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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

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Horny on Main Disease - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: Reader catches a strain of the despair disease that means she says everything she is thinking. Kind of awkward considering all she can think about is how much she wants to jump Komaeda's bones. This is intended to be sort of funny, but i still wrote it pretty seriously, just want to make it clear that i did not half ass the smut. i whole assed it.

Word count: 4444 Contains: fem reader, they/them pronouns, despair disease, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, voyeurism Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

It’s not even a particularly hot day, and yet you’re sweating bullets as you walk over to the dining hall like you do every morning. Your legs are wobbly and your head is aching something terrible, you assume that you’ve caught a cold or something , whatever the problem is, it’s going to be a question for Tsumiki when you meet up with her at breakfast.

Kuzuryu is standing out by the pool, pensively staring into the still water. He probably misses Pekoyama, but you’re smart enough to know not to-

“Hey, Kuzuryu! I bet you miss your dead girlfriend, huh?”

He just stares at you, and it takes a good few seconds for you to even realise what you just said out loud. You clap a hand over your mouth, horrified.

“I don’t know why I said that!” You squeak

Kuzuryu doesn’t look...angry? He shakes his head at you and sighs, “you’re acting weird today too, aren’t you?”

“What? Weird? Who’s weird?”

“Owari was here a few minutes ago, bawling her eyes out on the ground.” He crosses his arms and looks away from you, “I think the bear is planning something again.”

You nod sternly, “anyone with tits as big as Owari has nothing to cry about! Something is definitely suspicious.”

Oh god why did you say that??

“Oh god, why did I say that??”

You just keep saying everything you’re thinking!

“I just keep saying everything I’m-“

Kuzuryu grabs you by the wrist and starts tugging you towards the dining hall, “something is definitely fucked up.” He looks down at where his hand is gripping yours, “Jesus Christ, your skin is on fire!”

“Yeah, cause I’m hot !” That was already an embarrassing thing to say, you are horrified when your mouth drops open again to follow it up with, “bow-chicka-wow-wow!”

There is definitely something wrong with you. In general you are the sort of person who takes the time to carefully curate every word that leaves your mouth, the fact that you are just speaking without even thinking about it is bizarre and alarming. The ache in your head is also steadily growing stronger and you’re starting to feel dizzy, maybe you’re just delirious with flu? It doesn't make sense for you to catch the flu on an abandoned island, but weirder things have happened already.

It is at this moment that you realise you have been (only semi-coherently) mumbling your full internal tirade outloud to Kuzuryu, who is now helping you up the stairs to the dining hall. He has very diplomatically, been either ignoring, or at least pretending to ignore everything you have been saying.

“You’re nice. Probably the politest yakuza i’ve ever met.” you pause, “I’ve never met another yakuza, i'm not sure why i said it like that.”

Kuzuryu scoffs and tugs you up at the last step. Deigning to give your comment any sort of response.

As you step up onto the dining hall landing, you freeze. This is dangerous. Your nails are biting into the skin of your palms, and your already warm face feels even hotter. Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think about him. Kuzuryu is giving you a look, you must be verbalising your own mental gymnastics, but that is less embarrassing than the alternative.

“Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think-”

You look up, like an idiot . Komaeda is sitting by the window with his chin in his palm, just sort of staring off into the middle distance, not really looking at anything. The morning sun cascades through the window and catches in his hair. It shimmers. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, you have been trying to keep this little fascination of yours under wraps, but he slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose and-

“He looks like an angel .” You say, and you say it loudly.

All eyes in the room turn to you. Hinata especially is looking at you with his particular brand of exhaustion, that says this is not the first weird thing he has heard today. You scramble, trying desperately to think about anything other than Komaeda, to stop yourself from saying anything stupid. In your desperation, what you say is: “Yes hello! I was talking about anyone in this room apart from Komaeda. Please do not be confused, it was not Komaeda. I want to make it crystal clear that i am NOT attracted to Nagito Komaeda. This is a very convincing lie and you all believe me!”

Mioda straightens her spine and salutes you, “Roger! You are not attracted to Komaeda, I believe you!”

Your sweating even more now, it’s getting hard to breathe, “Forget I said anything!”

Mioda salutes again, “Consider it forgotten!”

“What is happening?! ” Hinata exclaims, gesturing wildly to you, Mioda, and Owari who you suddenly notice is leaning against the far wall and sobbing, “This is not normal!”

Your eyes slip to Komaeda again. He is looking at you and he is blushing-

“He looks so...cute…” You whisper, and Hinata yelps.

“Why are you all being so weird???? ”

Monokuma takes that as his cue to finally show up. Waltzing on into the dining hall like he owns the place, clearly buzzing with excitement, “A good question!” He says, clamoring up onto a vacant chair and holding a paw in front of his face to hide his laughter, “ Oooh , this is my best motive yet! Looks like three members of the class have come down with a bad case of the despair disease!”

