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lilypadding · 1 year

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The Fifth Trial

Crossposted on AO3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

In which Nanami and Komaeda are closer friends before he sets up his master plan.

Word count: A bit over 4k

(Some gore, only what's present in the game.)

There is a dead Komaeda Nagito behind Nanami Chiaki.

The first time she hears his voice, she thinks she is hallucinating. But her programming doesn’t glitch in that way. It shouldn’t . Her perception has not failed her, not this drastically.

She knows very little about how she was created, but her coding has never tripped and triggered the live words of a dead person. She has never felt the presence of a murder victim leaning into her during their own class trial from behind her. She has never felt the cool of their breath as they repeat her name almost helplessly, begging for attention, for her to spin around and face them.

Nanami-san. Nanami-san. Nanami-san—

His voice is so quiet, so quiet , she must be hallucinating. She’s hearing things. She has to be. Her eyes settle on Hinata from across the circled podiums and remain there.

Komaeda Nagito is not here.

He is not settled behind her in the middle of a class trial, he is not calling for her attention by pressing into her, she cannot feel the lack of his warmth against her.

The true cause of death has come to light. Poisoned by a single fire grenade that one of them threw into the flames in the warehouse. An elaborate charade to get someone to kill him, to pin the responsibility of his life on the toss of a fire grenade. A suicide, by all reasoning—except Monokuma’s.

The group is convinced Komaeda had ill intent. That he took advantage of the trial system for the sake of leaving the group empty-handed in terms of a verdict. But this cannot be true.

Nanami swallows a lump stuck in her throat, eyeing her classmates. Their expressions are fear-stricken. It’s always fear when it comes to Komaeda. She spent her time trusting him on the island. She hadn’t felt this fear; not until now.

“Nanami-san.”

Komaeda’s voice is low. It’s enough for her to ignore, instead focus on gripping the bars of the podium before her.

She can’t decide on an answer.

It could be a glitch. A break in the system. A few, shattered lines of code.

Her classmates don’t perceive him, certainly, because they dive into yet another conversation topic that Nanami doesn’t bother listening to. She couldn’t even if she wanted to, all too distracted by the mystery that Komaeda Nagito has induced by his mere presence. Which is not new.

Maybe acknowledging him will make him disappear. Like noticing a shadow in the darkness of a room, but when your eyes focus, all traces of it vanish. But the idea of spinning and catching his face is mortifying. What would he look like? Would he look normal? A faraway look in his eyes, a feigned smile, the same as always?

Nanami locks eyes onto her classmates. Sonia. Owari. Kuzuryuu. Those who are actually alive, anyone she can rightfully perceive. Anyone that doesn’t make her think she’s lost it.

Komaeda’s next words are quiet, but his tone of voice is easy to distinguish. She trembles under his breath. Desperately, she tries shoving away the memory of his voice, the clarity of his words.

She can still see him in his cottage, pensively gazing down at her, shaking his head at the idea that she was worried about him. She doesn’t miss the mockery in his words.

“Can you hear me?”

Hinata’s voice pierces her thoughts:

“Komaeda did all of this… to pin his death on us,” He seems to be grappling with this, disbelief killing his assertion, “He didn’t care who the blackened was. That’s… what he wanted.”

It sounds more like a question than a statement.

It sucks the air dry. Nanami’s eyes dart to the trial grounds, defeat suffocating her.

“Bastard,” Kuzuryuu barks, anger and confusion powering him, “Fucking bastard. Of course, he was scheming something. We should’ve kept him—”

His cut-off is abrupt. As if he’d realized that a should’ve is pointless.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sonia concludes for the group, “I… I just can’t believe he… I mean, all of those wounds, which are not even the cause of death, are self-inflicted …? He’d have to have been holding the spear while he used the knife to...”

Their dread piles with every word. The refusal to finish Sonia’s sentence leaves too much room for the imagination. The silence visualizes the scene for them.

Komaeda, deliberately wrapping thick rope to his limbs; Komaeda, looping the cord of the spear around the ceiling beam for it to dangle over his stomach; Komaeda, with far too little hesitance biting back screams while relentlessly mutilating his thighs with the knife, the spear swaying threateningly over him as blood splatters.

“Nanami-san…”

She stiffens and looks for a distraction within her classmates. They’re busy mulling over the idea of him, faces nearly pale. She needs someone to pull her away from him . To expel his voice from her mind.

But it’s impossible to ignore Komaeda Nagito. Even beyond his living days.

“Are you going to tell them?”

She doesn’t want to. She has to.

It will come up, because Hinata was the one who watched her scramble out of Komaeda’s cottage the night prior. He’d ignored it during the investigation, refusing to ask her anything, to even so much as acknowledge their late night interaction. But he wouldn’t ignore it during the class trial, not when he still didn’t know what happened between Nanami and Komaeda the night before he died .

She’d spent a lot of time with Komaeda already, around the island during the easier days, the hours between other murders. Nanami had been undeterred by everyone’s hesitance towards him, their fear and apprehension after having that first trial. She understood their reluctance, really.

Komaeda spoke in unsettling ways since their first trial, to say the least. His seeming lack of remorse, his willingness to kill and die for them. But it was all the more reason to seek him out.

He always refused her company, insisting she shouldn’t spend her free time with someone like him, that he’d be fine without anyone’s company. But he wasn’t going to survive this killing game alone. He wouldn’t get through the heavy days, isolating himself. She’d learn about him, she’d come to understand him, even if it cost her classmate’s wary stares while they were seen together.

She had one responsibility, one command to follow under Future Foundation.

Take care of them all.

And this would not exclude Komaeda Nagito. No matter what.

Everyone else, though… had a hard time accepting him.

“So, who was the traitor?” Owari’s voice snaps Nanami back to the trial. Everyone shoots Owari a confused look. “I mean, didn’t Komaeda say he already knew who the traitor was? What was that about?”

“If he knew who the traitor was, why would he die?” Hinata snaps back, an unnerving hostility clouding him. He’s been tense this entire trial. Ever since they’d found Komaeda’s body, he’d only spoken in clipped sentences and a flat tone.

Nanami wasn’t confident in her judgment of character and behavior. But she did know that something struck Hinata when he saw Komaeda’s corpse.

A hazy look in his eyes and a weakened stance was enough for Nanami to deduce two things. One, Hinata was going to be sick. Two, Komaeda Nagito’s death was the thing that Hinata Hajime had least expected.

“Because the guy makes no sense,” Souda scratches his chin, glaring at Hinata, “He probably did it ‘cause the sicko felt like it. That’s all.”

“That’s too simple,” Hajime’s response is immediate, “He has to have a good reason for setting this elaborate plan up. This is Komaeda we’re talking about.”

“You’re putting in way too much effort,” Souda crosses his arms over his chest, “Komaeda’s crazy . There’s no logic with that guy. He probably just wanted to put on a stupid show just to kill himself.”

“That’s not it,” Hinata glares, his stance unwavering, “Komaeda’s dead . This isn’t a show. And there is a logic to him. Yeah, it’s crazy, and his thought process gives me a headache, but it’s always calculated. There’s something we’re missing.”

Hinata usually loses merit through his arguments during trials, confidence slipping from between his fingers as he asserts himself. He’s never displayed such unwavering determination before. It’s comforting, knowing he’s not letting himself slip now.

For too long, Nanami has wondered whether Hinata even liked Komaeda. It was always hard to tell. Hinata’s eyes were never completely comfortable around him, not after that first trial. But they did have their moments. Short and brief and fleeting where they acted normal. Almost friendly.

And now that Hinata is clouded by his loss, the pendulum swung back in favor of the guy.

“But it’s just like Komaeda to be dramatic for the sake of hope or whatever he says— or said. And it’s just like him to do this for hope. He was always talking about being a sacrifice.”

“Souda. Did you even listen to me? I said that—”

“Okay, well…” Kuzuryuu raises his hands in front of him, attempting to quell the tension. Both Souda and Hinata’s annoyed gazes fix on him.

“Let’s look at this one more time…” Kuzuryuu states, but Nanami fails in following his next words.

She reflects on last night instead, caught up in recalling every miniscule instance that would have suggested an outcome like this. Every glance Komaeda threw, every word he muttered— he was always careful with his phrasing, and often, the meaning behind conversations with him would go unnoticed until the benefit of hindsight kicked in.

But Nanami can’t pin anything suspicious in what he’d said. He’d gotten foggy-eyed when he expressed his gratitude for her visit, and reflected almost wistfully at their time spent together on the island for the previous days. That isn’t much of a surprise anymore— now knowing that he knew it would be his last day alive. His last moment to appreciate anything at all.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t act hostile with her, not in the way he’d been with the group previously: antagonizing them and mocking their Ultimate titles.

She had half expected the harsh treatment— for her to walk into his cottage and immediately be received by verbal blows to her lack of leadership or embodiment of hope . He’s behaved smugly towards everyone up until then anyway, jabbing them with bitter insults, a stark contrast to the praise and worship he’d given them prior.

But he hadn’t done any of that last night. He hadn’t insulted her, or the others, while she was speaking with him. He’d been… normal. For once. And for a person that was planning his own suicide… That… makes sense.

Nanami feels an ice-cold sensation land atop her wrist. Her eyes flick down to it.

It’s a hand.

His hand. The sweater sleeve and blood stains give that much away.

She bites back a gasp, harshly looking away, recuperating herself. Her expression must be a dead give away that something is blatantly wrong , but everyone is distracted with a distant conversation.

A thick trail of blood is running down the wrist of his sleeve, the skin of his hand, snaking thin lines around his fingers, pooling in Nanami’s sweater sleeve where he’s lightly gripping her, the fabric of it darkening as it sinks into her clothes.

She stares at it, the growing stain, and a faint sensation of warmth from the blood is what forces her to clamp her jaw shut and fight the urge to scream in the middle of the trial.

She glances up at her classmates, and no one is looking at her.

Komaeda is here.

It’s not just his voice.

Nanami lightly shakes her head, trying to clear her mind. She closes her eyes, a silent prayer that when she opens them, he’ll be gone— his hand will be gone, and this will be yet another unexplained, self-induced hallucination, a defunct mistake in the Program that shouldn’t be possible in the first place.

She opens her eyes, and Komaeda’s hand is still there. Dread tightens her throat. His presence is starting to overwhelm her, the warm blood solidifying him in her mind. He’s behind her. He’s here to stay.

Nanami grips the podium shortly, a weak attempt at grounding herself in reality and claws her gaze into Owari, spouting off about something about a gut feeling.

But his voice starts up anyway, clearer than before, and an ugly chill scratches her. He sounds identical to how he sounded last night— a casual lilt in his tone, bordering on upbeat. As if he were really here.

As if it was just another day of Komaeda speaking when he wasn’t supposed to.

“Nanami-san…?”

She gives him nothing.

“Wow, getting ignored even in the afterlife… You must really think lowly of me, huh?”

Nanami keeps her eyes trained straight ahead as his cold hand travels up the cloth of her arm. It’s almost an affectionate gesture— If his hand wasn’t so bloodied.

Souda is saying something , she thinks, watching the mechanic’s face morph into a scowl. His voice is unheard as he speaks, muted while his lips move, and her mind is desperately trying to make its way back into the courtroom, into anything but the presence behind her.

Komaeda’s voice envelops the foreground regardless.

“Not that I can really blame you… I really am worthless…”

She’d always pestered him to not talk badly about himself. When he was alive. She’d slap his shoulder lightly when he made remarks like that, scolding him. He would always laugh.

“You hate me, don’t you?”

His voice is distant this time. As if he were questioning himself instead of her. Nanami fights to urge to face him head on.

Seeing his bloodied hand and sweater sleeve, feeling it burn into her was enough. Her mind wanders despite herself— if she were to turn around, what would she see ? Would Komaeda’s face be bloodied, too? Would his eyes be empty? Would the duct tape be hanging off his cheek?

Why is his hand covered in blood?

Is she haunting herself? Is she imagining it all? Is she forcing herself to live through another string of Komaeda’s words through the guise of his dead, animated body? Could her programming even do that? Was she built to this level of consciousness, of guilt?

No one else can see him. That’s blatantly obvious— They’re so immersed in the court trial at hand, and no one has screamed about seeing a ghost over her shoulder. Only she is perceiving him. But, why?

“Nanami-san,” Komaeda whines, “At least an acknowledgement would be nice…”

She bores her eyes into Hinata from across the circle of podiums. He’s not speaking to the others. He catches her eyes immediately and frowns slightly, seeming confused by her fixed gaze on him. Certainly not enough to indicate he saw him.

She tears her attention away. It’s impossible to communicate to Hinata that a dead boy is trying to speak to her.

Komaeda groans, the sound emitting from deep in his throat. She feels him move impatiently before he dips his head, setting his chin on her shoulder. Nanami almost flinches at the notion, his cold skin freezing her through her sweater.

“Well… Will you tell them our secret?”

She furrows her brows and hovers pensively, ignoring the desire to jab into his form, shove him off.

Guilt had burnt into her after finding his body. In seconds, minutes, what felt like hours , she reflected obsessively on what she could have done.

Every idea, every grievance after the fact, every nerve in her mind concluding the same thought: she should have stayed in his cottage. I should’ve shoved myself in there last night. Broken the door down. Of course Komaeda would end up doing something like this. She’d cheated herself when she told herself he’d be okay.

The warehouse— the sight of him splayed on the floor, covered in his own blood, was enough of a sinking pit. And the investigation following flooded with flashes of the previous night. The short exchange in his cottage, the lack of answers he gave. His face.

Troubled, and lacking sleep— as always. But alive. The smile he wore while praising her, and the glare he gave while reproaching her.

Searching his cottage during the investigation was not easy. Hinata had accompanied her to the task, silent against last night, clearly refusing to bring it up. It was almost like he had forgotten about their exchange entirely. Or maybe she’d hallucinated her conversation with him, just as she’s hallucinating…

“Well?”

Secret?

As she reflects again, her ears finally sink back into the trial discussion.

“What if… What if he was leaving it up to the traitor?” Hinata asserts, eyes scanning, entranced in his own thoughts. They all watch him.

“What’re you saying?” Kuzuryuu winces, disapproving already.

“He was leaving it up to the traitor,” Hinata concludes pensively.

Nanami’s heart begins to race.

“Dude, spit it out already.”

“Komaeda wasn’t randomizing the blackened,” Hinata looks around the group anxiously, “We completely misunderstood him.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Kuzuryuu is lacking patience.

“It’s not an unsolvable mystery,” Hinata snaps back, voice louder. His eyes flash across the circle, determined, before he declares words that make Nanami’s blood run cold.

