him sitting inches away from her.

‘It’s rude to text someone else when you’re on a date,’ Takeru teased her.

Airi very much wanted to reply with ‘well it’s rude to tell someone you don’t want to date them when you’re on a date’ but she held her tongue. They were not on a date, she reminded herself, Aguni and Andi were. ‘Come on, let’s go. I think the plans have changed.’

‘There was a plan?’

‘Apparently. But we’re going dancing now.’ Airi jumped down from the barstool and cocked her head. ‘If you’re up for it.’

‘Is that a dare? Well, I’m an amazing dancer, just so you know.’

‘Oh, really?’ Airi looked at him, half amused, half incredulous.

‘I used to run a club, remember? Do you dance?’

‘Sometimes.’ Airi pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.’It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On finding the right partner.’ She reached into her purse to get her wallet but Takeru held her hand to stop her.

‘Drinks are on me.’

‘You don’t have to, I—’

‘You,’ he said, staring into her eyes. ‘You can buy me a drink at the dance club.’

Somehow Airi felt that was not what he was going to say but before she could ask he was steering her back towards their table.

[aceofspadegrass]

Hey Bitch, Missed Me Yet?

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Chishiya Shuntaro, Kuina Hikari, and Me :)

Genre: Crack. You'll see why.

848 words

Ah, the joys of being unchangingly feral~

The Incident happened at approximately 10:20 in the morning.

The Beach, whether or not they were awake at that time, were awake now, to the sound of what only a few could call as music to the beat of seventy-two goats bleating to their Primordial Ancestors.

As they were presumed as the leaders, the head of the Beach lest it all would crumble into dust, Hatter and his executives as well as most of all militants all peer out their windows, to quite a sight.

“ Holy shit, isn’t that…?”

“ It is!”

“ So that’s where my door went.”

Hatter, donned in his finest robes and face mask still upon his delicate moisturized face, glares up at the being, stood upon what could only be described as an act against all that was holy.

Why?

Well, of course, people aren’t supposed to be floating meters above the air, stood upon a door with a stick acting as a mast and shirt as its sail. It was all tied down somehow by rope, one end held by the captain of the aircraft ( If it could even be called one.)

Said captain happily waves to him, pulling out a megaphone from behind their back. “ Hello members of the Beach! It is I, your local kleptomaniac!”

“ You! Just what is the meaning of this?!” Niragi yells out his window, the captain waving at him.

“ Oh, nothing~ Just the fact that I’m here to announce something ever so grand!”

Grand? Hatter cocks an eyebrow at this, the… Sky Boat drifting a little closer. Not close enough to catch, but Hatter is sure multiple militants are aiming directly at said ship if in the case something were to occur (Like breathing the wrong way) so it wasn’t as if they were completely off-limits.

“ Well? What is it?” A random citizen asks, the captain elegantly bowing.

“ Oh, you’ll see~ Maestro!” The person atop the raft snaps their finger, although there was no snapping noise to be heard.

The speakers whine to life, and Hatter thanks his lucky stars that he had the mind to use the restroom the moment he woke up from his slumber as every speaker within the confines of his paradise begin to blare, at top volume, the Space Jam theme song.

Upon the spacecraft, the being donned in a fox’s mask and tunic slips on nose cancelling headphones, the boat ramming straight into the side of the Beach whilst everyone is momentarily stunned.

Now, logic dictates that a raft crafted by a bunch of household items would crumble into a billion little pieces upon being slammed into the side of a building.

That’s what logic dictates.

However, under the same bullfuck that let the door-stick-rope-shirt mishmash float in mid-fucking-air, it also let it crash straight through the building in an oddly perfect-sized hole the exact shape of the craft and the being atop the ship.

Which, of course, was in Hatter’s room, Hatter ducking in perfect limbo formation as the boat zooms by. As he straightens up, he quickly notes his couches (Yes, both of them) being fucking missing. Again.

“ HEY! MY COUCHES!”

Alas, his voice was drowned out by Space Jam, the thief cackling giddily as they whisk around the mountain in the lobby as if it were nothing more than a magic carpet ride, couches in tow and several bullets now being shot at them.

“ ASSHOLE! STAY STILL AND GET SHOT!” Niragi yells, although unheard as the thief and ever so astounding Captain of Tomfuckery crashes into the opposite wall, and into oblivion from whence they came.

At that same moment, the speakers quiet, leaving a moment of peace and multiple gratuitous sighs emitted from several hundred guests.

Hatter, of course, calls for a meeting to figure out how to handle the next invasion by the thief or their friends. It lasts them all a good two hours, as the first was mainly for Hatter to vent about said thieves and how it was rather uncouth for them to enact literal property damage.

The result? Nothing, because when they leave the room, there on the ground was the door, rope, and shirt, all dismantled and in a neat pile, along with a timer.

Which was counting down.

Niragi picks it up first, along with his shirt. “ The fuck is this?”

“ Looks like a bomb, throw it.” Aguni grabs the timer and chucks it into the air as it ticks down, the timer reaching zero.

However, the timer simply lands and decks a poor passerby below over the head.

“ Wh-“

“ Nothing happened?” Aguni mutters, but a massive explosion that shakes the entire building proves him otherwise.

“ That sounded like it came from your room, Niragi~” Chishiya says with a smile, Niragi booking it into a run. The rest follow at their own paces, some curious and others simply worried over what just happened.

“ BITCH! THAT MINT FLAVOURED RACCOON DICK BLEW UP MY BED! WHY THE HELL IS THERE- IS THIS CREAM CHEESE?!”

“ For goodness sakes it’s not even noon yet…” Aguni grumbles.

[prodbyblush]

Can you do aib characters reacting to their s/o being really good at games and is quiet and reserved

aib characters reacts: s/o being an ace but is quiet and reserved

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ . . .

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・requested

Arisu:

Would be amazed at how calm and collected you are during the games. Even if the games consisted of people killing people, you remained still and focused on analyzing what needs to be done rather than point fingers towards other players. Arisu would compliment you everytime you completed his train of thoughts.

Chishiya:

You earned yourself a one way ticket to impressing him. The people at the Beach annoyed him so much, and he was glad that someone like you was sent to the borderlands. Bonding times with him are never a dull; though the quietness is still, it was comforting for the both of you.

Niragi:

He'd think you're just like Chishiya and that's where he starts to taunt and throw insults at you. But no matter how harsh his words are to you and the fact that you once saved him in a game, he'd stop. Would point his rifle at anyone that starts to blame you when someone dies in the game.

Last Boss:

Basking in each other's presence is enough for the two of you already. No words were needed, but you two knew how much you appreciated each other. The dynamics of your relationship is very compatible, you solve how to end the game and he would slice anyone or anything that comes your way.

Usagi:

When you've figured out how to clear the game, she'll be on her feet, ready to set the motion. Always ready to come to your aid, never leaving your side and always ready to catch you if you decide to jump off apartment balconies.

Kuina:

Just like Niragi, she'd think you're just like Chishiya. But it's just not your nature to socialize in a large crowd, much less, the residents of the Beach. Would listen to you intently on how to clear the games and be surprised at how she wasn't able to think of it that way. Would chop anyone at the back of their necks if they talk bad about you.

[nishymoon]

❥ Alice in Borderland

“The Sound of Hearts - Pt.1″ // Chishiya

“First Time Charm” // Chishiya - NSFW

“Niji” // Chishiya

“Teach Me” // Chishiya

“Move Your Body” // Chishiya - NSFW

“Mirrors” // Chishiya - NSFW

“Love Me High” // Chishiya - NSFW

“Hear The Love” // Chishiya - NSFW

“Water and Ice” // Chishiya x Reader x Ann - NSFW

“Sunshine” // Karube

“Too Close” // Arisu

“Play With Me” // Niragi - NSFW

“You Are Here” // Niragi

Works in progress...

How would they react to seeing you sick

Aib Dad Headcanons

How would they react to finding their s/o cradling their daughter - Pt.1

How would they react to finding their s/o cradling their daughter - Pt.2

Love Language - Pt. 1

Love Language - Pt.2

How would Niragi, Last boss, and Karube act of their s/o or gf started acting distant or cold seemingly out of nowhere 

〚 1 〛 - 〚 2 〛 - 〚 3 〛 - 〚 4 〛 -  〚 5 〛 - 〚 6 〛 - 〚 7 〛 - 〚 8 〛 -〚 9  〛-

[a-simp-20]

★|Nobuaki Kaneko as a Boyfriend|★

MASTERLIST

AIB cast headcanon's/imagine's/reactions

Genre: Fluff!

Warning⚠: none

Tag's: @hatterstan-shameblog @for-ila @fireofjudgement @aceofspadegrass enjoy <3

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　　

-Home {What is he like when you're both alone in his house?}

He likes it when you are around.

You sometimes just go into his house without letting him knowing that you wanted to come over, but he doesn't mind.

"Since you're here, why not try the drum set that I just bought??"

You would love to of course!

He would teach you how to play and after that you two would just sit on the couch and watch some TV cuddling.

"Want any snack's? I got a bunch of them!"

He has crackers, Pop corn, And other snacks in his house that are basically your favourite's.

He is a cuddle master✨

Oh yeah he IS

You will go into his house in his room and see him preparing some wine, biscuits and some old 90's albums to listen to with you.

Him wearing a kimono just like hatters but read, his hair tied up in a bun almost similar as Niragi's but loose

"Come here lovely, I know you had a very stressful day at work.. So why don't we drink wine, eat snacks cuddle and listen to 90's classic love songs?"

After that you have fallen asleep in his arms as he strokes your hair while you lay on top of his chest snuggling in his neck.

- Date's {What are date's like with Nobuaki?}

Date's with Nobuaki are very romantic and calming at the same time.

It's a combination of both.

The types of date you two will have are: - Restaurant dates, - hot springs, - coffee shop dates.

-Restaraunt dates: He would take you to high quality restaurants, just so he could buy you some branded things after that.

He would definitely feed you his food from his plate/bowl, just like the good lover he is.

You would feed her m back your food as an exchange.

-Hot springs: for this date he would like to plan them out with you before even going to the hot springs area itself.

Since he got the tickets from a magazine, the articles in there would show everything that they can do at the hot springs. Such as of course bathing inside the water, eating ramen, and a free foot massage! And souvenirs.

There are also some activities that are for couples. Activities like, they get a free private area to bathe in with each other and only for the both of them + free food/drinks.

Nobuaki and you would be excited about that and the food too. He would plan them for you two to do everything that is said inside the magazine.

"A free foot massage!?, why not right?" He says to you with a smile.

- Coffee shop dates: ah yes, the old fashion coffee shop dates.

Just like the restaurant ones, you two would spend the day with each other inside the shop, feeding each other your food and enjoying the warmth of warm liquid they sell at the shop.

If you are not a coffee lover, than you must like tea.

Nobuaki likes coffee buy what he really likes is the warmth and sensual bitter sweet taste of Macha tea.

He would sometimes want you to try and take a sip of the green warm liquid that he always have with him.

Turns out you liked it, so now everytime you two go to the coffee shop, you only go their for their Macha tea more than their coffee just to relax in each other's presence.

- security {Is he over protective or not?}

Let's just say sometimes.

He's the normal type of dude that gets a bit jealous when someone- a dude get's too close to you.

But he would let you be with the ones he trusts the most, like his friends and family.

He get's a bit over protective when you say you want to go hang out with a friend that is a boy.

When you say that you want to hang out with a friend that is a boy that He knew, than he'll let you be cause he trust them with you.

[Welp-, this took wayy longer than I expected to work on!, well hope you four like this! Good bye~]

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s notes: Huge spoilers for episode 8 and the manga.

TW: blood, references to past self harm.

Edit 5/5/2021: Fleshed out a scene involving Aguni and Yamane’s arm injuries.

VI

propaganda is in our flesh and blood and we rejoice in the control of others / euphoria – poisoning the minds of the future / and it is turning our kids to murder, to murder

A few floors below them, as Last Boss trails his fingers behind Yamane’s legs to point out a few more arteries, their chief converses with his friend, a secret no other Beach members knew.

“That girl is concerning me,” Aguni admits, crossing his arms. “Accepting her in the military sect might have been a mistake. The kid couldn’t even kill without the guilt gnawing her alive. She’s innocent compared to the likes of Niragi.”

“But isn’t that a good thing, Mori?” Hatter asks, leaning back into the sofa and putting his arms behind his back. “She’s a stabilizing element. It might help you with keeping the violent members of the Beach in check by having someone with her restraint around,” he continues, chuckling as he puts his feet up on the coffee table between the sofas. “Plus, it’ll help me sleep better knowing that the military sect of our utopia has members who aren’t simple, mindless killers.”

Aguni’s brow furrows. “Takeru, I’m afraid she’d become more like those two who took her here. I asked Saiko what she knew about that girl. That girl has problems that could drive her over the edge.”

At Aguni’s response, the Hatter smiles and moves to sit next to his friend. “Reminds you too much of yourself?”

Aguni merely nods.

“Remember that quote by Gandhi that I said to recruit the first members of the Beach, Mori? ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’ Do what you can to help her stay sane.”

Nodding, he pats Hatter’s back.

Above them, another militant was heading towards the balcony. “Last Boss, there’s- whoa. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The other man stopped in his tracks when he saw the silent militant kneeling in front of a woman.

