Danganronpa NSFW+SFW headcannons and One-Shots

BOUND|Celestia Ludenburg x M!Reader|

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Since the beginning year of junior high, it taunted you; beckoning you towards what you always assumed was a false hope.

It was that damned red string...

The one wrapped securely around your pinky that supposedly connected you with your destined soulmate. Ever since it appeared in the beginning of your sixth year, you watched it solemnly drag across the floor, never once tugging, never once calling out to you. It was a somewhat "special" gift you had, being able to see these strings; some connecting others together, some snapping in two after an argument... you always just sat back and enjoyed the show. You gave up looking for your attachment in the middle of your eighth year, after deciding it much more interesting to witness others rather than worry over yourself.

Even now, in your freshman year of high school, at the prestigious Hope's Peak Academy, you considered yourself nothing more than your average guy. You were content with your special talent, being the Ultimate (Talent of Choice), and definitely wasn't picked from a random lottery- you were supposed to be there. But why? You always asked yourself such things, yet never found a clear answer.

Heaving a sigh, you pulled your head out of your wandering hypotheses, and took a quick look at the current time on your phone. 6:53- still a good twenty-seven minutes until your first class actually started, and you were bright an early. "Why do this to yourself, (Y/n), huh?" You quizzed yourself, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your (pants/sweater/hoodie/etc) with a deadpan expression. You weren't the only student who was early, though... there were actually a number of kids there with you, hanging out and goofing off.

Again, as you did, you watched the flow of their strings, taking mental notes and observations. You hardly even noticed the person sneaking up next to you.

Feeling a tapping on your shoulder, you jumped in your spot as you turned around, face to face with probably your closest friend since junior high- Shimekiri Namida, though she insisted you call her Shime.

You smiled down at her calmly as she waved, and you unstuffed your hands from your pockets, and began forming your greeting with your hands. She did the same in reply; she was deaf. You were assigned to help her around the school in junior high, as you already knew JSL from your father teaching you at a young age. And since then, as she wasn't at all good at making friends, she sorta stuck on you, not that you complained; it was nice to have someone to just sit in silence with and acknowledge each other, without the need of actual conversation... it was relaxing, in a sense.

Though, since you met her, another thing that connected you was the fact of the red strings, and you weren't so odd anymore. She severed hers long before you met her, as she claimed she didn't want to bother herself with such trivialities- she'd end up with whoever that made her happy, without the "pressure of the red string." Sometimes you wished you could follow that mindset, but curiosity over-bound you.

'Did you need anything?'

You asked her, not at all meaning to sound rude or dismissive, you just usually kept your speakings short.

The snow-color haired girl just meekly shook her head, pushing up her glasses over her coffee brown eyes before gesturing to her pinky, and then to yours.

'Did you notice it?'

Perplexed by her meaning, you looked to your hand, and followed the string with your eyes, down the hall and up the staircase to the second floor. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched the string slowly gather into a limp ball of yarn at the end of the stairs, as if your answers to your questions all those years had finally been answered. You turned to Shime, a somewhat gleam in your eyes, as she shakily ushered you towards the end of the hallway.

Smiling lightly, you felt your heart pound, as you turned on your heel and stepped over to your newfound hope. It mildly confused you, though... throughout your whole time here at Hope's Peak, not once had you noticed your string change or gather; perhaps you just didn't notice? Or they were new?

Peaking around the corner, your only thoughts upon your (e/c) eyes meeting with a pair of glimmering ruby ones was 'definitely not new.' She now stood there, about five steps above you, her hands neatly folded around a stack of about three books over her chest, her raven hair twisted into pigtails that fell at her sides, wearing a victorian-style dress being one that had caught your eye plenty of times before.

Celestia Ludenburg.

"So," she spoke, her silky voice ringing in your ears, she almost sounded German. "This is whom my string binds me to." It was a simple statement, but one you appreciated all the same.

Taking the liberty to respond, you bowed your head in respects. "It would seem so... Ludenburg, right?"

Doing just the same, she nodded her head placidly with a petite, practiced smile painting itself over her features. "Yes, though do please refer to me as Celeste... I have a feeling use for such a casual name will come in handy." She insisted with a light giggle, her crimson eyes still locked onto yours as she descended the staircase towards you, almost like a scene from Cinderella.

As she now stood at your place, only one step now, you found a set of chills run from your forearms to your shoulders, though it wasn't particularly cold. "Whatever you say, Celeste." Her name rolled off your tongue in a tone she found enjoyable. "It's a nice name." You added.

Celeste merely held a single hand over her mouth, in an act of a polite princess. "My, did I get lucky with this one," she somewhat teased, "I recognize you, but I will have to ask of your name." She informed, rather straightforwardly- you smiled at that.

"(L/n)... (Y/n) (L/n)." You replied, "I don't really have a nickname or anything, but whatever works for you, I guess. I'm not too picky about it."

With that, she seemed to be almost trapped in thought. "Right, that does certainly ring a bell..." she spoke as if the final term was foreign to her. "We have next class together, do we not?"

You had to think back on that, "English with Ms. Usami, right?" You confirmed, recalling your first class period of your Monday-Wednesday block schedule.

Celeste simply nodded to you, as she held out her arm, her hand down by her waist. "Walk me?" She quizzed; you could tell it was a sincere gesture, so you had no objections.

Following along, you linked your arms with her, offering to hold a few of her books for her, though she politely declined, and stepped down that final stair, watching as the two of your red strings' excess yarn swirled upright off the floor and twisted together to form a rather intricate knot in the center. "Sure thing."

You began walking, taking a few new notes along the way; the hallway felt like the carpet leading into and elegant ballroom, the students at the sides standing and mingling, as if waiting just for the two of you to step foot onto the dance floor. It was an odd feeling, but you didn't compete against it. Finding yourself smiling at your timid best friend Shime off by her locker, she was speaking to a boy your age with black hair, red eyes, and formal white suit- Hope's Peak's hall monitor, Kiyotaka Ishimaru. It was a sight to see, as she was literally eye-level with his chest, and you always knew him as particularly loud and kinda intimidating without getting to know him; but you guessed volume and tone doesn't effect the one's who can't hear it. You were just glad she was opening up, and finding other people who could speak through JSL, of course.

(Headcanon of mine, sorry, just kinda seems like he of all people would know it, haha)

As you and Celeste walked, your steps eventually came into unison, your two sets of shoes clicking against the tiled floor in synchronization, echoing in your head. No one was staring, no one was ignoring you, either. It was all in Celeste's entrancing aura- it was a fixating one.

Sometimes changes can happen in the blink of an eye, for good or for worse, who knows; but all it takes is a damned red string..