“The culprit is the traitor.”

The air is tight, sharpened only by their reciprocating silence and unbelieving eyes.

“There is no way for us to know who was holding the bottle with poison. Nothing indicates which bottle was the murder weapon. We all threw a bottle into the fire, and what we do know is that one of those bottles is what killed him.”

Nanami wants to curl in on herself when Komeada laughs behind her. As if watching Hinata fit the puzzle pieces together was so amusing.

“One of the bottles was poisoned, and one of us was the one to throw it. Komaeda was obsessed with finding the traitor. What better way was there to pin them down, to put them on the spot, than to make them the blackened in his own murder ?”

Truthfully, Hinata was a spectacle to watch when he pieced the evidence together. When he draws a conclusion that he’s so certain about, when he asserts himself amongst a questioning group, only certainty brimming in his eyes. Nanami hasn’t seen it often.

It’s only rational that this is occurring now that Komaeda’s the victim.

Still, as she gazes at his confidence, his straightened posture and fixed eyes, her heart can’t help but tremble.

“... Hinata. If I may ask,” Sonia’s voice is soft but forceful. Her demeanor and tone always demand respect, and now is no exception, “How are we sure the traitor was the one who chose the poisoned bottle? I understand that Komaeda could have intended for this to be the case, but anyone could have picked up the poisoned bottle, couldn’t they?”

It’s slight, the movement of Hinata’s lips upturning. He’d been expecting the question.

It’s admirable, really, how sure he is. But Nanami’s stance is weakening at her podium, for this certainty is what is going to get her—

“You’re right,” Hinata’s voice is calm. He straightens himself slightly, “ Anyone could have picked up that fire grenade. But Komaeda had a goal. Komaeda had a target , he had a plan , and what better thing to implement into this complicated set-up than his Ultimate talent ?”

The courtroom goes silent.

No one moves.

Nanami doesn’t have to analyze the tension that has risen to know they realized it. The air has thickened, and it’s getting hard to breathe, because these are her last moments, and there’s no getting out of this now.

There’s no escaping Komaeda’s plan, and there’s no escaping Hinata disassembling it.

She’d hoped her conclusion was wrong while they were investigating.

But her only thought was that Komaeda wanted to find the traitor while she examined his body and reevaluated his torment.

He might have planned and executed his death to spite them all, to put all their heads on a chopping block. But when it became clear that Komaeda would never kill them all, not completely, not without giving them an opportunity of escape, not without leaving enough evidence to let them live;

A fragment of hope…

This is when Nanami was shoved into accepting her fate.

If Hinata’s expression is any indication, he’s successfully won them over. Has he realized what he’s doing? Would he stop if he did?

“Our Reserve Course has really cleaned up…” Komaeda’s voice is almost dreamy, “I never expected this.”

“Liar,” She mutters, barely a whisper. Of course Komaeda had expected this.

He’s the one who met Hinata first, and he’s the one who’s witnessed him shining during the trials since. His words are hollow, tasteless , when remembering the way he always looked at him.

She realizes too late that replying to him is a mistake. The acknowledgement only strengthens his presence. He draws closer to her, brimming with a smile she can hear already.

“Oh, Nanami-san!” Cheery, carefree, and he’s closer than ever. Familiar, too familiar. His hand retracts, leaving behind only the sensation of warm blood on her sweater. “I really thought you couldn’t hear me for a second. How comforting…”

Nanami wonders if she can ignore him again, pretend his voice is invisible, but there is no point in drawing a silent vow after replying to him, even if it was just with one word.

She sighs quietly, defeat piling in her. Komaeda chuckles, leaning toward her ear. The room is deathly silent, save for him.

Everyone is basking in the bewilderment of Hinata’s revelation. Like they’re scared to say it, bring it to light, to life.

“ Nanami-san .”

“He was the Ultimate Lucky Student,” Sonia draws out of herself. She looks mortified.

“ They’re about to find our secret after all.”

“And what else could possibly cause the traitor, of all people, to pick up the bottle of poison?” Hinata declares, refusing to back away from his line of reasoning, “Only one thing could allow such a thing. Having that same Ultimate Luck.”

“Now. Will you concede?”

Nanami draws a blank at the question. Komaeda knew.

Komaeda knew .

Why was he acting so disturbingly casual about such information? Was being dead really that much of a blessing?

Often, she’d judged Komaeda for his sheer ability of laughing at such tense and uncomfortable moments. But it’s now that all she wants to do is laugh. How could he know? How could he guess? Was his life as a ghost granting him the ability to see through secrets? Was it obvious in her behavior? Did he always know, that she was the—

“Nanami?” Sonia’s voice calls.

Nanami blinks and steals a glance around the courtroom. All eyes are on her.

“Yeah?”

“We were asking you a question…” Sonia trails off, eyes wary. For a split second, Nanami wonders if they can see him too. Sonia’s gaze fixes over Nanami’s shoulder, but doesn’t remain.

And, still, no one is screaming about a ghost.

“Were you with Komaeda yesterday?”

Nanami’s mouth draws closed. Her mind scours for ways to answer the question, but all she draws are blanks.

“You told me you had somewhere to be in the evening,” Hinata adds, his voice going soft, “When I asked to speak with you? And I saw you… um… walk towards his cottage.”

Nanami’s eyes widen before she recuperates. Hinata had been watching?

She stares him down. He refuses to meet her gaze, and Nanami is suddenly sure that he had watched them talk. For as long as they were talking outside, anyway.

“Wow, the Reserve Course loves using common sense…”

She can feel Komaeda’s sneer behind her, and she feels the need to snap back. But her prolonged silence has been incriminating enough.

“I… did see Komaeda yesterday,” Nanami states, her posture and tone maintaining a sense of stability, despite her mind going haywire, “I went to his cottage to ask him why he was doing all of this. I wanted to know.”

“There’s no reasoning with that guy…!” Souda yells, “Why didn’t you bring anyone with you? He could’ve hurt you…”

“He didn’t,” Nanami replies, “He just… talked.”

“Care to give details?” Kuzuryuu raises an eyebrow, clearly suspicious.

“Yeah, I can tell you what he said… I think.”

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

18 notes · View notes

ashsirens · 18 days

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It's funny that when Kodaka tweeted about Shuichi being bisexual everyone screamed for joy, but when he tweeted about Komaeda being totally cool with going out with girls, everyone went blind.

209 notes · View notes

foryoupeko · 4 months

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Imagine Peko waking up from the Neo World Program and reconnecting with Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko catches Peko up with everything happening whilst the other survivors butts in every so often.

Sonia: Here's your coffee Fuyuhiko!

Peko: Oh, he needs cream and-

Sonia: I already added it! Just how he likes it!

Peko: (Frowns) That doesn't look like enough cream.

Fuyuhiko: I don't have as much as a sweet tooth anymore.

Sonia: Oh so you don't want the fried cookies I made for your coffee?

Fuyuhiko: You son of a bitch.

Sonia: Damn right!

Kazuichi: Fuyuhiko! I found some anime on the island! Let's watch it later!

Peko: Ah, he doesn't-

Fuyuhiko: It's fine. We'll watch it this weekend. Better not be romance.

Kazuichi: Yeah yeah, like you didn't get teary eye from the last one we saw.

Fuyuhiko: SOMETHING WAS IN MY EYE.

Kazuichi: ONLY DURING THE CLIMAX?

Akane: Fuyuhiko we're gonna run around the island tomorrow?

Peko: You run?

Akane: HE RUNS WELL!

Fuyuhiko: There's not much you can do on a debilitated island.

Akane: You're still not as fast as me.

Fuyuhiko: I'm not aiming to be a freak of nature.

Fuyuhiko: Peko are you okay? You're awfully quiet.

Peko: I knew you would be okay without me, I had no doubt. I just didn't expect you to mature so much. I haven't lived a single day without you but time never stopped for you. So it's jarring to say the least. I feel like I don't know you anymore.

Fuyuhiko: That gives us an interesting opportunity. Because we've been together ever since we were babies, we never had a proper introduction. So let's start over right now. (Extends his hand) My last name is Kuzuryu! My first name is pronounced, "Fu-yu-hi-ko". From this point forward, I hope we can get along so we can get to know each other better.

Peko: (stunned)

Fuyuhiko: Sorry, that was stupid.

Peko: (smiles) No. I loved getting to know you; I would love to do it all over again.

Fuyuhiko: But as equals!

Peko: (laughs) Yes. (grabs Fuyuhiko's hand) My name is Peko Pekoyama. It is nice to meet you.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #fuyupeko #kuzupeko #This is the closest way #i'm ever writing fanfiction #have fun #fanfiction #i guess #i'll think of a better tag #later #I guess i'll tag characters individually #peko pekoyama #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #sonia nevermind #kazuichi soda #akane owari

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m-y-fandoms · 4 months

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Commission: DRV3 Boys x Female Reader - Seven Minutes in Heaven

Details: Takes place during the killing game, timeline switched around, creative license taken to imply everyone is alive and has known each other for at least a few weeks and has had time to get to know each other a bit. The threat of the killing game is still there though. Monokuma has announced it, just nobody has been killed yet. It’s also implied that the reader has a crush on the boy in each section however whether or not the boy is oblivious to that fact or feels the same varies.

Word Count: 5K Words

Warnings: SFW - fluff, maybe mild angst, possible V3 spoilers

Everyone needed something to divert their attention and obsessive thoughts away from the killing game. Though nothing had happened yet, the group of Ultimates got more and more antsy by the day. Every dark corner or empty stairwell seemed like a threat, and mistrust grew and loomed over them all like a black mold growing on the walls.

No one seemed to feel safe, though it had been weeks since the menacing-looking monochrome bear informed them that they were to kill each other for sport so they could return home to their regular school life and families. There was no concrete proof that this wasn't an extensive, well-planned practical joke or social experiment, some prank that would result in cameramen and producers springing out of the woodwork once all was said and done, and that was the only thing holding them together mentally. This could all be fake.

Nevertheless, something needed to change. They all had their little subgroups, individual trusted cliques or closest allies, but there was no denying the entire group needed to come together, to get to know each other a bit better and let off some steam. Unity meant potential lasting peace and no fatalities.

Someone suggested they play a frivolous little game that could keep everyone's attention for a while. Even though most of the group hadn't played it since middle school and some never at all, the rules were straightforward and simple enough. In addition to passing the time, it might even spark a little drama or romance. Any emotion was preferable to the fear of death and the sense of impending disaster.

Seven Minutes in Heaven: a game where two people go into a small room or cramped closet alone and have seven minutes to do anything they want to each other. Usually, the goal was the get handsy, to kiss or hug, to confess to someone, to make each other nervous, or to engage in casual romantic activities. It was supposed to be steamy and awkward, to put pressure on the two people. They would all randomly pick straws, and the two people who got the shortest straws would have to go in together while everyone else sat outside and timed their seven minutes. Knowing your peers were mere feet away outside the door only added to the tension.

The location was set: a small, cramped closet on the first floor next to the spare classroom and just before the steps down to the basement. It was dimly lit by an ancient overhead lightbulb hanging on by a thread and had just enough room for two people once the abandoned supplies, tools, and cobwebs were scooted to the edges. The Hotel Kumasutra was suggested first, but was shot down for being perhaps a little too intense, dramatic, and high-pressure for such a simple game. Nobody felt comfortable enough to enter the daunting building as of yet, despite its proximity to the popular casino.

And so, the game began.

Rantarou Amami

Waiting anxiously to see who you'll be paired up with, you pace the meager few steps you can manage in the tiny closet - back and forth, back and forth - working up a sweat that's more nerves than physical exertion. When the door swings casually open and you immediately see a fluffy full head of green hair, a shiver runs down your spine. It's a shiver that is half excitement and half humiliation. Of all fifteen other classmates, of course your crush, Rantarou Amami, was the one destined to draw the other straw and be trapped in here with you for seven excruciating minutes. Anyone else, literally anyone else, and you could've stalled, talked your way through those seven minutes, felt indifferent, and at most a little awkward. Rantarou made your heart flutter, froze you in place nearly every time he interacted with you. You stuttered, felt like you never said the right thing. He was just so handsome, with a smooth voice and a mysterious yet kind personality. You were quite sure, even with the memory loss you'd all suffered, that you hadn't had a crush this intense in quite a while. Certainly not one that turned you into a foolish mess.

Rantarou entered with his head bowed, shoulders shrugged forward. You'd never seen him - a dude who was usually quite confident and smooth - looking so uncomfortable. When he spun to look at you, the door now shutting you two in alone, he was almost wincing, facial expression squeezed into wrinkles and furrowed brows. It was as if his face was trying to say: "I'm sorry about this..."

"Heeeeey, (Y/N)," Rantarou spoke in a sing-songy voice that, again, was out of character for him, yet you felt your body stiffen up all the same. You hugged your body instinctively, feeling vulnerable as your heart beat wildly in your chest. You took a step back to create more space between you and the object of your infatuation and nearly tripped over a cardboard box on the ground behind you. "Yeah, this is about what I expected," he chuckled, his eyes wrinkling closed into kind little lines. He held his hands out in a sign of passive surrender. "So sorry about this, (Y/N). I swear, there was nothing I could do! It was all random." He rubbed the back of his neck, a small dust of pink over his cheeks. You felt your stomach drop. Did he think you disliked him? Was he perceiving your involuntary reaction as disgust rather than flustered? You suddenly felt super guilty. You were just now realizing he probably had taken note of this same adverse reaction every single time you were in the room with him. The logical thought process would probably be that your body language showed disdain.

"Oh, oh no, I hope you don't think I'm upset about being paired with you! I didn't realize my-" you tried to relax your shoulders, not wanting to let your own feelings affect him negatively.

"No, I don't think that at all, actually..." he cut you off, not wanting to let you get too far into this incorrect notion. He paused, thinking over how to word things delicately. "It's quite the opposite. I'm not as dense as you might think, actually. I pick up on things pretty well," he chuckled again, trying to ease the tense atmosphere, "and I... I kinda know you like me. You always get like this... when I talk to you. I'm... a bit more perceptive and empathetic than people think. I just wanted you to know, it's okay! You don't have to feel that way! I was worried about your reaction when I stepped in here. I knew you'd freak out." So subtly - almost seeming practiced and experienced - he gently clasped his rough hands into yours. They felt calloused, perhaps from the travels and adventures he'd vaguely mentioned when you sat there like a statue listening to him talk around the academy. The many bracelets settling on his wrists shook you back to reality, and your face heated up at the skin-to-skin contact. "I mean, I'm not trying to boast because I really don't think I'm such a catch, but I see the way you look at me, I've heard Miu talking about you having a crush as well..."

