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Another ’’where the hurt doesnt reach’’ with Chinki, akane and junko with male!reader please
A/N: Of course! Pretty sure I've made one of these fic's for most of the girls in the games now. That's fun :}
Chiaki:
The lights in the classroom flickered softly as the final bell rang. The hallways outside were already emptying, voices and laughter growing fainter with each passing second. But (Y/N) stayed seated at his desk, unmoving, his fingers curled tightly around the hem of his uniform jacket.
He hated this part of the day.
Not because of the classes, not even because of the exhaustion that dragged on his bones like weighted chains. But because eventually, he had to move. He had to walk out there. Past the boys who shouted too loudly, who bumped shoulders too hard, who laughed like threats.
His chest tightened.
"(Y/N)?" a soft voice floated into the room.
He flinched, halfway rising from his chair before registering the owner. Not a threat. Not him. Just... Chiaki…
The quiet girl who always carried her game console in her pocket, eyes half-lidded like she was constantly drifting through dreamy levels. She didn’t talk much, and when she did, it was often in game references and strategy hints. But somehow, she always noticed things no one else did.
Like the way he kept his back to the wall. The way he never raised his voice. The way he flinched when any of the boys clapped a hand on each other’s backs.
"...You didn’t leave with the others," she said, stepping closer, her bag hanging loosely from one shoulder. "Are you... waiting for someone?"
He shook his head silently.
Chiaki tilted her head. "Okay... can I sit here then?"
(Y/N) hesitated, then nodded. She took the seat beside him, setting her console on the desk between them. Her thumbs moved expertly over the buttons as a soft chiptune melody filled the space between them.
“I’m playing River Quest II,” she said, glancing sideways. “It’s about this kid who has to cross a haunted river to find his way home. But the boat he’s using keeps falling apart. So every night, he builds a new one. And even if he sinks, he tries again the next day.”
"...That sounds hard," (Y/N) murmured, voice hoarse.
“Yeah. But... I like it. There’s a lot of failure. But no matter what, the game lets you keep trying. Like... it wants you to win eventually. You just have to survive long enough.”
Her words sank into him slowly. Gentle. Understanding. Not pushing.
She didn’t ask questions like the counselors did. She didn’t talk about “opening up” or “dealing with trauma.” She just sat beside him in the silence, letting him exist.
"...You don’t talk to many people," Chiaki said softly after a while, her eyes still on the game. “Especially not guys.”
He stiffened. Instinctively. Reflexively.
She didn’t apologize. Didn’t backpedal or smother him with concern.
“I just thought you should know,” she continued, “you’re not weird for that.”
He turned to look at her. Her expression was unreadable- but not cold. Just... focused, like she was watching a really important boss fight play out in real time.
"I don’t like loud people either," she added. “Or people who stand too close without asking.”
A breath escaped him- something like a laugh, though it barely had the strength. His shoulders dropped.
"...Thanks," he whispered.
Chiaki gave him a small nod, then paused her game.
“You can play with me... if you want. I can set it to co-op.”
"...What kind of game is it?"
“It’s not about fighting. It’s about surviving. Together.”
She handed him a second controller- one she kept just in case someone needed it. As (Y/N) took it with hesitant fingers, their shoulders barely touched. Just enough to feel that she was real. That she wasn’t going to hurt him. That maybe, just maybe, this was his save point.
Later that evening, they left the classroom together.
The hallways had mostly cleared out, but a few stragglers still lingered- clusters of students chatting near the lockers or at classroom doors. (Y/N) kept close to the wall, his steps quiet, but his eyes wide and alert. Chiaki walked just behind him, humming quietly under her breath. The soft beeps of her handheld console were gone now- packed away- replaced by the dull echo of footsteps and laughter bouncing off the walls.
Then he heard it.
A sharp burst of male laughter up ahead.
He tensed.
There were three boys, loud and animated, joking about something and shoving each other playfully in the corridor. They hadn’t seen him. They weren’t even facing his direction.
But his throat tightened anyway.