“D-Despair Disease?” Tsumiki contributes, nervously playing with her hands, “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“Yeah, well. It’s pretty self explanatory!” Monokuma says, “The main symptom is high fever, along with some other fun despair related effects! It’s a bit of a mixed bag though and no two cases are the same! For example, Moida is suffering from the Gullible Disease...Owari has the Cowards Disease.” Then, Monokuma points his stubby little paw in your direction, “And you have the No Filter Disease. You just say whatever you’re thinking! It’s been lots of fun so far, upupupupu~”

“Oh, does that mean all those things they were just saying about Komaeda were the truth?” Sonia says. Her brows draw together, and she taps her lips with a finger, “How interesting.”

“It’s not my fault he’s gorgeous!” the words escape you before you have a chance to stop them. You squeal and clap a hand over your mouth before you start talking again. Komaeda is now bright red to the tips of his ears.

“That was true? GROSS!” Saionji exclaims.

You glare at Monokuma, “If you wouldn't kill me for doing it, I'd rip out all your stuffing right now.”

Monokuma withers a little, “Aw~ Is that what you really feel? Here I was thinking we were great friends.”

“I’ll gut you like a fish.” you pause, “a bear-fish.” another pause, “a fish-bear.” You groan, “UGH, I can’t stop saying stupid things! I’m all sweaty! This sucks !”

Tsumiki steps over to you, her hand is shaking as she brings it up to your forehead.

“Oh…” you breathe, “your hand is cold.”

“S-Sorry! I’m just checking your temperature.”

“You smell like lavender.”

She recoils a little, “It’s j-just my shampoo!!'' Then she shakes her head and turns to the rest of the group, “Monokuma is telling the truth. They’ve got a fever.”

Hinata hurriedly presses his hand against the foreheads of both Owari and Moida, confirming that they’re also burning up, “What do we do, Tsumiki?”

Before she can answer, Monokuma pipes up again, “did I forget to mention? It’s contagious~~”

Saionji squeals and backpedals all the way to the stairs, “Contagious!?”

“Yeah and I'm a conta- genius . Get it?”

Souda gives you an uncomfortable look and scratches the back of his neck, “How much space in your brain is taken up by bad puns?”

You’re feeling really dizzy now, “A lot of it! But usually I don't say any of them!” your knees wobble and you almost fall over, luckily Tsumiki is still close enough to grab you before you topple to the ground, “I am going to kill that goddamn bear .”

“Could-could someone help me?” Tsumiki squeaks, “If i keep holding them up like this we-we’re just both going to fall over.”

You giggle a little, slipping into a semi-delirium as you cling to Tsumiki for dear life. Hinata and the others start working on a plan to keep everyone safe until the illness runs its course, “Hey Tsumiki…” you whisper, “Komaeda’s got real nice hands, huh?” she is too busy trying to keep you upright to answer, “I want him to carry me. Unless I'm too heavy, Tsumiki, am I too heavy?”

You’re all but draped over Tsumiki now, who is trying in vain to shuffle you over to a nearby wall, when you suddenly hear her sigh in relief, “Oh...Th-Thank you. I’m not very s-strong…”

You manage to flop your head around to face the other direction, lacking the strength to turn your neck properly. Komaeda is looking down at you, it might just be the fever, but you feel like you’re going to burst into flames.

“Aha, I’m sure i'm not much stronger than you, Tsumiki.” He says, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you over to him. You might have moaned, you can't be sure, “But I do have the height advantage.”

The utter tsunami that leaves your mouth is unavoidable. Literally medically unavoidable, but that doesn't stop it from being the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“He’s touching me. He’s touching me…” your head has come to rest on his chest and you are practically hyperventilating, “He smells like chamomile soap and clean laundry...His hands are cold, his shirt is soft...Oh god i'm so sweaty, he probably thinks i'm disgusting! Komaeda, i'm so sorry , this was meant to be a secret!!! I wasn't going to tell you, everyones gonna think I'm weird!” your thoughts are leaving your mouth faster than you can think of them, if Komaeda is reacting to anything you have to say, you don't notice because despite your mouth running a mile a minute you still have an ounce enough of shame and bury your face in his chest to hide from your own words.

The world is spinning, your head feels heavy, everything is so hot , “Your hair is nice, did you know your hair is nice? God, I've wanted to run my fingers through it since day one. This is so fucked up, you almost killed someone! I want to stop talking , i feel like i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out. Im gonna…”

***

“I think I passed out.” Is the first thing you say when you wake up. You’re still hot and the back of your neck is sweaty, but you can see that you are now in the hospital, and that you’re wearing a hospital gown.

“Who undressed me?!” You exclaim, disappointed to find that you still can’t help saying everything you think.

At the sound of your voice, the door to your room opens, and Komaeda steps in.

“No! Not you!”

He freezes, withering under your gaze, “Ah, I see. Being greeted by garbage like me in your current state, it must be insulting .”

You feel like an asshole .

“That’s not what I meant! Please don’t go, I never want you to go.”

Komaeda laughs a little, still lurking nervously in the doorway, “You’re confusing me.”

“I don’t want you to hear what I’m thinking. I want you to stay, but all I can think about is how much I want to suck on your collarbone.” You freeze the second you stop talking, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth as you hide your face in your hands, “I’m so sorry! I can’t stop it!”

