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Lads Men x Depressed!Reader

I tried writing some lighter things, but right now I can only pull out some angst. I hope you enjoy and my requests are open, let me know what you want to read!

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You're going through a depressive slump and having a hard time getting out of bed, showering, or even just existing. Each of the LADs men try their best to comfort you in these uncharted territories.

Content Warning: Suicide attempt in Rafayel's POV

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Xavier:

It was the third day in a row you had called out of work. The third day since you had showered. You couldn't remember the last time you ate, let alone the last time you got out of bed. Staring into your room you saw the laundry piled in the corner, you knew the stack of dishes in the sink was too high, that everything was more than a little messy, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up. The world was just too heavy today.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and the sound was astoundingly loud in the silence that your apartment had been.

"Hey," a voice called out, Xavier. "You haven't been answering your phone, no one at the Hunters has seen you for days, Tara is worried. Are you okay?" He asked and you could hear the genuine hurt in his voice from you ignoring him.

You don't answer.

#lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace #lads caleb #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads rafayel #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #depressed!reader #caleb x reader #lads fanfic #fanfic #rafayel x reader #lads angst #love and depression #reader insert

Bloodied Tissues Pt.1

satoru x depressed!reader x suguru Pt.2

'Their bond was greater than anything there ever was. And slowly you were casted aside and left to rot, like a fallen leaf in the autumn air.'

｡°‧ tw: heavy angst/no comfort, suggested past abuse, eating disorders, brief mention of vomit, suicidal themes, abandonnement, loneliness, reader is in severe depression.

—In which you are slowly forgotten.

Your friendship with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto was.. peculiar..

When you joined mid year, everything was sunshines and rainbows, life was pinkish and filled with laughter and smiles. You had two best friends that you loved dearly and cherished every single moment you spent with the both of them.

But there was always a string of doubt that settled deep within the crevices of your brain. Because you weren’t exceptional.

I mean, it was to be expected. They were both the strongest of the bunch, two prodigies with bright futures waiting for them. While you were just there. A normal sorcerer sold into the academy by your clan who finally casted you aside after years of negligence. You weren’t special, you really had nothing interesting.

But still, both boys were your friends and you spent great time with them.

Sadly with time, you realized you never had a chance. Suguru and Satoru knew each other way before you met them. While the two legends rise together, you slowly fade into nothing.

It had started small. You walked beside them in the halls of Tokyo Jujutsu High, a quiet third presence trailing half a step behind.

Satoru had always talked the loudest while Suguru filled the empty spaces with thoughts of his own.

And you? You listened.

Sometimes you tried to join their conversations. But you were quickly shut out.

At first, you told yourself it wasn’t personal. They were brilliant in ways you could never be. But still, you truly believed that between their growing friendship, there still would be enough space for you.

Eventually, you realized that no matter how desperately you tried to exist, you were still far too small for a world that barely remembered you were there.

And little by little, something inside you began to shatter.

Lunch periods became quieter, filled with guilty feelings and that deep ache in your stomach. You started sitting with your sleeves pulled over your hands, even when it wasn’t cold. Bloody tissues overflowed your pockets, like a constant reminder of the stings on your thighs.

No one asked why.

Maybe they thought it was just a habit. Maybe they thought nothing at all.

Sometimes it really felt like you had been cursed, like your presence was erased from everybody’s minds.

Ironic wasn't it? To be what you try to erase.

There were missions where you stood beside them. But the reports read:

Mission completed by Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto.

You had exorcised two curses and no one mentioned it.

Even Yaga only looked past you while praising them.

“Excellent work, you two.”

You stood there holding your bleeding arm, slowly realizing how badly things had changed.

Still, you stayed.

Because sometimes Satoru smiled in your direction and sometimes Suguru asked you to hold something.

You truly missed when you skipped class with Shoko, when you were sitting together eating candy in the grass. Now she barely looked at you anymore.

Or when you had sleepovers with Suguru and Satoru. Watching romance movies all night bundled together in blankets.

They gave you more than family ever did. And those tiny crumbs of attention felt like warmth in winter.

But it wasn’t warmth. It was pity.

It just couldn't be warmth. Because now, you winced when your clothes slightly touched your wrists.

People did notice how hollow your cheekbones had become, and how they barely saw you out of your room.

But nobody cared.

Depression doesn’t always arrive loudly.

Sometimes it settles deep within your hollow ribs, or the bloodied tissues that cover the floor of your dorm. The same tissues that Nanami saw, but never commented on.

It’s presence is sticky and moist like the bile in your throat that you so deeply want out.

Or warm and uncomfortable like the love you crave, but never got.

Your room became darker. Messier. Filled with numerous letters that you know nobody would care enough to read.

The sketchbooks you used to fill with little drawings of cats now stay empty like the feeling inside your bones.

You stopped sleeping properly. Tossing and turning at night when sleep wouldn’t embrace you.

You stopped eating properly. Only cheap expired noodles filled the empty space within your stomach.

But you still showed up.

Because you still held on to a little hope. A tiny one that curled in your belly like a disease. A sliver of light that shone even though you tried endlessly to extinguish it. Because deep within the meat of you, you wanted someone to see you.

