TVD imagines/preferences

Damon Salvatore- Support

TRIGGER WARNING: reader self harm
(Please read A/N at the end)
//Damon finding you self harming//

It was a case of "it's not you, it's me". Your friends were your everything, they were always there for you, although they didn't exactly know everything that was going on. And you were sure that if they knew, they would do everything they could to try and help, but there was no way you would say a word.

But all the love you had for your friends was nothing to drown out the raging battle you fought with yourself on a daily basis. You were constantly torn between thoughts of "I'm not good enough", stemming down to "I'm ugly", and over time, it took it's toll.

>>

You sat in your bedroom in the Lockwood mansion- having moved into the huge house with your cousin Matt, so as he wouldn't be completely alone.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as you huddled yourself into your bed. As much as you appreciated being alone some of the time, you hated being lonely- being left with nothing but your thoughts.

The thoughts started flooding in after mere minutes of Matt leaving for work. Stupid. Ugly. Useless. Weak. Pathetic. These words flew through your mind, and although you knew they were harsh, you couldn't help but find truth behind them.

You bit your bottom lip in an effort to contain your tears- a tactic that proved worthless. Looking down at your sleeve, you slowly lifted it up to view the dozens of small scars that littered your forearms. The painful memories hit you like a tonne of bricks, and mixed with the self critical ideologies swimming through your head, it was enough to push you over the edge and barreling back into old habits.

>>

You staggered into the bathroom, your tears blurring your vision as you rummaged through the drawers for what you so desperately craved, what you felt like you needed to take away the pain.

The sobs quietened when you finally found it. A blade. It was terrible, really. You knew that. But it had gotten to the point where the only thing you felt would take away the emotional pain, was the physical.

Sliding down the side of the wall, you slumped onto the cold tiles, blade in hand as the shiny metal hovered over your arm.

You could barely feel it. You were completely numb to the stinging sensation that followed such an act, but the blood told you the blade had done it's job.

Being totally consumed in the moment, you didn't hear anything around you. Not the tap dripping into the empty sink, not the buzzing of the t.v from downstairs, and not the sound of Damon knocking on the front door.

>>

He stood there, knocking on the door, waiting to see your smiling face when you came down to open it. Matt had told him you were home, so he thought he'd pay you a visit- have a drink.

He could have just walked in considering he had already been invited, but he thought it a nicer gesture to await permission. After a while, and still no response, he stepped back a little to get a view of the second floor window, a look of confusion and slight worry consuming his face.

He zoned in on the house, drawing all of his senses to it to determine whether or not you were home. That's when he smelt the blood. His body stiffened and his eyes darted to the front door before swinging it open and storming into the house. Following the strong scent, it led him upstairs where he scoured the area for you in utter worry. That was until he walked passed the bathroom, door wide open, and your weak figure leaning over the sink- water gushing over your forearm as streaks of red pooled down the drain along with it.

"y/n," He sighed, his heart aching in his chest as he put two and two together, realizing what you had done. What you had been doing. Your eyes snapped up at the now clear sound of his voice, tears still staining your cheeks as you looked at him like a child who had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Damon." You gasped, "I- I was-"

"Hey, talk to me. I can help you." He soothed, his eyes fixated on yours with the upmost of empathy you had ever seen as he slowly inched toward you.

You never wanted Damon, of all people to see you that way. But at the same time, you were glad it was him to have found you.

His eyes flickered from yours, down to your arm for a split second. And you could almost see his heart breaking in his gaze as he quickly moved to grab a towel.

"I'm sorry." You choked out as he pulled your arm from under the running water and wrapped it in the small towel.

"Don't be." He hushed softly. "Just know that you can beat this, and you don't have to do it alone." The words left his lips in an almost whisper.

"Thank you, Damon." You sighed. A giant weight lifted off of your shoulders as he pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly. Someone knew. Damon knew. You weren't alone in the battle anymore, and you knew that having him by your side was all the extra force you needed to beat it.

I want to start by saying this; do NOT romanticize the idea of mental illness and self harm. I tried to make this imagine as cautious as possible considering the touchy content, and I rolled with the story in that it ends with the reader finally having someone to help them through it and support them, not; "and then he kissed me and told me he loved me and now everything is okay and I'm all better" because that's bullshit.

Mental illness and self harming are not something to gush over. It is not cute, nor is it romantic, or something that a cute boy can come and hug away to make everything all better. It is serious and not something to be taken lightly.

If any single one of you ever wants to talk to somebody, I'm happy for you to send me an inbox, but please seek the help of professionals who can really help. There are websites such as BeyondBlue and HeadSpace that offer free, online, confidential chats with professionals if your uncomfortable with being face to face.
Thank you to MusicR0yalHulk for the idea!x

Please stay safe and do whatever makes you happy, I love you all.xx