Sebastian Stan Imagines

Tommy Lee - Drunken Mad

Summary: Tommy's been drinking, and he came home mad, starting to argue with him. And there's only way he can snap out of it.

Warning: A little fluff, arguing, mention of self harm and threaten of knife use.

You heard the front door slam, and you looked up to see Tommy, wearing his white tank-top, dark blue jeans, jean chain, and his black belt. 

He trudged into the room, looking drunk.

"Hey Tommy," You said.

He grumbled, walking into the big walk in closet you both shared.

"Tommy?" You said, getting up and walking into the closet.

"What," He said, sternly.

"Uhm...the builders came in today," You said, as he removed his tank top, showing off all his tattoos, and he unbuckled his belt, throwing his jeans on the other side of the closet, leaving him in his black boxers.

"What's that gotta do with me?" He asked, angrily as he walked out of the closet.

You sighed, knowing what you were gonna have to do.

"That was rude, I'm sorry," He said. "We'll figure it out baby."

He cupped your cheek, and the smell of strong, recent alcohol filled your scents.

"Have you been drinking?" You said.

"No," Tommy said, pulling away and turning to walk away. 

"Tommy, don't you dare lie to me," You said. 

"Really? What happens if I do?" Tommy asked. "You're gonna break up with me?"

"What?" You said. "No!" 

"Oh really? Because I've been thinking about it, and you've been real distant from me lately," Tommy said.

"You mean you've been distant from me?" You said, opening your nightstand drawer that had a small knife.

"Oh I've been distant from you?" Tommys aid, scoffing. "I bet I have. And you know what, I don't blame myself. Because you've been a big, fucking bitch lately."

"Me?" You said, flinching and your heart breaking. Was this the end.

"Yeah you!" Tommy said. "Oh wait, maybe I'm talking about my other girlfriend!"

"Okay, now you're really trying to piss me off," You said.

"You started it!" Tommy yelled. 

"I didn't do anything!" You shouted. "I try to be there for you, but all you do is push me away!"

"You're not doing anything!" Tommy shouted back. "All I'm doing is being there for YOU! But you're not here! All I fucking do is to help you!"

"Well I hope you leave so I don't have to deal with this bullshit!" You said, then stopping, wishing you didn't say anything.

"You hope so?" Tommy said.

"You know what, I do," You said.

"Jesus Christ Y/n," Tommy said, he climbed over the bed, moving towards you, so you were about a foot away. Before he could raise a hand, you whipped out the knife, holding it so the blade was grazing against your wrist.

Tommy's eyes widened.

"Woah, woah, Y/n, stop," He said. He took a step forward, but you backed up, pressing the blade into the skin until blood started to drip. "Y/n, stop it!"

"I loved you Tommy," You whispered. "I tried to help you, but all you're doing is drinking, trying to rub the pain away! You wanna see what I've been doing?"

Throwing the knife on the ground, you tore off your shirt, revealing cuts all over your arm stomach, chest, and leading to your back.

"Holy. Shit," Tommy said. 

"Don't make me do another one," You said. "I didn't mean it when i said 'leave me'. If you leave me I might as well kill myself."

Tommy didn't answer. He was scanning every scar, every bruise, everything you've been doing to yourself. Tears ran down his face as he finally made eye contact with you.

"Why, Y/n?" He asked.

"Because you're GONE!" You said. "I love you so much it hurts. It hurts me, so instead of drinking, I do this to myself, hoping the bleed the pain away."

Tommy didn't answer again. 

You left the bedroom, taking the knife with you and going downstairs. You put on your shoes, grabbed a jacket and zipped it up, before walking out the front door.

You threw the knife into a nearby dumpster, before going behind your house to your backyard.

You walked up one of the hills that looked over the city, and you stared.

Rolling up one of your sleeves, you stared at the cuts.

"What's wrong with you?" "Sorry, maybe it's my, OTHER GIRLFRIEND!" "Everything I do is fucking for you!""Jesus Christ Y/n!"

Tommy's words echoed through your head, as you rolled down your sleeve. 

You turned on your heels, walking back inside your home.

The dog greeted you, even though you were gone for about 10 minutes, and all the lights were out.

Tommy probably went to bed.

Removing your jacket that revealed your scars, you walked into your bedroom, to see Tommy, lying on his side.

Your anger went away, and was replaced with sadness.

You walked into the bathroom, turning on the light and almost wincing at the sight of you.

"Jesus Christ," You whispered, grazing your fingertips over each scar. "That is ugly."

You walked across the bedroom, grabbing one of Tommy's shirts and threw it over you, walking back into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Turning off the bathroom light, you sighed, climbing into bed.

As soon as you laid down, Tommy's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him as he sobbed into your neck.

"I'm sorry!" He sobbed. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."

You turned yourself over, smashing your lips against Tommy's.

"We can both agreed you fucked up," You said, when you pulled away. "So we have to start figuring out how we're gonna deal with this bullshit."

You used your thumb to wipe away some of Tommy's tears.

"Can I see your scars?" He whispered, and you sighed.

"They're ugly, Tommy," You said. "Don't look at 'em."

Tommy kissed your neck, leaving a trail down to the top of your breasts.

"Please," He whispered.

Sighing, you removed the baggy shirt, and Tommy switched on the lamp, staring at each scar.

He placed one kiss on each scar, whispering praises and love to you as your tangled your fingers into his hair.

"I love you, Y/n L/n," He said. "And I'm sorry."

Sooo, how did we feel on that one?

Guys, I'm SERIOUSLY RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS I'M LITERALLY GONNA EXPLODE FROM A WRITER'S BLOCK! SOMEONE HELP!

Let me know if we want more imagines like this, it was interesting to write.

Chao!