One evening, Satoru burst into the dorm hallway while Suguru laughed behind him. They talked excitedly while walking past your open door.

Neither of them looked inside.

If they did, they would’ve seen the empty bottles of beer scattered everywhere, or the moldy scent of sadness that wafted through the air like smoke. Maybe they would’ve seen the blankets on your bed covered in dried blood and old vomit.

You sat on the floor against your bed, the same bloodied tissues littered beneath you as a reminder of how pitiful and miserable you are.

You had been there for hours. Your back ached and throbbed like an old song in your head.

Your eyes were red with tears that dried way before they reached your cheeks. Your phone lay beside you with an unfinished message that simply read:

Do you guys ever notice me?

You never sent it.

The training yard smelled like grass and dirt and the cicadas hummed lowly in the distance. The two boys walked slowly throughout the field.

Somewhere beyond the trees, another group of students was sparring , muffled laughter and bursts of cursed energy carrying faintly through the air.

Satoru rolled his shoulders with a lazy groan.

“Man, that mission yesterday sucked” he complained. “I thought it’d be something at least interesting. That curse barely lasted five minutes.”

Suguru adjusted the sleeve of his uniform, calm just like always.

“You exorcised it in exactly two point three seconds” he replied.

“Exactly. Total waste of my time.”

Satoru kicked a loose pebble across the ground, watching it skip away.

Suguru’s gaze drifted toward the entrance of the training yard.

“Am I the only one feeling like something is missing..?”

Satoru paused, tilting his head slightly.

“Huh?”

Suguru looked around once more. The empty space near the wooden shed where you usually stood felt oddly quiet today.

“Yeah, it just seems like there's something missing.”

Satoru shrugged.

“welp”

Suguru waited for a moment, as if expecting something else to follow.

But nothing did.

Satoru stretched his arms above his head, his back cracked softly.

“You're the only one buddy. Everything is fine for me.”

Suguru frowned faintly, his eyes lingered on the empty space for another second.

Then he exhaled lightly.

“…yeah.”

The small flicker of concern in his chest faded just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Anyway” Satoru said suddenly, clapping his hands together. “You ready or what?”

Suguru looked back at him.

A small smile returned to his face.

“always.”

They stepped into position across from each other.

Neither of them noticed how they were slowly forgetting your existence.

Or how long it had actually been since anyone had even seen you.

It wasn’t cruel. That was the worst part.

They simply forgot.

The last time you sat with them was on the school steps. The sun was setting slowly, the breeze was cold against your barely showed skin.

Satoru recounted how he once ate six burgers in one sitting. And Suguru boasted about how he could do way better.

You listened. Well, you tried. The hum within your head kept spinning like a broken record.

You wanted to say something.

But the words stayed trapped in your chest because you already knew the sour truth.

You weren’t disappearing, you had never really been there in the first place.

You really wanted to tell them about how your heart had been racing in your chest ever since you met. But the words got stuck in your throat like a rusty gear, tearing your esophagus while leaving rot in its wake.

You wanted to tell them about the bottle of pills you hid beneath your pillow every night.

The way it pressed faintly against the mattress like a quiet promise waiting for you when you would finally stop pretending.

You wanted to tell them that you were planning to die soon.

But the bitter and ugly truth was that they probably wouldn't have heard you.

Their world was filled with each other. with laughter that felt intimate, with glances that said everything without words.

And you had always stood outside of it.

Their bond was too loud, too alive, too consuming to leave space for something as insignificant as your suffering.

Days passed and then weeks. Your presence faded so gradually that no one noticed the difference.

And somewhere inside that highschool, there was a room where the light stayed off and bloodied tissues laid everywhere. Where dust collected between the cracks of the old wood floor and broken mirror pieces could be found in every corner.

A room where barely any life resided. A room where someone had once hoped to matter.

The girl who was always there, until one day, she wasn’t.

#jjk x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk angst #angst no comfort #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #suguru geto x reader #angst no happy ending #depressed!reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo x you #geto x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #angst/hurt #satoru x reader x suguru

Do a fic w depressed so w Damian and my life will be yours

More context:- so is in slumps and just tired. Damian or the batboys cmme to our house since we ignored they're texts and they see us laying motionless on the ground

Ik very angsty but I NEED THIS PUHLEAZE (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

As Long As It Takes

Author's Note: so sorry for the extremely late reply! im drowning in exams 😔

Contents: Damian Wayne x depressed!reader, also Jason and Dick as side characters

Warnings: heavy angst + comfort, reader doesn't really want to live

You don’t remember when you slid down to the floor.

Just that at some point, standing felt like too much, so you sat. Then sitting felt like too much, so you leaned back. Then leaning back felt like too much, so you just… stopped moving.

The house is quiet in that hollow way. Like it’s holding its breath, waiting for you to do something. Anything.

Your phone is somewhere near your hand. You can see the screen light up faintly.

