#dr x reader

- Chiaki -

She looks at you. You look at her in return. This series of exchanged blinks carries on for an embarrassing amount of time before you realize that she's too Chiaki to give any reaction right now, positive or negative, and walk forward with her like you originally intended. As you take your final step, you turn to face her once more.

"Hey, Chiaki—"

And she fell asleep. You're not sure why you expected anything else, honestly. With a sigh, you start working on setting her down on her bed, except a hand grabs onto you in a panic.

"Don't. It's comfy here."

Well, that complicates things. Still... maybe you can make this work. Slowly, ever so slowly, so as to not disturb her peace, you nestle yourself into the cushioning, back reclined and resting on a pillow. As for her? She's still right where she belongs: in your loving arms.

- Mikan -

You've always known Mikan as someone open to physical affection. For some reason, though, as your arms wrap around her and lift her up into the air, she fails to reward you with the smile you were expecting. Instead, she just about shrieks your ear off.

"Mikan?! What's wrong? Did I scare you or something?"

"I'm sorry! I-it's not that. It's, um..."

To your surprise, her face grows stern, like a mother about to scold her child for drawing on the walls.

"That's not the proper technique to lift another person. Doing so improperly carries significant risk of injury, so it's extremely important that you learn the correct way before attempting that again, okay? Here, let me teach you."

The rest of your time with her is spent practicing picking up and putting down a manikin as she meticulously instructs and corrects you until your form is considered up to standard. It's only once you return to your room and snuggle into bed that it hits you that the manikin was the only recipient of your newfound lifting abilities.

- Himiko -

"Whoa... the mythical levitation spell! My magic must be wearing off on you."

Of course, that couldn't be farther from the truth, but it's best to just hold your tongue and let her enjoy this moment. That was your original plan, after all; after putting so much effort into performing for the others and giving them some much-needed comfort, it only feels right that Himiko gets a little bit of special attention herself.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I have been training with the number one mage in the whole wide world. It's only natural."

"Nyeh..." She blushes a bit before leaning in. "Hey."

"Hm?"

"If you keep working hard on your magic skills, then maybe you'll become the second best mage in the world. And then... we could perform magic together forever."

Before, she never afforded herself the free time for unproductive hobbies such as gaming. With her cutting down her extensive exercise routine by half, though, she now has plenty of time to spare for exactly that. Honestly, she has no idea what to start with, but she's heard plenty of good things about your game. May as well try it out for a little while. See if she likes it.

Time skip to several hours later in the middle of the night, and she's still going. Turns out that power fantasy type games are like fucking drugs to her, leaving her starry-eyed and squealing at every hard-fought battle won. And you, the poor victim of the corrupt villain that she's destined to save like in a cheesy fairy tale? You only make her rapidly growing addiction worse. Something about you gives her this fluttering sensation in her chest every time you speak, not to mention how your eyes boring into the center of the screen feels as if you're looking straight at her.

It's amazing—euphoric, even—sitting here with you. Talking with you. Flirting with you. Sure, throughout the main story, you're regularly facing other characters and chatting with them, but when she's doing your quests, your attention's all on her. Not on Junko, like everyone in her real life's is. Her.

When she gets to your final quest and you enter an official relationship, surprisingly, she feels a bit... empty after the fact. It's not that she isn't happy to have had you confess, but the knowledge that the majority of your one-on-one exchanges have been used up leaves her with a sinking feeling in her stomach. You've made her too happy for her to let you go just like that, and yet, she can't exactly find the same comfort in replaying the same quests over and over. They'll lose their meaning that way, and that's the last thing she wants from memories so precious to her.

In her depressed daze, she winds up looking you up on a search engine for comfort and spots something interesting. A cosplay store, selling a wig and clothing perfectly mirroring your own.

The next day, she pulls out her phone and takes a selfie—but not of herself. Not really. This one's of you, fingers crossed to form a cute little heart and adorned with the kind of smile she's seen you make a million times by now.

From now on, your existence won't be limited by the predetermined number of code lines dedicated to bringing you life. Instead, you have her—plain, boring her, who's more than happy to become your living vessel.