Stepping further into the room, Komaeda quietly closes the door behind him. Your heart is pounding.

“I’m nervous.” You say.

He tilts his head, walking over to the side of your bed, “I can still leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable.” You shrink under his gaze, “it just, the way you closed the door it makes me feel like you’re planning something, like maybe we’re going to have-“ you manage to cover your mouth before the rest of the sentence escapes. Keeping your hands tight over your lips as all you can think about is his long fingers, his soft hair, his half lidded eyes.

“Are you...still talking behind your hands?”

You nod.

A smile crawls up the side of his face, “are you saying something embarrassing?”

“I wanna stick my tongue in your mouth.” You say, loud enough that even the tight grip of your hands doesn’t muffle it.

Komaeda remains remarkably calm, “You keep saying those things. This disease...means you say whatever you’re thinking, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s driving me crazy, I’m just being such an idiot and I’m probably freaking you out. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not it.” He sighs, moving slowly as he sits down on the side of your bed, “Honestly, why would you let such thoughts about scum like me take up so much real estate in your mind?”

“I can’t help it!” You exclaim, “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I just can’t! I want you so badly. I…..I-“ you hold your breath, you can’t let that last part out, no matter what, you can’t say that last part. You’ll die of suffocation before you let him hear it.

“You...what?” He asks

Oh god. You can’t stop thinking about it. Your lungs are aching, screaming for you to just open your mouth.

“What are you hiding, hm?”

It’s too much. The nerves, your sick and weakened body, him right there . You can’t do it, you can’t stop it, the next time you see Monokuma, you are drop kicking him into the sun.

“I’ve touched myself while thinking about you!”

The words echo off the walls of the room like a gunshot.

For a moment Komaeda just stares at you, but then, his shaky hands reach out and wrap around both of your wrists. His throat bobs.

“Hng. I want to suck on the side of your neck, I want to see you covered in marks from my teeth-“ you try to cover your mouth with your hands again. Komaeda grips your wrists tighter.

“No.” He whispers, trembling, “keep going.”

“ God, your hands are so big. I want to know how deep your fingers would reach inside of me. I bet you’re good at it, I bet you’re really good at it.” He just keeps staring at you, ghostly green eyes blown wide, chest heaving , “Are you turned on? Is this turning you on? Just pin me down and fuck me, do it, do it, do it!”

“How...how often are you thinking about me like this?”

“Oh, all the time.” You freeze, mentally (and therefore also verbally) berating yourself, “Not all the time! Just like, a normal amount. However much that is.” He is still just looking at you, the pad of his thumb slowly brushes across the pulsepoint in your wrist and you shiver, “Yes, yes! I’ve wanted this intimacy with you for so long . I couldn't tell anyone, I couldn't tell you. During the first trial, when you went on your weirdo rant about hope and despair. I was scared, i was so scared, but oh god- ” you can't stop yourself. Every thought in your head is pouring out of your lips. Filling up the room, the mortification is drowning you . All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, “I was wet , Komaeda. I went back to my cabin and came three times to the thought of you, I am reprehensible . What do you think the others would do if they found out, huh? That all i can think about is you fucking me over my trial podium. They’ll tie me up next-”

The bed squeaks, and Komaeda brings his knee up and over your hips.

“-Oh my god. You’re doing it aren't you?”

His other leg comes up on the bed, and he settles, hovering up above you. He shrugs, “I honestly don't understand why this is something you want,” he leans down over you, resting his palms on either side of your head, “but who am I to deny the wishes of an ultimate.”

If not for the warmth of his lips pressed against yours, you are sure that you wouldn't be able to shut up, based only on the number of thoughts tumbling through your head like they’re on a spin cycle. You are still sweaty with fever and probably look disgusting, but Komaeda shuffles down in between your legs and hikes your hospital gown up to your waist. So you are suitably distracted.

He laughs as he hooks his fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs, “I cant believe that you want scum like me to touch you like this. Usually I would assume that you are lying, or taking pity on me.” He grins, running a finger up the length of your sex, “But everything you say to me is your exact thoughts, isnt it?”

“Yes! Touch me, please! ” You’re quivering beneath him, barely able to breathe in between your frantic pleas, “You feel so good, you feel perfect . I want your fingers inside me so bad .”

He hisses as he slips his middle and ring finger inside of you, eyes glued to where your entrance is swallowing him up, “Ahaaa...you’re drenched . You really do want me don't you?” he pistons his fingers in and out slowly, slowly and deliberately, “Someone like you, desiring me so terribly. It’s such a waste , but i can't help it. I must be selfish and take this chance while i can.”

“Not a….waste....” You force out, helplessly grinding on his fingers, “Want you....want only you…”

“Oh- Ohhhh .” He moans, “I can feel you, squeezing around my fingers. You’re so wet...so warm…”

You hear a zipper coming undone, and your thoughts go into overdrive, “oh my god, oh my god. Komaeda’s going to jerk off in front of me, wanna watch, wanna watch! ”

His fingers still inside you for a moment as he tugs his boxers down far enough to slip out his cock. Your eyes follow the movement of his long fingers as he slowly curls them around the base, and tugs them up again, rolling the pad of his thumb over the head. His hips buck, and you moan.