“I-it’s not what it looks like,” Yamane blurts out, stepping away from the tattooed militant.

The interrupter gave her an awkward nod and rubs the back of his head. Seeing Last Boss with a woman came as a surprise to him; the tattooed man was known for keeping to himself instead of sleeping around like Niragi. Last Boss turns around to give the interrupter a sour look.

“There’s a group of traitors who kept their cards from the previous game. We gotta get rid of them,” the man says, averting his gaze from the two of them.

Last Boss unsheathes his sword, and he turns to Yamane, motioning her to follow.

“Wait- me?” Yamane asks, blood running cold.

“Part of our duty is to discreetly kill traitors,” the other militant says. “Didn’t they tell you that when you came here?”

Gulping, Yamane wordlessly follows the two. It’s finally sinking in; her role in the military sect meant dealing with not just most physical games, but these ugly matters as well.

They walked all the way to the basement, and the other militant waited outside, keeping watch. There were three people kneeling, eyes and mouth bound by duct tape. Their arms and legs are bound as well. Yamane recognizes one of them as the medic that helped Sunohara treat Last Boss’ injuries.

“Go ahead,” Last Boss tells her, kicking a bucket in front of the captive.

Yamane freezes at his command. Eyes flicking towards the captive, she could see the sweat dripping from his skin as he struggled in futility. The taller militant advances on her, tilting her chin with his fingers, and the words don't come to her.

“Put what I taught you into practice. This is the perfect opportunity.”

The dormouse’s only response is a slow, nervous nod. Her small fingers reach for the dagger from her holster, and she kneels behind the bound medic, who was thrashing and sobbing as her other hand pushed his head down.

A gasp escapes Yamane as Last Boss knelt behind her as well, wiry arms guiding her, and his hand over hers. Warm breaths on her neck and his proximity made Yamane feel the heat surge between her legs again, mind muddled by a cocktail of fear and lust hormones. The dagger presses into the victim’s skin, and with Last Boss’ guidance, they make a quick slash to the artery, blood pumping and draining out to the bucket.

“Good Yamaneko,” he whispers, not letting go of her despite the deed being done. His scent engulfs her, and Yamane chokes back a moan, disguising by clearing her throat.

“Let’s move on to the others,” she whispers, moving away from him.

Later that night, in an attempt to purge the mental image of slicing three people’s throats, Yamane’s feet bring her to the loud merrymaking at the pool. She grabs one drink, and sits in a corner. It helps that her status as a militant meant people left her alone.

It didn’t stop Sunohara from sitting next to her, though.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking alcohol while you’re taking tramadol, you know,” she casually mentions, lighting a cigarette. Smoke wafts to Yamane’s face and she waves it away with her free hand. “I thought doctors advise people to stay away from cigarettes, why are you smoking?”

Sunohara laughs. “Touche. I guess I can’t stop you. Just don’t drink before a game. It’ll make you drowsy.”

“Sure, I’ll keep it in mind.”

In consideration, Sunohara blows the smoke away from Yamane’s direction. “So, what was your game tonight? You had so much blood on you.”

“A Spade.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sunohara comments, taking another hit of her cigarette. “Physical games tend to get messy. Though, Heart games can get messy too.”

Now Yamane’s interest is piqued. She never had a heart game before. “What’s in a Heart game?”

“Ah, never played one before? Heart games play with, well, your heart.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Yamane replies, taking a sip of her cocktail. “What do you mean by it plays with your heart?”

Sunohara flicks her spent cigarette away and crushes it with her sandal. “They’re psychological, the type that uses your emotions to make a fool out of you. They mislead you into thinking that you’d have to do something terrible, but losses can be avoided if you think things through and don’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

“You sound like you’ve seen a lot of Heart games, Sunohara,” Yamane comments, setting her empty drink down.

“Not really. Just two. When you’re a doctor like me, you need to be calm in an emergency. Assess the situation properly, and give proper treatment. I just applied my experiences.”

Sunohara stands up to shake off the ash from her coat, and gives Yamane a smile. “I need to go. My assistant disappeared on me and I need to check the medication supply.”

With that, she sets off. Yamane gulps the last of her drink, and guilt drops like a heavy stone in her stomach. That assistant must have been the man she executed.

Drowsiness settling in, she needs to rest for the games. Unlike when she was surviving on her own, Beach members play them every night regardless of how many days they have left on their visas. Yamane lies on the bed, but her body is still buzzing. She recounts her experiences for the day, and her mind wanders back to the time she spent with Last Boss.

Against her better judgment, her fingers trail downward to the waistband of her shorts, and she pulls them off of her legs, underwear coming off with it. A string of her juices coats her finger as she glided it against her folds.

The little dormouse pleasures herself that night thinking about the tiger above her, fantasizing about him doing unspeakable things to her body. She comes quietly, intensely. Then, she drifts off, the post-orgasmic bliss calming her down.

The next morning, she wakes up feeling worse.

Sluggish, she climbs out of bed, and goes to the bathroom. The blood had come off of her clothes now, so she scrubbed them, rinsed them, took them out of the sink and hung them to dry. In the middle of hanging up her skirt, her stomach rumbles. She forgot to eat last night.

At the lobby, the usual banquet is set out for the residents. Yamane takes all the food she can fit on a plate, goes back up to her room, and eats in peace. She’ll need the strength and energy to survive tonight.

She didn’t know if she should be dismayed or relieved that she’s not grouped with Niragi and Last Boss in the game tonight. Instead, she was grouped with Saiko, Sunohara, Aguni, and another Beach member that she hasn’t spoken to yet. One of them wears a plain white hood, a distant, sly look on his face. They all went through the laser grid, and there were enough phones for ten players.

Soon, other participants arrived.

This game takes place in a hospital, and various implements are laid on the table. Yamane takes note of them; stress balls, large needles, blood bags, scalpels, and buckets. Sunohara was eyeing them as well, deep in thought.

In the middle of the room was a large electronic weighing scale.

“Registration closed. There are currently eight players. Difficulty: Five of Hearts.”

Ice runs through Yamane’s veins. Just last night she was talking to Sunohara about Heart games, and here she was.

“Game: Bloodletting. Rules: There is a bomb in this building. Players must spill enough blood to defuse them all. Time limit: thirty minutes.”

“Spill blood? This should be easy,” Saiko comments, loading her gun.

“Game Start!”

At the cue, Saiko shoots an unaffiliated player dead. Yamane’s eyes widen in surprise, while Sunohara screams, bracing herself against a medical gurney. Aguni is quiet, looking at the corpse, while the man with the white hood rolls his eyes. The others were too shocked to say anything.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice announces.

“Dammit!” Saiko shouts, shooting another player dead. The other one tries to flee, but she makes quick work of her.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice continues.

Saiko points the gun at Sunohara, but Yamane shoves her aside. “Idiot. It didn’t work the first time, what makes you think that it’ll work the fourth time?”

“Huh. Will you look at that. A militant that isn’t entirely stupid,” the man in white comments in a sing-song voice. Saiko turns to him and points her gun. “Would you rather I shoot you, Chishiya?”

“Saiko. Enough,” Aguni commands, crouching to look at the fallen man. “Your strategy clearly doesn’t work.”

Collecting herself, Sunohara sighs. “This is a Heart game. The rules aren’t what they seem. Look around you, there are implements for blood transfusion, and a weighing scale in the middle of the room. The game’s name is ‘Bloodletting’ too.”

“Let’s use the dead’s blood to fill the buckets then,” Aguni suggests. “How long does it take to drain the blood from a man his size?”

“A man that size looks like he has about 1.5 gallons of blood. That’s roughly 5.6 liters, enough to fill ten blood bags, which holds 525 milliliters of blood,” Chishiya comments. “The heart pumps five liters of blood per minute, but that man is dead.” 

Saiko and Yamane look at him with bewilderment. “He’s a medical student. I was his senior,” Sunohara comments sheepishly. “But, still, each transfusion would last eight to ten minutes, and that’s on someone alive. There wouldn’t be enough time for us to drain all their blood before the building blows up.”

“It’s still worth the try,” Yamane comments, taking a bucket. She kneels in front of one of the dead players, takes a deep breath to steady her hands, and applies what she learned from Last Boss the night before, the blood spilling into the bucket. Horrified, Sunohara could only watch as Yamane worked. Aguni takes a scalpel and starts to drain the other dead player as well.

“Twenty minutes remaining.”

The doctor takes a steadying breath when she takes a scalpel and kneels. The rest follow suit except for Chishiya, who merely observes. Soon, they were moving buckets of blood to the weighing scale.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice chimes in, and Saiko groans. Sunohara is nervously eyeing the militants, including Yamane, while Chishiya smirks. Impatient, Saiko points her gun at Chishiya again, and Sunohara gets in the way, eyes defiant.

“Get out of my face before I blow your face off instead of his,” Saiko hisses, but Sunohara remains firm. “Stop. I’m not letting anyone else die. This is a Heart game! It’s deliberately fucking with your head to make you think that killing each other is the only solution.”

“There’s something in the rules you’re all overlooking,” Chishiya comments, unfazed. “The rules said players must spill enough blood.”

Upon hearing his remark, Yamane has an epiphany. “Maybe it meant that we should all fill a bag?”

Chishiya smirks.

“Ten minutes remaining.”

Sunohara rushes to gather the blood bags and stress balls, giving them to the remaining players. “We better hurry,” she says, panting. “Hold out your arms,” she instructs. “Chishiya, don’t just stand there, help me!”

He gives her a cheeky smile and gets to work.

Plunging the needle in Yamane’s arm, Chishiya gives her a look. “You’re too clever for this lot.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she responds. “Let’s just focus on the game.”

“Fair.”

Soon, everyone had their needles inserted in their veins. “Now what?” Saiko asks, scowling.

“Squeeze those stress balls!” Sunohara directs, and everyone starts. Slowly but steady, they all fill a bag.

“Five minutes remaining.”

“How long does this take again?” Saiko asks, still hard at squeezing. “Eight to ten minutes,” Sunohara replies, eyeing the weighing scale.

“Three minutes remaining.”

At that point, Yamane was cursing, bag filled only three-fourths of the way through. She looks to the other players’ bags.

“Two minutes remaining.”

Aguni is first to finish his bag, and Sunohara promptly helps him move it to the weighing scale. Chishiya follows, then Saiko, then Sunohara. Yamane’s bag still isn’t full.

“One minute remaining,” the robotic voice chirps again, and Yamane curses. “Hurry the hell up!” Saiko yells, distressed.

“Thirty seconds remaining.”

In desperation, Yamane grabs her bag, puts it on the scale, and takes one of her daggers to slash her arm, blood spilling on the weighing scale.

“Enough blood has been spilled. Game Clear. Congratulations!”

Collective relief rushes through the group. Yamane should be relieved herself, but now, blood continues to spill from her arm. “S-Sunohara, I won’t stop bleeding,” she gasps.

Cursing, Sunohara scrambles to find supplies to help stop the flow. But the pressure wasn't enough; Yamane continues to bleed all over the table. Aguni steps in, meaty palm pressing against the wound. As he kept the pressure on her arm, he notices a few scars on the surface of his underling's skin. Multiple stripes lined up on her wrist, and it only took one look for him to realize that they were self-inflicted. Sensing the discomfort in Yamane's gaze as she watched him stare at her scars, Aguni looks away.

Once the bleeding stopped, Sunohara treats Yamane’s arm, wrapping a bandage around it. “You’re lucky,” Sunohara comments. “The cut wasn’t deep enough to sever your radial artery. A little deeper, and you would be dead in two minutes.”

“Let’s go,” Aguni grunts, collecting the card from the round table that always shows up after a game.

Before they leave, Yamane eyes the bodies of the dead players Saiko shot, and she feels less horrified. Desensitized.

As soon as they arrived in the Beach, she passed through the pool, most of the Beach residents already hard at partying, and Yamane couldn’t stop the dread from creeping up her spine. These people probably saw other people die in a game tonight, yet they’re more than happy to forget all that with a drink and a good fuck.

“Maybe I should try drinking and fucking my sorrows away like them,” a small part of Yamane’s psych tells her. But her own thoughts are interrupted by the rumble of her stomach.

The blood loss made her ravenous, and she went directly to the banquet. Yamane didn’t even take the food back to her room; she just picked up whatever she found appealing and started eating right there. Biting into a chicken leg, Yamane didn’t care for what the onlookers thought. Sauce pooled in the corner of her mouth as she polished off the chicken, not a single shred of meat left on the bone.

“Yamaneko.”

Abruptly, she turns around to see Last Boss giving her an amused look.

Almost choking, Yamane forces herself to swallow the meat in her mouth. She couldn’t look him in the eye after pleasuring herself at the thought of him the night before. “Last Boss. Hey.”

She moves aside to allow him to gather his serving too. Yamane follows him afterwards to a secluded area afterwards, and he seemed to tolerate her presence, allowing her to sit next to him.

“Thank you for last night,” Yamane tells him. “It helped me clear my game tonight.”

Last Boss only stares at her as she ate, which made her self-conscious. She slowed her chewing, and when he didn’t stop, she turned to face him.

“Yes?”