Dami 💚

You did not respond to my last seventeen messages. 11:25am

Did I do something to upset you? 11:27am

Y/n, please, if you are angry at me, atleast be angry at a nearer distance. 1:43pm

You are worrying me. 3:22pm

Jason

Hey u alive? 3:29pm

Damian's kinda freaking out 3:29pm

Dick

Please text us back 3:33pm

Just a dot or an emoji or anything 3:34pm

You don’t reply. Not because you don’t care, but because even lifting your fingers feels like dragging your body through wet cement.

So you stay there. On the cold floor. Staring at nothing. Breathing only because your body hasn’t figured out how to stop yet.

The knocking starts softly.

You barely register it.

But then it grows louder, urgent.

“Y/n,” Dick calls through the door. “Hey. We know you’re home.”

Another knock, sharper this time.

“You ignored Damian,” Jason adds. “That’s not like you.”

You still don’t move. There’s a pause. Then, a quiet click.

Damn Bruce and his technology.

The door unlocks. Footsteps rush in, then stop abruptly.

“Oh-” Dick breathes. Jason swears under his breath.

And Damian—

Damian sees you on the floor, motionless. Eyes open but empty. Something in his chest breaks.

He drops to his knees beside you so fast it almost looks like he fell.

"Beloved," he says, voice sharp with fear. "Look at me, Y/n".

You don't answer. Your chest slowly rises and falls.

"You are clearly breathing," he says, more to himself than anyone else.

Jason clenches his jaw and turns away. Dick swallows hard and is already texting Alfred about the situation.

Damian leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours.

“Look at me,” he says softly now. “You must look at me.”

Your eyes shift, just barely. Enough to see him.

Green eyes. Messy black hair. That familiar scowl that is usually there, replaced by something raw and scared.

“I am here,” he tells you. “The others are here. You are not alone.”

Your lips part but nothing comes out.

Tears spill instead. Silent. Heavy. Like your body finally remembered it’s allowed to feel.

Damian’s breath stutters. He does not wipe them away immediately. He lets them fall — lets you exist without correction. Then he gently, carefully cups your face.

“You are exhausted,” he says. “I can see it. You have been carrying too much for far too long.”

You finally whisper, voice barely there. "I’m tired.”

Damian presses his forehead to yours. “I know,” he says, voice shaking despite his effort to control it. “You do not need to be strong anymore.”

Jason turns back around then, kneeling too. “Hey,” he says gruffly. “You scared the hell outta us, okay?”

Dick smiles weakly through wet eyes. “We’re not mad. Not even a little. You don't have to explain anything right now.”

Damian’s thumb brushes your cheek, grounding, real. “You should rest,” he says firmly. “I will remain with you. As long as it takes.”

Your chest aches.

“…why?” you whisper. “I’m not useful like this.”

That’s when Damian snaps. He pulls you against him, arms tight but careful, like he’s anchoring you to the world.

“Do not ever reduce yourself to utility,” he says fiercely. “Your existence alone is sufficient. Your pain does not make you a burden. It makes you human. It took me many years to learn that and now I will say it to you how many ever times you need to be reminded.”

Your body finally gives in. You sob — ugly, broken, gasping sobs — clutching the front of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you here.

Damian does not let go, not for a second.

“I give you my heart,” he murmurs against your hair, voice steady now. “And I would do it again and again if it meant you stayed.”

And you believe him because this man loves you. He told you so many times that he would kill for you, but what he's saying now means more than any of that. Because now he is giving you a reason to live.

#please send requests if you have any <3 #damian wayne x reader #x reader #damian wayne angst #damian wayne comfort #dcu #dc universe #batfam #batfamily #damian wayne #depressed!reader #damian wayne x depressed!reader

Yours - Conan Gray (feat. Caleb x gn!depressed!mc) 2.2k words

Ever since Caleb had walked back into your life, he found himself wondering if it was truly you he reunited with. Sure, he knew that in the span of a year, you’d probably mature a little, busy working, and grieving him. But he didn’t realize that you were slipping away from his fingers, even after finally dating.

At first, he assumed you were fighting inner turmoil and thoughts once he came back. Maybe mad at him, still in shock, trauma. But you were much more quieter.

You used to be talkative.

Talk until you bit off Caleb’s ears for hours. Whether it was about Grandma’s unfair rules, your favourite show, favourite artists, your hunter dreams, and he didn’t mind.

Now you didn’t speak unless spoken too. And whenever you did talk, it didn’t have that playful lilt to it. It more sounded clipped, and rehearsed.

“Y’know, you used to talk so much I thought your mouth would hurt. Now it feels like I’m talkin’ to myself.” Caleb once remarked. Playful but a tiny concerned. You laughed. Fake. “Yeah, I noticed how annoying it was.”

But it wasn’t. not to him.