"I... I don't know what to say," you release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, "This is a bit embarrassing..." you grumble, looking at the ground.

"You don't need to feel embarrassed. Honestly, I think you're a really cool person as well. I would love to get to know you more, but you always seem to run away after we talk for a little. The others are always around. It would be cool to spend some time hanging out alone, now that... I'm kinda confessing that I'm interested in you too?" He gives you a crooked smile. "Woah... your hands are like shaking."

Was this a dream? Was Monokuma replacing your classmates with clones to prank and humiliate you? There's no way Rantarou, the most attractive and fascinating guy here, was into you...

"I... I would really like that. Yeah, I'm sorry about my... less than pleasant reaction. I really didn't mean to come off as weird or make you uncomfortable."

"Hey, no worries. Well, you know, I played this game a ton in middle school. It was always silly, and stupid, but I have no issue playing it again, especially with you. What do you say? After all, I've played games way worse than this."

Ryoma Hoshi

The athlete strolled leisurely into the closet, hands in his pockets and the stick of a lollipop hanging carelessly out of his mouth. He always had something hanging out his lip, be it a candy cigarette, a toothpick, or something in between. You wondered if it soothed him. You'd gathered from conversations with him that his life had been pretty traumatic, at least in your opinion. His eyes were half-lidded as always, lazy and donning dark bags underneath. He sighed, stepping into the dim lighting provided by the single, dingy bulb above.

"Yeah, so I didn't really have anything better to do. Everyone else was sayin' they'd play and I was in the room at the time so I got roped in. Can't be much worse than anything else I've been through. Figured it might be good for morale, for these people to loosen up and play a game or two together. Lotta mistrust brewing." He looked around, seemingly disinterested and boasting an incredibly calm demeanor. You were wondering how someone could feel not even a little bit nervous playing a game with a premise like this.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to!" You smiled softly, offering him an out. You liked Ryoma a lot. His chill attitude, mysterious and interesting past, deep voice, and cute face intrigued you enough to even form a little crush, but you didn't want him here out of coercion or peer pressure.

“It’s whatever. I’m down to play. It’s fine. However, I’m sure I wasn’t who you expected or were hoping for.” He shrugs, less self-deprecating and more as if stating a plain fact. It didn’t seem to bother him either way if you did in fact wish it was someone else who was chosen to be with you for this dumb little game.

“Nah, I’m not disappointed,” you smirk a bit deviously, trying to hide the excitement you truly felt. You see his eyebrows raise a tad, which is more expression than you usually get from him. “Someone like you is kind of an interesting partner for this game. I’m betting you have more life experience overall than me. In fact, I know you do, after listening to some of your stories. You probably have more experience in everything: street smarts, common sense, even romance.”

“Uh, let me stop you right there.” He lets out a tiny, brief, dry chuckle, something skeptical in his tone. “Actually, not true at all, that last part. Not much romance in my life. Funny, you and I actually talk more often than I do with the others… I thought you would’ve picked up on that.”

“Oh?” You challenge him playfully, trying to flirt him into a more open mood.

"Yeah, I'd think that would be obvious. Who wants to take a chance on a no-good criminal with a clouded, ominous past? I don't really tell people all the details, and I'm not going to, but then I can't be surprised if people don't want to get to know me or trust me. Also, I'm aware I'm not the ideal, looks-wise. Never bothered me, but-" Once again, you can tell he's not looking for sympathy, but just honestly sharing his thoughts about himself. Before he can talk himself down further, however, you cut him off.

Stopping his words in their tracks, you leaned down to his height, bending at the waist sensually. Without skipping a beat, you casually took the lollipop from his mouth, coaxing it out without much resistance on his part. Smiling impishly, you popped it into your own mouth.

You'd never seen Ryoma Hoshi blush before this moment. It seemed like something he was incapable of.

Korekiyo Shinguuji

The lean, dangerously mysterious anthropologist stood across from you, tall enough and so close that he blotted out the dim light from the single bulb above in the cramped closet. He appeared like a silhouette, like some spooky demon or spirit from the cultural legends he often told you about. He seemed to be giggling behind his mask, amused at your flustered reaction to his closeness before he began to speak in that mystifying voice of his that was like smoke hissing past your ear and tickling the outer shell:

"You know, (Y/N), I almost said no to playing... This seems like such a childish little game, maybe even a waste of my precious time when I could be studying up on literally any other topic. But... then I thought: I've done far more promiscuous things than this before, games and rituals alike, so what's the harm in some little kid’s game? Why not? After all, there's something to be learned from every experience, and this game seemed integral to the middle school lives of our classmates, therefore making it culturally significant... if I... broaden my definitions a little." He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, making you sweat as he moved even closer during his little monologue.

"I see you're being v-very open-minded," you chuckled nervously, trying to hide the loud pumping of your heart. "Yes, I would've thought you were far too mature for this game!" You were now flat against the wall, nearly caged in by his lithe form hovering over you.

"I thought it might even be exciting," his tone adopted a more predatory note, "to see who I get and explore the essence of who they are, find their inner beauty for myself, one-on-one and in private. When nobody else can hear or see, they might let down some walls, and expose a side of themselves in this killing game that nobody has seen yet. It could be a fascinating study of human behavior. I didn't really care who I got matched with, as everyone here - with such varied personalities and talents - could be an extremely interesting subject!"

"Subject?" Now he was starting to worry you. You had to admit, though, the way he was passionately speaking, the way he pinned you into the corner of this enclosed space... it was rather exciting.

"You seem nervous..." he tilts his head innocently. "There's nothing to be afraid of, little (Y/N). This game, as I take it from the rules, is to start a romantic or flirty interaction, to cause feelings to bubble up in each other - excitement, arousal. These emotions are so wonderfully and beautifully human. Is that what you want, to try this in earnest?" You see one of his hands reach over to its opposite and begin to unravel the layers of gauze bandaging. You nod enthusiastically, almost entranced by his words. He takes this consent as his opportunity to take control, and something in his golden eyes turns animalistic.

"Good." He purrs.

Gonta Gokuhara

Almost comically shoved into this tiny closet and leaving little to no room for you was your chosen-at-random partner: Gonta Gokuhara, the gentle giant. He was desperately trying not to hit his head on the ceiling while also trying to remember to be considerate of you and your personal space. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, after all.

"Gonta wanted to play, because all of his friends were playing too! This game... sounds fun, but Gonta never played it before. Gonta a bit confused. Gonta love everyone here as a good friend, swear to protect them all, so why we not all play game together, in bigger, more comfortable place?" He asked genuine, thoughtful questions, and it appeared to you that he in fact did not know what he was getting himself into. You'd make sure he understood clearly before playing, as someone had obviously shoved him in here without a clear description of the rules or goals.

"Well, Gonta, this is a game where you're supposed to come in with one other person only and do flirty, cute, romantic stuff. Why did you agree to play without knowing what's going on?" You shook your head, snickering under your breath. You'd always found Gonta's endless positivity and determination to make others feel happy and protected adorable. He probably just wanted to be included, to make sure everyone had fun. And you had no doubt he was intelligent enough to understand the simple rules of this game, it was just very likely someone more mischievous - like Kokichi or Miu - purposely kept him out of the loop.

"Oh! O-okay!" He begins to blush, his mouth pressing into an uncomfortable, pursed line. "Gonta never done anything like that!" He was beginning to perspire on his brow.

"Well, do you want to try? You don't have to, keep that in mind! It's your choice, Gonta." You smiled in encouragement, making sure your body language wasn't applying any pressure to him even subconsciously.

"Ummm... Gonta would like to try if everyone else playing. Also!... Gonta trust (Y/N)." His words are shaking, and you decide you'll do the bare minimum, just a warm-up to see if he truly means his words. Him putting his trust in you was melting your heart.

Gently, as if you were approaching a bird that might fly away at any moment, you took a step closer to him and began to unbutton the tight brown suit jacket from his abs and waist.

Kokichi Ouma

Immediately upon being trapped in the closet with this gremlin, he started teasing you, trying to make you crack, or cry, whichever came first. All reactions were good reactions to him.

"Of all people, you got stuck in here with me. Sucks for you, don't it, (Y/N), you prude!" He swirls a finger in the air and presses it firmly into your chest, taunting you.

He spends the next few agonizingly drawn-out moments poking fun at you, at your flustered reactions, at the way your body responds to both his words and small touches.

"Oh, come on, (Y/N), this is baby shit! I barely even touched you! With my title as Supreme Leader, I've had to seduce hundreds of marks into giving up information or giving me what I want, and you can't even handle this? You wouldn't last two minutes in an interrogation by my organization, let alone seven. Pathetic!" He starts laughing, amused by your humiliation so much that his eyes begin to water.

You're sure his claims of seducing and interrogating victims before are lies, but regardless, your heart was beating out of your chest. Why did he have this effect on you? He had you right where he wanted you, and you were falling into his trap. Every time he ran his chilled fingers up your exposed arm or touched your chest and collarbones, you felt a shiver of desire and fright, a shockwave of panic and delight in tandem.

In truth, the others were worried about you. Most of them, the kinder portion of the group, felt bad about sending you in there alone with Kokichi. They didn't think such a kind, unassuming person deserved this kind of treatment.

With an underlying gentleness that almost betrayed his performative vitriol for you, he pushed your shoulders back, like a bully on a playground. He took note of your clumsiness, of the lack of coordination you must have if such a petite young man like him could nearly topple you over. He seemed to be taking into account his lack of time. Seven minutes wasn't much to work with. He'd had his fun, and was ready for the climax.

You stumble back against the wall, and instantly he pounced on you, cornering you in. Before you had time to adjust, to correct yourself to an upright position, he grabbed both sides of your face, pulling you in for a sloppy, deep kiss that lacked any care or gentleness. Your eyelids flew open as the taste of sweet candies and grape sodas flooded your mouth.

Kaito Momota

Kaito stood with his arms crossed defiantly in the middle of the closet. His taller frame and masculine figure took up most of the space as he stood firm, stubbornly biting the inside of his cheek. His brow was furrowed angrily, but not with an anger directed at you. After all, you must've been a victim in this just as much as he.

"Now, I didn't really wanna do this... it's beneath someone who sees fit to call themselves the Luminary of the Stars. I didn't earn this title through kiddy games after all, but..." he looked frustrated, maybe even with himself, "but they tried to say I'm too scared to play! As if!" He paced once in a circle in the tight confines, then huffed. "I'm realizing just now that I probably fell for it and this was their plan all along." He sighed deeply. "I gotta stop letting these assholes get to me." He conceded, his pride hurt. You had to admit, his reaction to the game was disappointing you, as you couldn't think of a better person to get stuck in here with. You smiled sheepishly, letting the uncomfortable silence mellow out in the air. You only had seven minutes, after all. "Man, it's cold and awkward in here..." Ah, yes. Kaito wasn't the type to let things just be silent. You decided it was your turn to speak now.

"So... you don't want to play with me, at all?" You speak shyly, a bit embarrassed at your own words.

"What, you do?" He counters, a single brow raised as you piqued his curiosity,

"Well... I mean, haha," you thought through how to word this so as to not weird him out or scare him off, or really just embarrass yourself in the process, "I felt really lucky to get stuck in here with you, out of everyone. If I may speak openly and honestly, I've been crushing on you for a while..." You felt your blood running hot.

"You have?" He's flushed pink, pulling his jacket in closer for security.

"Yeah, of course! You're handsome, charismatic, and you make me laugh when we are just hanging out casually. I think your determined spirit is admirable... but if you don't feel the same-"

"No!" He cut you off a little too eagerly before he could remind himself he was supposed to be playing it cool. He cleared his throat, calming down his tone a bit, "No, I mean I think you're great, too. And you're beautiful! Out of all these idiots, I'm glad it's you, too." Your heart swells. "Not that... not that I've been dwelling on this thought for too long." Though it feels like your heart is pumping fast enough to warm the entire room, Kaito was right, it was quite drafty in there. Seeing you shiver at the temperature, Kaito removes his large galaxy jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells of him, of hair products and fresh deodorant. Simple and subtle. "We should hang out some more on our own, when we want to, not when these assholes force us into some stupid game with expectations and shit." He shows you a beaming, celebrity-like grin. "I would be an idiot to not want to get to know you more, especially with your talent!"

Shuichi Saihara

Poor Shuichi. The reserved, introverted detective had found himself shoved into this closet against his will. He'd merely come to observe the game from the farthest corner of the room - bored, and too wary of the threat of the killing game to be alone. Being alone was just the worst option right now: either his own thoughts would consume him or a potential killer might.

So now here he was, paying the consequences of wanting to hang out with a group of his peers. They'd put his name into the lottery without his permission, thinking it a cute and funny little prank, and when he was chosen, it only took two or three of them to shove him inside while he attempted to jump and claw his way out. Now he was a sweating, blushing mess, pawing at the door like a cat trapped in a bedroom. The same students that pushed him in snickered and howled in laughter on the other side, leaning their weight into the door so he couldn't escape. After a while, someone as smart as him knows when an effort becomes futile. He sighs, turning to face you with a warm flush of red over his entire body that contrasts wildly with the blues and blacks of his hair and uniform tones.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," he groans, his voice cracking under his nerves. "I told them I didn't wanna play, but..." were you really that bad to be stuck in here with? His reaction seemed... over the top. Your shoulders sank downward, humbled by his response to your existence in the same space as him. He sees your crestfallen expression and panics, guilt overcoming him. "Please, no it's not you! I mean no offense. I didn't wanna come in here with anyone." He takes note of how your mood doesn't pick up in the slightest, and lets his head fall into his hands. "This is so embarrassing. I actually do really like you, this is just so awkward."

"You do?" Your ears perk up at that. Maybe you were mistaken in your earlier judgment.

"Yeah! You've always been kind to me, and you're quite interesting and fun to hang out with in this hellhole. Talking to you... really gets my mind off things..." he admits, clearly self-conscious. "I... well sometimes, I hear you talking about how you think you'll be the first victim of the killing game, talking down about yourself. I don’t think you should count yourself out... we all have our own strengths, though I know I ought to take my own advice sometime." He chuckles in such a gentle, exhausted way that it might as well have been merely an exhale.

Neither of you even noticed that during his little speech of praise toward you, he'd reached out and taken your hands gently in his own. It was a reflexive, instinctive, and intimate move. Rather than pull away, now feeling a bit more stable, and comfortable in sharing his thoughts as you hadn't reacted adversely, he pushes a bit further. He rubs his thumb across the back of your hand, and for seven minutes, that's enough for him.