- Peko -

Being raised to be a hitman hasn't exactly proven effective for making her a normal girl in any sense of the word. Outside of Fuyuhiko, she has no one close to her, and even he's kept at an arm's length. The stray cats she loves so dearly won't so much as let her look at them without scampering away for shelter. All in all, it's a pretty lonely life with not much to keep her company but herself and her beloved sword.

Peko's history in turn failed to include many of the typical things someone her age should've experienced long ago, one of which being video games. She's always had a quiet interest in it, but nothing concrete enough to ever cause her to seek one out. Until today. As she's out and about shopping for necessities, a poster draws her attention. On closer inspection, she realizes it's for a video game. By the looks of it, it must involve fighting of some sort—

HOLY FUCK???

Okay, yeah, she has to buy it. You're way too cute for her to leave!!! It'd be like abandoning a sick kitty or puppy... especially because, unlike the other characters displayed, you look like one. Only... rounder? She's not entirely sure what to refer to you as, but she does know you get her heart beating as fast as any other adorable animal! And as a fictional character, you won't run away from her.

When she boots the game up for the first time, she finds herself button-mashing through the first few hours of dialogue with zero remorse. They aren't you, so why should she care what they have to say? She clicks and clicks and clicks and then finally, at long last, you appear!

...But she has no idea what you're talking about. Hm.

Okay, she's gone through all the dialogue she missed and is now ready to proceed with your introduction scene. Unlike her former button-mashing ways, she ends up squealing so hard at every single line you say that she inevitably has to repeat it five times just to hear it properly (not like she wouldn't do that anyway, but still). It eats up her entire night, and she couldn't be happier about that fact.

When she's finally ready to continue with the story for realsies, she's met with a shocking revelation: you can transform into a human!!! And it's just as cute as your animal form!!! From then on, she makes sure to add you to her team every battle no matter what, both out of love for you and fear that she might hurt your feelings otherwise. The same goes for outside of battle. Any chance she gets, she's on the hunt for your cute lil fluffy self.

There is a problem, though... While she can hang out with the others as she pleases, for some reason, she can't seem to do the same with you. Maybe there's a bug? There has to be... right?

- Maki -

Living as an older child in an orphanage isn't exactly a lifestyle full of luxury. Rather, Maki's been expected for pretty much all her existence to pick up the slack for the employees and treat those younger than her like little siblings. It's really annoying, to be honest. Her personality plain old doesn't suit that sort of responsibility, much less on such a grand scale as an entire orphanage. Every day's so exhausting that she hardly has any energy to spare for herself.

Still, she guesses it's not all bad. After all, if it weren't for those very kids dragging her along to play a video game that got donated, she wouldn't have developed it as a hobby at such a young age. And if that weren't the case, she may have been permanently left in the dark about your game series.

She never got to actually play any of them as a child, unfortunately, but trust that the moment she turns old enough to have a stable source of income and a console of her own, your game's blaring on her screen every free second of her life. You see, in her past, there weren't many opportunities to just stop and breathe. Everyone always needed something from her. As a result, video games became her sole source of comfort and relaxation. And now that she's independent, that's all the more time she can dump into this beloved hobby of hers.

It doesn't take long for her to see why your game is so well renowned; in comparison to the typically out-of-date roster back at the orphanage, yours is incredibly polished and full of exorbitant levels of detail. What really makes the whole thing click though is meeting you. It takes some time, but as soon as you flash onto her screen, she feels a spark ignite in her heart like nothing she's ever felt before. What to label this feeling, she's yet to figure out. Perhaps completing your quests will help?

Not at first. It actually confuses her more and more as she goes on, failing to comprehend how a fictional character could provoke such painfully real feelings. Is this normal? She doesn't know. All she knows is that you've wholeheartedly dedicated yourself to infecting her brain like a virus—only, instead of making her ill, you fill her thoughts with daydreams. Whenever she's on the clock, she can't help but let her mind wander off from time to time. What would you think of her if you met her? What would dates be like together? Would you care about the blood stains on her hands?

Only once she reaches your final quest does she come to the realization of what condition you've infected her with: lovesickness.