A Helping Hand

Spencer Reid + daughter!reader

Summary: Spencer takes care of depressed!reader's hair

Word Count: ~900 :)

Warnings: Depression, hints of self-deprecation, reader has hair that can be brushed and braided

#spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfiction #daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #dad!spencer reid #allieslittlewritings ★#dad!spencer #depressed!reader #tw: depression #tw depression #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfiction writing #spencer reid criminal minds #allieslittlewritings

Hi! I just recently found your blog and love your work! I couldn’t see anywhere that said if your requests were open or closed, but if they’re closed, just ignore this. But I love the detail you put into your pieces, how you show what the different characters are thinking and the dialogue and how you involve multiple people. The ones I’ve read so far have also been very relatable and the way you write what the reader is going through is very realistic so anyway I was hoping to request something with Bucky and reader that is going through a tough time and really taking it out on herself. Like a depressive episode but she stops taking care of herself (self isolating, stops taking meds, stops eating, sleeps all day, can’t sleep at night, doesn’t want to shower, etc) so Bucky and the team step in to pick her back up. Even if she’s reluctant to it they don’t let her self destruct even if that’s what she’d rather do. You see the team and Bucky being concerned and trying to figure out what to do but eventually they get her to therapy, help her start eating, make sure she takes her meds, etc. This may be partially inspired by Thunderbolts* and partially inspired by current life events. 😬🙃

Take care of you

Pairings: Avengers!Bucky x Fem!Depressed!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have been going through a rough patch, which has made you completely shut down and isolate yourself from your friends and family, including Bucky. But they're always there to pick you back up.

Warnings: ANGST, Self-destruction, talk of eating disorder, insomnia, sad!reader, neglectful Bucky (happy ending promise), self-isolation on the reader's part, depression, anxiety, arguing between Bucky and Reader, eventual fluff, use of Y/N.

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Thank you so much for this request!! I am definitely open to requests, and I loved writing this. I hope it's what you were hoping for! I LOVEEE writing/reading angst.

masterlist

── .✦The black sheep - part. I

warnings: bad languange, kidnapping, mention of r*pe and abuse.

wc: 2k

You walked along the road home. The wind swept your hair, and your lost, broken gaze reflected what you battled every day. The bruises on your knees, the scratches, and the bump on your head still throbbed. School was over, but the thought of going home hadn't crossed your mind. You were tired and devastated. It was hard even to lift your head to face what lay ahead. Sleepless nights, absent parents, a love affair that couldn't be called a relationship, and problems at school. Everything weighed on you like a millstone, and you kept wondering what you were still doing standing. Your body was so accustomed to everything that it moved on its own, as if you no longer controlled it, and you were destined to watch the hours, minutes, and days pass by, repeating the same routine. You'd wake up, eat breakfast in complete silence, your mother would glare at you, reminding you to do well on your tests and get the highest grades, your father would continue reading the newspaper, ignoring every horror that was going on at home. You'd leave the house, and when your boyfriend remembered to pick you up, he'd criticize you for the dull look you always had. "Smile more often, damn it, you look like your cat's dead," he'd say. You didn't respond, wanting to avoid arguments, and when you got to school, everything changed. A herd of sheep. You liked to describe it that way. Where everyone had fine wool, others had ordinary wool to make a soft blanket, others had wool of a unique and rare color, and were admired and praised. You, on the other hand, were the classic black sheep, not part of the herd. Alone, your colors defined by the grayscale like an old photo.

"But who, deep down, hasn't felt like a black sheep or an ugly duckling?" This is what psychologist Miss Kelly told you. You couldn't understand how other people felt this way without seeing it. There were other people out there who went through hell every day, who saw everything in black and white. Yet, you didn't see them. You wanted to know who felt this way, you wanted to be listened to, understood, and consoled. But in the flock, even the sheep were capable of passing off their wool as authentic and valuable, and the worst thing was that you envied those scammers, you wanted to pretend, you wanted to know how to do it. You wanted to mask that excruciating pain you'd been carrying for too long. If only you had been able to do that at school, you would never have been labeled the black sheep by society. The other sheep don't appreciate anyone who was different, and the sheep with black wool was discriminated against and humiliated for it. A peasant woman, however, saw no ugliness in that dark color. She spoke to the black sheep, telling her that the other sheep's comments were futile and senseless. Miss Kelly was that peasant woman, and you were the sheep she was desperately trying to save from the evil of the world. Too bad the peasant woman herself didn't know about the dark evil she had been carrying since birth. Other farmers before her hadn't been kind to her; they weren't trying to save her, but to make her life unworthwhile. But you, the black sheep, never told them that. In your way of thinking, you didn't believe your life was worth living; you didn't see any point. Miss Kelly, however, tried to encourage you to do one of the exercises she recommended and would assure you that you'd find a reason to keep fighting. You'd never practiced them because they were simple things like taking a walk, finding a hobby, hanging out with a family member. You didn't understand how these were supposed to help you find color in a gray world devoid of any bright shades. But that day you did. As soon as you got out of school, you took a walk, you were headed home, but then your body decided to detour and take a stroll through Hawkins. Autumn was making its way, and you let yourself be distracted by the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and the rising wind. You didn't want to think, you didn't want to hurry, you had nowhere to go. At that moment, you were just a sheep lost in the middle of a field. The sun was setting, and after a long walk, you stopped at what was once a huge lake. You'd never seen it before, and this was strange, because only later did you realize you'd entered Hawkins Woods. You had never done it before, you were afraid of getting lost and never finding the way out, and yet getting lost was what you strangely wanted.