Goosebumps ripple through Yamane’s skin again as the other militant brushes his thumb on her lips, towards the corner of her mouth. He proceeds to lick it off of his finger. Yamane’s entire face is red now, and she rubs the rest of the sauce off of her mouth with a napkin.

“Y-you could’ve just told me I have sauce on me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he finally speaks up.

Yamane just knew that she was going to spend nights touching herself to the thought of him again. Several nights.

Four days later, after a Club, a Diamond, and two Spade games, Yamane is given her new player tag. Number twenty five. She’s slowly becoming a seasoned player.

Every after game, Yamane sought out Last Boss’ company more and more. Whether they spoke or just sat in silence didn’t matter. He hasn’t told her to go away once, so Yamane continues to spend more time with him. People started to talk. Not like Yamane cared; she endured all of that in the real world, it doesn’t faze her anymore in this strange land. Soon, the thoughts of home started to dissipate from her psyche, preoccupied with the games and the twisted sense of acceptance she received from her fellow members of the Beach’s militia.

A day after Yamane’s Spade game, she received her next team assignment. She looks at her slip of paper and proceeds to look for other members. Last Boss locks eyes with her, and holds out his slip of paper. They were grouped with a couple who couldn’t get their hands off of each other in the backseat as Yamane drove. Last Boss sits next to her in the front seat, eyes occasionally wandering to her.

Yamane pretended not to notice, locking her eyes on the road.

Soon, they arrive at the game venue.

A love hotel.

As the two other Beach players walked towards the venue, Yamane leaned against the car, eyeing the neon sign. “This… this probably won't be a Spade game, huh?” she mumbles to her companion, whose mouth was slightly open.

“Ever been to a place like this before?” Yamane asks him, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No.”

Yamane didn’t say anything else after that, proceeding inside the venue with Last Boss.

The signs led them to a large suite, where X-crosses are lined up. Smartwatches are laid out for the players, along with guns. Yamane and Last Boss pick up a phone, and proceed to wear the watches. On Yamane’s watch, an arrow pops up in the display, while a heart shows up on Last Boss’ watch.

As another pair gets in the room, Yamane inspects the guns, which had an arrow engraved on the handle. Her eyes flick to the restraints, and dread washes over her when she sees the heart designs in the red light.

“Please sort yourselves accordingly,” a sign on the table instructs them, and the players are done as they’re told. Last Boss went to the X-cross, which had automatic cuffs that bound his arms and legs. Yamane looks at him with slight discomfort, but he stares at her with a blank expression.

“Registration closed. There are currently six players. Difficulty: Nine of Hearts.”

The other players started to mumble amongst themselves, while Yamane’s eyes remained locked on to her fellow militant.

“Game: Desire. Rules: Arrows must take turns to confess their feelings to the Heart they find most desirable. Arrows must fire the gun at the Heart of their choice. Lying or failing to fire the gun would result in a Game Over. Time limit: five minutes.”

“Shit,” was all Yamane could say.

“First player: Daisuke Inamine.”

Yamane turns to the said player, whose tears are streaming down his face as he looks at his lover. “Shit, I can’t do this! I can’t do this,” he sobs, putting the gun down and running out of the room. A laser fired and killed him in an instant. His lover was crying and screaming, fighting against the X-cross’ restraints.

“Next player: Rina Yamada.”

Hands shaking, the other player picks up the gun, and points it at the boy she came to the venue with. “Hiro,” she starts, voice shaking. “I’ve- I’ve always liked you since middle school,” she confesses, sobs wracking her body. “I appreciate that you enjoy the bento I’d always make for you. I like how you’d always come to protect me from my bullies. I- oh god, Hiro, please, please forgive me.”

“Three minutes remaining.”

Hiro was looking at her with resignation in his eyes. “Enough, Rina. I’ve always liked you too. Please, do what you can to survive.”

Shaking, sobbing, Rina pulls the trigger, firing the gun at Hiro’s chest. She then tosses it away, covering her face as she wails.

“Next player: Minami Yamane.”

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Alice in Borderland – Last Night in Soho AU

CW: murder, violence, abuse, horror, drugging, poisoning (It's an AU of a horror movie, guys)

(This came to me some time ago and I got so excited by the idea that I made a moodboard and short little snippet for it! The snippet is under the cut. Please read with discretion because it is an AU of a horror movie. But other than that, enjoy!)

“A police officer came by earlier. He asked about you, and about your well-being. A welfare check, he said.”

Arisu lowered his head as his elderly landlord spoke. He should’ve known this would happen—after how he’d been acting, someone was bound to call the police and ask them to check up on the insane graphic design major. He wondered who it was—Chishiya, or Usagi, or Karube and Chota… he wouldn’t have even put it past Niragi, after Arisu nearly stabbed his eye out in the library.

He tried to focus on the record playing in the background—he used to be able to depend on his mother’s records to bring comfort when not even his video games could. Now, though, he couldn’t help thinking about Takeru, the young man with so many dreams that had been exploited and murdered.

He’d been so sure that old man—Aguni, Karube called him—had been the one who did it, who took advantage of Takeru and used him, then killed him when Takeru tried to leave. But he’d been so, horribly wrong, and the innocent man paid the price. Maybe he really was going insane…

“It had me worried,” Danma-san continued. “He told me you’ve been saying a young man died up there in your room.”

Arisu glanced up. The old man’s face was strange. It was solemnly indulgent, like he was a schoolteacher and Arisu was a little elementary school boy he was scolding for pulling a girl’s pigtails. But why?

He tried to control the shaking hands that held his teacup and bent forward into the best bow he could manage. “I-I’m sorry, Danma-san,” he said meekly.

Apologizing didn’t seem like enough—not when Danma-san had been kind enough to rent him his room, put up with his video games and music, and look after him while he slowly unraveled. He wondered if Danma-san had known Takeru. Based on the man’s age now, he would’ve been the same age as Takeru in the 1960s. Maybe he could’ve asked Danma-san and avoided the entire mess he’d made of himself.

“Oh, it’s quite alright, Ryohei-kun.” Danma-san waved his apology away with his hand. “Really. It’s funny, because… you’re not entirely wrong.”

Arisu slowly lifted his head to stare at him in confusion, even as dread began to gnaw at him. What was he talking about…?

“Truth be told,” Danma-san went on, “I hadn’t thought about it that way before, until you brought it up. But I guess it’s true—a young man did die up there. The young me that came to Tokyo all those years ago.”

For a moment, Arisu could only stare dumbly at Danma-san, unable to believe what he’d just heard. The old man stared back at him, looking like he was patiently waiting for him to catch up.

Then Arisu studied his face. And suddenly, time seemed to rewind on Danma-san’s face. He slowly aged backwards—wrinkles disappeared, skin tightened and smoothed out, hair darkened and grew, until the face that stared back at him was…

“Takeru?” he whispered faintly.

How? How was this possible? He watched Takeru die…

But then he remembered what the old man, Aguni, said before he stormed out of the bar. “Why don't you ask Danma what happened to Takeru? He knows exactly what happened. He practically did it himself!”

“I had goals like you,” Danma-san kept speaking. “Dreams, like you. I wanted to be a performer on a big stage. I wanted to act.”

The faces of Takeru and Danma-san started phasing in and out, blending together before Arisu’s eyes. And it suddenly seemed like two voices were coming out of the man’s mouth; Danma-san’s and Takeru’s.

“Being a whore’s a little like being an actor, you could say.” The wry laugh grated on Arisu’s eardrums. “You have to pretend you’re somebody else—that it’s not really you there, being used so thoroughly by all those… animals. It was how I tried to forget them all, and all of their faces. I blanked them out, erased them. I had to, because then, it wasn’t so real.”

All Arisu could do was sit and listen in numb shock. Takeru was alive this whole time—he’d been in this house the whole time, indulging Arisu’s music tastes and reminding him that no visitors were allowed at night and letting him think he was dead. Arisu hadn’t even recognized him. But the eyes—the eyes were identical, the same shade of brown. Except what had formerly been lit up with sparks of enthusiasm and ambition were now bitter and dulled.

“So yes, Ryohei-kun. In a way, you’re right. Takeru did die in that room. He died in that room a hundred times. And then one night, the man who put me there—put me to work,” the word was spat out like something disgusting, “and stole my dreams…”

Visions suddenly flashed before Arisu’s eyes. It was the same scene he’d watched in the mirror, of Takeru struggling on the bed with the knife to his throat. But this time, when the knife was raised in the air and brought down… Takeru caught it. He wrapped his right hand around the blade and looked up. Then Arisu watched as the look of terror on his face slowly melted away to a look of unbridled rage. He yanked the knife out of the hand and stabbed it into the chest.

Danma-san turned his right hand over and rested it on his lap so his palm faced up, and idly ran his other hand over the two long scars there, a knife blade’s width apart. “Well…”

Arisu couldn’t tell what was reality—Danma-san in the living room looking down at his scarred palm with a look of barely-concealed satisfaction, or Takeru in the dark bedroom stabbing his captor over and over and over again, blood spurting all over him.

“I made sure he died.” Danma-san looked up at Arisu with the beginnings of a satisfied smirk on his face. “One hundred times.”

Arisu’s ears began to ring. His heart began to pound wildly with terror.

“And do you know something, Ryo-chan—can I call you Ryo-chan?”

Arisu quickly nodded his head, managing a terrified squeak of, “Y-Yes,”

Danma-san’s smirk became a full smile that looked absolutely terrifying. “It felt so good, Ryo-chan. It felt right.” His face suddenly melted away into Takeru’s, covered in blood and sharing an identical smile. “And then later, when all those assholes came knocking at my door, expecting me to lie back and take it as usual…”

The shrill sound of the doorbell rang painfully in Arisu’s ears, and the shadows of all the men—all the ghosts he’d seen in the library—passed before his eyes, headed for the stairs up to Takeru’s room.

“They made my life even more of a hell. So it was only right that I sent them there.”

Reality melted away again before Arisu’s eyes, replaced by the dark room lit up by red neon lights, illuminating Takeru and his knife as he murdered all the men. He stabbed them in the chests and slashed at their throats, getting his face and his once pristine, flashy clothes coated in even more blood. It was all Arisu could see, all he could feel, it staining his face like he’d been there himself, and all he could smell.

Then he watched as one by one, they were dragged away by Takeru, who ripped open the walls and floors of the house.

Arisu suddenly remembered what Danma-san said the day he moved in. “I hope you won’t mind the smell. I’ve never been able to get it to completely go away.”

He suddenly felt lightheaded and his stomach rolled, threatening to throw up the tea he just drank. He put the bodies in the walls and floors.

And he stayed rooted to the spot in his chair as Takeru did just that, roughly throwing and stuffing the bodies in the walls and floors, then boarding up and replacing the torn out wood and slotting the floorboards back in place.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the newspaper articles on them—you’re smart enough to do your research, Ryo-chan. Did you see they called them ‘missing persons’?” Danma-san gave a terrifying bark of a laugh. “It was actually funny after a while—everyone wondering and worrying about where they’d gone to, when I knew exactly where they’d been. I’ve always thought they were asking the wrong questions. They shouldn’t have wondered where they were, but who they were. But I knew exactly who they were. And I was doing everyone a damn favor.”

And then Takeru was there again, covered head to toe in blood. That look of ambition and determination was back, but it looked wrong—it was twisted, darker, like the determination of a trapped animal to escape its cage.

“I wasn’t going to be used anymore,” he spat at Arisu, gripping his knife. “I wasn’t going to let this fucking place break me.”

A tear slipped down Arisu’s cheek as he looked at Danma Takeru—the young man Arisu had seen as a kindred spirit, someone to admire… maybe even someone who could’ve been his friend. Why did this all have to happen to him? “I’m so sorry…”

Danma-san frowned softly, like he was comforting a little crying child. “Oh, Ryo-chan, why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”

“N-No, I… I understand.” He looked imploringly at him. “I know what you’ve been through.”

Something sharpened threateningly in Danma-san’s expression. “Oh, do you now?”

Arisu nodded, hoping he could somehow get the man to believe him. “I do, I—I saw it—”

“Did you?” Danma-san suddenly seemed incredibly dangerous. “And you think because you saw, you understand?”

Arisu wanted to break down in terrified crying. Another frightened tear rolled down his cheek. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to get you in trouble with the police—”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ryo-chan,” Danma-san chuckled, like it was all just one big joke. “The police think you’re insane. And it’s not like you’ll tell anyone.”

His heart pounded even harder in fear and he shook his swimming head wildly. “I-I won’t—I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He couldn’t help a frightened hiccup. “Please don’t hurt me… I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“No, no.” Danma-san shook his head. “I know you won’t tell anyone.”

What did he…

His head suddenly felt so heavy. His arms and legs felt weighed down, like his bones had been replaced by lead. Arisu’s eyes lowered, and fell on the teacup he still held in his hands. He looked at the tea, and suddenly remembered what Danma-san said when he handed him the cup.

“Drink up. It’s a special blend.”

His eyes widened in horror, and he made a noise of terror as the teacup slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor. A rushing sound began to fill his ears and his vision swam.

