One Direction Self Harm Fanfiction Novels & Stories

Zane caught up with me as he held my arm and asked, “When will I see you again?” “Soon,” I smiled at him and then left. *** TRIGGER WARNING!! — This part of the chapter contains vivid fictional description of self-harm. The attempts were made by the author, who has a personal history of self-harm herself. This is not meant to hurt any sentiments and if you are prone to such content, kindly skip this one and read chapter 35 in which everything about this part will be explained, without the descriptions and graphic content. -Amelia's POV- I reached home in a haste, a little upset that I couldn’t spend more time with Zane and my friends, but anyway, I know I have to be mentally prepared to hear

“She left because I was obsessed. I didn’t know how to stop. I beat up her boyfriend. Put him in the hospital.” Damien didn’t move. “They locked me in rehab,” I continued, voice trembling. “I escaped. I went back and did it again. I ruined his face.” My breath hitched. “I almost killed her.” Silence filled the room. I laughed weakly. “I’m not proud of it. I hate that version of me. But it exists.” Damien finally spoke. “And?” I looked up, confused. “And you lived,” he said calmly. “You got help. You survived yourself.”

“It only hurts more when you fight.” Odesa placed two fingers against the center of his sternum. His heart stuttered. Nerisa touched his forehead with the pads of her fingers. The world caved inward. His memories burst open, spilling like silk threads in their hands. His shame. His impulses. His violence. His intoxication. The slap. The tear. The breathless, terrified sound Althea made when she broke beneath his grip. They sifted through it all with terrifying calm. When they were done, they left the pieces inside him - disordered, frayed, never to align the same way again.

Father just knows how to push me to the wall. Angrily, I banged my hand on the wall, ending up with a cut but it was nothing. It didn’t feel the pain and it was always that way. Self-harm always calms me down. I walked to the drawers in the room and grabbed and opened one until the white first aid box came to view. I picked it out, brought out the bandaid, and wrapped it around my knuckles, ignoring the sting that I was feeling. The moment I dropped the box back, the door was pushed open and Nick entered with Liam trailing behind him. “Phineas, I am sorry to come here unannounced.” Liam apologized sitting as Nick offered him a seat.

The last thing that I want is for my own words to get me into a dangerous position again! “No!” That was all that I answered to him before I marched towards my room! I slammed the door and then I heard his laugh from inside of my room! But that night, I touched myself before going to sleep. I hate it but I love it. It was a sin for me that will remain within me forever. Because that night, I fantasized about Bullet. We are doing bad things that we did just a few nights ago.

Damian's POV The first tendrils of dawn, pale and unforgiving, pierced through the towering windows of the penthouse, doing little to dispel the glacial grip of the night within me. I remained a fixture in the shattered landscape of the bar, a monument to a night consumed by a potent cocktail of whiskey and raw, unadulterated fury. Empty bottles, like fallen soldiers, lay scattered around me, their fractured reflections mirroring the fragments of my own composure. My shirt, a rumpled, whiskey-stained testament to my descent, clung to me uncomfortably. A dull, persistent ache throbbed behind my jaw, a constant reminder of the hours spent clenching it, while my head pulsed with a relentless rh

I kept walking without paying attention to direction because nowhere felt like home anymore. After some time, I stopped near the roadside and pulled my phone from my bag. I switched to my secondary account and opened T*****r. Even though I already knew what I would find, I still wanted to see it for myself. It felt necessary, like I needed to confirm everything with my own eyes, even if it meant hurting myself further.

I murmured, “that it’s not even about them anymore? It’s about how they make you feel. How they pull out the ugliest parts of you, and you still keep crawling back like a sick little dog looking for scraps.” James stared at me. “You’re creeping me out, bro.” I gave a half-smile, not looking at him. “Just let me vent.” “But you only met the dude since like a couple of days.” I picked up my phone, browsed through my DMs without reading them, and stared blankly at the OnlyFans notification still sitting there. Anonymous69 posted. That was me. That was us. And I fucking hated it. “Get me another drink,” I said.

I feel so helpless. Self-harm is not the solution to get out of the problem but I seem to like that option lately. I don’t want to react the way I react when he is close to me. I don’t want to please him but I somehow do it willingly after being aroused. I haven’t done anything serious yet; just a few pinches and slaps. I want to share my thoughts with someone. I want to take advice from someone that is not Austin but there is no one to give me company in such a hard time except for the beast himself.

I know I sound completely unhinged right now, but I’ve officially lost every last ounce of self-control I ever possessed. Like, tragically, desperately and erotically gone. If there’s a special circle of hell reserved for shameless Omegas who finger-fuck themselves senseless while moaning their best friend’s father’s name into a hotel pillow, I already have my reserved seat. Front row. VIP with no escape. And the scary part? I don’t even care anymore. All of it—every whimper, every tremble, every desperate thrust of my fingers is for him......Damien Blackthorn.