“You...you’re tightening around my fingers…” he breathes, choking on a moan as he pumps his cock again, “you like watching me touch myself?” Your hips stutter, grinding your clit against the meat of his palm as he continues stroking himself. His eyes are wide as he watches you writhing beneath him.

“The face you make when you do that...it’s so cute.” You say, whining as his fingers start moving inside you again, “it’s even cuter than I imagined. Your cheeks are all red.” You swallow, “and your cock is so pretty...I want you to cum inside me, so bad .”

His breath hitches, “you want me to cum, inside you?” his cock is leaking with pre-cum now, painfully hard in his hand. His chest is heaving.

“Yes yes yes! ” You plead, “I want you, please! ”

“I don’t understand.” He breathes, and you whimper as his fingers slip out of you, “How could someone be so desperate for my pathetic seed?”

“Fill me up , Komaeda!” You exclaim, at this point you are long past embarrassed. The words leaving your mouth are the absolute truth and there is no way you can deny them.

He groans at that, an octave deeper than you are used to hearing and it seems he is having trouble denying you. His own desperation mingling with yours and overtaking his painful self-doubt, he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and slowly edges the swollen head against your entrance, “f-fuck…” he mutters as he slips inside you, “you’re so warm .”

You can barely even register what you are saying anymore, it’s little more than a string of compliments about how good he feels inside you. About how handsome he is. Your tongue feels weird and loose in your mouth from overuse, but you still can’t stop talking.

He looms above you, halo of white hair bouncing as he thrusts in and out of you, the unmistakable jangle of the chain hanging from his jeans. All things that confirm it is Komaeda inside of you. Your heart races with the fact.

“Th-thank you, for permitting me to do this with you.” He stammers, sweat slowly dripping down his brow, “it’s...so good...it feels like I belong inside you. ”

A moan rips through you, and you hook your weak ankles around his waist, “you do belong inside me. You fit so perfectly , I was made for your cock. GOD I sound so filthy…..I- I can’t help it.”

“ No.” He hisses, eyes meeting yours, “Keep talking.”

“You say that like I can stop.” You dip your head lower, and wrap your lips around his left collarbone, moaning as you suck hard enough to leave a bruise. He keens above you, hips snapping against yours even faster, “Your hip bones are digging into my thighs…”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I-I’m sorry, do you want me to-“

“Don’t you dare stop, Komaeda. You’re mine , I want to feel every inch of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You bring a shaky hand up to his cheek, he nuzzles into your palm, “You aren’t hurting me. It feels wonderful.”

He kisses you then, messy and wet, his lips taste like desperation. Even with his tongue tangled with yours, you are still trying to speak. Sweet nothings, forceful demands, anything and everything that comes to mind is trying to force its way out of your mouth. Something is in the pit of your stomach is twisting tight and you moan greedily into the cavern of his mouth as his hips meet yours again. You can feel that he’s losing his rhythm.

“S-sorry. I’m...im close…” A moan rips from his throat and he buries his face in your neck.

Your hips have started canting up to meet his, you want so badly to be close to him, to feel all of him, “M’close to. I love having you inside me, i want to do this again and again and-”

Komaeda freezes, eyes turning to the door on the other side of the room. Footstops.

“Who is it? Did they hear? Are there going to come in? What do you think they’re going to do if they see you inside of-”

Komaeda covers your mouth with his palm. You’re still talking, but at least it’s muffled now. Kuzuryu and Hinata are chatting in the hallway, the footsteps seem only to be growing closer. You can't stop thinking terrible, horrible things, and while Komaeda’s hand keeps you quiet enough that they can't seem to hear you from outside, Komaeda can definitely hear you.

“I wanna keep going.”

His eyes are blown wide, but you feel the tell-tale throb of his cock inside of you, “ What?! ” he hisses, “there’s no way you can keep quiet like this...they’ll definitely hear us.”

“I don’t care if they hear us, I want them to hear us. I want them to know what you’re doing to me.”

His hips twitch, and he bites his lip hard to keep in a moan, “You're not ashamed to be seen intimately with someone as despicable as me?”

You coo at him, running your index finger down the front of his throat and over the mark you left on his collarbone, he tentatively removes his hand from your mouth and pushes some sweaty hair away from your forehead, you smile, “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m in love with you.”

Komaeda sucks a breath in through his teeth, and it is only then that you realise what you have said.

“Oh GOD. I didn't - I'm so sorry.” your eyes are wide, you’re ready for him to jump up and bolt out of the room, “I just thought it and then i said it, and jesus christ im so sorry-”

You’re cut off by his lips. The kiss is gentler, less desperate, but filled with the depth of passion. He starts thrusting in and out of you again, and you gasp in surprise at the feeling. He pulls away from the kiss, and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy as one of his hands slips down under your knee. He pushes your leg up higher and you choke on a moan at how much deeper this new angle feels.

A high-pitched whine leaves his throat as he continues moving inside of you, he swallows, “I...I love you too.”