“Don’t worry, Ryo-chan,” he heard Danma-san, or was it Takeru, say as he swayed dangerously on the couch. “I’m not gonna stab you like I did the others. You’re too much of a sweet boy to deserve that. You’re just going to peacefully fall asleep. And everyone will think you just offed yourself—they were worried you were going to do that anyway.” Danma-san looked him over in almost mocking pity as he gripped the couch and made strangled noises as he tried to cough up what he drank. “You poor boy… they really were all very concerned about you. Especially that one with the bleached hair—Chishiya, I think? The one I threw out after you snuck him in on Halloween. He might’ve been the one that requested the welfare check, I think, but the policeman didn’t say. With how he carries himself like a prideful cat, I didn’t expect him to care so much about you.” He looked mockingly moved. “It’s almost romantic.”

Arisu could only whimper in fear as he fought off the urge to close his eyes. He felt like he was going to faint. His vision swam and dark spots appeared. He could feel his grip weakening on the couch cushion. His mind screamed at him to get up, to run, to call Chishiya or Usagi or anyone and get help… but he couldn’t move. His limbs felt too heavy.

“So.” Danma-san smacked his legs before getting up to cross the room and go behind him. “We’re just going to let you make yourself comfortable,” he said lightly, “and lie down. Come on now, Ryo-chan.”

Arisu weakly sobbed and tried to get away from the hand placed on his shoulder. He didn’t want to die… not like this…

“Hey now, shh,” Danma-san, or maybe it was Takeru, shushed. He patted his head and gently pulled him back by his shoulder. “It’s okay. Come on.” Arisu was forced to lie back against stacked pillows, too weak to fight back. “Just lie back… There we go.” He patted Arisu’s head again, stroking his hair. “That’s a good boy. You can just drift off to sleep, listening to that music you love so much.”

Arisu whimpered and looked up. Takeru’s youthful face looked back at him, smiling down at him around the blood splattered over his face. “No more excitement for you tonight, Ryo-chan,” he crooned.

As he looked up at the man he’d dreamed about and grown to care about, Arisu couldn’t keep himself from weakly crying. He didn’t want to die… Especially not at the hands of someone he’d admired for months. It felt like a betrayal, even though Takeru had only ever been a ghost haunting him, never really his friend. He’d always thought of Takeru and seen him as the lively, ambitious, and talented young man—the sort of man Arisu would’ve been overjoyed to have as a friend. Not like this, a jaded, embittered man who had to kill to survive and escape the people who took advantage of him. Had Arisu taken advantage of him too? Was that why he was killing him?

He supposed he was never going to find out.

The rushing in his ears grew louder, slowly drowning out everything, even the music playing from the record player in the corner. It all felt like he was hearing it from underwater. His vision swam even more. His eyes felt so heavy…

And then, through the rushing sound, Arisu heard the doorbell ring. It began to ring over and over, like someone was hurriedly pressing the button. He tried to focus on that, locking in on the sound and training his ears on it. The fog in his mind cleared somewhat, and the muffled sounds became clearer as the ringing doorbell switched to someone began to pound wildly on the door.

“Arisu?!” a voice shouted. “Are you in there?! ARISU!”

Hope weakly lifted its head in Arisu’s chest. Chishiya.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

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In The Dead of Night

Rating: Mature, ‼️18+ Only‼️

Relationship: Takeru (Hatter)/Aguni

Tags: explicit sexual material, oral sex, anal sex, gentle sex, mentions of infidelity, brief mentions of violence, long-term relationship, implied secret relationship, failing relationship, romance, heartbreak

Summary: A relationship defined by time and devotion and secrecy. Something darker lurks beneath the surface of their intimacy, but neither is ready to face it.

Note: Set during the early-mid days of The Beach.

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Aguni stands in front of the window. Gossamer curtains float low, softening the bite of the full moon's shine.

Beautiful in the blue of it, back shaped in inky shadows, the muted warmth of his skin only hinted at by cool moonlight. A peek of his profile, the collection of loose curves and sharp lines put in stark relief. His lips dark. His eyes darker.

"I couldn't sleep."

Aguni turns to look at Takeru. Half of his face illuminated, the other in darkness. He doesn't speak.

This is all part it; the dance. Every movement carefully practiced, the echoes of years gone by the music which guides their pas de deux.

Takeru crosses the room. Stands in front of Aguni and offers himself with a tilt of his chin and the parting of his lips.

"Isn't there anyone else you'd rather spend the night with?"

Takeru smirks.

"Never has been."

Aguni nods.

The way he touches him. One hand cupping Takeru's cheek, the other loosely cradling the nape of his neck. Close enough to kiss, but he doesn't. Rubs a subtle thumb on Takeru's cheekbone and meets his gaze with soft eyes.

"Do you want to?"

Takeru's voice is barely above a whisper. Places his open palm in the place between where Aguni's heart beats a low, steady beat and where collarbone feeds into shoulder. Skin cool on the surface, but glowing warm underneath.

And they kiss. Longterm lovers coming home, like greeting each other after a long day. Unhurried. Uninhibited.

"Yes."

"I've missed you," Aguni murmurs. He tucks Takeru's hair behind his ear. A familiar gesture, one that never feels quite right unless Aguni's the one doing it.

"I know," Takeru answers. There have been distractions. Dalliances. He apologizes with a kiss to Aguni's neck, just below his ear, just where he likes it. A breathy sigh is his reward and his forgiveness.

His Mori is a tender lover. Sweet. The hands so easy to hit and break, their gun-calloused fingertips feeding beneath the collar of Takeru's robe and letting the silk flutter down to the floor to be forgotten until dawn. Tracing touches over his ribs, lingering at the place Takeru supposes his heart belongs.

"Are you going to let me take off that stupid ring of yours," Aguni asks, "or are you going to be a problem?"

Takeru laughs. He tugs on the hem of Aguni's shirt and the other man dutifully lifts his arms up to allow it to be taken off.

"You don't like how I accessorize?"

"I like you better without it," Aguni answers. He bites his lip. "When it's just you and me."

It should give Takeru pause, the second part, but the grip around his fluttering pulse vanishes any vestiges of doubt lurking in the periphery.

Aguni twists the ring on Takeru's finger and pulls, slipping the gaudy metal off and closing his palm tight around it. Like a wedding in reverse, vows yet to be made and promises meant to be broken. Takeru doesn't like to think about how much lighter he feels without it.

Buttons unbutton, strings untie. Takeru indulges his greed and lets his mouth drag wet along every inch of skin he can reach. His cock twitches when the cool air of the room soothes his nakedness, throbs when it bumps against Aguni's still-clothed hip.

"Bed," Aguni breathes into Takeru's hair. Gasps like a dying man. "Bed."

How novel it is to be the one following orders. Takeru does as he's bid, a sway in his hips as he makes the steps to Aguni's pristinely-made bed. Old habits die hard, it would seem.

There is a bottle of lubricant on the bedside table and, next to it, a box of condoms. Takeru slips himself between the sheets and chuckles when he feels a towel having been discreetly laid out for their use. Even now, Aguni has his preferences.

Takeru watches him finish undressing. His pants are shoved past narrow hips without a hint of fanfare, hard-muscled thighs leading to defined knees and shapely calves. Always a well-built man, but his time in the Borderlands has strengthened and shaped him to something even more stunning. His socks follow, then his underwear, and then he is naked.

Aguni is a large man. Tall. Wide-shouldered. Broad in the chest. His cock bobs heavy between his legs, the tip already glistening with the first beads of arousal. A tableau of obscenity, a study in heady, heavy want.

"Beautiful," Takeru says. Delights in the knowledge that a blush creeps up Aguni's neck at the compliment, even if it's too dark for him to see it.

When Aguni gets close enough, Takeru holds him by the hips. Runs each thumb over the protrusions of bone hums at the way Aguni's thigh muscles clench. Flicks a mischievous gaze upward and latches his mouth on the delicate skin where Aguni's thigh meets his groin.

And Aguni groans, low, deep. Takeru is following the rules—no marks, at least, nowhere visible. Sucking salt of his skin, letting his teeth bloom a bruise as Aguni unconsciously squirms under his attentions. A secret, something to trace over with his fingertips in the quiet of his solitude until the next time they meet.

"You don't gotta—" Aguni starts to say, but his voice dies into a shudder when Takeru takes the head of his cock into his mouth and holds it there. Weight. Heat. Taste. A familiarity that doesn't require the tricks of a clever tongue to impress or a gagging gulp to satisfy. It's simply enough to tease, to pleasure the man in front of him without the pressure of expectation.

Fingers thread through his hair. Try as he might to avoid it, Aguni can't resist rocking into the wetness of Takeru's mouth. He could be rough, could pin him down to the bed and fuck his throat, amd Takeru would let him, but he doesn't. He's steady. Patient, even.

Aguni pulls back with a shudder.

"Fuck," he gasps. Bends down to smash his lips against Takeru's own. "Fuck, I want you to."

So Takeru guides him. Onto the bed, lays himself flat on his back so Aguni can loom over him, legs bracketing his hips and chests skimming together as they kiss and they kiss and they touch and they touch.

"My Mori," Takeru hums. He feels Aguni's hand drag over his ribs. His cock presses against Takeru's lower belly. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Thought you were gonna fuck me," he grumbles in response. Then, lighter. "Not getting any younger, you know."

"And we probably won't get much older in a place like this," Takeru smirks back, "so we may as well take our time."

So they do. Swaps their positioning so Aguni is lying face down on the bed, Takeru lying languid beside him. Takeru counts the bumps of Aguni's vertebrae, from the base of his skull to the base of his pelvis.

He prepares Aguni slowly, thoroughly. One finger. Slick, stretching, searching. Then a second, still for a long time before the minute shifts in his hand have the other man gasping into the pillow and gripping the sheets with his fists. By the time a third joins in, even Takeru can't deny the stirrings of impatience.

"Like this," Takeru beckons. Pulls Aguni to lay on his side, back flush against Takeru's front. This is how it is between them, regardless of roles. This is how they like it.

Takeru makes quick work of preparing himself, condom rolled on and lube applied with a few lazy tugs of his wrist. It'd be a lie if he said he wasn't beginning to ache from the backlog of arousal, enhanced when Aguni grips a hand below his knee and draws his pelvis flush against his ass.

He gets the hint. Takeru presses forward, just a bit. Then a bit more. Draws back, waits.

"You okay?" he asks into Aguni's shoulder. "Still a little tight, you want me to—"

"No," Aguni interrupts. Tilts his hips and shudders. "Just, uh, been a minute."

There's been no one else. Takeru could've guessed, but having concrete confirmation stirs something in him. Guilt. He's been a neglectful lover. Perhaps a neglectful friend, too. But there's no denying the spark of pleasure that come from the power. The possession. Takeru is the only man who gets to know him like this, to touch him like this. Has him waiting up at night just in case he visits.

Intoxicating.

"You feel fucking incredible," Takeru rasps. Most of the way in now, surrounded by squeezing heat. Gropes his free hand over Aguni's chest and belly, drags his fingernails across his flesh. "Move your, move your leg up a little—yeah, fuck, that's fucking perfect."

"You don't gotta go slow," Aguni says, "I'm good, I can—"

"Goddamn right you're fuckin' good," Takeru growls. Sweat slippery between them, reaching between Aguni's thighs and squeezing. The ebb and flow of his hips insistent.

"There's nobody else like you, Mori. They don't, they don't understand me like you do. They fuck me just to fuck me, but you fuck me because you—."

Aguni bites off a groan.

"Not now," he grits, "I can't—"

And so they don't.

They writhe. Move against each other in the easy rock of a boat on the water. Like making love, if either man would admit to doing such a thing.

They sigh. Gasp. Swaps soft moans and twist their bodies to breathe open-mouth kisses into each other's mouths. Aguni's cock drips, and he digs his fingernails into Takeru's thigh as pleasure tightens into a tight belly coil.

And it drives Takeru wild. The roughest, filtiest sex in the world couldn't get him half as hard as he is right now, as he gently rolls his hips and chips away at his partner's composure. Making a man so rough turn soft and pliant in pleasure, making him whimper and moan and be held instead of hurt.

"Just like that," Aguni chokes. He's close. Every muscle drawn tight, breaths punched from his lungs. "I'm gonna. Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna—"

He comes silently. Shakily. Hot, wet bursts pulsating onto his belly, onto the bed. Something akin to a sob leaving his throat when Takeru slows his hand.

It doesn't take long for Takeru to follow suit. A great sigh of relief with the electric zap of ecstacy from the base of his spine to the tips of toes. Heart pounding even as the pleasure falls from a fever to a low-blooded hum.

"You good?"

"Mm. Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

They disentangle. Takeru lies flat on his back, breathing. Staring at the ceiling. Mind blissfully empty, sweat cooling on his skin.

Aguni shifts beside him. Rolling his shoulders, stretching his spine like a big cat. Sated as he wipes the mess off his belly with a tissue. The corner of his mouth twitches, the way it does when he has something to say but can't quite unknot the words in his throat.

Takeru doesn't wait. He rises from the bed and walks towards the ensuite, stopping to dispose of the used condom along the way.

The fluorescent bulbs dotting above the mirror burn Takeru's eyes when he flicks the switch, his feet sticking to the tile as he stumbles to the sink. Turns the faucet on and lets cool water flow over his hands, scrubs them down with the standard-issue hotel soap until his pulse begins to slow.