Kiibo / K1-B0

The almost-human robot is standing across from you, arms flat by his side. He looks far more relaxed than you were, passive and maybe in some kind of rest mode, if he had one.

"Now what?" He asks plainly.

"Nobody told you what to do?" You replied, a bit stunned and wondering why he was even here.

"Vaguely. It sounded like a complete waste of time, though. If it's what humans do, it's certainly not in my programming. Therefore, I might as well learn from this experience as not to be embarrassed later on should the topic come up again." He sounded so practical, so... bored with the current situation.

"Well... I don't know how much you were told but this game is about emotions, feelings... touching and flirting, making the other person nervous and flustered, seeing how far you two are willing to go with each other… in a romantic kind of way. It's uniquely human... it may not be productive for you if you can't comprehend-"

"I have plenty of emotions and feelings! I can understand it perfectly fine!" He retorted, offended and seemingly embarrassed. You didn't know he could get embarrassed. Maybe he could in fact enjoy this game to its fullest. You intended to get something out of this experience. This could be fun. You had to admit, you'd been curious about the extent of Kiibo's understanding of human interactions and emotions for a while now. You wondered how much he could feel, emotionally and physically. If you pulled his hair, would he cry out? If you scratched his thigh, would it bleed simulated blood? There could be a lot of room for exciting discovery that awaited you.

"Well then, I'm curious..." you reach a single, cautious hand outward and stroke his hair. It's stunningly soft. It feels shockingly real, not like some cheap synthetic wig or some type of rubber or metal shaped to mimic hair. Kiibo did something like a vibration or shudder, a chill running down his spine. You wondered if this was a programmed response, all artificial and planned, or if Kiibo's free will really extended that far. How real did his creator intend for him to be? For what purpose was he truly built? What did a scientist stand to gain from making a feeling, loving, human-like young man? You could see a war machine or an endless knowledge bank easily being worth the time, but Kiibo didn't seem to excel in pretty much... anything. "How does that feel?"

"I... I don't know. It's making me... relax? I think that's how you'd describe it. I feel like I am running on low power and sluggish, but in a good way? On purpose..." he speaks softly.

"And this?" You run a hand down his pale cheek, and it's warmer than expected, though below a real human’s body temperature for sure. You're so focused on touching the simulated, soft, supple skin, that you don't even notice Kiibo's eyes blown wide open as if scanning you, entranced and staring almost through you. It was safe to say he might have been touched-starved, unused to the sensation.

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reddpenn · 11 days

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Two and a half years after her supposed death, Chiaki Nanami awakens from a coma into a twisted and unfamiliar world. Her friends have kickstarted the apocalypse, destroying everything - even their own bodies and minds - as they chase the glorious high of Despair.

As their class rep, it’s Chiaki’s duty to stop them. Her plan is simple. One by one, she’s going to confront the Remnants of Despair. And she’s going to save them, or die trying.

Chapter eight of Towa City Remnant is up! Or if you’re new to the Honorary Remnant AU, you can start at the beginning!

#danganronpa #sdr2 #Chiaki Nanami #Nagito Komaeda #Monaca Towa #Honorary Remnant #honorary remnant au #towa city remnant #fanfiction

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breadflavouredlemon · 9 months

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There's always this thing in komahina fanfics where Komaeda doesn't believe Hinata actually loves him. That trope is fine, nothing wrong with that of course. But the other way around always hits different.

Like what if he's just a substitute for Kamukura/another character? What if Komaeda only wants him because he has talent now? Or he's only staying with Hinata because he feels indebted to him? What if he's not special enough for him, that he's easily replaceable to the other? It pretty much has a lot of potential.

Hinata is just as complex as Komaeda is, and I swear, I'll eat anything up with Hajime-centric komahina angst. >:(

#sometimes i hate that i have to write the fics i wanna read myself #oh well it is what it is #komahina #komahina fanfiction #sdr2 #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #fanfic recs are welcome

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imglowing-pink-inthenight · 17 days

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reading danganronpa fanfics isnt enough i NEED to be in a killing game

#danganronpa #ao3 #fanfiction #thh #sdr2 #drv3

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aphroditness · 1 year

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Hajime, Nagito, Kokichi and Shuichi Reacting to falling on top of their crush!

Hajime:

Hajime wasn't a clumsy guy, but hiyoko decided to pull a prank that she thought was funny and tripped Hajime while laughing like the girlboss she is. You were walking by and that's when it happened. Hajime tried to maintain his balance but ended up tripping and falling. ON TOP OF YOU.

Ohmygodohmygod he was internally freaking out and wanted to disapear. He stared at you underneath him and he blushed like crazy. He quickly apologized and helped you up while walking away as fast as he could. He wasn't getting over this anytime soon.

Nagito:

It was just a matter of his luck cycle. He was in the hallway trying to find Chiaki because he wanted to play video games with her, and Chiaki has A LOT.

You were running really fast because you forgot your phone in the girls washroom, and you bumped into nagito. You fell down and nagito tried to help you get up, but ended up falling on top of you instead. You got really flustered and Nagito stared at you in suprise, he definitely had some dirty thoughts in his head LMAO he chuckled a bit and got up, pulling you up with him. Apologizing and blaming it on his luck.

"Ahaha! Sorry Y/n. It's just my dumb luck again. Besides, garbage like shouldn't do stuff like that anyway. I'm so stupid.." He rubbed the back of his head while smiling at you. You apologized really quickly and patted his shoulder as another apology before speed-walking to the bathroom to get your phone.

Kokichi:

Kokichi was running obviously, while chasing Kiibo and asking him "Robophobic" questions. Kiibo ran past you while Kokichi tripped on his shoelace and fell down, you tumbling down beneath him.

He groaned before opening his eyes and seeing you down with him. He smirked and started to make dirty jokes.

"Oh~ Y/n-chan what a coincidence! I never knew you'd look so vulnerable beneath me. If only it could've been somewhere more ... Private.." He giggled, and you squealed with an extremely blushy face before pushing him away and putting your hands on your face.

"K-kokichi don't say stuff like that!!"

He found your blushy face really cute.. Maybe he should pin you down more often .. ;)

Shuichi:

Poor boy, he was just trying to read a book until he bumped into you. You fell while he tried to catch you but he still had his book in his hand, you grabbed his collar and accidently brought him on top of you.

His two hands on the side of the floor, with you in the middle. He started blushing really hard after realizing what was going on. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He was stammering, stuttering and couldn't even form words together. You just froze with him on top of you, you two completely malfunctioning (Was that Robophobic?). Shuichi got off of you and extended his hand out to you while his other hand was pulling his hat down to cover his face. You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up so you could regain your balance. You and him apologized at the same time while walking away really awkwardly.

Kokichi saw the whole thing.

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #shuichi saihara #gender neutral reader #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa fanfiction #kokichi ouma #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v2 goodbye despair #sdr2 nagito #hajime hinata

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sparkymalone · 4 months

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Excuse me, how did I not know that there was a dialogue where Fuyuhiko demands that Hajime give him a back massage?!

ETA: Hajime: "I think we had a pretty good time." Yeah, I bet you did, buddy.

#*furiously writing fanfiction*#seriously #WHAT #kuzuhina #danganronpa #sdr2 #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #hajime hinata

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teletogami · 7 months

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long time no see! it’s me! kat!

nostalgia chapter 67 is up. sorry for the long wait. here’s the moodboard:

#nostalgia #please read the CWs at the top of the chapter thanks thanks #byakuya togami #nagito komaeda #byakuya togami x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #sdr2 #fanfiction

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ectoplaasm · 2 years

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I LIVED!!!

Yes, it’s true! I haven’t been feeling the writing spirit, but after three? four? weeks of churning out my brain mush, there’s a new chapter! Read it here :>

#shout out to the ao3 outage for inspiring me to balls to the wall finish this #now that all of the mush is out of the way #writing will be easier methinks #happy wednesday #iirttpciac #fanganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #sdr2 fanfiction #sdr2 fanfic #sdr2 #talent swap #gundham tanaka #gundham tanaka x reader #gundham x reader #danganronpa #characters that appear in this chapter:#almost everyone but especially #kazuichi soda

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lilypadding · 3 months

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the komaeda bodypillow

Crossposted on AO3 | Word count: ~3.5k | Credit for divider

⋆ pairing: hajime hinata x nagito komaeda

Summary: Wherein Hajime stresses about Nagito taking longer to wake up from the Neo World Program.

There is a body pillow of Nagito Komaeda.

Now, Hajime wouldn’t have known that before this afternoon. In fact, he probably would’ve never found out about such an item— or ever had to touch it— or interact with it at all.

And the idea of living in that blissful ignorance sounds heavenly. But, unfortunately, it’s unattainable. The ignorant world in which Nagito Komaeda’s body pillow goes undiscovered is out of reach for as long as Hajime holds the same pillow in his hands. So, he drops it with a loud:

“Oh my fucking God—“

The pillow lands on the floor of Hajime’s cottage. Makoto and Hina laugh sheepishly on the other end of the video call.

“Ah, yeah, I figured you’d react like that…” Makoto says, clearly a bit embarrassed.

The palms of Hajime’s hands press into his eyes. He groans, loudly, maybe too loudly, to get his point across.

“What the fuck did I just lay my eyes on?” Hajime’s rhetorical question is pointless. He was hoping for Makoto to deny what he just saw— to somehow clear everything up, to cleanse the air and state that it’s not a fucking body pillow and that Nagito’s goddamn face and body wasn’t on it.

“It’s a body pillow,” Makoto says instead; Hajime dissipates into himself, “Of Nagito.”

“Why.” Hajime finally lifts his hands off of his own face and stares into the computer screen. His face is burning red by now. He can feel that the pillow is right over his feet and he refuses to offer it a second glance.

“Well, I mean,” Makoto shrugs heartily and rubs the back of his neck. Hina is sitting to his left, and her grin is undeniably more than amused.

“I noticed that you’ve been having a hard time,” Makoto finally finishes, and somehow, his sincere smile makes everything feel that much worse, “And I figured you’d like something related to him.”

“And a body pillow was what your bright mind came up with?” Hajime’s face sours considerably. “You could’ve gotten me, like, a photo of him! Or, I-I don’t know! Anything but a…”

He finally looks down. The sight of Nagito— albeit, impressively well drawn— staring up at him with a small grin makes something in his stomach twist uncomfortably. This is downright creepy.

“Oh my God,” Hajime draws out, grimacing. His pose…

One of Nagito’s arms is draped over his head, sinking into the drawn lines of the sheets presumably beneath him. His other arm is covering his torso, and why on Earth is the hem of his shirt hiked up to expose part of his stomach—

“Who drew this?” Hajime tears his eyes off the pillow.

“Oh, Ryota did!” Hina chimes in, her voice fighting off the urge to break into hearty laughter.

She’s clearly having fun. It makes Hajime want the Earth to swallow him whole.

“Ryota?”

“Oh, yeah, he was a great help!” Makoto smiles, somehow proud of saying it. Somehow proud that he supplied Hajime with something so… questionable.

“Makoto,” Hajime leans closer to the computer, propping an arm on the table holding it, “This is not a good present.”

Makoto and Hina both break into laughter at that. Hajime’s too busy in the thought of how embarrassing this item is to own, to have, to touch. What if someone finds out about this?

“Seriously, why…”

“Listen, Hajime,” Makoto’s laughter has let up. The smile he wears is sweet. It makes Hajime want to pound his skull into a wall.

“I know I could’ve gotten you photos of him,” He continues, sincerity seeping out of his words, “But… you can’t do much with photos, y’know? If I gave you photos, all you’d do is stare at them and think too much. I wanted to get you something more tangible. Something you could hold.”

“Aha,” Hajime breaks into laughter, lost in disbelief, “Huh? Tangible? Hold? I- You’re acting like I need emotional support right now…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him. They look at each other. Then back at him.

“O-Okay, fine,” Hajime caves at their looks, “Maybe I do. But, I mean, don’t you think this is—“

He points at the pillow at his feet. They can’t see it from the angle of the webcam, but he refuses to touch it again.

“—Too far? An entire body pillow of him? I mean, you’re acting like I’m obsessed with the guy…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him again. They look at each other again. Then back at him.

“No,” Hajime immediately shuts down, “I’m not obsessed with him.”

“Well…” Makoto and Hina start at a high pitched voice.

“I’m not!”

“Okay, you’re not,” Makoto agrees weakly, “But you’re clearly concerned about him.”

Hajime scoffs, “I— yeah, who wouldn’t be?”

“Hajime, you visit his pod every morning and night,” Hina says, her voice quiet and concerned. It’s almost condescending.

“Because I want to be there when he wakes up!” Hajime says like it’s obvious, but his voice sort of dies when he finishes the sentence, “I mean- it’s been—“

“Three months,” Makoto finishes for him. Hajime’s thought process freezes in place.

Has it really only been three months? Shit…

“Since Hiyoko woke up, right?” Hina doesn’t ask anyone in particular. Makoto and Hajime nod.

“And he’s the last one,” Hajime supplies emptily. “I thought he’d wake up a bit after Hiyoko, because everyone woke up within a few weeks of each other, but… nothing. He's still asleep.”

Those last words come out a lot angrier than anticipated. He almost regrets it, but he remembers every time that he’s woken up at odd hours of the night. Every time that the thought of Nagito waking up anytime soon bugged him enough to go down there himself. Every time he’d stared into his sleeping face. And every time he’d fallen asleep while there, slouched in the chair he dragged near the pod.

It’s been happening a lot more recently.

He didn’t need to do it. In fact, if Nagito were to wake up, he would be the first person to know. He set up the pod to signal an alarm device, which had been sitting on his nightstand since he made it. Like a baby monitor, but for comatose arsonists.

Still, the idea of being able to be there right when Nagito opens his eyes is a lot more appealing than seeing him when his eyes have already opened.

“Hey, cheer up!” Hina calls out, casting Hajime out of his thoughts, “He’s going to wake up, y’know. It’s just a matter of time.”

He almost laughs in her face but his self control proves stronger than expected. Just a matter of time. How many times has he heard that sentence now? How many times has he used it to reassure himself, despite how stupid he felt?

“Yeah,” He agrees. How many times has he agreed to it anyways?

Hajime looks at the body pillow again. Nagito’s drawn smile is a bit daunting to stare at. But…

“Why did you have to pose him like that…” Hajime scans Nagito’s body.

Hina giggles as Makoto starts talking:

“Posed like what? He looks like he’s relaxing.”

“He looks like he wants to fuck me,” Hajime argues with a flat voice. Hina goes into a new fit of hysterics while Makoto snorts.