His vision blurred.
The sound of their voices grew sharper, more distorted, like a tape warping and speeding up all at once. His legs stuttered to a stop. His chest locked up. His fingers went numb.
And suddenly, he was ten years old again.
Back in that hallway. Back in that house. The smell of beer and smoke choking the air. The sound of his voice- (Y/N)’s knees nearly buckled.
“Hey…” Chiaki’s voice came gently, like a hand through water.
He didn’t respond.
Her hand touched his sleeve. “(Y/N). It’s okay. Breathe.”
His shoulders shook. His eyes locked on the boys ahead, even though they were already walking the other way.
“They’re not looking at you,” Chiaki whispered. “They’re not coming over. You’re safe.”
It was a simple sentence.
But it anchored him.
He sucked in a shaky breath, then another. His heart was still pounding like it wanted to burst out of his chest, but the ringing in his ears began to fade.
Chiaki didn’t say anything else. She didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t need to.
Instead, she stepped in front of him and held out her hand.
“Let’s take the long way back to the gates,” she said quietly. “Less noise. Fewer people.”
He stared at her hand.
It was small, delicate, and open. She wasn’t pushing it into his. She just held it there, offering.
After a moment, his fingers brushed hers- tentative, like he was still afraid he might break something just by being too close.
She gently curled her fingers around his.
Her grip wasn’t tight. It wasn’t controlling.
It was just... steady.
Safe.
They walked the long way around the school, down the side halls that smelled like books and chalk dust, past quiet windows tinted gold with the sunset. She didn’t let go.
At one point, she spoke again. Her voice was softer than before.
“You don’t have to talk about it. Not unless you want to.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.
“That’s okay. There are other ways to say things.” She gave a small squeeze to his hand. “Like staying. Or listening. Or letting someone walk with you.”
"...Thanks for walking with me."
Chiaki looked up at him, a small smile on her face, serene and real. “Thanks for letting me.”
And for the first time in a very long time...
(Y/N) didn’t feel like he was running.
He felt like he was choosing to walk.
Akane:
The cafeteria buzzed with the easy hum of student life- cliques forming in every corner, laughter and teasing flung across the bright afternoon. (Y/N) kept his head down, stirring the food on his tray without much thought. He sat at the farthest end of the cafeteria, away from the crowd, where the walls at least covered his back. Where he could see if anyone approached.
Most people didn’t. Most people knew he wasn’t exactly friendly.
And frankly, (Y/N) preferred it that way.
Another day where he could sit quietly and get through without an incident was a good day, by his standards. He flinched slightly when a chair scraped loudly against the floor nearby- too loud, too sudden- and his whole body stiffened instinctively.
When he glanced up, his stomach twisted. But then, calmed a bit as soon as his eyes met the scourse of the sound. It was Akane Owari, the wild, carefree Gymnast.
She plopped down into the chair next to him without even a hint of hesitation, swinging one leg over the other, holding a tray piled with food.
(Y/N) blinked in confusion.
"You’re not eating." Akane’s voice was casual but blunt, her brown eyes sharp even as she started shoveling food into her mouth without any embarrassment. "Why not? Food's good here. Kinda boring, but good."
(Y/N) opened his mouth, then shut it again. His throat felt tight. He didn’t know how to explain that sometimes eating was hard when everything inside felt wrong. That sometimes he could barely taste anything through the constant pit in his stomach.
Instead, he just muttered, "Not that hungry."
Akane squinted at him mid-bite. "You’re too scrawny," she said flatly, pointing her fork at him accusingly. "You’ll fall over if the wind blows the wrong way."
(Y/N) flushed and looked away. He wasn’t used to people pointing things out about his body- it made him feel exposed. Like when he was younger. When every flaw, every weakness, got punished.
A quiet panic itched under his skin. She’s too close. She’s loud. She’s noticing me.
But then something strange happened.
Akane... didn’t push. She didn’t laugh, or call attention to his weird reaction. She just kept eating, completely nonchalant, like sitting next to him wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t some kind of freak to be tiptoed around or mocked.