“Aaah... ahhh .” You’re so close at this point, the coiling in your stomach is about ready to snap, “I love you so much, I want your cum, please! ”

“I’ll give it to you, I...hah...I’ll fill you up...is that what you want?”

His hand slips down to your clit and you shriek , clenching hard around his cock, “Yes, yes, yes! I’m close...i'm so close…”

“I’m gonna...I...I…”

A moan rips through you as your climax finally hits, for the first time this day your mind is void of thoughts. All you can do is feel . Your fingers dig into the bedsheet under you, and your legs tighten around Komaeda’s waist. He writhes and moans above you, he just keeps going, harder and harder and harder, and then, with a heavy groan you feel him release inside of you.

“Thank...you…” you mutter, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Before Komaeda has a chance to say anything in return, someone clears their throat on the other side of the door. The two of you freeze.

“Are you two done?” Hinata asks, he sounds exasperated.

Komaeda clears his throat, “Um...yeah...pretty much.”

“His dick is literally still inside of me! Maybe give us a few minutes!” You wince at the blunt sentence that just left your mouth, Komaeda is clearly trying not to laugh, you huff “Sorry Hinata! I can't help it!”

This disease was going to be the death of you.

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito x reader #my writing #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa fanfiction

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krypteretnetwork · 3 years

Note

You felt like you were going to split and wildly fly off into different realms, watching the many reflections of yourself in the room full of mirrors turn on her heels over and over, hearing the shallow hiss of your breath and its opposite, the deep and unrelenting drumming of your heart. A sort of energy crawled along your skin, not exactly electricity, but crackling and despairing all the same. It meant he was there. And he was a fucking coward, hiding away to draw it out, trying to make you unsettled, unbalanced, because unbalanced made it easier for him to take the final blow. You wished the bastard would come out. You wish he would come out and face you like a fucking man --

"Ah! Glad you could make it, itty bit!"

And then you wished he hadn't come. You wished you didn't see him in a few of the mirrors, just over your shoulder, coming up right behind you. But he was there in all his smug glory, hands in pockets, head cocked at a slight angle, his usually inhuman smile lopsided in that human way that was unlike him. You spin to face him all the same, and keep spinning and turning your head, feeling shame as he chuckled at you for trying to pick out the real him from all the too realistic reflections. He raised his fingers and snapped, the click of his fingers making you jump and choke back a yelp.

"Over here."

You look at him. The real him. Your fists clench at your side, your foot inched back, though where could you run even if you were so inclined? You knew the rules you agreed to, you knew the capabilities of this thing before you. You knew he'd find you no matter what. You swallowed the lump in your throat and briefly closed your eyes. Eyes closed, you could see the violent black cloud of locusts and flies, the magic made from humanity's regrets and nightmares. But eyes open, he's simply a young man. Beautiful, if not for the many tiny ways he was Uncanny Valley in a meat bag. Immaculate, if not for the feral way he could sniff at your fear like perfume --

You are not afraid.

You are not afraid!

Again, that crooked smile that was too human for him, and a cocked brow to boot. "I'm honestly shocked that a human being had made it this far into the game of fours," he said, in that hollowly jovial way of his.

You want to say, Well, that's because I'm not human. Not anymore. Not after you forced me to Ascend. But you don't. You don't even cross your arms to physically defy him in some small way. You just stand there, fists shaking at your side, feeling so small even after all the greatness you took for yourself. "...What happens now?"

He blinked in surprised. Probably expected some groveling for mercy, or just a bit more time, or a trade back. Or to find someone to take your place. But you, you just want it done.

"...Well," he said, the blue eyes that were not his twinkling as he crept closer. He towered over you, and you don't think he was even intentionally using his imitation height to intimidate you. Fuck him, fuck him for frightening you--

You are not afraid, you are not afraid, you are not afraid--

"We come to the fourth part of the story, of course." He took your shoulder and spun you to face the mirrors. But they were not the mirrors. They couldn't be. Instead of a simple reflection of a tired young woman drowning in an oversized hoodie riddled with holes, there were multitudes of you. You were a tyrant of a desolate land in one mirror, a painter in another, one of the first people to land on another habitable planet in another. Your multiverses, laid out before you like clothes hanging from the closet. When you look down, you see a splintering web of light coming from beneath your feet and running toward the bottom of all these mirrors.

You didn't even notice the sickly sweet breath against the shell of your ear when he whispered, "You were one of us. You were brilliant, you were monstrous, and now, you are done." He reached out an arm past you, fingers poised. You were expecting a more destructive, world-ending, apocalyptic display than this. But maybe this way was more fun for hum and more effective, because the ease in which he completed this game was even more crushing.

"One." Snap. And a mirror shattered. He spun you to another.

"Two." Snap. And the next mirror. Gone was the universe in which another you existed. He turned you to another.

"Three." Snap. The mirror fell like snow, and you were choking. You forced your eyes to stay open because you were going to face the end of the game. You were not a coward.

He turned you to the final one. And this one, this is the one that undid you. In this mirror, you see his smoky, nonchalant grin over your shoulder, his cheek touching yours, the spread of mirrors behind you both cracking and shattering.