The mirror shows him a mess, hair wild and lips swollen, the last vestiges of a flush high on his cheekbones. He looks good. He looks tired. He splashes water on his face and doesn't think about the dark circles beneath his eyes or the way his bones seem more pronounced than they should.

"Here," Takeru says as he walks back into the bedroom. He places a glass of water on the bedside table. "You set the alarm?"

The bed has been righted, pillows straightened in his absence. The towel has no doubt been tossed into the back of the closet to await the next laundry collection, and Takeru's robe hangs neatly on the coat tree in the corner. Aguni awaits him in bed, blankets tucked neatly up to his waist. He's at least partially redressed, a white t-shirt covering his strong shoulders.

"Usual time," Aguni confirms. He takes a gulp from the glass and gestures for Takeru to have a sip. Takeru declines. "Think you'll be able to get some rest?"

"With the way you snore? Un-fucking-likely." He gives Aguni a wry smile. "But, I suppose I may as well try."

Aguni pulls the covers back, allowing Takeru to slip in bed beside him. Backs up against Aguni's frame and lets a lazy arm flop over his side. He feels Aguni's heartbeat against his spine, the rise and fall of his ribcage a comfortable lull.

But there's something nipping at the edge of Takeru's thoughts. A bother. Something that twists him shy, which isn't a sensation he usually associates with himself.

"Mori," Takeru says. "Earlier. When we were...well, I started saying some things. Stupid things, and I—"

"You say lots of stupid shit," Aguni responds curtly. "Forget about it."

"Alright," Takeru agrees. It doesn't stop the sinking feeling in his gut. "I just wanted to make sure you know that I care for you. Very much, in fact."

Aguni stills behind him. Just for a second, it's like he's made of stone.

"You're tired," he says. He presses his forehead against the back of Takeru's skull, breathes in his scent. "Go to sleep."

It's not the answer Takeru is looking for, but he closes his eyes anyways. Perhaps it's for the best. Morning will come soon, the charade will resume. And it'll be enough, for now.

It has to be.

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[mxliv-oftheendless]

Shattered Illusions

Aguni tried many times before to get Takeru to come back to him. He was never very successful.

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Alright, everybody, here it is! I have been working on this baby for a whole fucking month (it took this long because I started an internship and went to a research conference and have had so much shit to do), and thanks to a bout of insomnia keeping me awake I have finally finished it! I REALLY wanted to write something involving Aguni and Hatter, because their relationship in the show is so interesting and tragic and worthy of exploration. I really hope it's good, because I tried really hard to get Hatter's characterization right. Also I'll warn you I wrote a lot of this out in one go so it is largely unedited. But that's pretty par the course for me lol. Hope you guys like it!

I have to give the biggest thanks ever to @hatterstan-shameblog for all their help with this story! Thank you so much for your opinions and your analysis of Hatter and Aguni's relationship because it was a huge help! <3<3<3

CW: mentions of alcoholism and drug use, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

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Aguni didn’t like nightclubs—never had, really. They’d managed to convert one of the empty ballrooms of the Seaside Paradise Tokyo into a sort of nightclub, and as more and more people came to the Beach, it got increasingly crowded. If Aguni had had his way, he would never set foot in there, but as their numbers grew, so did the nightclub goers, meaning inevitably it became a place the militants had to regularly patrol.

Takeru, by contrast, loved the place. He was always the social butterfly of the two of them, so he loved to drink and dance with the people at the Beach’s nightclub. He made sure everyone had drinks, socialized with everyone; he even made sure there were clear paths to the bathrooms and water bottles available for those who had too much.

If it were Aguni being surrounded by a bunch of loud, drunk, horny people in swimwear, he would absolutely despise it. But of course, Takeru loved it. It was so plainly obvious to see that he did. His face always lit up in a wide grin and if Aguni strained his ears, he would hear the man’s loud laughter amidst the booming music. And even if Aguni couldn’t see him on the dance floor among the throngs of people, he knew to simply look for where the crowd was condensed the most, because Takeru would undoubtedly be in the very center. The people at the Beach loved it when he joined them, all of them crowding around their leader like moths to a multicolored-kimono-wearing flame.

“This song fucking sucks,” he heard over the music as Niragi swaggered up to stand beside him. “Why can’t they play the good shit?” he complained.

“You are not here to complain,” Aguni said curtly. “If you want them to play a different song, then give me your gun and go tell them yourself.”

That shut the kid up. As trigger-happy as he was, Niragi was still smart enough to know that if he handed over his gun, he effectively gave up his militant status. So Niragi contented himself with an eye roll, a petulant “Whatever,” and turning his grumbling to the floor.

If Aguni were a less stoic man, he might have rolled his eyes right back. But as it was, he returned to surveying the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of Takeru in the sea of swimwear.

Aguni was a sensible man. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest, or the most cunning, or even the most sophisticated man. But he was sensible—he had to be given his previous line of work. He operated under no delusions, made no attempts to lie to himself or anyone, and covered his own ass. And so he could see very rational reasons why this nightclub existed and why Takeru constantly being there was advantageous. It let the people who came to the Beach think less about how it was rather like an American-style cult and more about how they truly were all united. And Takeru, the leader of their little commune, and his presence there made the idea more believable. If he was there dancing alongside them, then he was one of them, an equal, not just the leader of the place. So even if he didn’t personally like the place, he could begrudgingly admit it was a little useful.

Takeru, by contrast, was the exact opposite. Takeru was extroverted and rowdy; he liked opera music and girl groups in equal amounts; he was charismatic and charming. All things that made him a good host, and afterwards, a natural fit for his father’s hat business. The only exception to Aguni’s sensible life was Takeru, but he could excuse that. He was his oldest friend, the only one who’d stuck around this long, so Aguni could perhaps forgive himself for having a soft spot for Takeru.

Still, even with Takeru, Aguni operated under no delusions—he’d known the man long enough to understand how much of his natural charm and extroverted nature was a front. Most, if not all of it, was a simple front. It was how Takeru coped, really; he hid his pain by pretending he didn’t have any. He drank and fucked it away until it came creeping back, because it always did, and he would go on and on and on repeating the cycle. And that was probably the real reason why Takeru had taken one look at the handful of ballrooms the empty hotel had to offer and declared one of them would be a nightclub. Because then he, and by extension others, could have a place where they could pretend they were back in the real world, partying the night away with their friends at a club, that they weren’t in this hellish landscape.

Maybe that was where Aguni went wrong, letting him do that. Especially in this place, where everyone was gone and all that remained were the horrible games. He let Takeru start the Beach, and he should’ve known that would set him on his old habits again. But he hadn’t thought much about it in the beginning. It had just been the two of them, Kuzuryuu, and a small handful of others then. Not enough to enable Takeru’s propensity for drinking his problems away.

“Aguni, my good man!”

Speak of the devil.

He’d been so focused on his inner monologue that he didn’t even realize the subject of it was stumbling out of the crowd. His sunglasses were over his eyes (he would never understand Takeru’s insistence on wearing sunglasses indoors) and he had an excited, rather inebriated grin on his face as he headed straight for him. “So glad you could join us!” he said boisterously, clapping a hand on Aguni’s shoulder. “The party wouldn’t be complete without your stoic, statuesque presence here!”

Aguni was not amused. “Hatter,” he grunted in greeting.

“Won’t you join us? I’m sure you’d enjoy the company of some lovely young woman.” Takeru waggled his eyebrows with a grin. “Or some lovely young man, or person. I don’t judge.”

He was definitely inebriated. “I need to talk to you,” Aguni said curtly. “Now. In private.”

“Why, Aguni,” Takeru placed his hands over his chest with a mock-flattered grin. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I’m being serious. We need to talk.”

There was a pause, in which Takeru simply stared at him. Aguni looked stonily back, not daring to break their eye contact. The sunglasses made it so difficult to read Takeru’s face. He wished he would take them off; he didn’t really like the person he saw when he wore them.

“Fine then,” he finally said, actually looking serious for once. Then it was gone as he gave the militants behind Aguni a charming grin. “How about we give your friends the night off? Let them relax and not have to do militant things for a while? Seems unfair that they can’t partake in the fun!”

Aguni paused, thinking. “Fine.” He looked over his shoulder at Niragi and the others. “Take the night off. But if I catch wind of any of you,” he pointedly looked at Niragi while speaking, “causing trouble, you can say goodbye to your militant privileges.”

Niragi rolled his eyes, but still groused “Fine,” the others following suit.

“Wonderful!” Takeru spread out his hands. “Have all the fun you like, my friends!”

He thankfully waited until they had dispersed into the crowd before turning to Aguni with a more serious look. The amiable smile was still there, though. “Shall we?”

Aguni turned and headed out of the nightclub without a word, hoping Takeru was following him. He’d been doing this lately, agreeing to speak to Aguni in private then running off the moment he turned his back. He always laughed it off as him just messing around, but Aguni knew what was going on: Takeru was avoiding him. Perhaps he knew why he was trying to speak with him alone and was trying to delay the inevitable.

Well, he couldn’t avoid Aguni forever. And Aguni wasn’t going to let him try.

Luckily, as soon as they were out of the booming nightclub, Aguni heard Takeru’s footsteps behind him. He took them farther down the hall towards the back area of the hotel lobby, and finally brought into what in the real world would have been the hotel manager’s office.

“What a private setting,” Takeru said gaily as Aguni shut the door. “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere more comfortable?”

He didn’t dare give Takeru the rise he was trying to get out of him. “We need to talk.”

“So you keep saying,”

“Takeru.” Aguni felt some satisfaction at how the man immediately shut up at that. “We need to talk about the nightclub.”

“All right.” Takeru leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “What about it?”

Aguni tried to remember what he wanted this to segue into. The problem was figuring out how exactly to do that without Takeru catching on and ending the conversation before they could get there. For all his love of drink and sex, Takeru was clever, and Aguni had never been very good with words. “I think we should limit the alcohol consumption before sending people out to the games.”

“And why exactly should we do that?”

“Alcohol messes with the ability to think clearly. If people enter games while they’re drunk and can’t think clearly, they’ll die.”

“Awww,” Takeru grinned at him. “I didn’t think you cared so much, Mori-chan. So heartwarming.”

He was deflecting. “Then how about this: if people start dying because they got too drunk before entering the games, that’s less people collecting the cards. It will take longer to collect all of them, and we won’t be able to leave this place sooner. And then people will start questioning what you keep telling them, about being able to send someone home when we’ve collected all fifty-two cards. They’ll stop listening to you.”

That got Takeru’s attention. A part of Aguni rather wished it hadn’t, because he didn’t want to think about the implications. “We don’t have to take away the alcohol completely. Just keep them from drinking too much before the games. They can drink themselves into oblivion when they get back for all I care.”

For a long moment, Takeru was quiet. He appeared to be looking down at the carpeted floor, deep in thought. Aguni had to work to stay patient as he waited for a response. They had to talk about this now, not wait to talk later, because Aguni was afraid he’d be too late if he waited.

“They’re all so brave, aren’t they?”

Aguni frowned at Takeru’s words. Takeru went on, still looking down at the floor. “They go out, every night, even though they know they may not come back. We do that to them, send them out to their deaths. And they go, willingly—happily, even—because they believe that someday, one of them can go home.”

Aguni found himself wanting to listen, to stop and hear what else Takeru had to say. He was good at that, convincing people to listen to him. He was like some sort of siren, drawing people in until they forgot why they were there and only knew Takeru and his words, his ideas. Maybe Takeru would agree, maybe he would say he was right, they couldn’t risk people dying because they let them get too drunk, maybe he would agree to put a limit on drinking alcohol before going out to the games. All would be revealed if he just sat still and listened.

But Aguni did not—could not—operate under such a delusion. “Takeru,” he said, allowing his voice to gain the smallest edge of urgency. “You need to see what I’m concerned about.”

“I do.” Takeru raised his head. “And I think we shouldn’t.”

If Aguni wasn’t so skilled at stoicism, he would’ve gawked at the man. “What? Why not?”

“Like I said: we send them to their deaths every night. And they go, no matter how scared they have to be that they won’t come back. Fear can mess with the ability to think clearly too. And I think if I had the choice to play a game drunk or afraid, I wouldn’t want to be afraid.” Takeru gave him a rather dry smile. “It is called liquid courage, after all. So I say let them continue as they do. It takes the edge of fear away, and they’ll go off to the games knowing that if they die tonight, they made the most of the time they had left.”

“So you want to let them go, completely unable to take care of themselves?”

“I never said that. And it’s not like they go alone. That’s why they go in groups; to look after one another.”

Aguni hated how his mouth opened and closed for a moment as he struggled to find what to say. “But what I am concerned about is drinking to excess,” he finally settled on. “And how it happens every night. Say someone thinks this is their last night, that they’ll die in a game, so they do as you say and drink and dance so they’ll have made the most of their time left. But what if they survive? Then they’ll just be repeating the same cycle every night. And eventually, they’ll start drinking more and more to keep feeling the same way.” He finally fixed Takeru with a pointed look. “You know that behavior isn’t healthy.”

Takeru’s expression finally melted into a serious one. “Watch your step, Morizono,”

Aguni decided to throw the double speak out the window. “I am saying this as your friend, Takeru. I’m not just worried about the Beach. I’m worried about you. You’re relapsing into old habits, and I think you are clever enough to recognize that. Forget about the others for a second and think about yourself. Imagine if you went into a game completely out of your mind, so much that you couldn’t play properly. What do you think would happen?”

