Hi! I was wondering if you could could do bakugo with a depressed and self-harming s/o? Shes trying so hard not to do but it was one of those days that the urge was almost impossible to ignore? Sorry if its too dark, i just feel this very mood rn. Sorry to bother you and i love your work ❤️💕
This would never bother me love. Please feel free to message me should you need me. You have my full support and I will always help you to my best abilities.
MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU'LL LOSE THE BATTLE. I KNOW YOU ARE STRONG YOU CAN DO THIS.
It sat on your shoulder, weighing down on your mind, body and soul. Wispy fingers digging into flesh as it peers over you too curious for it's own good.
It smiles a jagged tooth smile as it sees what has your heart and mind racing so erratically. It morphs all on it's own as you stare at the 34% written in blotchy red ink and it seems to whisper with a gravely voice.
You twist at your skin on your forearms agitating old scars that burn to be reopened and picked over for the next few weeks. Your forearm reddens from the Indian burn you're giving yourself all the while your mind stays on a dark loop. Repeating things over and over as you try to understand this failing grade.
As you try to wrap your mind around how in the hell could this be your fifth one in a row.
You were going to fucking flunk, you were going to have to say good bye to your dreams, to all of your aspirations as a hero. You thought you might as well go back to the dorms and start packing now as you proved to yourself exactly what you've always known and exactly what it's always breathed down the nape of your neck.
The skin begins to bloom in blues and purples, much like a moody flower as you're absorbed in thought trying to break the cycle of it.
Trying to ignore the call of old burns on your ribs from your friends curling iron, trying so damn hard to not hear that the school is teaming with sharp objects to slice yourself with.
So absorbed really that you do not hear the bell dismissing school, only the rushing blood in your ears.
Oblivious to the burning eyes that watch your hand work, that have seen the scars in training but would never be shameless enough to ask.
He figured it out quickly, noticing with deft eyes the neatly set rows of dated scars, of their organization and as far as he knew you had never been captured.
A strong hand wraps around the wrist that has been twisting the past hour.
"Enough. It's just a grade. I'll help you study." All biting voice as his vice grip dies down. He has your backpack on what is normally his free shoulder. You blush furiously, feeling shame heat your cheeks as you hadn't realized you were being so obvious.
"Let's go Y/LN!" He shouts now from the door trying to keep the bite out of his voice.
He fails as the chair scrapes against the cold linoleum. He bites his lip waiting for you to fall into step.
The walk home is silent and awkward at best. Embarrassment creeps in reddish hues onto your cheeks as you think of who else may have seen you.
Who else noticed your unstable mind and insecure actions?
The thought has you subconsciously twisting again as thoughts swirl faster and faster as they think of what will relieve the tension.
Did you have any more razors? Surely one of the girls did, if not the corner store.
But did you have the extra cash?
As you rack your brain for either a hidden stash of instruments or cash it hits you. You had that lighter your stole ages ago. It only took 70 seconds for a burn to form. 70 agonizingly lovely seconds for your skin to warp and bubble until the pain was so numbing you felt your body go slack. Your brain finally giving you endorphins you so thoroughly craved.
And the best part about a burn is that it would hurt for weeks after, and especially so any time you introduced it to hear. Skin jaded from its previous encounter with unpleasantly warm.
Just as your nails begin to break skin a calloused hand has gripped your wrist once more. Hand slipping into yours while intertwining fingers in a bone crushing grip.
"Whatever it is you're thinking. You better not." Its a threat that actually scares you.
How had he read your mind? You swallow thickly while trying not to look any more suspicious under his exceptionaly watchful eye.
Once the two of you reach the dorm he squeezes your hand tightly, slipping your back onto your shoulder before growling in your ear.
"Whenever you feel...down you come to me." His voice is darker than you've ever heard before he lets go of your hand waltzing into the dorms.
Days pass with the single thought of painful released flooding your system.
Anytime you reached for your lighter you thought of burning red eyes.
Of the wraith that would be looming in them.
You gulp down air as you try to fight it especially now that the inanimate object seems to have gained a voice.
A voice that echos what the wispy black beast that hangs onto your back screams in your ear.
It said it every time you were in the shower and around razor heads lying around, screeched when it saw the sharp edge of a broken tile in the bathroom. It yelled it during practice as you watched Todoroki's flame lick greedily at the ground, at the walls of the fake city.
Dancing in the sunlight as if it were a savior, calling out to be caressed as the paint beneath bubbled and warped.
Your fingers had reached out. Had begun to feel the heat.
Until you were so selfishly ripped away by strong hands and heated scarlet eyes.
Shoving you to continue the mission.
It took on new words now as you reached for your box in your closet. Taking down the black shoe box of sad poems and long forgotten notes from long forgotten friends.
And as you stare down at the scratched chrome rectangle, flopping open the top.
