Hi! Can you write Tejo, Iso, Vyse and Yoru with depressed f!reader headcanons?
A/n: So this is my first time writing for Vyse and I actually don't know much about her character but I hope it kinda fits for her.
Tejo
Tejo doesn’t ask what’s wrong immediately, he notices the change first. You’re quieter. Slower. The spark in your eye is dimmer.
He doesn’t press. He watches, and waits.
“You haven’t been yourself lately.” It's unusually quiet when he says it. Late at night, when you’re curled up on the couch and haven’t said much for hours.
There’s no judgment in his voice just concern and care.
He starts staying close without drawing attention to it. He’ll walk into your room with coffee or a snack, sit beside you, and wordlessly put his arm behind you, waiting for you to lean in. If you don’t, he doesn’t take it personally.
Touch becomes his main language. A hand on your back, fingers brushing yours, knuckles against your thigh as you sit together. Grounding just letting you know he’s there.
He starts doing the little things, bringing your favorite hoodie when he knows you haven’t changed out of pajamas in several days.
Putting on your playlist even though he normally likes putting on music.
He’ll still tease you but it's different. Less flirty and instead more soft.
Like a quiet smile when you finally come out of bed. “Look who’s decided to grace the world with their presence.” His voice is warm, not mocking.
He gently encourage small routines. Not with force, but with partnership. “You eat, I eat. Fair?” “I’ll shower if you do. Or even better we can just shower together.”
If you cry, he holds you. Doesn’t speak unless you ask him to. No “shhh,” no “don’t cry.” Just quietly being there. Soft fingertips brushing your back like you’re something delicate but still knowing that you are strong.
He might whisper, eventually: “Even like this... even on your worst day, I’d still choose you.” “I’m not going anywhere, cariño.”
He notices what helps and what doesn’t. If words only make it worse, he stops talking.
When you're finally able to smile, even if just a flicker, he catches it instantly. “There it is.”
And later, when things get better, he never brings it up like it was a weakness.
If you ever apologize for how you were, he’ll cut you off gently “If that’s the worst of you… I’ll take it every time.”
Iso
Iso also just notices the changes in you
The way you’ve been quieter than usual, how your laugh doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You say you’re tired, but he knows it’s more than that.
He doesn’t pry. He just stays with you.
Doesn’t bombard you with questions. Just sits beside you while you lie curled up on the couch, arms folded, eyes unfocused. The silence feels less lonely with him there.
“You don’t have to talk. But I’m not leaving.” That’s how he offers comfort. And his presence makes you feel less lonely.
He becomes more observant. Brings you coffee or tea exactly how you like it, without asking. Sets your favorite snack beside you during briefings. Keeps conversations light unless you invite more.
If you go non-verbal or struggle to explain how you feel, he doesn't push.
Just gently takes your hand, resting it on his chest so you feel his heartbeat. His way of reminding you: you’re still here. you’re not alone.
If you sleep too much? He quietly shuts the blinds, makes sure you’re not disturbed. But he also gently coaxes you to take a shower when the days stretch too long. “Just a quick one. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
He leaves short, notes when he can’t be with you. On your nightstand: “Did you eat today?” On your mirror: “Still my favorite person, even if you don’t feel like it today.”
One night, when you can’t stop the tears, he doesn’t say it’ll be okay. Instead, he lets you cry into his shoulder, his arms steady around you, his voice low and soothing: “I don’t need you to be okay. Just stay. That’s enough.”
He starts initiating small routines with you. A walk after dinner. A shared 10-minute stretch in the morning. A show that you watch together. Something that you can just look forward to, even on the harder days.
On particularly bad days, when all you can manage is to exist he’ll wrap you in a blanket, sit behind you with your back pressed to his chest, and whisper: “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to do anything right now. Just let me be here.”
If someone else brushes off your mental state with a casual “everyone has bad days,” Iso’s response is calm, but there’s ice behind it. “You don’t get to decide what ‘bad’ means for someone else.”
When you start showing small signs of improvement, like getting out of bed a bit easier, making a joke again, making eye contact, he doesn’t make a big deal of it. But his smile lasts just a second longer.
One night, when he sees you smiling faintly at something on your phone, he leans against the doorframe and says quietly: “I missed that look on your face.”
He doesn’t try to fix you. He just loves you through it
Vyse
Vyse doesn’t ask, “Are you okay?” She knows you’re not. She’s observant (painfully so) and the moment she notices your energy change, your slowness to respond, the way your laughter dims or vanishes, she clocks it.
Her first reaction isn’t emotional; it’s logistical.
She starts reshaping your entire day without saying a word. Adjusts your training load. Moves you away from missions she knows would burn you out. You don’t even realize you’re being protected until days later.
“You’re late.” Her voice is sharp when you drag into training, but then she adds, quieter: “I gave you an extra hour.” There’s no accusation. Just her way of saying: I noticed. And I’m adapting.
She keeps you busy but not overwhelmed, because she knows stillness is the enemy right now.
“Come with me. I need someone competent,” she’ll say, dragging you into her rhythm. It’s not really about needing you, it’s about keeping you with her.
On the worst days, when you can’t leave your room, she doesn’t angry or pushes you.