Takeru was quiet for a moment. “I would get myself killed,” he finally said, in a tone that sounded like he didn’t want to admit Aguni had a point.

Aguni nodded. “Exactly.” He crossed his arms. “You would die in that game. What do you think I—what do you think the Beach would do if you died? You are the one telling them they can eventually go home; you’re the reason why they stay. Not me, not any of the executives—you. You care about them, don’t you?”

He wondered why he was so afraid Takeru would say no. Of course he cared about them; this world hadn’t changed him that much.

… Right?

“I do. I do care about them. I care about you, Mori-chan.”

Aguni relaxed. “Then listen to what I’m saying. I understand it’s the best vice possible in this place. But being so careless and excessive isn’t good for you, or them, either.”

“Mori.”

Takeru reached up to take off his sunglasses, revealing that behind them his eyes were softer. Aguni was struck by how tired he suddenly looked, like this conversation was reminding him of the gravity of… well, everything. But what Aguni chose to focus on was the clarity he saw. Takeru wasn’t drunk, wasn’t high, wasn’t checked out in any way—his eyes were clear, focused. He was listening after all.

“They need this,” Takeru went on, nodding his head at the door and the direction of the nightclub. “Look at where we are; a cruel, merciless world that doesn’t care how much we want to live, only whether we win the games or not. We’re just pawns, nameless faces in those twisted games. We don’t mean anything, or have any value as people. And maybe you are able to come to terms with that knowledge, but they can’t. They need a reprieve, something that will take their minds off the cruelty and death for a while. Because the reprieve gives them hope, that they can go home one day, and all the death and violence they’ve been through will be worth it. They need this reprieve, because the only thing winning a game does is cruelly remind them that in this harsh, uncaring world, they are still alive. Mori…”

Takeru clapped his hand on Aguni’s shoulder and squeezed it, looking at him like now Aguni was the one that needed to listen. “Don’t look down on those who are still alive.”

Aguni didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go. He hadn’t expected Takeru to say that.

“… Do you think I’m looking down on you?” ended up being the words that came out of his mouth. “Am I doing something to make you think I am?”

“Mori-chan…” Takeru squeezed his shoulder again. “Of course not. I know you’re not. You never have, in all the years we’ve been friends.” He smiled wryly. “As much as I’m sure you’ve wanted to. I’ve been told I can be a bit of a pain.”

“You’re my pain,” Aguni said immediately. It was what they’d always said to each other. If one of them said he could be an ass, the other would reply that he was his ass.

Takeru’s smile softened into something genuine and he chuckled. “Damn straight. And you’re mine.”

Aguni let himself smile a little. There was Takeru, finally. Still, though… “You’ll think about what I’m saying, though, right?”

He felt a little guilty at how the question made Takeru’s smile fade a little. But then Takeru nodded. “I will. Perhaps we can talk about it at the next executive meeting. You… do make a good point, I suppose.”

Aguni wanted to sigh in relief. He let himself smirk a little. “It must be so hard for you to admit I’m right.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Takeru mocked with a grin. “But seriously, I will. I will think about what you’re saying.”

That was all Aguni had wanted, really. He nodded. “Good.” He paused, glancing at the door. “I should go make sure Niragi hasn’t shot up the place.”

“What a hotheaded young man,” Takeru said with a coy grin. “He’s such a joy to be around.”

That made Aguni crack a dry smile. “An incredible joy.”

Takeru laughed and pushed himself off the desk. “Allow me.” He went over to the door and opened it, making a sweeping gesture out the door. “After you, my good sir.”

With a fond shake of his head, Aguni moved to walk out the door… then was stopped by Takeru placing his hand on his shoulder again.

“Mori… things will change. I promise you. Things will be better.”

Aguni looked at him for a second, taking in how earnest his old friend looked. Then he nodded. “I know.”

Takeru smiled, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Well,” he put his sunglasses back on and gave what Aguni had labeled his Host Club Smile, “back into the fray I go!”

As Takeru sauntered off to rejoin the party in the nightclub, Aguni couldn’t help watching him go. Takeru really did have a talent for reassuring people. But would it really be so bad if Aguni let himself hope Takeru was telling the truth? He was a sensible man. But sensible men could still have hope.

Takeru had listened to him. He had admitted he had a point. He promised him. And for once, wanting to have faith in his best friend, Aguni believed him. Things would change. Things would get better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They didn’t.

Nothing got better. Everything just got worse.

Aguni blamed those players that got themselves shot and killed. If they hadn’t been hoarding their cards, none of this would’ve happened. But they did, like a bunch of idiots, and all the Beach had to show for it was the beginning of the stacks of bodies in the dumpsters and their newest rule.

Death to the traitors.

He should’ve known Takeru wouldn’t be able to handle it all. Because with the reveal that the players were breaking the rules came the shattering of Takeru’s carefully constructed illusion that everything would be fine. He’d never seen the man look so wildly enraged before.

And ever since then, Takeru wasn’t the same. A darker edge had crept into the way he presented himself, just around the edges, and only just enough that people saw it only if they were looking for it. Aguni seemed to be the only one looking for it. He was different now, darker than the man he was before those fucking Beach members set him off.

“Looking for Hatter, I presume?”

The drawling voice made Aguni turn from the entrance to the nightclub to the young man with the bleached hair and white hoodie standing to his left. Chishiya, the Beach’s newest executive. Takeru kept praising how smart he was and how his intellect was contributing to the Beach’s efforts. Aguni was only reminded of a sly, predatory cat. “That’s none of your business,” he barked.

Chishiya just gave him an unbothered smirk. “Naturally. He’s in his room, by the way. He went there a few hours ago with a couple of girls.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off towards a young woman in a blue bikini chewing a fake cigarette.

Of course he was. He should’ve checked there first instead of the nightclub. Takeru had stopped going there lately.

Aguni didn’t waste any more time and turned to head towards the stairs to Takeru’s room. With any luck Takeru would be sober enough to string together a coherent sentence.

Sure enough, he was there, and indeed was sprawled out on his couch with two girls on either side of him. Aguni’s thumping footsteps must have announced his arrival, because Takeru looked up and grinned widely upon seeing him. “Aguni! I’d recognize those heavy footfalls anywhere!”

Aguni hated the state his friend was in. He was clearly already drunk. His lips were stained red with lipstick. Those damn sunglasses never left his face these days…

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said gruffly, trying to ignore the girls running their hands all over Takeru’s torso and kissing his neck and chest.

“Aww, little old me?” Takeru’s grin was borderline mean. “You’re so sweet, Mori-chan.”

Aguni wanted to sigh (and not think about how much seeing that mean smile hurt). “We need to talk.” He glanced at the girls. “In private.”

“You always want to see me privately. Why can’t we be out and about proudly for everyone to see? Are you ashamed of our relationship, Mori-chan?”

“I am being serious,” Aguni said, trying to make his words hit as deeply as possible.

“You always are. Why not relax for once? It won’t kill you.”

It was becoming very hard to not punch that lazily unbothered grin off his face. “You made me a promise, Hatter.”

Aguni felt a flash of slightly spiteful satisfaction when the grin immediately slipped off Takeru’s face. But then it was back as he nonchalantly shrugged. “So what?”

“So things are not changing in the way you implied they would be.”

“Because things are different now. We must adapt to new situations, or we’ll never—”

“Don’t give me speeches,” Aguni interrupted with a scowl. “I’m not one of your followers.”

That made Takeru pause, and Aguni went on. “You told me you would think about what I said. You told me things would change. They haven’t changed—they’ve only gotten worse. Did you forget that promise?”

There was a long silence. No one moved, not even the girls. Everyone, from the girls to the two militants guarding the door, seemed tense as they waited for the unmoving Takeru to respond. He simply stared up at Aguni, expression unreadable with those damn sunglasses.

“That was then,” he finally said, in a voice that was soft but seemed to fill the entire room. His voice shook with something. “This is now. The Beach needs a leader, and I have been chosen as the leader. Sacrifices need to be made.”

Aguni half-wanted that long, tense silence back. “So you’ll just let it get worse?”

“Is it really worse? Is it any worse than the horrors we face every night? Not everyone is so desensitized to violence and death, Aguni.”

The way his name was spat out nearly made Aguni flinch.

“Perhaps you only have the Beach’s best interests at heart,” Takeru went on, “but so do I. And out of the two of us, I’m the leader. You and the militants answer to me. So I am going to keep things as they are.” He looked up, and Aguni hated the glare he could feel coming from behind the sunglasses. “Is that clear?”

Aguni felt something painful erupt in his chest. He wanted to argue. He wanted to say no, that wasn’t clear, that this was insane. That he was worried about him, because he was spiraling so far down a path Aguni couldn’t follow. That it was becoming harder to tell where Hatter, leader of the Beach ended and Danma Takeru began.

“Yes. It is.”

The words felt like a betrayal.

They seemed to flip some sort of switch, because a second later, the lazy, unbothered grin was back and Takeru sat back against the back of the couch. “Wonderful! Glad we’re all on the same page. You’re free to go now.” His grin turned suggestive. “Unless you’d like to watch. Or you could even join. I’m very flexible.”

Aguni wanted to do neither of those things. Wordlessly, he turned and began to leave.

“Oh, by the way,” Takeru called, “some of the militants caught a few people trying to leave. Would you be a dear and help them move the bodies out of the basement? They would ask Ann, but I think they’re a little scared of her.”

All he gave in reply was a grunt. Then he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Aguni Morizono was a sensible man. He covered his own ass, didn’t overthink things, and minded his business. And he never operated under delusions of any kind.

Except the one where he wasn’t losing his best friend, apparently.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: 今際の国のアリス | Imawa no Kuni no Alice | Alice in Borderland (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Aguni Morizono/Danma Takeru | Hatter Characters: Aguni Morizono, Danma Takeru | Hatter Additional Tags: Prequel, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Underage Drinking, Sex Work, Flirting, Manipulation, Internalized Homophobia, Falling In Love, Possibly Unrequited Love, Kissing, Closeted Character, First Love, Background Relationships, Sexual Content, Second Chances, Host Clubs, Love Confessions, mentions of illness, Pining, Ryu The Host Was Never Fully Described But He Looks Exactly Like Machinda Keita In Cherry Magic! Summary:

This will be a multi-chapter fic exploring the relationship between Takeru and Aguni as they try to navigate their lives, from the fistfights of childhood to the uncertainty of adulthood, all the way to the Borderlands. I have taken many liberties to create what I feel is an appropriate backstory for these two, but it most likely deviates from canon, so keep that in mind. Each chapter will be named after a different song that I feel suits their relationship, so feel free to give it a listen as you read for a more in-depth experience.

(Title is taken from "Me And Bobby McGee" by Janis Joplin.)

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Chapter 4 is hot off the presses!  We get a little time jump, we get to meet Ryu, and...could there be a love confession in this chapter?  Well, I just don’t know-- you’re going to have to read it to find out! 

This is somewhere around 5,000 words, so BIG CHAPTER!  I hope you enjoy!

[hatterstan-shameblog]

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Give Me Back My Body You Bitch: The Meeting

Rating: ‼️18+‼️

Warnings: insults, shenanigans, aexual humor/mentions of sexual situations, threats of violence—you know, the usual

Summary: The second installment in which Chisiya and Hatter have swapped bodies. Can they make it through the Executives' meeting without blowing their cover? This chapter is from Chisiya's POV.

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It's fascinating, really.

When Chisiya awoke this morning with a pounding headache and a few more muscle aches than usual, he hadn't suspected anything other than sinus pressure and a bad night's sleep. That's not abnormal for him—he's a terrible sleeper, tossing and turning the minutes away until light rest finally overtakes his senses deep into the night.

Finding himself in another man's body was quite the surprise, but, at the risk of sounding as if he's happy to be trapped inside the bones of a 40-something year old with a slightly inflamed liver and the ache of what must be an old knee injury, it hasn't been all bad.

People look at him differently in Hatter's body. Respectfully. In admiration. As if they'd jump off the roof if he so wished it; and in some cases, Chisiya does wish it, although he has abstained from flexing that power just yet.

His meeting with Aguni had been illuminating. Clearly, he and Hatter have a history. A romantic one, if he had to guess from the way the man's eyes lit up when he referred to him as "Mori." That had been a lucky guess on Chisiya's part, and had paid off beautifully as his counterpart began describing all of Hatter's faux pas from their younger days.

Apparently, he cries every time he hears Celine Dion sign "My Heart Will Go On." Even in the grocery store.

Chisiya's not one to pass judgement, but he's also not planning on letting this little tidbit of information go to waste.

It's also rather nice to be at the head of the table in Executive meetings—especially because he can feel Hatter's rage from being demoted to his usual seat amongst the crowd. It makes it easier for Chisiya to make Hatter fake-smile as the underlings discuss Beach recruitment tactics.

Speaking of, apparently, Aguni has somehow managed to get Kuina involved with the Militants, and has brought her along to today's meeting. She sits beside Chisiya, a spare folding chair pulled up to the table for her use.

How very suspicious. Kuina has, time and again, complained about those 'evil fucking fascists,' but perhaps she has had a change of heart.

