#tw : depression

[sad-empty-lost]

Imagine having a day where you don’t fantasise about killing yourself……..

Haven’t had one of those days for over 10 years now

[tinylilacbun]

is it possible to request Rafe (and JJ if you want!) with a depressed little?

recently I’ve had not motivation to do thing and just lay in bed. I’m even failing to take care of myself so I NEED a Rafe with a little like that

-🩸

"C'mon, cupcake, let's just go to the beach for a bit or wherever you want." JJ coaxes you to come out of bed for the third time already, rubbing a hand gently up and down your arm.

"No wanna..." You mumble, burying your face further into the pillow, clinging onto your stuffie. "Jus wanna s'eep."

His shoulders slump at that. "Okay, I'll be back in a minute." He sighs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead before getting up from the bed and out into the hallway where Rafe - who also already tried to get you out of bed - is leaning against the wall right next to the door, watching JJ close the door softly.

"And?" He asks, nibbling on his thumb, only receiving a shake of the blonde's head. "A'ight..."

"What do we do now?" JJ questions, running a hand through his hair. "She's like a whole other person."

"It's just because she's off meds, her doctor isn't available 'til next week. So, all we can do is be there for her and- and help her out. Like always." Rafe breathes out, to which JJ nods.

You're obviously still in bed when the door opens again, now sucking on a pacifier as both your boys come into the room, having gentle yet concerned smiles on their faces as they approach the bed.

"Hey, baby. You feeling a little sleepy today?" Rafe asks, smoothing some of your hair behind your ear as you nod slowly. "That's fine. How about a shower, huh? Could make you feel a little better."

Again - as to everything they suggested by now - you shake your head, messing a bit with the ear of your stuffie.

"No? Well, how about a bath then? You don't gotta do a thing, we'll handle everything, yeah?" He then suggests, waiting patiently for you to decide.

When you eventually agree he carefully scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom while JJ gets you a fresh set of clothes to put on afterwards.

Rafe keeps you in his hold the whole time until he's able to lower you into the bathtub filled with warm water and some bubbles, reaching out to grab the custom made pacifier from your mouth but you instantly whine, turning your hand away.

"Shh, okay, you can keep it. I just didn't want it to get wet and lose some of the gems." He assures you, waiting for JJ to come hold your head up in a comfortable position because it seems you don't feel like moving at all today.

It takes a while but soon you're back out of the tub, sitting on JJ's lap as Rafe gets you dressed again, both being as gentle as they can be.

JJ is then the one to carry you back into the bedroom, setting you down on the bed and making sure you're tucked in comfortably, being his usual cheeky self to make you smile even just a tiny bet.

Rafe meanwhile prepares some sandwiches and sippy with juice for you, knowing you haven't consumed anything since you woke up and it's almost 3 pm.

Thankfully they managed to get you to eat a few bites and at least half of your sippy before settling on each side of you for some peaceful cuddles.

Rafe is spooning you from behind, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close while JJ's facing you, tracing his fingers from your shoulder to your elbow and back up.

The boys chatted over whatever, occasionally bickering but keeping it lightly with you present. That's until they hear you start to sniffle all of a sudden, quickly turning their attention back to you.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong?" JJ asks, propping himself up a bit to place a hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb.

You can feel Rafe's hold around you tightening a fraction at your emotional distress, now sitting up a bit as well to look over your shoulder. "Talk with us..."

"I-i...m'sowwy." You sob, burying your face in your plushie, not even knowing what you're apologizing for right now, just feeling overwhelmed with those giant feelings in such a small headspace.

"What are you sorry for, button?" JJ questions, watching you shrug, still hiding your face from them.

"Is- s'jus a lot..." You sniffle pitifully.

Rafe understands immediately, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. "It's okay, I get it. All those feelings are just too big for you right now."

You nod at that, curling into yourself a bit, feeling the boys wrapping you in their arms, calming down from their mixed scents and calm beating of their hearts in the quiet room.

Despite the storm going on inside you, you feel protected and loved, all thanks to the only two people in your life who don't push you away for how you feel and hold you safely in their arms even when their relationship with each other isn't the greatest yet they only care about your well-being than over their own comfort.

[cloversplace]

Js thinking abt pony post book,

he cries himself to sleep every night, his face buried in Johnnys jacket

being extremely afraid of fire, the socs know this and prey on him even more for it. Burning him with cigarettes or lighters whenever they can.

There are some days where he just can’t get out of bed, just lying there. Not talking or responding to anyone, eyes blank and hooded.