The sunset from that lake was breathtaking. It was as if you'd seen the sun for the first time. You stopped to admire it at the foot of the lake. That sight awakened your mind, which until now had been dull and disconnected from reality. You thought of all those people like you. How do they disguise themselves? Do they manage to make friends? Do they really manage to survive like you did? But more importantly... do they manage to find peace? The tormented mind of the black sheep longed only for the calm after the storm. For once, the sheep denigrated by the herd asked itself: "What do I want?" You may have many answers to give, yet your empty eyes found your answer in that sunset. You wanted everything you've never had, everything you've never felt, and the longing for an incredibly prosperous future.

"Peace," you whispered to the sun, ready to set and hide until the next morning. The sheep in that wonderful landscape had made its wish, having found it in a field with only the setting sun for company. What did you feel in that moment? It's hard to say. But it was definitely a mad desire to let it all out and sleep in eternal slumber, finding what you longed for. You slowly took off your shoes, never taking your eyes off the ground; your socks touched the earth and mud at the foot of the lake. You then began to walk around and pick up stones, specifically the heaviest ones. You put them in the pockets of your sweatshirt and could feel their weight carrying you downward. From that moment, the black sheep knew what it was looking for; it had finally realized what it could never achieve and what it could no longer bear. A tear rolled down your face as you began to walk toward the lake. Perhaps many people like her, other black sheep, managed to move forward and achieve the happiness they desired, which didn't depend solely on fine or soft wool. The cold water soaked your pants to your navel. Your eyes grew heavy with every step. The next day, the peasant woman would no longer find the black sheep, that little sheep in the corner, alone and ignored by everyone, who carried burdens greater than herself. The black sheep not only left the pen, but would never return.

We could say that this is how your story could end. A terrible tragedy: a student found lifeless in a remote lake, where, all things considered, she had found peace in the arms of death. But it is precisely where everything seems to be over that a new chapter in the story opens.

A powerful, rough grip grips your arm just as your mind is about to shut down. Stripped of all explanation and care, you've been taken and transported to a vehicle with an unknown destination. You regained consciousness in the back of the vehicle. You were bound hand and foot, unable to act. Disappointment and emptiness have filled your soul. This wasn't the time. You still have to come to terms with it. A malicious voice inside your head makes you believe you'll never die in peace, you'll never find the joy of leaving everything behind and ending it all. As the vehicle pulls up, the back of the van opens and a man in a Ghostface mask looks at you for a moment before untying your hands and ankles.

"Walk and do as I say." A command, sharp and almost threatening. You didn't respond, as always. You did as he told you and you reached the house. A small but seemingly welcoming home, at least until the person who kidnapped you decided to lay hands on you. It had no neighbors; it was a house lost in the woods, isolated from the city. As soon as you entered the house, you couldn't notice the way a few drops of water were soaking the floor.

"Sit down on that couch." Another order as his hand rested on your shoulder. You didn't say anything, you just do what he said. You couldn't disobey the person who was now holding you hostage. You slowly sat down on the couch and the stranger followed you, then removed his gloves and mask. The man before you was none other than a serial killer, Eddie Munson. Suspected of two murders. As time passed and more victims mysteriously died, the police later claimed it might still be him, even though the evidence wasn't conclusive. Eddie Munson is now considered missing and suspected of multiple murders in Hawkins. You looked down at your dirty, scratched knees.

"Please, hurry up, do your thing and kill me," you managed to say to the serial killer before you. You didn't know what he had in mind, but whatever he wanted from your body, you wouldn't have resisted; you just wanted it all to be over. You couldn't see his gaze, but you could imagine what it was like.

"I don't want anything from you," he said curtly, realizing what you were talking about. You looked up at him and got a good look: large, dark brown eyes, long, curly, messy hair falling to his shoulders. You didn't have time to notice the other details of his face before he left the living room and returned with a small kit of medication. He knelt down and began removing your dirty, wet sock, tending to your ankle, which was currently swollen and almost purple. And to think you hadn't even noticed when you got here, u didn't feel the pain when he rescue you. Yet it wasn't your injuries that surprised you, it was the context you were in now. Eddie Munson, a serial killer, was treating your wounds and hadn't even attempted to attack or abuse you. Instead, he was simply tending to your wounds. It didn't make sense; a sheep should be eaten by a wolf, leaving what remains of it—its ugly wool and bones—on the ground. However, that wolf was tending to the cuts the sheep had on her hooves. After he'd finished, he moved you to the floor and put a towel over your head, preventing your hair from dripping onto the couch. Then he stood up and looked at you disappointedly.

"Did you think I was going to r*pe you or some shit?" At his sharp question, you nodded slowly, looking up at him. Usually, everyone would expect something like this from a maniac serial killer. He then let out a heavy huffs, leaves the room once more and returns with a weight and a handcuff. He cuffs your good ankle to the weight before grabbing a denim robe and heading for the door.