“Ryota drew him quite accurately, then,” Makoto says. It sends Hina into doubling over.

“What?” Hajime frowns into the computer screen.

“Anyways, if I’m being honest,” Makoto fights through a laugh, “I don’t know. I commissioned Ryota for a body pillow, and that’s what he gave me.”

“D-Do you even know what a body pillow is?” Hajime gapes. Hina finally starts calming down.

“Um, no,” Makoto admits, scratching his cheek, “I wanted to get you a small plushie of him, actually. But that would’ve taken a lot longer to make, and it’d require resources we don’t have right now.”

“Y-You don’t even know the implications of having a body pillow of someone?” Hajime’s voice raises a few pitches higher than usual.

“What? I mean, the worst thing you can do to a pillow is hug it…”

Lord.

“It’s a harmless gift!” Hina insists with a bright smile, “I’m sure you’ll look back at this and laugh. Maybe you can even show it to Nagito once he wakes up!”

“I…” The idea of showing this to the living and breathing Nagito Komaeda is less than appealing. Many, many levels less than appealing. He doesn’t want to imagine how he’d react. Or act. Knowing him, though, he’d probably offer a weirdly knowing smirk to Hajime, teasing him without having to say a word.

God. Even the Nagito in his head is mocking him. Annoying.

“Wow, did I break you?” Hina leans into the screen, her voice more prominent, “You’re red.”

“No!” Hajime fumbles and waves his hands, denying her, “I just thought of something.”

Hina seems unimpressed by the excuse as Makoto begins talking again.

“Well, we’ll let you go,” He says with a smile, “A meeting is coming up, and me and Hina both have to be there. We just wanted to quickly check in on you.”

“And get me to react to the worst gift ever…”

“Man, I hope you don’t hate me,” Makoto rubs the back of his neck, an embarrassed blush sprawling on his face. “Well, we’ll check in next week, okay?”

“Yeah!” Hina chirps up, “See you then, Haji!”

“Mhm.”

“Have fun with the pillow!” She sing-songs, and before Hajime can let out a stuttering mess of protesting syllables, the call ends and their faces disappear.

A sick and nervous feeling rides up his stomach as he processes the call.

Shame explodes in his chest when he looks down at the body pillow again.

Nagito Komaeda, animated, and posed a little too languidly stares up at nothing in particular. It’s hard to look at his face, because he’s grinning in a weirdly flirty way and he’s lively and it’s the last kind of expression that Hajime wants to see on a drawing of someone that’s been in a coma for a little too long. So, Hajime tries to stare at his chest instead. As if it made the idea of picking him up off the floor any easier.

Christ. It’s just a pillow.

Hajime kneels on the ground and grabs the top corners of it, hauling it up in his arms. The end of the pillow shuffles the lengthy box on the floor that it had been delivered in, knocking it on its side with a miserable flop. Holding it like this, the top of the pillow is just about level with his height, and the bottom barely scrapes the ground. Life size.

Disgusting. But just a pillow.

Hajime can’t shake the tense feeling of hugging it to his chest in this way. Like he’s admitting defeat and accepting the fact that this is fine in any way. As if hugging the incarnate pillow version of Komaeda is socially acceptable. The idea of anyone finding out he owns this crosses his mind and sends a cold breeze down his spine. He should throw it away. Any sensible person would.

But it was a gift from Makoto. Albeit, misguided and naive. It would be rude to burn something… heartfelt.

With a dissatisfied huff, Hajime twists in his place and makes his way to his bed— halting the second that his eyes catch his reflection in his full length mirror across the room.

“What the—”

He hadn’t seen the other side of the pillow until now. It’d been facedown on the ground for the entire video call, and its existence had gone completely unnoticed. But it’s hard to disregard when it is staring back at him from the mirror.

Hajime hurriedly pushes the pillow away from him, maintaining it at arm’s length and flipping it around. When the sight hasn’t disappeared and is instead staring back at him, his jaw drops.

On this side, there’s a shift in Nagito’s pose. His head is turned to one side, offering a clear view of a side profile, an undeniable red flush drawn over his face. One of his hands is pressed over his mouth and cheek, palm facing up, as if defensively covering himself. His other arm is in a similar position to the first version of him, but his shirt is hiked up higher, leaving room for his pale hand to rest on his exposed torso. Hajime freezes at the sight, unable to move. Discomfort flickers in Hajime’s chest and his eyes avert the image immediately. Hajime’s stomach flips nervously and he rushes to flip the pillow around, refusing to give the drawing a second look.

Seeing Nagito in any state like that felt wrong. Even if it was some drawing.

Drawing. Ryota really had to draw all that, didn’t he?

“Well, n-no, I didn’t,” Ryota is fumbling over his words, his voice soft enough to nearly go unheard. He’s fidgeting with his own fingers, unable to maintain proper eye contact with Hajime. For brief moments in time, his hands find the tweed sweater he’s wearing only to pick at it.

Hajime sighs through his nose, looking around them. They’re walking near the pool of the hotel lobby, right after Ryota had joined the group for breakfast. Everyone had peppered him with questions about his life at Future Foundation, the conversation keeping a semblance of politeness.

Words and mentions about the killing school life and high school memories went mostly unspoken, even now. Everyone’s voices always hesitate before bringing it up, and the conversations about it always end so quickly that it’s like they never started. So, they welcome their former classmate with open arms, infinitely opting for the positives instead of the past they can’t erase.

After everyone finished their meals, they had scattered and pawned off private conversations with Ryota as if he were a valuable item, Hajime finally got to claim some time with him for himself by trailing after him from the diner.

Ryota didn’t seem to mind at all— that is, until Hajime was glaring at him, refusing to let up. And Ryota didn’t have to ask why.

“Then why did you have to draw him like— like that?” Hajime mutters in a low voice, despite the fact that the pool area was empty and bare, and no one was around to eavesdrop. Ryota stops in his tracks and spins around, his eyes drooping and stance slouching. The bright sun beats down on them, clouds having barely parted from the morning rain.

“Listen, I was really weirded out with the commission at first,” Ryota replies, his voice still trembling, eyes darting. Wind picks up around them and Ryota’s hair flips into his face. “But who was I to question it? Makoto said he wanted a body pillow, so I complied.”

“Okay, well, didn’t he tell you it was for me?”

“Um, no, not until I finished drawing it…”

Hajime laughs, exasperated, facepalming with both hands.

“Listen!” Ryota hurries the words out of him, “I offered to redraw it. I really did. But Makoto looked at it himself and said it was fine.”

“What?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, he kind of laughed, but said that it works fine. I even asked him if he’s shown the work-in-progress to you. When he said it was for you, I thought you’d commissioned it—”

“Why would you assume that?!”

“Makoto didn’t clarify that you didn’t know about until he shipped it out! I thought you wanted one, like, for real.”

“I— No! I never— Why— Why would I—”

“I don’t know!” Ryota protests, his shoulders hiking up, “I didn’t question it, okay? It’s just a commission. A weird one, but I’ve drawn weirder, so it really didn’t matter.”

“D-Didn’t you feel even weirder knowing this is a real person? That you’ve talked to before?”

“Uh, I tried not to think about that. Seriously, though, it’s not that weird.”

A new voice joins: “What’s weird?”

“Gah—!” Hajime jolts and spins around, hurriedly backing away. “S-Soda.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Yes, a million times, yes.

“No. Not at all.”

Fuck.

“Cool,” Soda grins happily, “What were you guys talking about? Some weird thing?”

Hajime’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Ah—”

“It’s just about a commission I made for Hajime,” Ryota says, far too casually, way too easily. Hajime shoots him a death glare. Ryota crumbles in on himself at the look, and starts stuttering,

“I-I mean, it’s—”

“A commission!” Soda pronounces, clearly impressed, “Man, I really wanna see more of your art.”

He turns to Hajime, his pink hair swaying, and asks: “What’d you commission him for?”

Hajime freezes. And is probably visibility deflating.

“Oh. It’s— nothing, really—”

“Just a pillow.”

Ryota.

“A pillow?” Soda gives the two of them a deeply confused frown, but focuses on Ryota, “Um, I thought you did animations and drawings, that sorta shit.”

“I-I made some artwork for a pillow.”

“It’s really nothing!” Hajime yells despite himself. Ryota and Soda both stare at him as he fumbles, fighting to continue.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Hajime can’t look them in the eyes, “I just found his drawings calming, and— I thought it might help me get more sleep at night, if his art was… in front of me…”

The excuse dissipates into the air, vaporizing alongside Hajime’s weakened voice. He clears his throat when both of them don’t say anything.

Soda walks up to him, but Hajime keeps his eyes away, trained on the ground.

A warm hand meets his shoulder, and Hajime has to force himself to look up.

“You haven’t been able to sleep well, huh?” Soda’s face is genuinely compassionate and concerned. Hajime jerks at the sincerity, shrinking in on himself, a rise of embarrassment clouding his mind.

“Yeah,” Soda nods slowly, his voice quiet. He stays silent for a second before tightening his hold on Hajime’s shoulder, reconnecting their gaze.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Hajime feels frozen in place by the intensity of the eye contact, but manages a feeble nod regardless.

Soda smiles softly and nods, letting go of him and saying:

“You’ve been having some trouble with Nagito, right?”

“Huh?”

“When he’s gonna wake up,” Soda supplies, shrugging easily, “Well, at this rate, if he’s going to wake up.”

Hajime swallows a lump in his throat.

“Ah, sorry,” Soda forces a smile, “I shouldn’t say that. Actually, you shouldn’t even worry about it! He has ultimate luck, after all. So he’s sure to wake up. Well, unless it’s luckier not to wake up from the dream he’s having…”

Hajime blinks at Soda.

Soda blinks at Hajime.

“I’m not helping, am I?” Soda says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hajime can’t bring himself to respond.

“Shit, man, sorry,” Soda winces at himself, “Don’t give such a sad look! Cheer up. He’ll wake up. I mean, all of us woke up. He just has more—”

“Mental instability,” Hajime emptily chants. The words have been used to describe Komaeda’s state (and the reason for remaining in the pod for so long) so often that they’ve drilled a permanent stop in Hajime’s head.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Soda mutters, shaking his head, “Plus, his—”

“Health complications,” Hajime emptily fills in again, “I know.”

“Hey, c’mon!” Soda nudges Hajime’s side. He winces at the hard touch, but Soda continues, “You’ve said that if he wakes up, there’s a chance his body’ll be better! That’s something to look forward to, huh?”

Hajime stares at him. Soda is acting impossibly optimistic.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hajime nods, clearly not assured of himself. Soda takes it anyways.

“Right on!” Soda grins, clearly satisfied. Soda turns to Ryota and shoots him a grin while Hajime recuperates, having realized Ryota had been there the entire time.

“Well, I’m off,” Soda announces, throwing up his hands and beginning to walk off, “I’ll talk to you later, Hajime!”

Hajime nods at him shortly, unable to get his voice to work, before returning his attention to Ryota.

Ryota stares at him, offering absolutely no reaction for the conversation that just occurred. But it looked like he was forcing himself not to react, which was slightly annoying.

Hajime takes a breath, tosses a glance at Soda’s retreating figure, and looks back at Ryota.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Hajime asks.

“U-Um, what do you mean?”

“The way that I worry about Nagito,” Hajime immediately regrets the word worry, “Everyone’s acting like I’m obsessed with him or something.”

Ryota blinks at him. “Well…”

“Oh my God,” Hajime shakes his head, exasperation slapping him across the face. “You guys- You guys are impossible. Just because I care about the guy. Unlike everyone else, apparently. Just because I’m worried for him, I’m obsessed with him, right?”

He begins to walk away with a final, “Don’t bother answering that.”

Ryota doesn’t reply or follow Hajime back to his cottage.

#komahina #danganronpa #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #komaeda x hinata #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata x nagito komaeda #hinakoma #danganronpa fanfiction #im going crazy guys #ryota mitarai #kazuichi souda #makoto naegi #aoi asahina #post game #goodbye despair

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nabateaprodigy · 5 months

Note

Hello! I'd like to request Nagito with a reader (can be gn, but preferably fem) who is extremely compassionate (like literally feels bad for objects) and very affectionate (verbally and physically). They will just be looking at him silently one second, then the next, they will be pressing kisses onto his face while calling him the most beautiful and sweet things (my beautiful dove, my precious angel, etc.). Also, this may be very specific, but could you also add them hating and literally not believing in the word worthless, because they think everything is beautiful and valuable just for existing? You're the only one I've found recently writing with Nagito included this month, and this request has been on my mind for so long omg. My soul would be at peace if this was written, but I understand if you don't want to write it, so thank you anyway! 💗

Hopeful Compassion

Series: Danganronpa.

Characters: Nagito.

Genre: Fluff.

Proofread: Yes.

Reader: Female. (But no pronouns are used.)

Another beautiful sunny day then again the weather on Jabberwock Island always seems to be beautiful. But not even the weather on this Island could compare to the beauty of his S/O. Speaking of Nagito was making his way to Hotel Mirai to meet up with his S/O and the other students.

It's a routine everyone had agreed to and has been following for some time now. Everyone would meet up with each other and have breakfast in the restaurant of the hotel. They would talk with each other while eating and it's something everyone enjoyed.

Now arriving at the hotel Nagito felt as though nothing could go wrong. "Ouch!" Ah, maybe he spoke too soon... Nagito had looked around to see who had gotten hurt and it was none other than his S/O.

Ah, this must have been his luck of course something bad would happen as soon as he showed up. "Oh, I'm sorry! So sorry!" You spoke after you had hit your hip on one of the tables in the restaurant. Hiyoko could be heard giggling at the sight in front of her.

You were apologizing to a table? Nagito knew you were kind and community however maybe you were a little bit too kind and compassionate. Of course that didn't make Nagito love you any less it put a smile on his face knowing his S/O was like this.

From the Sharpe pain that you were feeling in your hip, you had put one of your hands on it but it didn't last that long. To make sure you were alright himself Nagito made his way over to you. "Hello, my hope are you alright?"

"Ah, darling! It's nice to see you how did you sleep?" You spoke as you looked at Nagito with a smile even him just being around you filled you with such happiness. "Yes, my hope I sleep well. But it seems my luck has caused you pain I'm sorry trash like me made this happen."

"Nagito stop that! What have I told you about saying such things about yourself? I was just being clumsy that's all so please don't say such things about yourself alright?" You spoke as you hugged Nagito and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ew gross get a room!" Hiyoko spoke as stuck out her tongue in disgust. "Hiyoke leave them be!" Mahiru scolded her.