"Four." Snap.

For a change, she woke up with a start, pretty much gasping for air. She shot up, frantically looking around the living room. Her hands came up to touch her face, as if to verify that where she was now was indeed real.

She’s alive; she’s here as she always has been.

But... had she been crying? The fact she felt rather congested and the tear stains accompanying her dry eyes would say that yes, yes she had been crying in her sleep.

Making her way to the restroom, she washed her face and stared at herself in the mirror, her brows knitting together as she just... stared. She’d just slept for at least fourteen hours, and there were still bags under her eyes to top it all off.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, touching her face once more as she stared at the reflection. “Will sleeping always be this exhausting?”

Then, for a split second, she could have sworn she’d seen that damn smile right at her shoulder. She turned around, clearly startled by the sudden sight, only to feel immense relief upon noticing that nobody was there. Yet, she still felt uneasy.

“Why do I feel like I know that smile from somewhere?”

#SAVETAG #ic #long post #bates--boy

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

Of Daydreams and Realities

Chapter 2: Black Mark

The dreams persisted, and you hadn't had a decent amount of sleep in months. You would wake to find yourself in a cold sweat and a cocoon of blankets. The dreams became more aggressive. At the end of the day, you found yourself drained, but unwilling to fall asleep just to wake up again to another nightmare. Most of all, you'd been having trouble differentiating between reality and your dreams.

While your anxiety usually was tolerable, the past several days had been nothing but misery. Anxiety levels had been dialed up to full blast, making you fidgety and over-emotional. You were constantly on edge. You ran away at the thought of anything remotely threatening. Coward.

The dreams revolved around one thing, the glabella. Over and over, the word glabella had burrowed its name into your dreams. You didn't understand.

So hopefully doctors would.

Your feet tapped as you waited in the infuriatingly comfortable chair in the waiting area. You needed to know the results. You couldn't breathe—

When the doctor did come back, he was happy to reveal you did not have a tumor, and if any further issues came up, to contact him. The only downside was the bill for wasting their time. However, it was a small—well, metaphorically small—price to pay to lift the weight off your shoulders.

You were so silly. Thinking that dreams could tell you the future. Stupid.

You made your way out of the building, and suddenly you could breathe again, and—

A hand snagged your collar. And… a gun. A gun was pressed up against your forehead. No— glabella. The barrel of gun was pressed against your glabella.

Glabella.

"Where's your wallet?!" He demands.

And you're too shocked to speak.

You didn't hear the bang.

///

You jolted into a tree.

You could feel your heartbeat in your teeth and your heart gallop. And… for crying out loud, you fell asleep against a tree. You don't remember coming to the park, but you're sure it would come back to you. You were so sick of dreaming.

You lazily watched the city buzz by, yet something caught your eyes just across the street. You squinted. Standing, you marched your way over, minding streetlights and careless drivers.

It couldn't be.

A life-size TARDIS stood tall in the middle of the city. People looked at you strangely as you watched the blue box. Oddly enough, it's low hum seemed to draw your anxiety away like a drain to an overflowing bathtub. Feeling slightly hollow, you pulled at the door, but it remained firmly shut. Raising your hand ever so slowly, you snapped your fingers.

The door yawned.

You stepped inside, eyes like saucers. Bigger on the inside. There was no way. You had… you had just… it was bigger on the inside.

Your anxiety returned as you watched a pseudo David Tennant flip another lever and the TARDIS lurch under your feet. Did that mean you'd left Earth? Crap crap crap… he's turning, he's turning, he's going to see you…

Being the coward that you were, you moved with his backside. It would be comical if your heart wasn't drumming against your chest like an over-ecstatic percussionist on drugs.

He mumbled something and then said, "Why are you doing this to me, girl? Come on. This is not Barcelona. This is Earth."

The walls of the TARDIS hummed.

Startled, you backed into the wall, and your hand touched a door handle, which had not been there a minute ago. The TARDIS was encouraging you to hide from The Doctor.

...why?

You were terribly afraid it will creak, but the handle was smooth when you turned it and so were the hinges of the door. No pull or thud. Now, if you could just—

The door shut into the jamb with a not-very-quiet 'clrk'.

You heard a muffled "hey!" and it was enough to send you tearing down the hallway. And boy, you ran. You ran down the corridor like the floor was crumbling at your heels. Another door, keep going. Keep it random, keep it—

Dead end.

You look for things to barricade the door. Anything to avoid confrontation. You hate yelling and you really really hate explaining. You're terrible at words and communicating. Hate hate hate hate it all.

The door is thrown open by The Doctor, who stares at you like you stole his car. Or, maybe you did. The TARDIS wasn't a car, though… and you didn't really steal her.

You realize you were clutching a broom to your chest. Why there was a broom in the TARDIS... you weren't quite sure. Wasn't she self-cleaning? Or... was the broom about her allowing you to feel more secure?

As this thought dawned upon you, it seemed to also dawn upon The Doctor.

Some part of you wished you could be mysterious or daring, but you were about as daring as a tater tot. So, breathily, you squeaked out, "Hi."