- Kaede -

If you were to ask anyone who's familiar with Kaede to describe her, the same few words would come up over and over: talented, outgoing, and full of joy. If you'd have asked this same question a couple of years before, though... Well, let's just say that the answers would differ so wildly that you may have a hard time believing they're even talking about the same girl. In a way, they aren't.

Growing up, Kaede's always erred a little too far on the side of pessimism. Could anyone really blame her, given what kind of world she's been living in? Every day offers a new flavor of losing her faith in humanity, and it's not as if anything or anyone's come around to change her mind. And currently, she holds no hope that anything will.

When your game released, she was happy to play it, sure, but not much beyond that. After all, it was ultimately nothing more than another greedy company trying to pull at consumers' heartstrings for the sake of scoring some extra bucks. She liked you the most from the start, but wasn't that normal? Everyone picks out faves when starting new games. By the end of the month, she figures she'll have already lost the majority of that attachment.

That's what she assumed. Yet, when she checks the date and sees that it's well past the 1st of the next month, it dawns on her how steadfast her feelings for you have remained. Hm... Well, nothing wrong with giving in a little to capitalism if it means garnering extra dopamine, right?

Another month rolls by. At this point, she's completely and hopelessly invested in your story, no longer caring in the slightest about it being fiction. You make her happy. More than that, actually. You make her feel... hopeful for once. Like if she tries as hard as you do, maybe she too can leave an impact on the world around her. It sounds silly, but does it matter? She'd rather be optimistic and positive about the future than continue wallowing in a misery of her own creation.

The first to notice her change in demeanor are her parents. Then, her teachers—most notably the one in music class. They've always gone on and on about her having potential, but until that point, Kaede's never bothered putting in the effort to see this potential of hers through. Not anymore. Now, she's constantly staying behind for extra practice and enthusiastically asking for their advice. It's embarrassing for them to admit, but the combination of Kaede's talent and motivation is so powerful that she's far exceeded the point of needing their input. And so, she winds up being encouraged to learn from professionals who can offer her the assistance to shine even brighter.

Skip to the present. Now, Kaede's a famous pianist, perhaps the most well-known in the entire country. Catching her in any mood other than overwhelmingly cheerful is near impossible. Plenty of people ask her for the secret behind this boundless joy and motivation to work so hard. Little do they know that the real answer's entirely different from the ones she says out loud.

“A beer, please."

“What kind?” said the barmaid.

You paused. You usually drank at home, if you drank at all. “...canned?”

She gave you a funny look and clarified, “Budweiser? Heineken? Blue–”

“The first one," you interrupted. Then you felt bad. "Please.”

“You got ID?”

How young could you possibly look? You fished out your school ID.

“Japan... that’s sick. You here on break?”

You didn’t respond, hoping she would stop talking. You didn’t mean to be rude, obviously, but it was as if all the energy had been drained from your body and replaced with the scratchy guitar that thrummed in your femurs and through your chest. Had your ears turned into cymbals in the thirty minutes since you last saw them?

“You got a card for the tab?”

“No thanks.” You tried to smooth out a crumpled bill before giving it to the barmaid. “I shouldn’t get carried away.”

"Responsible. I respect it.”

You let out a sigh of relief as she turned to another customer, clearly not respecting the measly tip. At least you didn’t ask for change.

Turning around in your stool, you opted to watch the band play. The garbled music on the amp scrambled your thoughts so violently it left you with a dull ache in place of some of your brain's lobes; a small price to pay to stop the churning in your stomach.

Your eyes swept the stage, five grimy band members tossing their greasy, fried hair in the concoction of sweat and beer that slicked their bodies. This was the lobotomy of the twenty-first century.

Looking at the turnout, the mosh pit was considerably pitiful, consisting of a few studded teenagers headbanging, some straight guys flailing around, and a lesbian couple trying to eat each other's faces off, clearly high. That marked the end of your first can.

The music began getting better as your hearing dampened, and eventually, you were back at the bar.

"Whatta— what do y'mean you're cutting me off?"

You stumbled over your words, your tongue being about as useful as a dead fish in your mouth.

"You're clearly intoxicated," she said, sliding over a glass of water.

"Who cares? It's a fee country."

"Free country," she snorted. "If you believe that, you're either an idiot or a liar."