"Trash, worthless these are words I hate the most, especially when they are used to talk about someone. To hear you say these things about yourself Nagito it hurts. Because I know you Nagito and more importantly I love you. I know your worth and I know what a great person you are so words like that are the last thing that should be said about you, especially by yourself."

Nagito smiled as he hugged you back giving a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you my hope it makes me glad to hear you say that. I love you and with you by my side, our future together will be bright."

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chalk-prnce · 1 year

Text

You sure we're out of their sight?

in which you can't admit that you like komaeda, let alone liking a boy. warnings ; internalised homophobia, breakdowns male reader x komaeda nagito

im so sorry for never posting! i forgot all about this account and focussed on my ao3 account! but im here now so, enjoy that "Car lights" fanfic i promised but a different title.

The sun had already set, a premature twilight settling over the horizon as you stared out with the entire universe on your shoulders. Perhaps you should be more glad to get away from the city for a bit, even if you were only about 20 minutes away. Your friends proposed to all go out tonight, but you refused. You can't function properly if you don't figure yourself out and quick.

Sand crunched under your shoes as you breathed a hissing intake of air- it wasn't the best day for you today. You had drove to the nearest sea shore after a long day of battling your own disgust to something you'd rather not name. Even labelling it was shameful but tempting. If you say it aloud, usually it confirms it in your mind. For example- saying how much you love watching shitty sitcoms that you found hilarious when you were about 10 at the age of 17 going on 18 kind of seals the deal on it. A verbal contract- a shameful confirmation.

Your tank was about one fifth filled up, and you were running on fumes of hope that it would still be able to take you to the nearest gas station after you're finished brooding. Even after being here for what felt like days, you still hadn't been able to figure yourself out. What are you really even freaking out over? What is your problem? Your dilemma?

Komaeda Nagito.

About a couple months ago, you two had met in the library on not the most friendly terms. However over time, you somehow managed to look past it and you two kept coming back to that same spot in the same library.

"..Pride and Prejudice.." The ivory boy mumbled, sitting beside you as he leaned against his elbow on the table. "..You've truly never read this before? It's such a famous piece of literary artwork. One of the most famous actually.. Makes sense that someone so painfully average like you wouldn't know that."

He talks so much to you for someone who despises the very precense of the Reserve Course. "...Shut up, of course I knew about it- I just never found it interesting so I blew off reading it."

You both scoff at eachother before sliding the book into the middle of the table and read it together, pointing out small bits of the book every now and then.

"..I'd never fall for someone like Mr Darcy.. So cold.. so cruel. Even for money- seriously! That'd fuck me up."

"..Well- I'd assume you wouldn't fall for someone like him- he's a boy." He let out a small laugh through his sentence- pushing you out of your thoughts. You couldn't believe you let that slip.

"Right- nah, I'm just saying y'know. If I was a girl and liked guys, I'd never choose him." A slight awkward silence ensues after that awful slip up from you. It's only after a whole chapter does Komaeda begin to speak again.

"Would you though?"

"Would I what?"

"..You know, date a boy?"

You fiddle with the corner of the pages, sucking on your teeth before breathing out a small string of words. "..Relationships are tiring." Is all you can pull out from your mouth before going back to reading. It was an nice way of getting out of the topic. You could've easily said no- but for some reason you remained vague.

"..That's not answering my question. Are you seriously that incompetent?" He sneered before leaning his hand on the seat of your chair, his head lulled to the side of both of you. "..Don't answer that actually, I know you are that incompetent." It was hard to tell in that moment if Komaeda was against the idea of homosexuality or not- he was always mixed signals. You open your mouth to say something; but now he was much closer, you could feel that sultry voice vibrate down your ears, and so you close your mouth and stay silent.

"..You've gone quiet. Are you truly that stumped by my question?" He hummed, chills now digging it's needles into your back. "..I suppose it is quite the hard question, even for an Ultimate it could stump them." That's a weird thing to say, especially from the suspicious implications.

"..You talk too much. Just keep reading." Is all you breathe out before you flip the page over and Komaeda shifts back away from your chair. The moment ends.

But it wasn't even the fact that he was in a much higher position than you- a high standing pedestal than your excuse for being a "symbol". Perhaps you're over reacting about the wrong thing. Komaeda had a reputation for despising all reserve course's to the core. A more filthier piece of trash than him (if that was possible in his mind.) The purest scum of the Earth. You should be running for life, and you would if you were in the most rational state of mind. But you're quite obviously not. He's going to eat you alive but god you wonder how it'd be if you did so first. Laying back onto the hood of your car, you shriek out a loud groan and grip at your hair in frustration. You don't know exactly why you're so stressed over him, someone who's merely a friend. Barely, actually- more like civil accquantainces who had common interests and that was all. He despised being seen in public with you; if his classmates ever walked into the library whilst you two were there, he would quickly but quietly shuffle to another nearby table.

In the earlier months of your accquantainceship, you would've scoffed and insulted him after they left. But now, you simply look at them crowd around as they ask how Komaeda is before leaving. You felt like a frog amongst swans, something so dirty and unfitting to be with.

Silver glints of the moon fracture over the tides, the serene scenery surrounding you was ethereal, a song for the eyes. You've been here for about 5 hours, sitting in different positions all whilst rubbing your temples or banging your forehead onto your knees. It's getting harder to ignore this, to ignore him. Why are you here? You want to go home, but it feels like an obligation to stay and sort this out before you begin to lose your head. You'd honestly rather cut off your wings so that you can not fly into the sun but rather fall into the mighty blue beasts teeth than confront these ghastly thoughts of yours. Komaeda, Komaeda, Komaeda. You've never felt more stress over a name such as his. You should be cast to the wolves for these thoughts. But what thoughts? Your head does not contain blasphemies and your mouth has not committed any heresies. So why are you so troubled? Perhaps you do know, but if you even dare mention it you'd finally commit said heresy you so very feared. You can't say it. You won't dare think it. You refuse. You won't do it.

But you can't stop- you've already done it. You imagine how perfectly your arms would fit around him, how easily your hands could mold together and your eyes would easily find the pearls of the deep dark in eachother's irises, how wonderfully your lips would fit like a jigsaw.

You can't remember exactly how you became enamoured by him. Perhaps it was when you accidentally let your stare linger longer than you intended. That day, Komaeda brought in a book that you could only find via an online bookstore due to it being quite a strange piece. Turns out, he was absolutely infatuated with it, and rambling about it came easy to him.

"..The Book Of Disquiet is quite the interesting read- it was never finished, but it's easy to get how the book ends. The heteronyms that Pessoa created for it was intentionally made to be...boring. I've done alot of research on him- he really delves into the whole "Terrible Paradox of Self Awareness" topic- noting to the reader that writing and doing and saying is all completely meaningless yet continues to write, do and say things." The Lucky Student trails off, flicking back and forth to pages of his notes page he did on the portugese author, explaining and going through each little bit.

You absorbed it in like a sponge- his voice was calming and his eyes were soft as he looked at the pages like it was a puppy. His hair was falling perfectly down his face and spilling onto his shoulders, his eyes shining with a glimmer you've only seen in the stars. Komaeda's beauty could never be put to justice through photos. Not even paintings could immortalise his visage- a night sky within his eyes and the sun within his soul. It was as if you were in an trance. There was a subtle breeze in your imagination as you stared- that was until you realised that was because Komaeda was waving his hand infront of your face.

"..Hello? Are you alright?" That was a first. He doesn't ask that often. "..You seem pretty out of it. It is quite warm in here.."

"..No. I'm fine. Keep reading." And the moment ends.

In your dreams, you described it as simple infatuation, but in reality it was not as airy and feather-light as that. In your nightmares, you described it as a deadly desire, but in reality it was not as short-lived and capricious as that. But to call it anything else in your own conscious mind? You'd rather be ripped from your organs.

But you don't want to keep thinking about it. You don't think you can do it any longer in this swealtering heat of the night. It was humid, but it barely felt like any air was being circulated around the Earth. One last sigh leaves you before you get up from your indented place in the sand and wander off to your car. It was an alright car, not the best and it was used by alot of past owners but it was the best you could get at your age. You pull out your keys and make sure to shake and jingle them a bit just so you can hear the clacking against them, hoping it'd snap you out of whatever this was. Opening the door and slamming it once you're inside, you push your keys into the engine and twist. Your car moans and groans several times, and you could've sworn you felt your heart shoot down to your gut. Your repeated attempts to twist your keys and turn on the engine are almost ridiculed by the curdling screams of the exhaust. Oh, come on. How did this happen? You take great care of your car! Not a single scrape or dent or even a mere collision with any other vehicle. What happened?

Ah. Right. Your tank- it was only one fifth full. Shit.

Well, now you're stuck at this beach with more rocks than grains of sand. His luck is rubbing off on you. Great, there you go again! You always just have to find some way to mention his name even in the most dire situations. What's wrong with you? A loud bang clanks against the hood of your car from the hail that was now pouring down, mocking you as you replicate those bangs onto your steering wheel from your forehead. Atleast you had shelter from it. But you had no money to call a repair work, and almost all of your friends were out for tonight. Oh, but who else is in your contacts that IS free?

Komaeda Nagito.

You fully groan at his name, your hands dragging the skin of your face up and down. Do you really have to resort to this? It's either him or you stay in the hail with your car as shelter on a school night. God, and who knows how many assignments you probably have to do right now? You feel like crying. You end up crying.

Hot blobs of salt run down your cheeks as you feel the overwhelming sense of dread. Nothing was going right for you today, nothing at all. Your bones feel heavy in your skin, your eyes straining to keep up with the amount of tears leaving you. Your car has no gas, it's hailing loudly and you're caught between the tides of pain and rapture as you stare at his contact on your phone. You hadn't even figured out the reason of why you are here. Maybe that's for the best. It'd be more awkward to face Komaeda if you had figured it out- but does that mean you most likely know what's wrong with you then? Are you in denial?

"...Hello?" His gravally voice seeps through the audio output.

"..Komaeda, can you come pick me up? My car broke down at the beach- I can't get home and I have no money to call repair services." Your voice is cracking and crumbling as you call, your hands occupied with either your phone or holding the wheel. All you hear is a groan that interrupts a 5 second silence. "..Please- after this I'll never call again, I promise-" All you hear is a beep. He hung up. What did you expect? Why would he ever come and help someone as pathetic as you?

You fall back into your seat, hands dragging your face again before you grumble to yourself under your breath. Why do you care so much? His attention burns your skin and his precense warms your nerves. You could practically melt at the thought of him. This isn't right. It just isn't right at all. It's disgusting, it should be illegal to feel like this for another man. You feel ashamed like you've committed murder. Being burnt at the stake would be a worthy punishment for this. Oh but the more you deny and refute this, refute him, the more you can't push these feelings down. It's all you're thinking about.

So now you're stuck here and potentially broken what little bit of friendship you had with Komaeda. Great work. Aren't you just the most intelligent man alive?

You huff it out in large and saltier blobs of misery, soon letting your exhausted eyes fall heavy. You're sitting in your car, hail now slowing as you drift off into probably one of the modt uncomfortable positions possible. In your dreams you envision a timeline where perhaps one of you were a girl instead, and loving eachother wouldn't need to be so compromising. Or perhaps a timeline where loving another boy wouldn't be compromising.

Soon enough, you're awoken by loud thuds and thumps against your window, you can barely make out what it is banging your window due to how much more the rain was pouring down now. A loud groan leaves your throat before you roll down the window, and your eyes finally open fully. That frizzy tuff of white cotten, now flattened by the rain is all too familiar for you. You stare at it. But not at his eyes.

Komaeda Nagito.

You both stare at eachother, stoic yet painful words were folded into the corners of eachother's eyes. It's been about 10 seconds you've been staring at eachother through your car window.

"..."

"..You truly are so incompetent, aren't you?"

What?

"..Driving all this way and you didn't even think to fill up your tank. On top of that, you call me of all people to solve this pathetic problem of yours and you're not even going to say a thing to me when I arrive."

He came here? But he hung up?

"..Are you blind? Are you deaf? Hello??" Komaeda sneers at you, grimacing at you. It's hard to see eachother through the rain.

"...you came."

He shuts up at that, and despite the rain, you can see his eyes soften. "..I did. You called me, you sounded.. stressed. So I came." But why?

"..I don't why I did. It was like I needed to. It doesn't make sense." He sighs before looking away. You narrow your eyes slightly, softening them too before you get out of your car and closing the door behind you, leaning against the soaked metal.

At this point, the only source of light came from your car lights, blaring from it's home to display all the droplets of rain that passed it. "..What happened?" His voice was quieter than quiet. Despite the rain being louder, you could only hear him. "..You don't usually go out so late. I thought your friends invited you out?"

"..You paid attention to that?" He nods. "I just needed to figure something out." He hums.

"..Well, have you?" You shake your head.

"..Maybe I can help. What is it you're troubling yourself with?" You huff.

Both of you wander over to the hood of your car, sitting ontop of it. "I can't tell you. I'd honestly rather die than do so. You'd rip me to shreds."

"What? Are you striving to become an Ultimate or something? It couldn't be that bad." You scoff and lay back onto your hood.

"..Remember that conversation we had a couple weeks back? You asked if I'd ever.."

"..Date a boy?" You nod. "..What about it?"

It takes a lot of courage to continue this conversation. "..What would.. what do you- think? Would you ever date one?" He shrugs. "Probably. Why? What does this have to do with anything?" How dense can someone be?

But that gives you a little something. He might.

"..Put two and two together you fucking moron." At this point, you're getting tired of running away. Your feet are calloused with how much you've ran away from this problem of yours. You need to decide it now.

You glance over at his face and you see no malice in his visage. Perhaps he isn't here to taunt you. He's probably trying to understand what you meant. "..Ah." Is all he says before laying back onto the hood with you. "Whatever you decide for that, despite how..painfully filthy you are... I'll support you."

He heaves alot during that sentence. Maybe it's due to the rain or maybe it just took too much out of him to try to be nice to you. You both look up, squinting through the rain. "..How long have you been out here?"

"..About.. 8 hours..? I don't know. I needed to find some space." Komaeda hums in agreement as he combs his strands back. "Fair enough. But you might catch a cold." That's new. "Since when did you care, Main course?" You could just about hear the small chuckle under his breath.

This all felt like some strange peace treaty between you two. It was no longer insults but rather it felt like light-hearted jokes. Like you two had known each other forever. "Would you rather me let you out to die from pneumonia?" You laugh and shake your head. Your laughter simmers down and you both look at each other, you hadn't looked at him for the entire time. Looking at him almost made you sob. You don't know if you can do this.