Minutes passed.
(Y/N) felt himself starting to breathe a little easier.
It wasn’t much. But it was something.
Finally, Akane broke the silence again, her voice softer this time. "You can sit with me at lunch, you know. If you want. ‘Cause... you look like you don’t got anybody."
Her words weren’t pitying. They were just honest.
(Y/N) stared at her, heart thudding painfully.
He wanted to trust her.
He wanted to believe in even a scrap of kindness.
But fear clawed up his throat, memories flashing too vividly- other people pretending to be nice, only to hurt him worse when he let his guard down. His hands trembled slightly under the table.
Akane must have noticed. Because she leaned back in her chair, hands up, palms facing him.
"No touching," she said, like it was a vow. "I don’t like it when people grab me without asking, either. So, uh... promise I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay."
(Y/N)’s breath hitched.
For a moment, he couldn’t look at her. His eyes burned. He squeezed them shut tight.
When he finally managed to look again, Akane was just sitting there, lazily chewing a piece of chicken, like she hadn’t just casually offered him something he'd been craving for years.
Safety.
Choice.
A promise.
(Y/N) swallowed hard and gave the smallest, almost imperceptible nod.
Akane grinned at him, It wasn’t a teasing grin. It was warm. Friendly.
Like maybe she really meant it.
"Cool," she said. "You’re mine now. My lunch buddy."
And just like that, she went back to eating, talking between bites about all the weird crap she’d seen on TV lately, as if nothing had even happened.
Days bled into each other, and somehow, (Y/N) found himself... used to it. Used to Akane plopping down beside him at lunch. Used to her rambling about whatever crossed her mind- fights she watched, food she wanted, weird dreams she had.
He didn’t have to talk much, she didn’t expect him to.
And when he did say something, she listened like it mattered.
It was easy, in a way nothing else was. Easy enough that sometimes he forgot to be afraid when she sat too close. Easy enough that he didn’t flinch anymore when she burst out laughing or swung her arms wildly mid-story.
Until today.
Today was different.
He didn’t see it coming.
Didn’t see the group of boys from some other Class rounding the corner, roughhousing like they always did. (Y/N) shrank instinctively when they passed too close, ducking his head, praying they wouldn’t notice him.
But of course- someone did.
One of them, a tall boy with spiked hair and a cocky grin, spotted him instantly.
"Hey," the guy barked, jabbing a finger toward (Y/N). "Didn’t know they let scared little rats into Hope’s Peak."
The group chuckled. (Y/N)’s heart slammed against his ribs. His chest constricted.
He tried to melt into the wall, praying they'd get bored.
It never worked… It never worked.
"You hear me, freak?" the boy said louder, stepping closer. His shadow loomed over (Y/N). "You think you’re better than us, sittin' all quiet and weird? Huh?"
(Y/N) flinched without meaning to- sharp, instinctive, the way a kicked dog would. His breathing quickened, the old terror clawing at his spine. His palms were sweaty and cold at the same time.
"Leave him alone."
The voice cut through the air, sudden and razor-sharp.
(Y/N) barely had time to blink before Akane was there, standing between him and the guy, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in a way (Y/N) had never seen before. Her whole body radiated tension- an animalistic readiness, like a jungle cat ready to tear into something.
The boy sneered. "Relax... We’re just messing around."
Akane tilted her head, cracking her knuckles one by one. "Yeah? Well, I don’t like it." Her voice was deceptively light, almost lazy. "Pick on someone else. Before I break your jaw."
The guy hesitated- maybe realizing that yeah, Akane could and would break something if she wanted to. He scoffed, tossing his hands up in mock surrender, before shoving past his friends and slinking away.
The group followed quickly, none of them daring to meet her gaze.
As soon as they were gone, Akane turned back to (Y/N).
Her expression softened immediately. No anger, no impatience. Just concern.
"You okay?" she asked simply.