You still hear that magical sound of sloshing butane. Now you just have to hope the flint is still good. Hesitation seizes your muscles as your thumb rests on the steel wheel, is this really such a good idea?
Think of all of the people who abandoned you when they found out.
Think of the hurt shining in your parents eyes when they saw the scars littering your body, wondering what they did to make you so unhappy.
Think of how you only feel smaller when you do it.
You're about put it away, seal it back in its black converse labeled coffin when that wispy small thought you'd tried so hard to talk over is finally heard.
*"But think of how good it feels in the moment."*
With that your thumb comes fully down, the flint sparks igniting the soaked wick that now dances in the comfort of your room.
Singing its praises, asking you to come closer for a reward.
You listen, bringing your hand down slowly over the lit lighter, as the heat turns from pleasantly warm to Redding burn.
Closer still you push your palm until your skin is in the flame. Silently ticking by the seconds.
35 have passed as you're halfway there, the smell of skin is staring to waft onto the air as your skin has already become distorted, discolored as the flames lovingly leave your with a heated numbness.
A knock comes at the door, earning you a small yelp. Suddenly the fire has become hot, burning as you flick closed the top and drop the lighter.
"J..just a minute." You call out starring at your palm gripping at your wrist.
"Hurry up. We don't have much time to study before bed. Your retake is in two days." His voice comes out gruff starling you even more.
You hadn't asked for Bakugou's help, so why was the hot head barking on the other side of your door.
This was getting worse by the second. With nothing to wrap your hand it you tell yourself you'll be able to hide it as you reach for the doorknob. Causing a pain to shoot from your hand all the way up to your shoulder as you force the fried nerves onto a cool surface. Twisting as you go.
Maybe it wasn't your best idea to use it on your dominate hand.
"We c...can go to the common room and study." You suggest but barges himself in anyway standing just inside your door as he thinks of the best way to avoid the landmine of clothes and books scatter across the hardwood.
"Too loud." He dismisses finding the perfect path to your desk.
The perfect path that has his boot toeing the lighter. Causing it to skid into his sight. He leans over to pick it up, feeling the warmth coming from it and finally placing the odd smell that lingers in your room.
He glares over his shoulder as your heart pounds in your throat, causing a lump to form as you see what you told yourself was going to be there.
Especially so with how neatly he sets down the test materials, stepping with precise foot steps before he stands in front of you.
Heated sugar begins to flood the room before a few uncontrolled pops ring our over his shoulders and forearms.
"What's this?" He asks calmly which scares you more than anything and when you cannot answer he notices you hiding your dominate hand.
"N..n..nothing Bakugou. I...I found it on campus and thought it looked cool. I wanted to..to keep it." You stumble with frayed nerves as you avoid his eyes, telling a half truth. You do collect odd things that you find. Thinking they bring you fortune and you did find the zippo on campus, just not this one.
He looks you over debating before he grits his teeth. Hand causing the lighter to explode.
"And then you lie to me." He comes out dark, rubbing you the wrong way as you think of all the other faces his match right now.
As you remember that they gave you their backs becoming nothing more than memories and empty promises immortalized on line paper that rots in a coffin made of a black converse box.
You cannot stop the tears as you fall to the floor. Crying loudly and openly, large droplets raining down onto your shirt and the hard wood floor.
Bakugou's own heart lodges in his throat as he stares down at you.
Per the usual fucking up how you're supposed to react.
This wasn't supportive like the internet had said. Nor was it loving.
Hell, if anything this was the exact opposite of what was advised to do. And here he stood losing his temper over something you clearly struggled with.
The worst part to him was that there was nothing he could do to change this, to alter how you feel. To stop you all together and force you into a different, more healthy coping mechanism.
No all he could was watch from the sidelines.
And Bakugou Katsuki was a starter.
He sighs sinking to his knees pulling you into him as you stain his pressed shirt. Dampen it until nothing else comes out and the numbness begins to set in.
All the while he smooths down your hair and let's his hand travel down your back in a loving warm touch. When he thinks you are done he pushes you away so he can stare into your gorgeous eyes and admits what he never thought he would.
"I can't fix this for you. I can't take it away. I cant fight it off. Kiss it away. Fuck it away. Or rip the urge from your body." He squeezes your shoulders tightly, "Only you can do that."
The two of you stay quiet as you realize the weight of his words.
"You're the only one strong enough to fight this. I can support you, I can be a shoulder to cry on, a punching bag whatever. But I can't fucking fix this for you." Another pop from his shoulders before he let's out a shaking sigh, "But I sure as fuck believe in you. You stopped once. You can stop again. As long as you keep getting back up Y/N it doesn't matter that you *ever* fell. So please....please let me help you. Let me be that shoulder, that punching back. That void you vent to."
More tears glisten in your eyes as he kisses your forehead, he pulls you back into another death grip hug, voice threatening to crack as he adds.
"Please let me help you kick this things ass."