The gray-green eyes so full of life gone, replaced with emotionless glass orbs. Constantly glazed over, but with what? Tears? Illness? Darry doesn’t know, no one does. At this point, Darry would be happy if Pony’s eyes were just glazed over with the effects of a high, instead of whatever never ending depression bug his brother seems to have caught.

[aliciamaynardsworld2]

I hate it when I say "I did it myself" and people don't understand.

"Oh my! How did you get that big scar?"

"Oh, I did it myself"

"What do you mean 'you did it yourself'?"

Oh how privileged you are to not understand me.

Oh, how privileged you are to not be in my position.

Oh, how privileged you are,

Oh, how privileged you are.

[xmortem09]

I just wanna rot away and dissolve into nothing.

[foxlungz]

I just want to give up I’m tired from the bottom of my fucking soul like I don’t want to do this shit anymore like let me rest please I’ve had enough

[yourgirlinpieces]

i hate that kind of sadness where your chest physically hurts

[letsventstuff]

No no no no no, you don't understand. I can't keep going on like this. It's draining me and I can't take it anymore. No more, please.

[theorist-fox]

Simon makes love to you

Drabble to get me out of the block

Word Count: 1.6k

18+

CW: fluff, smut, contains themes of depression

Simon fucks you hard.

It's an unsaid promise, a sort of bargain. 

You need someone to fuck your head empty, he needs someone who'll let him unload whatever mess is brewing inside of him. 

You like it hard.

He needs it hard.

Mutual agreement. Everything had clicked so easily you two had never even bothered setting ground rules or whatnot. They flowed naturally, as if you knew, and he did as well.

Whenever you wanted, you just knocked. If he was up for it, you'd spend the night in his bed until your throat would go raw and your limbs would turn floppy.

The same happened when he was on the other side of the door.

Independently on who asked, the outcomes rarely changed. If ever.

Yet Simon now finds himself in front of a crossroads, when you knock on his door with bloodshot eyes and a tiredness so horrible that, for a moment, he feels afraid.

That lasts a swift second, though, because the next thing he registers is complete discomfort. Helplessness.

He doesn't think he can fuck that out of you. Not when your eyes are so chock full of tears yet so hollow.

Your lips look cracked and swollen, like you've spent a while nibbling at the flakes of dry skin. He's sure they'd taste of iron if he were to kiss them.

As he takes in your state, he narrowly misses your sniffle, the tremble of your hands. Or the way your voice, so feeble and strained, as if exhausted from the words themselves, whispers:

"Can you make love to me tonight?"

Simon barely reacts as it reaches his ears. On the outside, he's impassive as ever—inside, on the other hand, he's rattled to the bone.

Because he doesn't know how to do that. 

What he does know, is that he could tell you no, and you wouldn't so much as bat an eye. You're not one to push, and neither is he. It's always been such a balanced thing. 

And yet he'd rather gouge his eyes out than watch you tremble any more than you already are.

Which is why he doesn't answer verbally—doesn't trust himself to do that, to sound as kind as you need him to be. He simply curls his hand at the nape of your neck and pulls you in, lips to lips.

And exactly as he thought, taste of iron they do.

Simon's kiss is not devouring. It's hesitant because he's new to it, soft because you asked. There's no tongue yet, simply lips smacking and a gentle hand on your hips. The white lights of the building's hallway flicker overhead—some old place in which neighbours don't ask much about what's happening in the other flats, which is exactly what he needs.

Gently, he guides you inside, closing the door behind you with the flat of his hand. Feels the salt of your tears on his own lips, like he's cried them as well. 

Your hands cradle his neck, fingers dreadfully cold and rough—callouses you've bitten in anxious habit, perhaps to cause pain so the one inside would quell. 

Simon guides your back against his door, as his hand blindly reaches for the lock. It twists smoothly in his fingers. Clicks. You unravel there, like the sound's given you permission to do so.

Simon is used to drinking up your moans, never your sobs. He tries as you hiccup in his mouth, holding you gently yet firmly, grounding you to where it matters.

Careful as ever, his fingers tug at the zipper of your coat, and then helps you out of it. Similarly, your own lift his shirt up and off his head. And then it's a dance he knows by heart, hands tracing the shape of you the more it gets exposed.

Loose clothes on the floor. Your cold hands holding onto him for dear life. His own guiding you to the bed, steering your body where he needs it—where you do.

But differently from previous times, there's so much softness in his fingers that they tremble almost as much as yours, like he's afraid he'd bruise you when he bloody well knows he's held you far more harshly and you never complained once.

And then you're on his bed, on your back with his own body as an anchor to reality. A big arm snakes in the sliver of space between your bodies to reach your sex.