"Shut up. Get me ano— a beer."

She was about to respond when someone interrupted, "what's a guy to do to get a drink around here?"

Standing far too close for comfort was a guy from the band, greasy as he looked on stage. A layer of sweat shined on his forehead, a shaggy mop of coppery hair sticking to his tan skin.

"Get out of my bar, you cheap Johnny Rotten fuck."

He put his hands up. "Chill out. No need to get your panties in a twist."

"We'll see how you chill out when your body's in my freezer, fucker," she hissed.

"Fine, fine, I see I'm not welcome here." He turned to you. "Hey, sugar. Wanna get outta here?"

"Not my type," you said.

"Tough crowd."

"What can we say, you're tough to look at."

The barmaid took off before he could say anything else. You kind of wished you had the bodily control to do the same.

"So grouchy, am I right?" He chuckled. "Anyway, I'm Leon. You've probably heard of me, but I'm kind of a big deal around here. They're callin' me the next Sid Vicious! I prefer Johnny Rotten myself, but the ladies are always right, let me tell ya!"

You could feel the alcohol leaving your body in real time.

"...and anyway, we're punk, not goth! It's like people don't..."

And it was painful.

"...so then she left! Can you believe that? She just..."

So, so, painful.

"And..."

"Can you please shut up?" You finally interjected. "Your voice is killing me."

"Well, who pissed in your cereal?"

You rubbed your face, feeling the heat in your clammy palms. "Nothing. No one. I just... I need some air."

"I'll come with."

You shot him a look.

"What? I can't smoke inside." He held up a pack of Marlboros.

"...whatever."

The two of you sat side-by-side, backs against the bar's cold brick wall. Brisk wind blew gently, cooling your skin amidst all the alcohol in your system.

Beside you, the guy — Leon — flicked open a zippo, taking a long, indulgent drag once it was lit. He turned his head, blowing the smoke out the side of his lips, though the wind ended up blowing it back to your face anyway.

"You ever feel..."

Your words get stuck in the back of your throat. Despite it, he turns his head to listen, tucking his hair back.

"Like what?"

You leaned your head back with a soft thump. "Nothing. It's stupid."

"Well," he looked up at the sky, grey eyes strangely clear. "You already said the cliché part anyway, so you can only go up from here. Plus, you're drunk."

"I guess."

He smiled at you. "So, do I ever feel what?"

"My girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend," you began. "She asks me to hang out, but she almost always blows me off."

"She sounds like an asshole."

"She's not," you defended her. "She's... the nicest girl I've met. One of them, at least."

"Doesn't sound like it." He flicked off the cigarette ash with his thumb. "You should just stop going out with her. I mean, don't get me wrong. I respect game, but it sounds like she's playing you."

You shook your head. "She wouldn't. It's her company playing both of us, if anything."

"Oh, you work together? I always thought that was a stupid rule."

"You've worked in an office?" You snorted.

"Hell no."

"Figures." You said. "Well, whatever. Her company doesn't let her date, so we were doing it in secret until... well, I don't know."

"They found out?"

"I don't think so. But she got sick of lying, so—"

"So she ended it," he finished for you. "What a dickhead."

"It makes sense. But do you ever feel like you owe yourself more?" You paused. "Well, maybe not. You seem pretty—"

"I used to," he admitted.

"You did?"

"I mean, kind of. I guess it's not totally the same, but I always wanted more. I was already the best, and it kind of leeched the fun out of it for me. So I turned to something I liked. Sucked at it, but I liked it."

"Music?"

"You sayin' I suck at playing?"

"I wouldnt know. Your guitar wasn't plugged in."

"For real? Damn." He scratched his stubbled cheek. "Well, anyway, I ended up here. I'm not at the top yet, but I'm having fun."

"You have something to fall back on, though."

"Who cares? If you don't take risks, you're not living." He said. "If you compare your life to others', you're not living either. Haven't you heard that story about the dog and its reflection?"

He dragged his cigarette across the concrete to stub it out. You dragged your hands over your arms, feeling the goosebumps rise on your palms.

"So I should just go for it? That's stupid."

