Endlessly: Doki Doki Literature Club Oneshots

Putting Our Blades Down (Yuri/Suicidal!Reader)

A request from Artisterna.

Your hand fell onto the floor, the knife rolling of the slanted edge of your fingers. The blood painted across the blade tainted to fibers of the carpet, leaving a small blemish in the beige weaving. But it was nothing compared to the stain next to your side, were scarlet streamed from the wound you had created. There were two more, in fact, both in the abdomen, your shirt soaked through with blood. Strangely enough, you didn't really feel any earth-shattering pain, only a distant ache, one you were all too familiar with.

Throughout your life, you had always imagined your death. How it would come about, who would take it, how gruesome it would be...

It was quite funny, actually, to think that you would be the one to end yourself.

And you wouldn't have had it any other way.

So you lay there, letting yourself bleed out, eyes glazed over, staring at the wall with nor other purpose, waiting for the moment when your body would shudder for the last time, and the world would go black.

Come to think of it, you could've chosen a much quicker way of doing it. But you liked your blades. And you trusted your demise to them, in a strange yet understandable way.

Your vision swam with yet another wave of white blurriness and your head began to pound. You would be gone within the minute.

Then, very distantly, the creak of old door hinges met your ears. Your mind began to fill with inquiring thoughts, but you dismissed them. It was nothing. You were losing yourself, and you were bound to hear at least some things that hadn't manifested in reality at all.

But then sound came again, in the form of soft footsteps this time. Then a voice, calling out from somewhere that seemed very far away.

"Y/N?"

You raised your head slightly off the ground, your insides screaming in protest of the movement. Your initial thoughts were that you had merely imagined the voice, but it came again, louder and seemingly closer.

"Y/N? You're home, right? I brought the Portrait of Markov sequel. It just came out yesterday! I thought maybe..."

The door to your room swung open. The figure of the girl standing beneath its frame was clouded by your blurred and stinging eyes. But she soon came into great and shocking focus when the book she was holding fell to the floor and she rushed towards your crippled and bleeding form with a flash of violet and a shriek.

"Y/N!"

She dropped to her knees next to you, her eyes darting from the wounds in your stomach to the knife only inches from your fingers. "You... Y-You... My stars, Y/N, you didn't-"

You open my mouth to speak, and the single word your able to choke out is faint and feels like sandpaper against your throat.

"... Yuri?"

Your vision begins to fade and swim. You hear her call out your name once more, and then your body surrenders, shudders, and allows the void of black to take over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain.

You were nothing but a figure shrouded by a cloud of darkness and pain.