(Y/N) opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was shaking- trembling- with the aftershocks of it all. But somehow, looking at her, he didn’t feel trapped. He didn’t feel like he was seconds from breaking.
He just felt... Seen. Protected.
(Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in deep, trying to steady himself.
Akane didn’t touch him.
She didn’t crowd him.
Instead, she dropped into a crouch right in front of him, balancing easily on the balls of her feet. She tilted her head again, smiling a little, almost sheepishly.
"I’m not good at this, y'know," she said. "The whole 'comforting' thing. But I don’t like seeing you scared."
(Y/N) opened his eyes slowly. His voice was hoarse when he finally whispered, "Thank you."
Akane grinned wide, her nose scrunching up.
"Hey, that’s what you do for the people you care about, right?"
Care…
The word landed heavier than she probably meant it to.
(Y/N) nodded slowly- another tiny, shaky nod- but it was genuine this time.
Akane rocked back on her heels, then stood up and offered him her pinky, wiggling it in front of him like a kid.
"Pinky promise," she said. "If anybody messes with you again, I’ll kick their ass. No questions asked."
(Y/N) stared at her hand for a long moment.
Then, hesitantly, so carefully, he hooked his pinky around hers.
It was the first time in a long time he touched someone and didn’t flinch.
Akane beamed. "Good. Now c’mon. You’re my lunch buddy, and i'm starving.”
Junko:
The world felt too loud for (Y/N).
The clang of lockers, the shrill excitement of new students meeting for the first time, the ever-present hum of fluorescent lights overhead- it all blurred into static in his ears. Hope’s Peak Academy was supposed to be a fresh start, but even walking these polished halls, (Y/N) felt a sinking pit deep in his gut. His scars didn’t show, not the kind that mattered. They throbbed silently beneath his skin, invisible to everyone else.
Everyone except maybe her.
"Ugh, could this place be any more boring?" a voice rang out like a bell, sharp and sugary sweet.
(Y/N) flinched instinctively, his shoulders tensing. He turned his head just slightly, not enough to draw attention. There she was… Junko Enoshima.
The Ultimate Fashionista. Long, wild pigtails, flawless skin, a magnetic presence that seemed to bend the very air around her. She was perfect. Perfect like a mannequin.
But as (Y/N) stared a little longer, he caught it- just a flicker behind those brilliantly blue eyes… Calculation.
He quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, panic prickling at his spine. Men were dangerous. Women... Women could be dangerous too, but less so. Still, people noticing him usually ended badly. He hoped she hadn’t seen him.
Of course she had.
Junko’s smile widened just a fraction as she sauntered closer, balancing on those towering heels like she ruled the world. She leaned down, just a little, to meet his hidden, downward gaze.
"Heyyyy. You're new, huh? What's your name?" Sweet voice. Thick with manufactured innocence.
(Y/N) opened his mouth, but his voice barely made it past his lips, "(Y/N)..."
She tilted her head, feigning a dramatic gasp. "Awww, you're shy! That's soooooo adorable~!" Her words dripped with honey, but her eyes... Her eyes stripped him bare.
It made (Y/N) take a trembling step back, his body recoiling before he could even think. He hated how obvious his fear must have looked.
Something shifted in Junko’s expression- so quick he almost missed it.
Interest.
"Ohhh, I get it," she chirped, standing up straight again, a hand resting lightly on her hip, "You're, like... scared of people, right?"
(Y/N) said nothing… He didn't need to. His silence said it for him.
Junko's gaze sharpened imperceptibly. This wasn't just shyness. This was deep, festering hurt. She knew the signs better than anyone. After all, wasn't she the Ultimate Analyst underneath all this glitter and glam?
"So cuuuute..." she said again, her voice softer this time. Real, almost.
And dangerous.
Without asking permission, she hooked her arm through his and tugged him along, her perfume clouding around him like a net.
"Don't worry! I'll protect you from all the big, scary boys around here~!" she teased, but there was something underneath the sing-song words.
A promise.
A threat.