Or, perhaps the sky is blue because it's made of Ramune.

"New girl," Chisiya calls dispassionately, waving his hand about to maintain Hatter's usual air of drunken patheticness, "You're friends with Chisiya, right?"

"He's my roommate," she responds curtly.

Chisiya steeples his hands together the way he's seen Hatter do when he's about to make what he thinks is a brilliant point—or, when he's about to start some drama, as is the case right now.

"Then perhaps you'd be so kind as to ask him to share his thoughts," Chisiya purrs, looking directly at the man trapped in his body. Hatter clearly hasn't been paying attention for the past ten minutes, fingers fumbling with the strings on Chisiya's white sweatshirt in an attempt to stave off boredom. "He's being awfully quiet today."

Kuina elbows the man next to her in the side, and Hatter yelps at the pain. With a roll of his eyes, he straightens his posture and attempts Chisiya's signature smirk, which looks more seasick than confidently smug.

"Hm, yes. Thoughts. My brain is so much bigger than everybody elses', so that means I have more thoughts than the average person," Hatter purrs—and he's not the worst mimic when it comes to vocal tone, but everything else is overt-the-top and laughable in a distinctly bad way, "Come to think of it, thoughts are all I have, really. No personality, no sense of style. Just thoughts."

"You see, I can't relate," Chisiya responds. He twists the ugly, uncomfortable ring on Hatter's hand as he talks. "I've never had an intelligent thought in my life."

"What in the goddamn fuck are you guys talking about," Niragi asks, expression contorted into an ugly scowl.

"Hush," Mira shushes him, "I wanna see where this is going..."

It's silly. Chisiya knows he should just drop the issue and continue on with the meeting as originally planned. Engaging with this level of petty argument is tacky and beneath him.

...But Hatter is tacky, and nothing's beneath him, so Chisiya has no choice but to throw gasoline on this potential dumpster fire.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?" Chisiya fake pouts. He runs a hand through Hatter's hair; which even he must admit, is rather luscious and beautiful. "I'm sure you've noticed that I have a terrible habit of saying whatever floats into my little head, no matter how stupid it is."

"Your voice is different," Last Boss comments, "Chisiya's voice is different, too."

"That's to be expected," Hatter says. He crosses Chisiya's arms across his chest. "Head's so far up my own ass it creates an echo."

"That doesn't even make sense," An mumbles, but it's barely heard over Niragi's shrieks of laughter. "And is nobody going to mention Chisiya's eye? I feel like that's something we may want to know about."

"My throat's a little scratchy," Chisiya shoots back, "You know, from choking on my own lies."

Aguni jerks up from his seat at the table, both hands smashing onto the heavy wood surface with a thundering crash.

"That's enough!" he shouts.

Kuina rises and stands beside him, teeth furiously chewing on the straw in her mouth.

"They're sick," Aguni continues, "both of 'em. There's a virus going around, and those two caught it."

"It's true," Hatter says. He gestures towards Chisiya's face. "I look horrible. Even worse than usual."

"My organs have been pickled by a steady diet of bitterness, misplaced anger, and cheap booze," Chisiya says. He forces Hatter to frown. "I'm even more pathetic on the inside than I am on the outside."

"Which is why we're ending the meeting now," Aguni insists, "and putting those two in quarantine. Together."

The room goes silent.

"Together?"

Both Hatter and Chisiya speak at the same time, which clearly has both men upset.

"I'm coming too," Kuina adds. "I've been exposed, so I'll need to keep away from the general population. Aguni, too."

"Do we have to?" Hatter whines. He's completely abandoned his attempt at Chisiya-ing, shoulders dropped into a defeated slouch.

He looks to the head of the table for help. If the man everything thinks to be Hatter gives the word, they'll be free to come and go as they please.

But Chisiya also knows that the tensions between the Militants and Hatter's faction are rising, and any kind of dissent could mean civil war. He knew from the second Kuina walked through the door that the jig is up, and it's only a matter of time before she calls them both out. Chisiya would much rather it happen in private as opposed to in front of the entire Executive team.

"Since I am devoted to the safety and happiness of the Beach and it's residents," Chisiya announces dramatically, standing Hatter's body his chair the way self-important kings of old must've done at court banquets, "I will, of course, oblige. No need to thank me; I'm not a saint. I'm just a man. A man whose ego reaches beyond the borders of this strange land and—"

"Please," Kuzuryuu groans. He rubs his temples with his index and middle fingers to dispel the tension in his cranium, "just make this stop."

Chisiya's hardly thrilled with the arrangement. Spending what will most likely be hours with Aguni and Hatter does not sound particularly pleasant, but at least Kuina will be there. She's interesting enough, and what's more, she can hold her own in a fistfight if things go south.

Hatter still hasn't gotten the hang of Chisiya's body yet, because he teeters a bit to the left as he rises from his seat. He recovers and shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.

"Lead the way," he sneers, "I guess."

It's a shame they've agreed to no physical violence. Chisiya would relish the opportunity to give him a good smack across the face—and, by the virtue of having switched bodies, he'd probably get away with it, too.

But, for now, he allows the meeting to end and allows himself to be led back to Hatter's room. To Chisiya's amusement, Hatter does his best attempt to imitate Chisiya's easygoing stride, but looks more like a duck on drugs than a man unbothered by the world around him.

On the way, Chisiya ponders. He wonders how much Aguni and Kuina know about their little predicament—clearly, they have a solid hunch, otherwise they wouldn't be going through all this trouble. But have they truly considered the idea of a body-swap? Kuina's clever. She may have come up with something similar, although she most likely listened to Aguni's concerns before voicing her theory.

And Aguni—he's a wild card. Solemn and silent one moment, firey and vengeful the next. At least, that's the persona he puts out to the world. Chisiya meant it when he said that the man was surprisingly sweet behind closed doors—and almost funny, too, with his dry, deadpan sense of humor. Chisiya never pegged him as particularly intellectual, but he's certainly observant.

"Alright," Aguni says, closing the door to Hatter's massive suite behind him after they've all been guided inside, "I'm gonna give you one chance, and one chance only, to tell me what in the goddamn is going on with you two."

"My darling Mori-chan," Chisiya says, doing his best drunken saunter towards Hatter's usual perch in the center of the leather sofa, "whatever leads you to believe that's there's something amiss?"

"Yeah," Hatter says. He's leaning against the wall the way Chisiya does, although with a much more pronounced slouch. He really is an awful character actor. "Hatter's always like that. Sexy, suave, provocative—it's why everyone loves him and wants to risk their lives to get playing cards for his personal benefit!"

"And I see nothing wrong with it because I have no moral backbone and—"

"Cut the bullshit," Kuina interrupts, "We know you two switched bodies."

"You can't prove anything," Chisiya quips. For good measure, he swipes a bottle of alcoholic something and takes a sizable swig. The ease with with he gulps down the strawberry-flavored liquor should inspire doubt in her outlandish theory.

"Yeah," Hatter adds, "This is Chisiya's body, why would anyone but Chisiya be inside of it?"

Kuina crosses her arms in front of her chest. She doesn't look amused.

"I didn't want it to come to this," she laments, "but you leave me no choice."

Kuina turns to Aguni. He's standing in front of Hatter's record player, ready to slip the switch and turn it on. She gives him a silent nod, which he returns.

"Hit it."

Aguni places the needle onto the record. There's a quick skip, then a moment of static, and then...

...Then, Chisiya knows they're screwed.

"You know," Aguni says, "I remember seeing Titanic when it first came out. I didn't care much for Jack and Rose's love story, but the practical effects were just spectacular. You just don't get that kind of thing anymore in modern cinema, and it's a damn shame."

Chisiya's eyes dart to the right. Hatter seems to be remaining calm inside of Chisiya's body, but his eyes are beginning to look a little shiny. He looks up to the ceiling.

"Yeah," Kuina says, "I like the part where the guy hit his leg on the propeller on the way down."

Celine Dion croons from the record player's speakers.

"Near, far, wherever you are..."

"That's a classic," Aguni agrees. "The side characters were some of the best parts of the film, in my opinion. I mean, the string quartet, the preacher..."

Chisiya wonders if he should attempt a few tears just for the sake of keeping up the act. He hates crying. It's embarrassing and uncomfortable and it makes his eyes itch. Even if he wanted to squeeze out a sob or two, he probably couldn't make it convincing enough to get past Kuina's laser gaze.

"...But the best side characters would have to be," Aguni says, looking Chisiya (Hatter) directly in the eye, "the old people. You know, the old couple who goes to bed together one last time as the water fills their cabin?"

"Ooh, that one hurts," Kuina concurs, "To have a love like that..."

"You're here, there's nothing to fear, Celine sings, "and I know..."

Chisiya sighs. He looks over to where Hatter is inhabiting his body, tears streaming down his face—Chisiya's eyes are probably confused, but maybe it'll be good to clean out his tear ducts—and knows that there's no going back.

"Fuck you!"

Hatter scream-cries as he stomps Chisiya's body over to the record player. He all but smacks the needle from the still-spinning record, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you—you know I cry whenever I think about the old people!"

"To be fair," Chisiya sighs, finally removing Hatter's ridiculous glasses from his nose, "that was a very touching scene. I can't say that my reaction was quite as...visceral as our esteemed colleague's, but I was still moved, nonetheless."

It's freeing, not having to pretend to be Hatter anymore. Chisiya fixes his posture so that he can finally rest comfortably on the sofa and twists the gaudy ring off of his index finger. The hideous thing has been aggravating him all morning.

"So you admit it," Aguni questions, leaning against the wall and shoving his hands into his pockets, "you two switched bodies and have been pretending to be each other all day?"

Hatter nods Chisiya's head, a stray few whimpers coming from his lips as he tries to regain his composure. Kuina csutiously offers him a box of tissues, which he accepts graciously.

"It's not that we switched bodies," Chisiya explains, "but, rather, our bodies have been switched. Neither of us had anything to do with it, personally."

"I don't wanna be Chisiya anymore," Hatter whines, "I don't like dressing in all white. It's like I'm in a low-budget tampon commercial."

Kuina momentarily forgets her disgust and snickers.

"And I have the hair of a man who peaked in 1997," Chisiya responds smoothly, "We've both been suffering today."

Even Aguni can't help but smirk a little at that one.

"Petty insults aside," Chisiya says, "We haven't yet been able to figure out how to get back into our own bodies. I have a theory of how to put us back to normal, but there's no guarantee it'll work."

"I'll try anything once," Hatter says, "Especially if it means I don't have to live in a body that craves kale. Other greens, I get, but kale?"

"It's getting close to lunchtime," Kuina points out. She turns to Hatter's form, which she now knows houses Chisiya's spirit, "Can you get a sense for what he wants to eat?"

"Pussy, probably," Hatter interjects, "But since we're not doing that, I'll bet I'm looking for a grilled cheese. Cheddar-gouda combo, with that sundried tomato spread—Mori, you know what I like."

"And he's going to want a salad—kale, red onion, sunflower seeds, the works. Pomegranate vinaigrette, if you can manage it."

"I'll handle it," Kuina replies. "Besides, I heard they got a new shipment of snacks in. I wanna see if they got any more of those pizza chips."

"Had my guys put a couple bags back before we put 'em put for the masses," Aguni says, "I'll get you some."

"So nice you two are getting along," Chisiya purrs, "Why, it's almost as if you're being friendly."

"Fuck off," Kuina dismisses, "This is a business partnership."

"A business partnership designed to keep you clowns from killing each other," Aguni adds. "You gonna behave while we're gone, or do I need to make you behave?"

"Kinky," Hatter snickers. When he realizes nobody else is getting in on his hilarious joke, he rolls his eyes. "Come on, Mori, we're grown men. We can handle ourselves for twenty minutes!"

"Like you handled that meeting?" Aguni asks.

How strange it is for Chisiya to see himself—well, his body, at least—in such a way. Aloof and unpostured, locked in conversation with a man he's barely exchanged five words with before today. There's something sobering about it, in a way.

"We'll be fine," Chisiya placates, "It's in our best interest to play nice, isn't it? Anything other than a few little quips passed back and forth could result in our mutually-assured destruction, which I have no interest in exploring at this time."

"And I'll be damned if this fucking loser gets blood on my outfit, so, you know—get out of here." Hatter flops Chisiya's person down on the opposite sofa, feet kicking up to rest on a stray throw pillow, "Take the long way, if you want. I don't plan on moving from this spot for a long, long time."

Aguni hardly looks pleased, but mumbles something about "knocking out teeth" if he finds blood on the carpet when they get back. Even Kuina gives them a chilling look before following her unlikely associate out the door.

True to his word, Hatter stays on the sofa. He's swiped a stray magazine off of the end table and idly flips through its pages, stopping to read whichever article catches his eye. It's the quietest Chisiya's ever seen him.

Chisiya, however, begins to think. To plan. To consider.

There has to be a way to get them switched back, and he won't rest until he figures it out.

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[hatterstan-shameblog]

aye :> i would want to request something as well. you know @aceofspadegrass's post? the one with aib au where the characters switch personalities? Can you make a short fic where chishiya and hatter switch bodies for a whole day? pls?

@thee-yunatic-pixie

A short fic?

You drop a golden concept like that on my head and you want a short fic?

