Creepypasta X Reader Oneshots

♡◇L.J X Reader◇♡

(Y/N has PTSD from committing suicide- They succeeded and were brought back as a spirit like BEN and Sally. Content warning. In this L.J is wearing the outfit above.)

Third POV

Y/N lays shaking on their bed as another nightmare replays the 'incident'.
The nightmares are never what actually happened, but some strange parody that plays off of the same foundations.
If anything, that makes them worse.

Y/N's POV

I tighten my grip on the thick rope circled around my thin neck, paying attention to the light patterns seemingly etched into the fibres of it.

The breeze is cold and searing on my skin, making the tears streaming down my face seem like icicles.

I'm taken over by a strange sense of euphoria as the realisation that all I've wanted for so long could be completed by a simple step forward.
As my feet leave the platform and the door tightens around my neck, (to the point of the suffocation that quickly overwhelms me), hundreds of people suddenly appear in front of me.

People I know, strangers, family, everybody gathers around my body hanging limply from a tree.

I'm trying to scream, but discovering the rope to be too tight to breathe at all.
My lungs feel like they're on fire.

After a minute of this, my breathing halts.

_________________________________________

I jolt awake, the shrill sound of my own scream echoing randomly through my head- fear spikes my senses and a thin sheen of sweat covers my face.

(I won't be able to sleep again tonight, might as well grab a drink or something)
I think to myself, waiting until I've fully calmed down and stopped shaking until I stand up and shove my slippers and hoodie on.

Opening up the door to my room, I wander down the hall and arrive at the kitchen.

Grabbing a glass an filling it with water, I prepare a plate and also make a sandwich- it's going to be a few hours until breakfast and I'm a hungry bitch.

I'm about to make my way back to my room, but a voice at the door stops me in my tracks.
"Hey Y/N!"
L.J says quietly, but sounding happy.
"Hey,"
I murmur back, my voice hoarse and raspy as I fight back general drowsiness.

"Ya didn't sleep, didja?"
He asks in his strong London accent, sitting down at the table and motioning for me to sit opposite him.

"Nightmare."
I reply simply, sitting down where he motioned.
"You have a lotta those, don't ya?"
He says, tilting his head to the side, "Are ya gonna tell me what they're 'bout? I ain't gonna tell, if that's watcha worried 'bout."
He insists, a concerned look flickering over his face before being replaced by general curiosity.

"Sorry... I- I don't wanna talk about that, L.J."
I explain, averting the eye contact and staring at my hands.

"Might help, Y/N. I mean, I ain't a therapist or nothin', but I 'eard that sorta shit helps."
He states supporrively, and I have to chuckle at the amount of abbreviations he's managed to shove in his sentences.

"Okay- but... it's not... I mean, it's not exactly light hearted, uh... you'll probably think I'm just some depressing fuck head..."
I stammer, desperately trying to change his mind.