(Y/N) wanted to pull away. Every instinct screamed for him to. But her hand was firm. Not rough, like others had been. Not yet. And deep down, a pitiful part of him ached- ached for someone to cling to.
Even if it was someone as terrifyingly unreadable as Junko Enoshima.
Days bled into one another like spilled ink.
At Hope’s Peak, (Y/N) learned the art of invisibility. Keep his head down. Hug the walls. Speak only when spoken to, and even then, softly enough to fade into the static.
But Junko wouldn’t let him disappear.
Every day, without fail, she found him. In the cafeteria, at the library, even once at the back entrance by the vending machines. A flash of blonde hair, a chime of mock surprise- "Omg, you’re here toooo?"- and she was by his side, smiling like they were childhood friends.
She never asked questions he didn't want to answer. Never touched him roughly… But she watched.
Always watching.
(Y/N) didn’t know if it was comfort or terror that curled tighter around his ribs when she was near.
But then… Something happened…
It happened three weeks into the semester.
(Y/N) was carrying a stack of books back to his dorm, arms full, vision half-blocked by the heavy tomes. He was focused only on keeping his breathing steady, moving quick but quiet down the mostly empty hall.
He didn’t see the boy until the shove came.
The books went flying, pages scattering like frightened birds. (Y/N) stumbled back, barely catching himself on the wall.
A tall boy, one of the rougher upperclassmen- he didn't even know his name- loomed over him, smirking.
"Oops. Guess you're just as useless as you look," the guy laughed, his voice a booming, cruel sound that cut into (Y/N)’s gut like a blade.
(Y/N) froze.
No breath. No movement. Like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. He barely registered the boy stepping closer, sneering down at him with twisted amusement.
"You even supposed to be here, freak? Weren't you scouted like, super late?" A hand grabbed at the collar of his shirt.
And then-
Click clack click clack.
The unmistakable rhythm of high heels against tile.
The boy barely had time to turn his head before Junko Enoshima was there, stepping between them like a sudden wildfire.
Her smile was dazzling.
Deadly.
"Uwaaah~ That’s not very nice of you," she sang sweetly, twirling a strand of her hair. "Picking on poor little (Y/N) like that. Don’t you know he’s, like, mine?"
The hallway seemed to shrink, the air thickening like a storm cloud.
The boy scoffed. "Tch. Whatever. I was just messing around."
Junko’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth.
Still sugary sweet.
Still ice cold.
"Oh, I know~ You were 'just messing around'," she cooed, voice dripping fake sympathy. "But see, I reeaaaaally hate it when people mess with my stuff. Like, reeeeeally hate it."
Her tone never rose. She didn’t yell, didn’t threaten. She simply existed- so vividly, so suffocatingly- that the boy instinctively stepped back.
Smart boy.
"Don't let me catch you 'messing around' again, 'kay?" she said with a little wink, like they were just two friends sharing a private joke.
The guy muttered something under his breath and stalked off, disappearing around the corner.
(Y/N) was still frozen against the wall, every nerve buzzing.
Junko turned to him then, her expression softening into something almost... human.
"You okay, sweetie?" she asked, crouching down and beginning to gather his scattered books without waiting for him to move.
(Y/N) opened his mouth. Closed it… Nodded once, stiffly.
Junko smiled- really smiled this time- and handed him the top book.
For a moment, their fingers brushed. He flinched, but Junko didn’t push it. Didn’t comment. She simply dusted off his sleeve, brushing off invisible dirt like he was something fragile.
"You know," she said airily as they walked side by side down the hall, "Next time someone tries that? Maybe I'll just break their fingers~."
(Y/N) turned his head, wide-eyed.
She laughed brightly at his expression. "Juuuust kidding!~" she chimed, but her eyes stayed cold and glittering.
Not kidding.
Not at all.
And somewhere deep in his hollowed-out chest, (Y/N) felt a strange warmth ignite- a tiny, desperate spark.
Because even if it was twisted- Even if it was dangerous- For the first time in a long, long time, someone had chosen to stand for him.
Even if that someone was Junko Enoshima.