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Give Me Back My Body, You Bitch: The Awakening

Rating: ‼️18+‼️

Warnings: allusions to sexual situatios, vague descriptions of nudity, alcohol and drug mentions, light violence, explicit language

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Sunlight slices in through the crack in the drapes, the sliver of inconvenience shining directly into Hatter's bleary eyes as he blinks away the last vestiges of slumber.

With a disgruntled groan, the man flops to lie on his other side and shield his face from the unrelenting morning; he's got a terrible headache. A dull pounding right between his eyes, like someone's bouncing a tennis ball against the inside of his skull.

It's probably just a hangover. Last night is a technicolor smudge in his memory, the specifics of which are not coming easily to mind. He remembers having a glass of red wine with a select few of his closest acquaintances, offering a few sips to the lovely lady perched atop his lap—oh, she had been quite the little treat, giggling and squirming every time his hands dared to stray just past the bounds of propriety...

He reaches out to feel for her soft, warm body in the bed next to him, but is disappointed to find nothing except cool, unoccupied sheets.

How disappointing.

He's also rather disturbed when he realizes that the bed feels different. Smaller, and the pillowcases have a much lesser threadcount than he's used to.

Something's not right.

Hatter's eyes fly open.

This is a standard room—the second bed a few feet from the one he occupies is testament to that—as is the decidedly lackluster decor and lack of assorted beverages he usually keeps on the bedside table.

It also explains the woman leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looking down at him with a sly, albeit condescending, smile.

"Ah," she says, "you're finally awake."

She moves the staw between her lips from one side of her mouth to the other before flopping backwards onto the other bed.

She looks familiar—oh, that's Chisiya's friend. His sexy, long-legged friend. The tall one. The one with the oral fixation. The one who could bring a man to his knees with a flick of her sultry gaze.

Oh yes.

"Well, hello there," he purrs, making sure to flash her his most seductive smirk, "Fancy running into you here."

The woman on the next bed snorts

"Fuck off," she scoffs, "Now's not the time to be weird. Hatter called a meeting at noon, you're gonna be late if you keep lazing around in bed all day."

Hm. That's odd. Hatter furrows his brow—being blackout drunk is nothing new, but being blackout drunk and calling a meeting is not the norm. Not only that, but it seems that his advances are being rejected by the enticing lady across the room, her focus entirely on filing her fingernails instead of ogling his devilish good looks.

"Dont worry," he says, letting the sheet slip down slightly to offer her a view of his collarbone—women love a well-defined collarbone, "The meeting doesn't start until I get there."

The woman shrugs.

"Suit yourself. But I ran into Hatter this morning and he was pretty insistent you be there," She pauses to blow the dust away from her cuticles, "He seemed kinda...off. Can't really explain it, but I don't think today's the day to piss the guy off. The only thing worse than a crazy man with a gun is a crazy man with a gun and a reason to shoot somebody."

That's when everything starts to fall into place. The room, the sheets, the woman who inexplicably has no interest in flirting. Hatter brings a shaky hand up to his head and grabs a fistful of dry, chemical-fried hair.

No, no, no, he thinks to himself, grabbing the covers and pulling them up over his head as if to hide from his awful new reality. This is a nightmare. Or a bad acid trip. Or a nightmare after a bad acid trip....

And it is here, beneath the sheets of an unfamiliar bed, where he discovers two terrible truths.

One: he is, indeed, in Chisiya's body.

Two: Chisiya sleeps naked.

Hatter can't help but yelp, quickly surfacing from the depths of his blanket-y fortress and smushing the bunched-up fabric close to his body lest he get another eyeful of Chisiya's unclothed form.

"Why are you acting so weird?" the woman asks pointedly.

"Uh. Um. I'm—"

"And your voice sounds different," she observes, although it sounds more like an accusation, "You sick or something?"

"Yes! I mean, uh," Hatter clears his throat—Chisiya's throat?—and begins scanning the room for something to wear, "There's a...a flu going around! Super gross. Highly infective."

"Infectious?"

"Uh-huh. That. Anyways," He spies a pair of white basketball shorts lying in the floor and snatches them up in his noticeably smaller fist, "We're gonna try to figure out how to stop it from spreading."

"Well, if Hatter's got it, we're all doomed. With the way that guy gets around..."

"Hey!" Hatter snaps, "I—he is a passionate man!"

He slips on the shorts hastily. The woman is giving him an impressive side-eye.

Oh. Right. He's supposed to be Chisiya.

"Passionate," he adds carefully, "about, uh...being a total dick. That guy's got more issues than Vogue."

"...Yeah. Anyways," the woman says, "You gotta steal me more of his edibles. You know, the little purple ones. Dude's a train wreck, but he's got excellent taste in weed."

Is Chisiya the one who's been stealing all of his drugs? Hatter feels a tsunami of rage rise in his blood, but he has to tamp it down.

Later. He'll kick that skinny little sneak's ass later.

"He does have good taste in weed. And alcohol." Hatter snips, "but, apparently, he's absolute shit when it comes to picking Executive members..."

Chisiya's signature white hoodie is draped over the chair in the corner, and Hatter reluctantly rouses his new body up from the mattress to fetch it. He feels short. His feet are slightly smaller, too, he notices as he slides into Chisiya's flip-flops. Smaller, but well-moisturized. In fact, his whole body feels well-moisturized. What an oddly uncomfortable thing to be aware of in another person.

"Don't wait up, darling," he says as he quickly shuffles towards door—every second spent in this body is a second of his life being something other than his extraordinarily charming and uncommonly beautiful self, which is simply tragic.

Chisiya's friend scoffs from her bed.

"Okay, sweetheart," she sneers. "Try not to let the door hit you on the way out."

But, unfortunately, the door does hit him on the way out, and he nearly smashes Chisiya's nose into the opposing wall from the force of his stumble. Piloting a new body is difficult. Especially a stupid, ugly, pathetic body like this one.

The journey to his suite is thankfully uneventful, although longer than usual because he's doing his best to imitate Chisiya's snarky slouch and unhurried pace; he tries his best to do that weird little smile Chisiya does, like an evil baby who likes to scream at 3 AM for no reason other than to exhaust its parents.

Chisiya was probably an evil baby, Hatter thinks to himself as he's let into his own room, Manipulative and mean. And not even cute like all the other evil babies out there.

It's difficult to keep up the Chisiya façade when being in his own environment, and the second the door clicks shut behind him, Hatter is storming into room with a firey rage that could burn the entire Beach to the ground.

"Give me back my body, you bitch!"

One of the many perks of occupying the nicest suite in the place is the acoustics—those opulent high ceilings really know how to handle a good scream. Hatter's shout echoes throughout the room at a window-rattling volume that the people in normal, murder-game-free Tokyo could probably hear.

It's cathartic.

...Until he rounds the corner and sees something that causes his stomach to seize up in regret.

Himself—inhabited by Chisiya, ew—lounging in one of the leather arm chairs situated around the low center table, an amused smirk on his lips and a half-finished plastic cup of what can only be his usual venti mocha cold brew with added espresso shot and caramel drizzle on top.

But the real problem is the fact that Aguni is sitting opposite him, looking positive gobsmacked at Chisiya's presence during their little meeting.

Their secret pre-meeting meeting.

The secret pre-meeting meeting that nobody is supposed to know about.

"The hell is he doing here," Aguni shouts, and—ooh, that's his angry face. A face Hatter has come to know very well over the years, with a hard-lined mouth and furrowed brow.

"I—" Hatter says cautiously. He has to think quick; what would that smarmy jerk Chisiya say right now?

"I...could be asking the same for you," Hatter muses, attempting his best impression of the other man's airy snobbery, "I thought you two hated each other?"

Aguni tenses up. If there's one thing that man hates (aside from broccoli and waiting in line to renew his license), it's having any aspect of his personal life on display.

Aguni's frown deepens as he looks between the two men. He knows something's gone wrong, but the confusion in his eyes leads Hatter to believe that he hasn't quite figured it out yet. It's probably best he doesn't know, for now at least.

"We're done here," Aguni grumbles, rising from the armchair he had been occupying. He makes a swift exit, almost clipping Chisiya's shoulder as he storms out of the room.

"It's funny," Chisiya says, tucking an absent strand of Hatter's hair behind his ear in a totally uncool way Hatter would never do, "Mori is a surprisingly sweet man when he's not on a murderous rampage. He even stopped for coffee on his way here; what a lovely surprise it was to see he knew exactly what to order for you..."

Hatter makes Chisiya's body stomp over to where his body is sitting and snatches the cup from his hand. He takes a defiant sip and immediately recoils.

"Fucking disgusting," Hatter hisses. He all but throws the cup back onto the table. "The hell did you—?"

"You seem to have forgotten," Chisiya says, "You're in my body now. And my body doesn't consume disgusting amounts of sugar every day. I tried to drink a glass of water earlier and almost had to spit it out because you are apparently so adverse to hydration."

"Fine," Hatter snips. He swings Chisiya's hand down to swipe up a bottle of vodka from the end table, "I don't need coffee. I have this."

He gives the bottle a shake and starts to unscrew the cap.

"I would prefer if you didn't," Chisiya says. "I don't tolerate hard liquor very well."

"Sounds like a 'you' problem. I'm sure I'll be just fine."

Chisiya nods Hatter's head solemnly.

"Very well. I didn't want it to come to this, but you leave me no choice."

In a flash, Chisiya forces Hatter's hand to the table and snatches up something shiny. By the time Hatter realizes that it's his favorite pair of sewing scissors, Chisiya already has the blades parted over a section of Hatter's hair.

"Motherfucker," Hatter growls. Not only is he threatening to destroy his perfectly-maintained image, but everyone knows that using fabric shears on anything but fabric will ruin the blades!

"I'll do it," Chisiya warns. The scissors close a centimeter. "The second that bottle touches my lips, I'll start cutting. And I promise not to stop until you beg."

They still for a moment, each man holding the other's body hostage in a truly mind-bending stalemate. Hatter's hair and millions of Chisiya's brain cells hang in the balance. One wrong move could prove deadly.

Hatter is the first to give—a show of good faith, because he's a much better person than Chisiya could every hope to be. He places the bottle back on the table and strides to his preferred seat on the sofa and drapes Chisiya's body over it dramatically. Hatter may not be allowed to destroy the man's liver, but he didn't say anything about his spine.

"You're a hell of a negotiator," Hatter says, and Chisiya releases Hatter's hair from his grip and drops the scissors where he originally got them. "And, I must say, you've never looked better."

"I would expect nothing less from you," He responds, sipping on the sugary drink absently, "You have a lovely room, by the way. The flowers, the drapes. The ensuite is particularly well-stocked. I had the hardest time choosing which bath bomb I wanted to use this morning."

"I saw you naked, too. I think. If you had been anything remarkable, I would've remembered it," Hatter replies. He selects a grape from the overflowing fruit bowl on the table and snaps it between Chisiya's incisors. "I imagine you had quite the shock, though. Not used to handling a body like mine—"

"Not to worry; I've bathed plenty of elderly patients as part of my clinical rotation."

With a quick jab, Hatter makes Chisiya's arm punch him in the eye.

"I've also bathed stupid ones," Chisiya remarks, "just in case you were wondering."

Hatter hisses in pain but shoots a devious smile to the man across from him.

"It's gonna hurt ten times worse tomorrow morning," he says with a dark chuckle, "I plan on being back in my own body by then, so...enjoy."

Chisiya hums.

"While I appreciate your optimism," he says, "I haven't figured out how we get switched back yet. So, until one of us finds a way to undo this...predicament, I propose we set some boundaries."

Hatter pops a strawberry into Chisiya's mouth. Oh, that tastes amazing—even better than usual! Strawberries must be Chisiya's body's favorite.

"Fine," Hatter snips. He takes a chunk of pineapple next, which isn't as nearly as good as the strawberry, but still quite nice. "No chestnuts. I'm allergic. Every other nut is fine, but not those."

"Noted. I also insist that we refrain from sexual activity while in each other's bodies. It's a consent issue, you understand."

Hatter chuckles.

"Not a problem," he says. He gestures a lazy hand down Chisiya's form, "Nobody wants this anyways."

"I also request that we remain civil—that means we respect our new bodies and refrain from intentional harm," Chisiya frowns, "No chestnuts for you, no more punches for me."

"Sounds reasonable. Boring, but reasonable."

"And, finally," Chisiya says, employing a dramatic pause to enhance the seriousness of his final rule, "we have to maintain the illusion that nothing is wrong. If people find out we've switched bodies, it's likely to cause problems."

"That's putting it lightly," Hatter comments. He drops a blueberry into Chisiya's open mouth and chews thoughtfully, "There's a lot you don't know about me, about this place. How long until the meeting with the other Executives?"

"Ten minutes."

Hatter sighs. That's barely enough time to get their stories straight, never mind prep him for the meeting. And, as much as the idea upsets him, he'll have toearn a few things about Chisiya, too.

He rolls up Chisiya's sleeves and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Well, I guess that'll just have to do."

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Chapter 2 is going to be the meeting from Chisiya's POV. Will they manage to make it through the whole thing without blowing their secret? Are Kuina and Aguni onto them? Are Hatter and Chisiya going to end up as unlikely friends through this bizarre bonding experience?

...You'll just have to wait and see...