He kisses your cheeks first, as his fingers draw soft circles at your clit to get you wet. Your chest stutters with hiccups to catch your breath, tired hands threaded through his hair—perhaps to keep him closer, perhaps to ground yourself.

Whatever the reason, he lets you. Feels your breath—thick, heavy, wet—brush his skin. Your lips reciprocate his kisses, landing damp and swollen on his shoulder, on his neck.

That night, Simon fucks you softly.

He doesn't thrust into you until you can't breathe but keeps his hips flush to yours instead. He rolls idle circles that sheath him fully inside and cradles your head to keep you still—to keep you comfortable, to give you what you asked.

Can you make love to me tonight?

Simon is not sure he can, doesn't think he has what it takes.

But still, his hands hold you gently, instead of marking you blue. His mouth draws in your breath, like he's trying to even it out when you can't. 

"That's it," he whispers when he feels the stutters in your chest settle down. "That's it—deep breaths. Good girl, y're doing so good." 

Your hands come to hold him like he is you, and then you cum around him breathing hard and burying your face in his neck instead of moaning and clawing at his skin.

"There it is," he tells you quietly when your pussy clenches around him. His voice chokes on itself because you're not the only one affected by this—not by a long shot. "There it is, swee'heart. Jus' like that."

He keeps his focus on you as you come down from it, satisfied when he notices that the trickles down your temples are of sweat and not tears anymore. 

But there's something in your eyes, he thinks. Something that has been torn to shreds so many times you gave up even trying to fix it. A loneliness so fierce it’s burning you to ashes, an exhaustion so deeply engraved you carry it within your bones.

How a man as attentive as him has never noticed is beyond him, but now he finds himself wanting to see it, to try and help you mend it until you're whole again.

"Fuck, you're lovely, yeah?" He murmurs when your hands come to cradle his cheeks and his do the same. "Sight f'sore eyes."

You smile for the first time since you knocked on his door. 

Can you make love to me tonight?

Simon is not sure he can, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try—if it means you smile like that again.

Your hips start moving to meet him, ankles locked at his tailbone. Simon cums inside of you for the first time since you two started seeing each other, rocking his hips as you caress the back of his head.

He’s always tried his damned hardest to avoid leaving strands of any kind that could tie you to him. He's a dangerous man, one you shouldn't be tangled with. 

But if you look so safe in his arms, enough to seek him at your lowest, enough to smile even when your world seems torn asunder, then there's little he can do to fight it. 

To fight you.

He collapses, chest to chest, knocking the breath out of your lungs—a sound so soft it tickles his ear enough to raise goosebumps.

Simon holds onto you something fierce, arms tucked under the hollow of your spine—inked skin, rough and thickened by a harsh life, against the velvet of yours.

Usually, you’d spare a few moments for the two of you to catch a breath, and then you’d leave, or he would, and life would roll on by. Tonight, he senses your hesitation in the tremble of your arms, and how they’re still holding on tight, wrapped like a silk ribbon around his neck.

Simon finds himself at a crossroads again, but this time it’s so much easier to make a choice.

Can you make love to me tonight?

As he nuzzles your skin, Simon realizes he never even had to try.

���Stay,” he whispers into your neck. 

It’s then that you suck in a deep breath, one that bullies its way into his own lungs too. The curve of your cheek presses into his temple, as if you might be smiling. There, something fills him just right.

He wants to look up and see if he’s fixed a few of those shreds, if he’s managed to at least squeeze a thread in there, within the broken seams. 

Perhaps he has, because your voice quivers less, and there’s that golden touch of hope in it, refreshing and bright—somehow louder than the sobs he’s been striving to take from you all night.

“Okay,” you breathe. “O-okay, I’ll stay.”

Thing is, you never leave. 

If not once or twice, with Simon in tow, carrying a few boxes in his hands with your initials scribbled on one side.

Until your books are on his shelves, your toothbrush on his sink, and your name on the doorbell, right next to his own.

[iamz8mbie]

i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend. i will not eat this weekend.

[lilysofthevalleys]

[nabbibutterfly]

I wanna cry, scream, hurt myself, and die so bad, but I just don't have energy for anything anymore...

I feel so damn exhausted

[themindofmine]

I feel like I’m already dead but I have to keep on living

[rainywhispersblog]

When you grow up in an abusive home, you don’t become a people pleaser to please people. You become a people pleaser to keep the potential for more abuse away.

[foxlungz]

They should invent a way to kill yourself that doesn’t disappoint anyone

[gonexinsane]

I’m a burden to everyone in my life