"There are some leftovers on the table in front of you," he said, then turned the key in the lock. "Don't move and think less bullshit." The shock you felt at seeing a plate wrapped in foil in front of you was indescribable. You had to blink twice to realize you weren't dreaming. And suddenly, the black sheep's life had turned upside down thanks to the encounter with the wolf, whose fur was as dark as his wool, the beauty of which no one appreciated. Eddie left the house, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You slowly remove the foil on the plate, finding a whole chicken leg and one that he had already devoured. You began to bite into the chicken while looking around the house.

What just happen?

taglist: @noxitsnox @ghoulsgraveyard masterlist

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #my shitty post #stranger things eddie #eddie munson series #ghostface!eddie munson #serialkiller!eddie munson #depressed!reader #f!reader #part 1 #october

Bloodied Tissues Pt.2

satoru x depressed!reader x suguru pt.1

'Their bond was greater than anything there ever was. And slowly you were casted aside and left to rot, like a fallen leaf in the autumn air.'

｡°‧ tw: heavy angst/no comfort, suggested child abuse, eating disorders, suicidal themes, reader is in severe depression.

—In which you'll never be forgotten again.

Satoru glances out the window, lost in thought.

The sky is almost too blue today, there’s something oddly gentle about it. Why does everything feel so calm?

Across from him, Suguru sits just as he always does: back straight, composed, quietly flipping through a book as if nothing in the world could ever hurry him.

“what chu’ doin’?”

Suguru can’t help but roll his eyes, pointing towards his book. “Clearly reading dumbass.”

“HEY! don’t bully me..”

Suguru deadpans. “stop screaming”

He snorts. “You’re so boring”

Satoru leans back further, tilting his head just enough to scan the room from behind his glasses.

Everyone’s here. Being normal like they’ve always been. So why does it feel like something’s missing? His gaze flickers towards an empty chair near the window. It doesn’t mean anything. It's just a chair. But still, he frowns.

“…Was someone sitting there before?” he asks, almost absentmindedly.

Suguru doesn’t even look up. “People sit everywhere.”

“Yeah, but…” Satoru stops himself, clicking his tongue. “Never mind.”

It’s stupid. Across the room, Shoko exhales a slow stream of smoke with her gaze drifting. She looks…off. He would even describe it as sad.

“You look like you didn’t sleep.” he calls lazily.

Shoko shrugs. “Do I ever?”

“Fair.”

There’s another pause. God, it’s quiet. He taps his fingers against the desk, once, twice, then stops when the sound doesn’t help.

“…Man, today’s boring,” he mutters.

But it’s not. That’s the problem. It’s too nice.

It feels like this is a day that he’ll remember forever. The breeze grazes his skin softly due to the open window. The wind oddly smells quite..good? His eyes drift back again to that same spot near that same window. The chair is still empty. For a split second, something tugs at him. He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Whatever” he says, louder this time, like he’s brushing something off his shoulder. “I’m starving. Let’s ditch.”

Suguru finally closes his book, now looking at him.

“…Already?”

“Yeah. This place feels weird today.”

He clicks his tongue, but stands anyway.

“Alright.”

He doesn’t ask what Satoru means. That’s simply how he is. As they step out into the sunlight, it hits them violently. The rays of the warm sun were almost blinding. It was perfect. Too perfect. Satoru tilts his head back, staring up at the sky again.

“…Seriously” he mutters, quieter now, “what’s with today?”

The wind brushes past them, soft and fleeting. For a second, it feels like something passes between them. Something familiar. But it’s gone before it can settle.

Satoru pauses mid-step, he frowns, then keeps walking. He doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t realize that there’s no one trailing just a step behind them anymore.

But actually, against all odds, he does.

“Oh—shit.”

The words leaves him in a breath that’s almost a laugh, like he’s just remembered something that is the least of his worries. His hand comes up to the back of his head, his fingers tangling loosely in his hair.

“I forgot.” he chuckled, lighter than it should be. “Shoko, have you seen [name]?”

He says it so easy. Like you’re just around the corner, like he didn’t forget for months that you exist.

The hallway’s warm and there's sun on the floor. It’s the kind of day you’d skip class on. The kind of day you’d drag him to the vending machines. But Shoko stops, her eyes slightly bigger. The cigarette between her fingers burns quietly, a thin line of smoke curling upward, untouched.

Her eyes land on him. “Wait…” she scoffed. “You guys didn’t know?”

Behind him, Suguru shifts. He steps a bit closer, placing a hand on Satoru’s shoulder. A crease between his brows forms.

“What do you mean ?” he asks.

Shoko looks at them both in silent disbelief.

“She killed herself two days ago.”

Suguru blinks. “…What?”

It isn’t really a question, more of a reflex. A fragile sound that slips out before he can stop it, already chipping at the edges.

He doesn’t move. His eyes stay fixed on Shoko’s, searching for the smallest cracks in her expression. Maybe a hesitation, a sign she misspoke.

“Yeah.” she says quietly, like the words themselves are heavy in her mouth. “She overdosed… They found her in the water.”

He waits for the correction that should follow. For her to shake her head, to sigh, to say she got it wrong, that it was just a really bad joke. But the silence stretches, thin and unbearable.

But the thought that maybe she wasn’t joking doesn’t come slowly. No. It seeps in, cold and invasive, filling the space inside his chest. He feels it press against his ribs, heavy and suffocating.