She knocks once. Waits. Comes in silently. Sits by your bed, arms crossed, saying nothing. Just being with you. She doesn’t leave until you eat something, even if it’s just a bite.
She gets practical. “Your laundry’s been sitting there three days. I’ll do it.” “I changed your water.” “You didn’t eat your food so I brought something else.”
The way she she does all of it makes it seem to others like she’s irritated with you, but she never stops doing it.
She won’t call it what it is. Not yet. But one night, after dragging you out to "review some mission” you slump against the wall and murmur, "I don’t know what’s wrong with me."
Vyse leans against the opposite wall, silent for a beat. Then: “There’s nothing wrong with you.” “You’re just going through something but I’ll hold the line until you’re ready again.”
She doesn’t do gentle touches much… unless you’re falling apart. When you cry, really cry she freezes. Then cautiously places her hand at the back of your neck and pulls your head to her shoulder. “Hey. Breathe. You’re safe. I've got you.”
You feel her fingers tangle slightly in your shirt that’s the only sign she’s struggling too.
If anyone dares to suggest you're "slacking" or “losing it,” Vyse ruins them.
Not loudly. Not directly. But even more icey than she already usually seems to be “If they’re ‘slacking’ and still outperform you, what does that say about you?” And she walks away before they can respond.
You become her shadow during this time. She makes sure of it. “You’re not going back to your room. You’re staying with me.” And just like that, you’re sleeping in her bed, in her routine, no refusal.
Her affection shows in the little rituals she builds around your healing.
She makes you brush your teeth before bed even if you don’t care.
She’ll sit behind you while you stare blankly at the wall, maybe brushing your hair or massaging you scalp.
If you do one thing for yourself (shower, eat, stretch) she marks it like a mission success: “Good. That’s progress.”
If you ever apologize for being “too much,” her reaction is instant and sharp: “Don’t say that. Not to me.” Then, softer, almost awkward: “…You don’t need to always be perfect. Just mine.”
When you finally smile again. really smile, it catches her so off guard that she fumbles her gear.
She glares, flustered. “What? Don’t look at me like that.” You tease her about blushing, and she mutters, “I should’ve let you rot in bed.” But then, quietly, she adds: “…I missed that look.”
Yoru
Yoru’s not good with feelings. Especially when they’re heavy.
So the first time he sees it, the lifeless stare, the way you go through the motions like a ghost he doesn’t say anything. But you notice something strange:
He stops teasing. He stops disappearing after missions. He just… lingers. Watches. Silently clocks every crack in your armor.
You miss training once. Just once. You get a knock at your door. Just a single knock and his voice through the door: “You alive in there?” When you don’t answer, he mutters a silent curse and slowly opens the door
He acts like you’re annoying him. “You’re gonna make me come find you every damn morning now?” But he’s already tossing you one of his jackets and grabbing you something to eat.
Doesn’t know how to comfort. But he knows how to show up.
You wake up some mornings and find little things left behind, a drink he knows you like, one of his jackets folded on the chair
Nothing flashy. Just quiet reminders: I was here. I’m thinking about you.
He keeps your brain engaged, just enough to pull you out of the fog. “C’mon. I need you for training today. No one else can keep up.” You know it’s a lie. You know he could ask someone else. but the way he says it makes you feel like you matter. Like he needs you.
You stop joking back, and that’s when he really starts worrying. He doesn't poke fun or push. Just sits next to you on the couch, nudging a cold drink into your hand. “You haven’t been eating” he mutters.
You try to lie but he doesn’t buy it.
When you finally mutter, “I’m just tired. Of everything,”
His jaw clenches. He looks like he wants to say something but instead, he leans back and says, “…Then we’re not doing ‘everything’ today. Just this.”
And he stays. All day. Doesn’t check his phone. Doesn’t tease. Just leans against your shoulder while you watch something, barely processing it.
You catch him staring at you when you’re zoned out, eyes unfocused.
He pretends he wasn’t. “What?” he shrugs. “You look weird when you space out.”
But his tone isn’t teasing. It’s tense. Like he’s scared of where your mind is going.
You finally snap one night. Angry. Exhausted. You yell that nothing helps, that he doesn’t get it, that you’re drowning and he’s just sitting there.
He doesn’t leave.
Doesn’t yell back. Just crosses his arms, stares you down, and says: “…I don’t get it. But I’m still here, right?”
You ask, brokenly, “Why do you even care?” And he goes quiet. Looks away. Then mutters: “Because you’re important to me, more than you know”
He doesn’t kiss you when you’re at your lowest, not right away. But he touches your wrist. Threads your fingers together. Lets his thumb brush your palm, over and over, grounding you.
Quietly promises: “We’ll get through it. Even if I have to drag your ass every step.”
The first time you laugh again, not even a big one, just a soft breathy huff. Yoru freezes. Then smirks. “There’s that dumb laugh.” You roll your eyes, but he won’t stop looking at you. “Took long enough,” he murmurs.
Later, when you’re resting your head in his lap, eyes half-lidded, you whisper, “Thanks for not leaving.” He runs a hand over your arm and mutters: “Told you already. I don’t stay unless I mean it.”
Divider by: @/thecutestgrotto