"What's stupid? Having dreams? Being happy? The only stupid thing is making things up to control people. That's how the system works. Cause problems and take credit for solving them, even though it was made up in the first place!"

You didn't respond. He draped his flannel over your shoulders.

"Just something to think about." He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes again.

Even though his features were ordinary (almost aggressively so), something about him was just so... endearing. The kind of person you'd see in public and just stare. It wasn't like he was particularly attractive, nor really tall, and no more unique than anyone else in that bar.

In fact, the words you could use to describe him were pretty much synonymous with the ones you'd use to describe fried chicken.

But something about him just got you.

Well, you supposed that greasy and fried was something that went well with beer, anyhow.

"What are you—? Mmmph..."

In front of others, she’ll love to make fun of you as if you’re the one that hangs off of her. “They may be quiet but they’re actually a total pervert when we’re alone!” None of your classmates really believe her.

You love to listen and Hiyoko loves to talk. She’ll tell you about anything: her dance recitals, badmouthing your classmates, anything that comes to mind. Hiyoko loves to sit in your lap while she gossips. Her hand will be deep in a bag of gummies while she rests against your chest.

While she does tease you, and borderline humiliates you, she’ll put you on a pedestal above your other classmates. In her eyes, you could truly do no wrong. She’s a small yet fierce guard dog. She’ll make sure to uplift you while berating anyone else.

If you ever seem like you have something to say, but can’t speak up over someone else’s voice, she will make sure you’re heard personally. “Hey! Shut your waste of space mouth! Your breath is stinking up the air.” She would cling onto your arm with a big childish smile. “(Name), didn’t you have something to say?”

During the killing game, she’s glued to your hip. Even though she acts big and bad, Hiyoko is scared of both losing her life or yours. Hiyoko practically moves into your cottage. There is no more privacy, you can’t even shower by yourself. If you don’t already know how, you’ll have to learn how to tie her kimono for her.

Hiyoko will vouch for you during trials and investigations. With your keen listening skills, you’re bound to find something out but you might not have the courage to speak up. If you wanted, she’d relay the information to the others. Not for them, but for your skills to be recognized.

Due to your quiet nature, you’re often a main suspect in trials. If Hiyoko was busy on the day of a murder, you might be without an alibi. Worry not, as Hiyoko will be your biggest defender. Hajime is at his wits end as he’s called vulgar names one after another. No one gets a chance to speak as she wails about your innocence.

Even if you were to murder someone, she would always be by your side.

“(Name), you’re the only one that could’ve done it.” A spotlight shines down on you as Hajime speaks. All eyes were on you. Frankly, you didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say while backed into a corner?

Fuyuhiko kissed his teeth, rolling his eyes. “You’re being accused of murder, and you still can’t speak up? How stupid can you be?”

You open your mouth, trying to formulate anything coherent. Before you could say anything, a shrill cry echoed through the trial room.

“Waaaah! You stupid pigshits are picking on them! They would never commit murder!” Hiyoko slams her small fists against the podium. “Why couldn’t you be the victim, Hajime?” 

Ignoring the death threat, Hajime explains his reasoning. “It could only be them. They were the only one on the second island with no alibi.”

“Shut up!” Hiyoko was clenching the wood so tight her knuckles were turning white. “I was with them, dumbass! So how about you kneel down and apologize to them like a good mutt!”

With a point of his finger, Hajime shot down that lie. “No, that’s wrong! Nagito said he saw you at the beach right before the body discovery announcement. You wouldn’t have had time to meet up with them before the time of death.”

Hot tears pooled down her cheeks. Hiyoko knew the truth. She knew you were guilty. She didn’t want to face the truth. You weren’t supposed to leave her side. “You’ll trust that nasty perv to be honest? You’re a fucking idiot-!”

“Hiyoko.” Your quiet voice reached her ears. She looked at you like a deer in headlights, her body shaking. “That’s enough. It’s over.”

“O-over…” Her bottom lip quivers, snot threatening to pool from her nose. “Why are you giving up? Tell them you didn’t kill that stupid whore. Tell them you didn’t do anything wrong, you moron!” 

Walking over to her podium, you take her into your arms. She fights back for a moment, slamming her fists into your chest.

“I’m sorry, Hiyoko.”