Only his eyes give him away, they’re widening just slightly. Like they’re waiting for you.

Across from him, Satoru thinks he didn’t hear her right. He replays it in his head like a shattered song. But it doesn’t form anything real, he can’t find an answer. Because you can’t be dead.

The hallway is still there, but it feels distant now, like it’s been pushed far away. The light is too bright, too warm. The world hasn’t changed, and that feels wrong—devestating even.

“You—” he gasps, spikes tearing his throat. “You’re kidding, right?”

Satoru doesn’t stutter. He never has. But he’s stuttering now.

There’s a smile on his face and he doesn’t really know why. Some stupid part of his brain is still trying to make it a joke. Like if he smiles, she’ll roll her eyes and call him an stupid dude like she always does.

But amongst all the pain in his heart, he can’t help but wonder why it’s hurting this much.

Shoko just looks at the two wrecked boys in front of her.

For a second disbelief flashes across her face. At the cruelty of it. At how perfectly it proves everything you ever thought. It brings a taste in her mouth even stronger than the tobacco sitting in her lungs. The rotting taste of irony.

“You should really go to her room.” She breathes.

Her gaze shifts between them, lingering just a fraction longer than usual.

“There’s a note for both of you.”

The cigarette between her fingers has burned low now, the ash threatening to fall. She glances at it briefly, like she forgot it was even there.

“…I’ve already read mine.”

No one says anything after that. Because there’s nothing left to say. The silence isn’t empty. It’s full of you.

It’s too late. It’s been too late.

And the sky is still fucking blue.

The walk to the dormitories is quiet. A silence so stuffy, it fills their lungs like wet cotton. It’s a silence filled with unspoken words and heavy feelings. The sun hangs high, shameless and gold, spilling across the hallway.

The shadow of your closed door stretches long across the floor, a dark tongue swallowing the light. Suguru’s hand hovers at the knob. His breath frays, his head keeps shouting at him to turn back. But he pushes through. The door gives without protest, a strangeled creak echoing.

The air itself feels wrong. It’s sour and heavy, like the windows haven’t been opened in days, or maybe even longer. Dust hangs suspended in the air, sadness infiltrates through the cracks in the floor. It coats the walls in a thick film, it clings to the ceiling fan. Then settles into the grooves of the floorboards until the wood rots. The scent is truly horrible, he can’t help but cringe. It smells of misery and copper, desperately braided into something that lives in the back of the throat.

Like the windows haven’t been opened in days—or maybe longer. A gag wrenches out of Satoru's mouth. The mirror lies gutted on the floor, a constellation of violence. Blood darkens the shards, and dust has already claimed them as its own. Alcohol bottles—glass, plastic, anything that once promised numbness and calm are strewn across the floor in a glum manner . Some still stand, sentinels of empty vigils. Others are broken open, their bitter liquor oozing across the floorboards in sticky, amber rivers. There are too many to count. The floor has disappeared beneath the debris of trying not to feel.

Suguru’s sharp inhale cuts the air, his throat feels on fire. How can someone live like that?

On your bed, the blankets are a shipwreck. Twisted, half on the floor, maroon dried into the fabric where red used to be. The smell is metallic, old, like pennies. It climbs into Suguru’s sinuses and stays lodged. Pills scatter across the floor like maggots. Tissues, crumpled and used, dot the room like failed prayers. Every surface is a testament to hours that folded in on themselves.

The room doesn’t look lived in. It’s abandoned, nothing is where it should be. As if every object was used, then dropped the moment it stopped serving a purpose. grime has settled over everything in uneven layers. It clings to the desk, the shelves, the edges of the bedframe.

Even the light feels tired. It seeps through half-closed curtains in weak, uneven strips, catching in the dust and turning the air into something visible. Something you can touch.

With an intake of breath, Suguru starts searching for the note. Fortunately for him, it isn’t hard to miss. An envelope sits on your desk, untouched by the soot of the world.

Suguru’s body moves before his mind agrees to it, drawn to that terrible piece of paper. His hand shakes with the restraint of someone who is scared to learn more. Each tremor in his fingers is an apology he’s choking on. The ventilator hums in the wall, a sinister lullaby keeping time with his pulse.

Seeing his friend moving, Satoru takes one step too. It’s reluctant, like the floor might open if he really commits to it. Something catches his eye on the envelope. There’s two kittens, drawn in precise lines. But it’s not the skill of the drawing that makes his belly curl in an uncomfortable manner. It’s their colors.

One white.

One black.

A rendered drawing of them in graphite from whatever was left of you.

The ache behind Satoru’s eyes is physical now, a tide pressing outward, and it takes every muscle in his face, every year of being the strongest, not to let it break. His jaw locks. His hands curl until nails bite crescent moons into his palms.

A pounding ache blooms and spreads, rooting down his spine. The ventilator keeps humming. Suguru picks up the note simply because someone has to. The paper is the only thing in this mess that really feels like you. He opens it carefully, as if it might bruise.