"So... what made you start... thinking of this whole liking boys thing?" He asks with a careful tone, talking to you at this moment felt like a delicate activity. You can't tell him that. You just shrug.

"So you pull me all the way out here, just so we can lay in the rain on your hood?" You smile at that but you shake your head. "..I don't think I can tell you why. I don't want to ruin this." You gesture to the little space between you two. "It's taken me so long to just say I potentially like...boys. I feel like I should be atoning for this."

"No shame in liking guys. You don't need to tell me why then," You thank him with your silence, ", Any guys you like right now though?" You slap his shoulder and he puts both hands up in the air with a smirk. "What? It's a genuine question!"

Eyes roll as you simply return to looking up at the crying sky. "Perhaps. Do you?" He shrugs. "Perhaps."

"You can't just copy my answer. Give me something here."

"You're not giving me a thing here. How about we both give small hints?" It's a good idea and so you agree. "Hair colour?" God that is the worst question. He'll easily tell who it is then. "That's way too obvious!" A small huff leaves him before he goes back to thinking. "Hm, fine.. which course is he in?"

The thing is, you don't know anyone else in the Main Course other than him and Kazuichi. He was your neighbour for a long time and you two grew close as friends. But he didn't know that, did he? "..Main Course." You awaited a scoff or a remark of how you don't deserve to love anyone from the Main Course, but he just hums.

"..Would you like to know mine?"

It almost takes your entire being to not say yes so eagerly. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

"..Reserve."

There's a strange casual coolness in his voice, as if he hadn't just said something that completely shook you to your roots and make you question everything about him. This contradicted everything about him! What kind of weird enemies-to-lovers experience did he have?

"..Shocking, I know. Seems like we're in similar situations, unfortunately." Komaeda remarks, however he has a smirk on his face that gives you a bad feeling that he knows. Maybe you should give in to defeat.

"..Don't you hate us? Why would you ever want to love one of us?" Your inquiry is the one to make him finally scoff. "..I never wanted to. But I had to accept it soon enough, I have enough things to eat away at me. I didn't need another." It felt slightly insulting but you got it. It was exactly like you and this gay situation. "..That's...fair enough. When did you finally accept it?"

"..About.. A month or two ago? I had let it waste away at me for about.. 4 months." 6 months. You've known him for 6 months.

"..Wow.. You've been in love with some dude ever since the day we met and you didn't bother to tell me? I'm honestly betrayed, Komaeda."

"Well I didn't exactly see you as a friend back then, did I?" That caught you off guard. "So that means you see me as a friend now?"

"Perhaps." That leaves a smile on your face.

You two stay out on your hood for another 5 minutes. It's getting cold. It's very late.

"..You figured it out yet?" His voice sounds less sultry, now it was more careful and smooth. You shrug.

Over the course of 5 minutes, 2 things went through your head. Should you just give in to defeat and tell him and potentially ruin everything or should you just say no and just get him to drive you two home and send a service for your car later? The latter sounds tempting. It's such a cursed mindset- it felt like a fruit from a poisonous tree. Your thoughts were fickle between the decisions of defeat and stubborness. All your troubling thoughts brutally clawed at your face and brain, infecting it like your brain was filled with scorpions. Your tolerance was beginning to simmer and sizzle. Perhaps you thought about it too much. Maybe you're overthinking. What if you gave in to defeat and he rejects you? It was all for nothing. But he doesn't owe you that affection just because you came out to him within the same day. Why can't you decide? Why won't you hurry up? Why, why, why?-

Your thoughts silence. His lemon grass eyelashes fluttered at you like rare butterflies in the spring morning. You take one more breath.

"I like a boy from the Main Course. I can.. confirm that now. I'm not the most.. okay with that fact but.. I can't let it eat me away aswell." You smile weakly at him. Looking into Komaeda's eyes, you can see glints of a smile in them. He seems proud of you.

"But I... uh.. don't think he likes me back." He cocks his head slightly to the side. "Why do you say that?" This might also give it away.

But your rational reasoning had been long gone from your brain ever since you started crying and screaming on a beach in a broken down car.

"He doesn't exactly like Reserves." You cover your mouth to giggle as if you just told someone the dumbest secret ever. His eyebrow raises at you. "Oh?"

Oh.

Shit.

"..Aha.. Ahhhhh... Yeah. What about your Reserve Crush? Does he like Main Courses?"

"No. He always scoffs when he sees me."

"I would too." You already do.

"Why wouldn't he like you though? Despite how painfully average you are... You're quite stunning in the moonlight. And somehow you're able to make me laugh everyday." You are quite the comedic genius.

"Because I'm no Ultimate. I've heard the way he talks about the Ultimates and I'm never going to live up to that. I wish I could. I always wonder if I'm ever going to."

"Maybe he's let go of that aspect of hatred from you." He suggests, looking over at you. "..Maybe he sees you as something even more." It's your turn to raise an eyebrow. "..How would you know that?"

"My luck is that of the stars. I might be right." Komaeda winks before staring deeper into your eyes.

"My troubles lie exactly with if he'll like me or not right now, and supposedly your luck will help me?" He shrugs. You two have become ever so much more closer on your hood, sitting upright. You two haven't made this long of eye-contact ever. You two haven't made this type of contact ever either. He's beautiful. You can feel his cold breath against you.

Over the course of your time together on your car with raining weeping onto you, Komaeda came closer for warmth and you came closer to try and hear his small tone. It's only become more apparent of how little space there was between you two. You have a strange feeling on where this is going with how close he is becoming.

"Are you scared?" You nod slightly. He probably noticed your eyes shake between his lips and the surroundings and back to his eyes.

"I feel like someone will see us."

"Through the car lights? I doubt it. Do you still want to deny yourself this? I can stop if you want." He backs away slightly as a demonstration, but you catch his shoulders and shake your head. "...There is nothing to run from. I'm not scared. I only have one more worry on my mind but... it's nothing you should be concerned about." And he smiles.

"Would you..let me answer your troubles?"

You're unsure of what he means, however you aren't given much of a chance to question him. You feel a cold pair of lips press against yours, and you feel complete. You two complete eachother, knocking their air out of eachothers lungs as you hold hands and kiss on your hood. "..Don't let them see my face." Is all you mumble through your muffled lips as you two, push eachother up against the car, holding eachother like life lines. "I don't know how to be without you." Komaeda mumbles back, digging his nimble hands into your hair.

It feels like fireworks as you finally break away and look at eachother. Your finger tips slowly trace to his knuckles, holding his hand tightly as you two continue to watch the tides rise and retreat.

"...Would.. would you.. like to go back now?" You nod. You two get off of the vehicle and enter Komaeda's. You leave with smiles and blushes between a silence.

The rain stopped at that very second.

#nagito x reader #danganronpa 2 x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #sdr2 x reader #danganronpa x reader #male reader #fanfiction

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m-y-fandoms · 6 months

Text

COMMISSION: SDR2 Boys x Female Reader - Seven Minutes in Heaven

Details: Takes place during the killing game, timeline switched around, creative license taken to imply everyone is alive and has known each other for at least a few weeks and has had time to get to know each other. The threat of the killing game is still looming though. It’s also implied that the reader has a crush on the boy in each section however whether or not the boy is oblivious to that fact or feels the same varies.

Word Count: 5K Words

Warnings: SFW - fluff, probably mild angst, possible SDR2 spoilers

Intro:

Everyone needed a distraction. It was getting pretty hard for the group’s self-proclaimed leader, Byakuya, to keep their minds off of the threat of a potential killing game, and he wasn’t the most creative when it came to having fun. Unfortunately for him, having fun was probably the only thing that would help a gaggle of anxious, on-edge teens relax right about now. It’d been weeks without incident since that malicious-looking monochrome bear appeared and told them he expected them to kill each other for sport in order to go home, but nobody seemed to feel safe despite that fact. There was no cold hard evidence to prove this wasn’t some long, elaborate prank or social experiment, and two facts made them believe Monokuma’s words, made them believe they were in danger: first of all, they’d seen those “Monobeasts” blast their innocent, adorable self-proclaimed teacher Usami to pieces, and secondly, nobody from their lives back home had even attempted to contact or rescue them. With each day that passed, they trusted each other less, and the bags under their eyes grew darker. Yes, they needed to have fun.

A game was suggested. It was something simple, well-known to most of the group, even if they hadn’t played it since middle school or really at all. It would pass the time, and maybe create some romance or drama. Any feeling was better than impending doom and the fear of death.

The location was set: a small, cramped closet in the old building next to the hotel. It was dimly lit by an ancient yellow overhead lightbulb hanging on by a thread and had just enough room for two people once the abandoned supplies, tools, and cobwebs were scooted to the edges.

And so, the game began.

Teruteru Hanamura:

You were standing in the back of the dark closet, having been the first one chosen to play the game. Figures it would be you. Out of 17 students you picked the first short straw, and now waited patiently for whoever you'd be matched up with. It could be a girl, a guy, someone you hung out with often, or a weirdo you actively avoided. It was nerve-wracking knowing that if you embarrassed yourself, 15 people would be listening right outside the door, but on the bright side, at least no one could get away with killing you when classmates waited within earshot. One scream for help and your attacker would be caught, right?

It didn't take long for your partner to make themselves known, as the closet door busted open before you and was closed in a flash, barely giving you time to process what was happening and certainly no time to see who entered.

You were swarmed in an instant. A warm, soft body clung to your own and engulfed you in a flurry of hands. You were being poked and prodded and the excited mutterings and giggles gave away who this was immediately. You knew those salacious squeaks very well.

"Teruteru?" You grappled with him, grasping out in the dark for his hands to settle them.

"Ohoho~ yes, my queen?" The flirtatious chef snickered, fighting off your attempts to calm him. Queen? Given your little secret crush on the Ultimate Cook, you would've blushed if you didn't have the knowledge that he spoke to everyone like this.

"N-now just hold on a second! Wait!" You squealed, ticklish in odd places and your heart racing at your luck. You often spent time with Teruteru as he seemed harmless, and he made you laugh with his antics. You never meant to develop feelings for him, and sometimes you swore it was just infatuation because he gave you attention and could be quite charming, but regardless here you were, feeling this way. "Don't you wanna slow down, take our time a-and make the most of our seven minutes?" You sputtered, trying to appeal to a sense of reasoning you didn't really know Teruteru to have.

"Huh...?" To your surprise, he halted all movement, seemingly confused by your words. You were just as shocked to get through to him at all. Soon the closet was quiet, filled with just the sound of two souls breathing.

"What's wrong?" You gulped.

"Well... I entered fully expecting to be kicked out expeditiously... either that or you would make a break for it, so I figured I would try to rush in and at least get something out of this experience," he spoke candidly. It was true that he was someone used to rejection, to being an object of repulsion. He probably expected you to be like everyone else.

"But, Teru... I mean… you and I hang out all the time. Do I ever treat you like that?" You posed the question, a bit hurt that he thought of you the same way as everyone else after you’d put what you thought was a lot of time and attention into building a friendship with him.

"Hmmm... I suppose not... but this is something different altogether. I - wait a second! Are you saying you want to do this with me?" He sounded astonished, incredulous. His hands trailed down your arms to take your own in a gentle grasp.

You felt your face heat up, your pulse in your throat, like maybe you'd been too frank, too honest. Maybe your little crush was being worn too plainly on your sleeve.

"Umm... I mean, well..." you chuckled nervously. You could almost feel his smirk, the little devilish rosiness creeping up his cheeks.

"Well, well, well, it looks like my little sous-chef has been hiding something from me. All this time, I never would've guessed~ I thought you were just tolerating me," he teased. You squirmed as he ran his hands up your arms then down the sides of your waist. "Looks like I need to give you some private, one-on-one cooking lessons more often~"

Byakuya Twogami

Cramped even further into the already tight closet by his rather robust figure, you stood there looking up at Byakuya, feeling rather small and exposed, vulnerable. He looked down at you with his arms crossed confidently over his chest. This was a condescending look and stance that he often displayed. It made you feel even more inferior this close up.

"Let's be very clear here. I volunteered to go first for one reason and one reason only: as the leader of you braindead group of cretins, it is my duty to keep up morale so you don't all completely lose it. A true leader," he sneers, "leads by example. I'm tired of seeing you lot run around depressed and terrified so here I am, to save the day as usual. If this silly game makes you all stop whining, I’m willing to lower myself to your level for the night." He rolls his eyes, an expression you can only just barely make out in the dim warm lighting.

"Oh... yeah, I know-" you are promptly interrupted as he continues, blonde hair moved casually out of his face and properly back into place.

"This is beneath me and my breeding: this musty, disgusting closet, this silly child's game, this island, but I know you'd all fall apart without me so here I am. I don't intend to participate in any activities beneath me in this closet here today, however. I simply refuse."

"Yeah... I suspected as much," you twiddled your fingers nervously, looking down at the ground, attempting to get the sentence out once more. "I figured you volunteered for those reasons, and not because you saw it was me coming in here first... that would be too good to be true," you spoke shyly, voice breaking. You really admired Byakuya and the immense pride and status that he carried with him. You found him attractive even though he was extremely intimidating.

A shade of pink dusts over his cheeks at the implication behind your words, his eyes widening under his spectacles for just a beat before he took on that nonchalant, confident expression once again. He couldn't let the facade fall, not for anything or anyone.

"Well then," he cleared his throat, a little too awkwardly for someone of his usual poise, "I'll allow you to admire me. It's not like I'm unused to praise and reverence... envy even..." His voice trails off and he holds one large hand out to you as if you were a peasant expected to kiss a king's ring before being allowed an audience.

For a second you didn’t know what to do, heart racing wildly in your chest. You felt like no matter what you did, you'd mess up, earning a scolding from him, an insult perhaps... but why did even the idea of that excite you so much?

Body shaking, you leaned down, took one of his hands in both of yours and kissed his knuckles. He tried to hide any and all instinctual responses but you felt him stiffen up, his knuckles flexing at the touch. The skin there was unexpectedly rough... not the pampered, soft hands of Togami nobility you'd anticipated. You didn't linger on the thought though, too anxious to see his reaction. Pathetically, you kissed him now on his wrist, agonizingly slow. It was more out of embarrassment then trying to be a tease, however, he was getting impatient all the same. He felt himself sweating over a certain emotion for the first time in forever.

"Oh for the love of-" he scoffs, ripping his hand out of your grasp, "You're embarrassing yourself." He spoke curtly. Roughly, he grabbed onto your shoulders firmly with both hands, pulling you into his chest. With a fervor that frightened you, he took control, crushing his lips skillfully onto yours.