'Hi'. You just said 'hi' to The Doctor. Your first word was 'hi'. You saw an alien from planet Gallifrey who regularly travels through time and space, and you said 'hi'.

You looked at each other for a very long time, with heavy breathing to fill the silence, before he squinted at your forehead.

You raised the broom. "Do not touch me."

He watched you quizzically. "Wasn't going to. The scar on your face is rather worrisome, though. Might want to get that checked out."

You swiveled to face the mirror that the TARDIS had provided, and you stared.

You just stared at the mark the bullet had left.

You backed away from the mirror and, consequently, your back met The Doctor's chest. His two hearts murmured behind his shirt.

Flustered, you stumbled away.

"Might I ask how you obtained such a mark?"

"A bullet," you replied.

His eyebrows flew to his hairline. "And… how are you alive?"

You didn't know. "I thought it was just a dream." The scar was an ugly red. Barely healed.

He snatched your sleeve, tugging you through the winding hallways. He opened the last door—that betrayer—and herded you over to a chair that, also, was not present before. He sat you down, fumbled with his pocket, and finally brought out his iconic sonic screwdriver. Looking to you again, he scanned the mark. "Repaired less than fifteen minutes ago. Wow, it's… actually fading. You will have a scar, unfortunately. The tissue is swimming with... grace, it says. Grace?"

"Hm," was all you said. Did that mean… angels..?

He moved to touch it, but then hesitated, silently asking for permission. You nodded to confirm. He prodded it, frowning. "I don't like it."

Alarmed, you shot him a look.

I don't like it.

"Not the scar," he said simply. Yet, he looked at the mark as if it was his archenemy. "Well, yes, the scar, but the ambiguity here is what is worrying me. No offense, but why would someone heal you? What was their motive? That question is rhetorical, of course. I'm sure you don't really know." He angrily stared down your forehead, and you squirmed.

"I can leave," you said, uncomfortable.

"What? No." He fervently shook his head, rambling, "You just got here! Besides, that would be rather unwise. You do know you're in an alternate universe, yes? That could drastically impact time, if it hasn't already. Probably has, considering you ran into me of all people. Well, I suppose I'm not people, but—"

"A what now?" You knew what was, but you still couldn't believe—

"An alternative dimension—"

You tuned him out, walking timidly to the door of the TARDIS.

"—what, what are you—"

You opened the doors.

A galaxy swam before your eyes, an array of brilliant stars and colors. The Doctor barely caught your shirt collar before you went sailing out of the TARDIS from the shock of it.

"Culture shock?" He suggested.

"More like 'wow, I'm dead' shock."

His eyebrows curl together. "You seem very alive to me. And I can bring you back to your dimension, you know."

"But I'm…" You struggled to find the right words. "But I'm dead. The real me, in my universe, is dead. I was shot in the face."

"I suppose." His eyes flashed elsewhere, as if he was searching the TARDIS walls for answers. His mouth was set in a grim line. He looked to you again, offering a smile. "I do need a companion…"

“Oh, right. Rose…" you murmured in understanding. He must have just lost her.

"How," he said, deadly calm, "do you know that name." You could hear the underlying passion: his fear, his grief, and most of all, his anger.

"Oh…" is all you can say. "She's your friend? Er… lover? You love her. Oh, sh… you probably just lost her and I'm just making this worse… sorry, that is… this is… I don't know how to…" Your mouth was pressed thin, and with comically wide eyes, you analyzed his reaction.

He thought for a moment, before carefully saying—as if the words had to be exactly right, "Are you… from my future, then?"

"Uh… yeah. Next regeneration, your future, and all that…" You laugh forcefully. "Yeah, I mean, you talk about Rose all the time. Constantly—" You stop talking when you realize he's turned away.

"Constantly?" His voice is so small.

"Uh. Okay, not constantly, but—"

"You said constantly. Typically the first word said is the truth. You're changing it to pacify me."

"Pacify? No, no, no—"

"Unless, of course, you've been lying the entire time."

"What? I'm not—"

He whips around. "You are." He glared, and then you realized he was baiting you to backtrack on a lie. "You're lying. Now tell me, who are you?"

At those words, you were frozen.

Who are you?

At those words, your heart picked up. The dream, which is all it had been, had burned it's terror into the forefront of your mind. Not this again, anything but this again—

Who are you?!

With a pained gasp, you dove for the door. Anything but this.

The Doctor snatched your arms up in a vice-like grip. "Who are—"

"I know the question!" You screeched, straining your trapped arms against his hands. You were riding on the paper-thin edge of your sanity. The way your lungs whistled and your hands shook, you just knew you were mere moments from having a panic attack. Harsh breaths turned into ragged ones. With wild eyes and your heart in your throat, you shivered beneath The Doctor with your arms still in his grip.

You briefly considered trying to escape, but it would be like trying to break free of iron cuffs—you weren't going anywhere. He hauled you to your feet and sat you down on the chair, he let go of your arms, which fell to your lap like wet noodles. He tapped your face as you began to pass out. He was also saying something, but you couldn't hear him over your breathing.