His body immediately starts trembling at the sight of your handwriting. His hand shakes, the hum of the ventilator resonates in his ears like a sinister lullaby. His eyes are wide in fear. Behind him, Satoru finally breaks. A sob gurgles from deep in his heart.

With a shaky exhale, he starts reading. Immediately, the first words written shatter the base of his skull like a meteor. His hand claps against his mouth and he starts to tremble.

For the first time, he too cries.

My dear Satoru and Suguru.

There’s too much to say.. And somehow, none of it ever comes out right. I keep rewriting this over and over.. I feel like an idiot because I can't even write a proper goodbye.

I was going to say that I’ve felt useless lately, but really that would be a lie. It hasn’t been lately. I don’t think I’ve ever really been happy. I mean, can you blame me? I never had love in my life. My whole family loathed me because I wasn’t strong. Pretty stupid reason to beat a child if you ask me though..

I didn’t really know what love was supposed to feel like, not until I met you. Very corny I know.

But really, out of everything my life could have given me, it chose you two. The loudest, brightest, most impossible people to stand beside. And yes, as cliché as it sounds, I stupidly fell in love with both of you.

I don’t even think you noticed. I mean, why would you? I was just the girl who arrived halfway through the year. Just someone weak and forgettable.

But even then… we had something. At least, I think we did? Even if it was small, I really held onto it like it was everything.

I still remember things I probably shouldn’t.

Like...Nanami trying to help me with math one time and I couldn’t focus at all, because I kept staring at his hair and thinking how ridiculous it looked under the light.

Or being dragged into playing wingman for Haibara and his hopeless crush… I was standing outside that little café for hours, trying to gather information on her like a secret spy.

I remember Shoko laughing, like, really laughing, after blowing smoke right into my face. I remember how I choked on it while she just kept giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.

I remember you, Satoru… buying me sweets that one time I failed a mission. It probably was nothing to you. But for a second, I thought maybe you saw me.

And Suguru… skipping class with you, sitting side by side in the library, not speaking, just turning pages in the same silence. It felt… peaceful. Like I was allowed to exist for a little while.

Those moments were so small, so ordinary. But to me, they were everything. I think that’s why it hurts so much now. Because I don’t even know if any of it was real to you.

Unfortunately, I think I started disappearing long before anyone noticed. Like I was being erased from the edges of everyone’s minds, piece by piece, little by little, until there was nothing left worth remembering. And the worst part is that I knew. I knew, and I still stayed. I still waited for someone to look at me like I was real. It makes me feel so stupid now, writing this. Like I was asking for something I was never meant to have.

I think, deep down, I always understood that I was never meant to be important. Not in the way you both are. Not in the way the world bends itself around you. But I wanted it anyway. I wanted kindness. Just once. And I hate that I have to admit this, even now, but you—Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto… you made me feel so small.

You made me feel small because of everything you didn’t see.

I think that’s when it finally sank in. That I really didn’t belong. At first, I didn’t realize how far in the sea I was.. How deep I was in it. I just kept going. I purposefully took on missions that were too much. Missions that possibly could kill me.

Because if I died out there…At least I would be remembered as someone brave. Not as the girl who loved far too much and received too little.

I really thought I could outrun that version of me. But she always came back. She came back every time with alcohol bottles and bloodied tissues. And in the end…I couldn’t fight her anymore.

Because obviously if you are reading this, it means I didn’t go down fighting. I took the cowardly way out.

I’ve been thinking about death for longer than I want to admit. It's like a thought that kept coming back, until it stopped feeling like a question and started feeling like an answer. I kept wondering what it would be like to disappear completely. To leave without leaving anything behind. And every time doubt tried to creep in, that maybe I shouldn’t do it. I reminded myself of the same thing: There really isn’t a future for me here.

Because nobody cares.

And I know how cruel that sounds, but it’s true. It’s true in the quietest, most undeniable way.

And you noticed.. Of course you did. Everyone did. Not enough to understand what was going on, but enough to see that something was wrong.

Shoko noticed when I started asking her for cigarettes, even though I used to whine about how bad it was for her. And you, Gojo… You noticed how I kept excusing myself after meals and how I looked less like myself each time.

You saw it. Both of you did. And that’s how I knew nobody cared. Because if you had cared… you would have said something. You would have asked. It wouldn’t have taken much, a simple “Are you okay?”

If even one of you had stopped me, if you had asked why I was still wearing my winter uniform in the middle of summer, maybe I would still be here. Maybe I wouldn’t have sunk so far.

Because I wasn’t trying to disappear at first. I was trying to be found.

But I got tired of waiting. And eventually, the waiting turned into something else.

Something colder, like standing in the ocean, letting the water rise inch by inch, convincing yourself you can still breathe. Until you can’t.

I was so desperate for something gentle, something kind, that when it didn’t come…I accepted it.

One day, when life will be even more beautiful now that I’m gone, when the sun feels warm against your skin and your toes curl into the hot grains of sand.

I hope, just for a second, you think of me.

When the waves crash a little too loudly against the shore. Or when the wind flips through the pages of a book you weren’t done reading. i’ll be there. In small ways.

I never really was seen when I was alive. But maybe like this I will be.

“Let death be kinder than man.”

-[name]

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