Gundham Tanaka

When Gundham Tanaka burst into the closet with zeal and anything other than an expression of displeasure on his face, you immediately knew he was there under false pretenses. He was the last one who would want to rush into this game, to want to have anything to do with it, so the fact that he was clearly entering by choice told you everything you needed to know. This man was clearly confused. You couldn't help but chuckle as he slammed the door closed behind him, leaving you two alone with a little privacy.

"I see I got here not a moment too soon! The imp Hiyoko Saionji let slip that this unassuming closet in fact contains a portal to the Nether and revealed you'd gotten yourself trapped in here with no way to escape! Of course, only I, Gundham Tanaka, can resist the energetic pull of a Netherworld rift! Fear not, foolish mortal, I am here to save you!" You let him rant, shaking your head at the theatrics. You found his outbursts so entertaining, his personality cuter than even his soft hamsters.

"Gundham... I fear you've been tricked," you sigh, taking a step back to give him some space. "This is a game, there is no portal... but unfortunately, it looks like neither of us will be having any fun." You spoke dejectedly, seeing as you truly would've loved indulging in this game with someone as attractive as Gundham. He was dark and mysterious, with a sexy deep voice and amazing hair. He was kind to animals and such a unique character. Truly one of a kind. How could you not fall for him? "I refuse to play now, knowing that you didn't consent to this. I'm sorry they roped you into thi-" Your words were halted as another thought crashed into the previous one impulsively like a train off its rails. "Wait a second... why would you come save me? You came in here... to rescue me from danger?" You smiled, a big, cheeky grin.

"Think nothing of it, fiend. I would've done the same for any mortal here!" He blushed and stuttered, hiding his face in his purple scarf. "Do not look at me like that! I feel accursed by your gaze alone!"

"No... no you wouldn't," you giggle. "You actively avoid us all. You've been a loner since day one." You step closer, emboldened by his response, by the words you were reading from in between the lines.

"You... you're less insufferable than the others. Nothing more, nothing less." He crosses his arms, a violent red covering his normally corpse-toned face. With a gasp, you look down in surprise when you feel the skittering of claws and fur brushing up your arm. One of the Dark Devas, small and swift, clung to your sleeve and made its way up to your shoulder, buying its master time and a distraction. It presses its little lips to the side of your cheek as if to mimic a kiss as best as it could, rubbing its tiny claws into your skin playfully. It looks up at its master with shiny, telling eyes. He knows exactly what it means to convey, a savant of animal behavior. "It seems you've earned the blessing of one of the most powerful beings to walk this plane of reality. Rejoice and feel blessed that he approves, for the opposite reaction is far more common and fatal!" He was back to his performance again it seemed.

"And..." you feel more confident than before, knowing Gunhdam took the opinions of his hamsters extremely seriously, "what about you? Do you approve?" You took his cold, bandaged hand into yours gently, looking for his consent, for him to let his walls down just enough to allow you to do more. You wanted more.

Nekomaru Nidai

This closet was tiny, criminally so when you considered its newest occupant. You found yourself crushed between a dusty wooden wall and the largest, firmest pectorals you'd ever seen. You were sweating profusely, a nervous mess. Most people slowly got to know their crush, observed from afar, had lunch and chit-chat maybe, and here you were, suddenly pressed flush up against the steel-like muscles of the object of your desires.

"Why do you look so... worked up, (Y/N)?" Nekomaru grins genuinely down at you, oblivious of both your crush on him and how uncomfortably you felt about this forced skin-to-skin moment (probably because the man had never felt shame in his life).

"I- I'm not!" You squeal a little too defensively. You try to shuffle past him, closer to the wall, anything. It only serves to chafe, to make him readjust as well until you're even stickier and smushed than before.

"Anyways..." he continues heedlessly, "I don't really get the rules of this game or whatever." He stretches his arms upwards carelessly, easily hitting the ceiling. Your eyes can't help but rake over his flexing arms and lumbering frame.

"Well if you don't understand, then you can leave... I don't wanna make you uncomfortable," you state sympathetically, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of your crush.

"Nah, everyone wanted me to play so I'll play!" He beamed. "I'm no killjoy. You just go first, maybe I'll pick it up and understand along the way!" He was so authentic, so sweet, and positive. You wanted to melt under his gaze.

"Are you sure?" You rubbed your forearms restlessly. He nodded enthusiastically. "Well... I've always liked the idea of being carried by a big, strong man... to feel dainty and.... small and... ohh!-" Before you could finish your thought you were swept off of your feet and scooped into a pair of secure, firm arms. You felt safe, impossibly tiny and protected.

"Like this?" He questions, obviously eager to please. Now level with his eyes this high off the ground, face-to-face with him, you were stunned into silence. His strong features, so unbelievably masculine and striking, hypnotized you.

"Yes..." You felt breathless, lost in a trance. You couldn't stop staring at his lips, at his intense eyes. "Just like that..." It's silent for a long while, and he tightens his grip on you almost instinctively. He feels the need to be your shield, to keep you to himself, and finds himself staring right back.

"I think I'm starting to understand... so, it's only fair that it's my turn now?" He speaks plainly, some glimmer of want in his eye.

Nagito Komaeda

You feel like a complete oaf, heart nearly bursting out of your chest. You were an agitated, sweaty mess, staring across the mere feet of space in the tiny closet into the eyes of a boy who had you cornered like a fox with a rabbit. You felt like prey, as his eyes, always mysteriously unreadable to predator-like, combed over you shamelessly. He was always up to something, and everyone knew it.

This had to be planned. Of all people, it had to be Nagito. Someone did this on purpose... they knew you had a huge crush on him and made sure he picked the second short straw. Someone wanted to see you squirm and suffer. Everyone here knew you weren't the type to be bold or romantic enough for this game. This wasn't for your benefit, to gently help you shoot your shot. This was rigged.

"It's like your thoughts are written all over your face, (Y/N)... They might as well be," he teases, backing up until you are cornered, crushed against the wall with only his slender frame to brace you. "I know you like me, (Y/N). There's no denying it." He knows using your name, hearing your name spill from his lips will drive you wild. The little shit. "You're a wreck right now," he chuckles fiendishly, feeding off of your energy and positively basking in it. "Just my luck, to be chosen at random to come in here with you~" He grins devilishly. "Well... drawing straws is child's play for my 'talent.' Oh well! You should probably make the best of it." He shrugs dismissively.

"So... you wanted this? You did this on purpose?" You were trying to glean the meaning behind his words, his true intentions, anything to make this situation less vexing. You tried to read his pale, beautiful features, begged him with glistening doe eyes to give you space or mercy. At the same time, you wanted him closer, to feel his touch. It was unbearable.

"Why are you fighting your feelings?" He spoke so casually, as if asking what time it was. How did he seem to know everything, all the time? "Are you embarrassed to like someone like me, for the others to find out?" He snorts, exhaling dangerously close to your face. He places one hand on the wall behind you, the other on your waist. "I can understand why. I would be embarrassed as well. I'm a nobody here. Everyone thinks I'm a weirdo and my talent is useless. However, seeing you flustered, riled up for someone like me... it fills me with a sense of hope."

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

"Get off of me! I'll fuckin' kill you!" You are startled into the back corner of the closet as the second participant of the game stumbles clumsily in. Obviously having his small frame pushed forward none too gently, he's pissed off (not that this was a rare occurrence for him) and determined to give your classmates a piece of his mind. He screams threats of violence at the giggling teens who pushed him one last time before the door is slammed in his face. "I already said I'd play, you dipshits! You didn't need to fuckin’ shove! Next time you put your hands on me I'll cut them off!" He huffs, face red as a tomato.

"Um..." You're at a loss of what to say, and how to begin. It's not starting off well. He was in a foul mood, and it seemed you'd never get to indulge in the fun of this game with him. Upon hearing your voice, he is brought back into the moment and finally turns to face you.

"Oh great, it's you," he scoffs, determined to make someone, anyone hurt the way he was hurting. If he had to feel embarrassed and have his night ruined, so did you. A shiver of sadness ran down your spine. It was like a surge of palpable hurt. Why would he say that? Why did he feel the need to hurt you? You felt nothing but admiration and attraction toward him. You'd never judged him or pitied him for his height and baby face, never annoyed him on purpose or brought up the topics that others used to rile him up. In fact, you enjoyed your conversations with him and found him exceedingly handsome. It made it hurt twice as much, that he would so casually insult you. When he sees that flash of insecurity, of pain across your face, he instantly regrets his words. He blanches, mouth dropping open for just a second before he begins to backtrack in remorse. "Hey... don't look at me like that." He forces an airy snort. "I guess you're not so bad... I mean, you're way more normal than the rest of these weirdos we're stuck with." We? "Actually, after that story you told me in the market that one day about your dad, I'm starting to think we aren't so different..." He crossed his arms, looking up at the ceiling. You perked up at that.

"You remember that? I didn't even think you were listening..." Your heart beats, and flutters with hope.

"Of course, I was listening. I'm not deaf, am I?” He rolls his eyes. “And like I said, you're not like these freaks. I don't mind spending time around you..." He sounded like he was fighting his own words, pouting. When he sees you start to grin sheepishly, he frowns. "Don't go getting a big head now just because I tolerate you!" He points at you in a warning way.

"Sorry! I'm sorry..." You cover your smile with your hands as you are unable to relax the muscles of your mouth.

"So what, are we supposed to make out now or whatever? Is that how I win?" He speaks as if this were some competition, yet another thing in his life where he must excel or be looked down upon, or bring shame to his family name. "I'm not letting any of these losers upstage me at a stupid child's game!" He huffs.

"Well, you don't have to do anything really..." You shrink into yourself, feeling silly and really exposed all of a sudden now that the actual game was supposed to begin.

"Nah, nobody is gonna call me a pussy," he snarls, marching two steps toward you with purpose until you have nowhere to go. You gasped in surprise as you were pulled into a fiery, forceful kiss that set your skin alight and left you dazed.

Kazuichi Souda

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" The magenta-haired boy across from you was riled up, revving like an engine. He was practically drooling, shaking with anticipation and excitement in the low lighting of the dimly lit closet.

"Kazuichi, may I ask why you're so hyped up?" You couldn't help but giggle at the display before you. He licked his lips and sharpened teeth, restless and full of vigor like a male bird doing a mating dance to attract a female. He was so adorable when he was in good spirits like this, so hyper and oozing energy like the engines he tinkered with.

"Huh, what do you mean?" He smirks mischievously, but there is a hint of genuine, innocent confusion in his tone.

"Well, I'm only wondering why you're so excited. It's just a silly game, and it's just me," you scoffed playfully. You'd had a crush on the skillful and eccentric mechanic for a while now, but you'd never dreamed he would be this excited to show his feelings for you in return. Maybe he would be satisfied with any female classmate showing up in that closet that night, especially someone as regal as Sonia or perhaps someone who played hard to get like Peko, but you weren't used to boys giving you this type of attention and wanted to bask in it.

"Whaaa?" He sounded incredulous. "Just you? You're super hot, why wouldn't I be pumped? It's not every day I get to spend time alone with a hot chick, and you're super chill! I've always liked you! I think you're a ton of fun. Such a unique talent, too." He sticks his tongue out teasingly, almost daring you to play with him.

"Are you serious?" You can hardly believe his words. "Well... I really like you, too, Kazuichi... I think you're... 'hot' as well." You chuckle, cheeks warming up. His bravado fizzles a bit at that. He was certainly not used to that reaction to his advances. He suddenly feels quite sheepish, overly flattered, and it makes him want you even more than before. Your words are not the kind he hears often.

He was a flustered mess.

"C-can I... would you mind if I kissed you?" He stuttered, sweat beading on his forehead. You eagerly, enthusiastically nodded, wanting that and much more from him.

He endearingly, awkwardly pulls you in by your waist, slotting himself in so your bodies meld together comfortably. When his jittery lips press against yours they are a bit chapped, as were most body parts on a blue-collar tradesman. It was expected, but not unpleasant. It was what made him, him. He parted his lips and you mirrored him, deepening the kiss. You let your hand wander, playing with his hair until his beanie slipped off and onto the floor.

Hajime Hinata

Hinata was closed off, arms crossed, expression uninterested, dull, and neutral. It was no surprise to you. Hajime could certainly come off as the "Tsundere" type you'd read about in manga comics and see on TV shows. He never struck you as romantically inclined, more interested in practical things like trying to get off this island, or platonic conversations. He seemed to love making friends and all of your classmates liked and trusted him. He was the true neutral, often a moderator. People seemed to open up to him, but not romantically. He could be quite sarcastic or cynical at times but was reliable and kind. That's what you found alluring about him. He was handsome, with a wide chest and broad shoulders, a good height, and an attractive voice, but in a less shallow vein, he was also an ear to listen, an intelligent mind, and an excellent friend.

"They pressured me into playing. I assume they did for you, too. We don't have to do anything..." He shrugs and grumbles. His eyes seem to quickly dart between you and the wall. His Adam's apple bobbles once, twice. Little gestures betray his heart and mind. Maybe he wasn't as cool and collected as he seemed.

"What if we want to...?" You counter, unable to look him in the eyes for fear of rejection.

"...Well, do you?" He retorts, just as sharp-witted as always. He was terribly good at deduction, reasoning, and reading between the lines.

"I don't know... I played this game in middle school once but I guess since we are older, we know more... we do more? I don't know the exact rules."

"I don't think there are any rules." He takes a step closer to you, a glint of curiosity and interest in his eyes. "...Do more? How much are we talking?" You see something like intrigue arise in him, more awake than before. It seems like he wants to play... that he wants to play with you, but Hinata was not promiscuous, he was not one to chase skirts or flirt casually like Kazuichi and Teruteru. He wasn't one to engage in anything sensual or even mildly suggestive with a girl unless he truly had feelings in the first place. You started to wonder if maybe, after weeks of spending time exploring the island with him, getting to know him, your crush was mutual... "Well... we don't have much time." He looks you up and down, not so innocently. He bites the corner of his lip, thinking of what to do with such little time. He was effortlessly seducing you and he didn't even know it. He lowers down to the ground, sitting with his knees bent up.\

"Hajime?" You nearly whisper, puzzled by his actions.

"Sit." He doesn't need to ask twice. You sit beside him on the dusty floor of the cramped closet. You inhale sharply in surprise when his arms, much stronger than they appear, encircle your waist and pull you effortlessly onto his lap until you straddle him. Your face is inches from his, your warm thighs hugging his hips. "Is this fine to start?" He speaks in a new octave, lower than you've ever heard from him. A shiver runs down your spine.

"Of course..." Your eyelids feel begin to feel heavy, your head dizzy. Was this really happening?

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