Your vision was steadily growing darker, with static-like dots weaving in and out. A broken television screen—was that all that you were now?

#dean winchester #dean x reader #sam winchester #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor #doctor who #tardis #chevy impala #x reader #reader #reader insert #supernatural #superwholock

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the-governors-sweetheart · 5 years

Text

The Road to Woodbury

Chapter 1: “The end of the world"

„Sorry, Mr. Blake, we did everything we could.“ Philip heard the voice on the phone say, but he was unable to process, what he just had been told. His shaky hand was still clutching the phone, seconds after the doctor had hung up already. Time stood still as he was staring into space. This can't be real, there must be a mistake – he had thought, but the doctor made it clear. His wife had been in a car accident. She was dead, by the time she has arrived in the hospital. Just like that. Gone. Philip was in shock to say the least, his gaze was glassy and empty and his mind was absent. The angry voice of his boss woke him up from his trance-like shock. “My wife is dead,” Philip was interrupting yet another angry speech full of shit from his ass of a boss. For the first time the young man was out of words and just stared at him. Philip got up from his chair, grabbed his coat and left his work, walking out of the office quietly and calmly, leaving everything on his desk as it was. His face was a blank mask, ignoring everything and everyone on his way, until he was inside his car, where he had a breakdown. He began to sob and cry and hit his fists against the steering wheel, unable to comprehend his emotions. His whole body was shaking as he asked himself one question over and over again: Why?

He rose up from his bed, shaking and covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. His breathing was labored, his blanket was sticking to his body. It took him a moment to understand, where he was. Eighteen months have passed, since he lost his wife, but he still dreamed about her. It was mixed nightmarish images, which wasn't difficult to come up with these days. He checked, if his daughter was okay, before he left their bed. Brian slept tightly on the floor next to them, he was used worse in the Army. Philip walked over to the window, peeking out into the night. Maybe he'd see them again. Headlights of a truck, he had noticed the night before. There was nothing. Just a wandering figure in the distance. Philip was scared to death. Each day was a struggle, even in this house. He didn't want to admit it to his brother, but he didn't know how to handle these… things. “What's wrong?” He heard Brian whispering behind him. “N-nothing,” he whispered back, before turning around to face him. “There's nothing. You've probably dreamed that last night. Go to bed,” Brian ordered him. “I saw it,” Philip answered, as he went back to bed. He watched Penny in her sleep for a bit, gently brushing back her bangs from her forehead. Seeing her, made him even more desperate. Cold fear crept up his back, he knew he can't protect her on his own and he was scared because of that. They've already lost one of their friends. Brian was the only one, who was strong enough to defend them, while Philip stayed back with Penny, hiding in closets or their car. Despite his worries, Philip fell back asleep, he was too exhausted to stay up.

After the short night, the next morning came fast. Philip has overslept, while the others were already up. He woke up and got dressed. On his way to the living room, he could hear Nick and Brian arguing over food and where they should go to find some. But Philip was only worried about his girl, who was curled up on the couch, sucking her thumb. She has never done that before, it was just getting worse. “Hey, baby. You okay?” He asked her softly. She barely nodded her head. Philip sat down next to her and gave her a hug. He felt just as helplessly as she did, as they both watched the two men fight over a plan. “For fucks sake, Nick! We have to! You think these two last cans will last forever or what?? I'm goin', now you three can stay here and hold hands, while I do what has to be done!” Brian barked angrily at Nick, before stomping out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Penny whimpered, she was terrified. Philip pulled her closely and kissed the top of her head. “It's gonna be okay, baby. Don't worry. Daddy is here,” he told her and she hugged him back. Nick rolled his eyes at Brian and went to the kitchen, leaving the two alone in the living room. Noises came from outside and got louder. Shuffling and moaning right at the front door, followed by a loud thud. Penny gasped and was even more shaking. “Remember what I've told you, Penny.” She nodded her head, before squeezing her eyes shut and whispering: “Away.” If he only could do the same. He was staring at the front door, scared of what might get through any second now, but to his relief it was his brother Brian. Blood was smeared on his shirt. He had killed the biter outside, who had been there since last night, while Philip was too scared to even leave the couch. He felt useless and like a coward. “You good?” Brian asked, as if Philip was the one, who had just killed that thing. “Yeah,” Philip answered quietly. “Good, cause I need your help.” Philip looked at him, than at the corpse on the porch. Everything inside of him wanted to resist, but he knew his brother wouldn't accept a “no". “C'mon. What's the matter, Philly? Get over here,” Brian told him, rolling his eyes. Philip got up and did as he was told. “We need to get rid of it. The odor will draw more of ‘em,” Brian explained as Philip stared at the dead biter. “Why?” he asked. “Because I said so. Besides, I think that's why they gather at some places. Stop asking questions an' help me, will ya?” Brian pulled the biter by its shoulders, while Philip took the feet. They carried it just over to the other side of the street.

[To be continued...]

#the governor #the governor prequel story #the road to woodbury #philip blake #brian blake #nick parsons #penny blake #the walking dead #twd

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