James Phelps| One Shots

HurtYou|James

Warning: Possible abuse triggers. Self harm mentioned

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      Once again I picked up myself off the bathroom floor. Once again he promised to never hurt me again; and once again I blamed myself for what happened, I didn't mean to anger him, I hadn't realized the damage I had done to myself until it was over. I washed my face of the tears and blood on my fingertips.

I pulled over my favorite knit sweater, and headed to work on the chilly morning the day after the incident.

"Hey Fred." I said as I walked into his trailer with the four coffees in my hand.

"Hey." James smiled at the nickname I refused to let go of.

"Brought you something." I handed him a warm white cup as he sat in his chair. I wasn't being called in to work for a few hours. But I couldn't stand being at the house.

"Oh, you didn't have to." He said, sounding surprised like he did every time I brought him a coffee, donuts, or basically anything.

"I wanted to." I smiled at him, "and I brought you guys some too." I absentmindedly stretched my arm out in front of James, handing his makeup and hair girls their cup.

That was dumb of me. I pulled my hand back instantly as I handed the cups away, tugging at my sleeves.

"It's pretty cold outside." I shrugged to myself as I leaned against the makeup counter, trying my best to avoid his eyes. I knew he'd seen.

"Hey," James got to his feet and scratched the back of his head, "can you give us a minute?" He asked the two women.

They smiled, nodded, and walked out, getting lost in their own conversation. I watched as James walked to the door and closed it.

I stared at the floor, his brown shoes coming into view as he stood a few feet away.

"Is everything alright?" He asked me.

I nodded at the floor.

"Y/n." He took a step closer, leaning down to the side trying to meet my eyes, "You can talk to me about it."

I bit my lip.

"If that bastard is hurting you, you need to tell me." He said.

I closed my eyes, a damn tear slid down my face. I reached up and brushed it away.

He caught my hand, I did nothing to pull away. He slid the sleeve down, exposing my badly bruised wrist. I gave up and showed him my other wrist which was hurt just as bad.

"Jesus, Y/N." he whispered.

"I need help James." I admitted, "I'm in a bad place." I hesitantly turned to the side, lifting my shirt and sweater slightly, exposing the day old wounds on my side, where no one could see.

"Oh my god y/n." I felt his fingertips lightly touch over the wounds, "You did this to yourself?"

I nodded, admitting it out loud to someone for the first time.