TW:!! THIS FANFIC HAS SELF HARM, AND BLOOD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
Request: Can I ask for Jean x fem reader? angst(self-harm-reader) to fluff?
A/N: sorry this turned out shorter than i expected!
Jean sighed, tapping her fingers against her desk. Her eyes moved down to watch the clock laying on her desk, before flicking back up to the door of her office. Normally she wasn’t one to nitpick details, but when you started being more tired, not around as much, she got worried. You usually weren’t one to make her wait for long which only made your lack of presence worse. She let out another exhale and stood up to her full height, letting her heels clack against the floor slightly. She was going to go find you and ask you what was wrong. Jean was prone to worrying even if you asked her not to, its just in her nature. Jean began a brisk pace out of her office. She found herself walking towards the library instead of the door.
“Ah Jean, won’t you be a dear and help me bring all these books down to Kaeyas office?” Lisa asked, not even bothering to turn around and meet the blonde’s eyes, if she had she would’ve been able to pick up on Jean’s distress. Jean found herself smiling a bit in Lisa’s presence, her friend was always there for her no matter the trouble.
“Oh, i actually had a question for you…” Jean said, her thoughts trailing off at the end as she stared at the pile of books Lisa was working on. She wasn’t interested in the books, Kaeyas business was his own after all, she was just thinking on how to word what she wanted to ask. Lisa spun and upon meeting Jean’s thinking face let out an amused puff of air.
“Looking for Y/n?” Lisa smiled and quirked an eyebrow at the Acting grandmaster. The slight blush that crept on Jean’s face and the way her gaze snapped up from the books infront of her to meet Lisa’s was enough to give the mage her answer. “Well actually..” Lisa started, her brows furrowing as she thought back on the strange girl. “I haven’t seen her around much recently. The cutie came over to give Klee her hat back and then left and I haven’t seen her since.” Lisa shrugged. It really wasn’t her business to keep track of Y/n, Though she did note that the young girl hadn’t been coming by to visit Jean, or Klee, nearly as often as normal. Jean sighed and gave Lisa a slight bow.
“I’d love to help you with your books but-” The electro mage cut her companion off with a wave of the hand and a snort.
“Go on now, I’m sure she will be thrilled to see you stop by.” Jean smiled and let out a quick thank you before dashing out of the library.
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Jean arrived at your house’s door. She smiled at the small place, She had helped you pick it after all, and even saved with you to make the downpayment on the place. Her and you had such sweet memories there, Cooking, dancing together to silly songs, you braiding her hair in different patterns before work, watching klee- well maybe the last one wouldn’t exactly be sweet. Jean lightly knocked on the front door trying not to anxiously rock on her heels.
“Y/n?? It’s me, Jean. We were supposed to meet today?” She tried not to call it a date, though it really was. After a few moments of no response she knocked again. “Y/n??” her voice was gradually getting more distressed. The idea that you weren’t home briefly crossed her mind. “Better be safe than sorry…” she mumbled to herself already thinking of places to check after. “I’m coming in!” She announced to the door. While Jean was more than ready to go grab the spare key you kept hidden for her, what she wasn’t ready for was the door being unlocked, and what she was even less ready for was the smell of iron, the smell of blood hitting her. The familiar smell brought back images of battles, images of wounds. The din of the streets behind her was suddenly overpowered by her heart pounding in her ears. What if you were hurt? Did somebody attack you? Did you get hurt in battle and not tell her? Should she get the healers now or later? A single sound broke through her thoughts. It was shuffling from the other room.
Jean rushed to the other room, her body kicking into overdrive. She didn’t even bother closing the front door behind her, anyone who would try and do anything shady would pay later. As soon as Jean turned the corner her eyes widened at what she saw. Your room was a mess, bottles of cider or even a few of wine littered on the floor. Tissues everywhere, there were cups and plates stacked to the roof of your room. The most concerning sight was you sitting on your bed, holding a small cloth to your arm, the cloth was a dark grey, but it had visible dark red stains blotting it. Next to you on a different small cloth was a square sharpened piece of metal, what to her dismay looked like an arrowhead turned more into a blade on one end. Your eyes flashed up to meet hers, she looked so scared. Jean was scared, she was terrified.
While Jean may be one to push herself into denial, she knew exactly what was happening here. The way you looked at her in shame and shock, eyes wide and watery with clear tear stains running down your face. She wanted to hold you, kiss you and tell you’d it’d be okay, to cradle you in her arms and never let you go again, but she also wanted to yell, to ask you what the hell you were doing, why you would hurt yourself, why didn’t you tell her, did you not trust her? This wasn’t about her however, Jean took in a shaky breath and extended her arms in front of her passively.
“Hey there darling….” her voice was soft and calm. She sounded comforting and warm, like she had it under control despite the slight shake in her slow steps towards you. Warm tears started to stream down your face as you watched the way she looked at you. You never wanted to make her sad, or worried, but here she was in front of you, concerned and almost crying. You pushed the towel a little harder against your wrist without thinking about it, the push caused you to flinch at the pain. Jean made her way to the edge of the bed and knelt slightly in front of it. You watched her with curious and guarded eyes. Why wasn’t she yelling at you? You deserved to be yelled at. Jean reached out a tentative hand to your wrist, causing you to instinctively pull away from her. She grimaced at this, as if your denial of her caused her physical pain.
“…Can i please heal it? It will do much better than the rag…” Jean asked, her voice soft and barely above a whisper. You looked at her almost suspiciously. The blonde watched with bated breath as you mumbled
“I……i don’t want you to see it…” you swallowed after you finished. Your throat was dry and aching at you to drink water, it caused your voice to come out low and horace. Just hearing you talk seemed to put a crack in Jeans composure, she knew she shouldn’t, but she was blaming herself for letting this happen. Jean looked up at you with pleading eyes.
“I want to help you, Y/n… please” The last word left the knights voice weakly, a gentle plea. The look of sadness in her eyes made your heart ache and caused you more pain then anything you had done to your body. Drawing in a breath of air and turning your head you removed the cloth from your wrist, wincing as it caused the cuts to begin to ooze again. Nothing could compare to the way your entire body tried to retreat at the gasp that left Jeans mouth. You felt so ashamed, so… dirty, so gross. You closed your eyes not wanting to see it yourself. After a moment a warm hand moved to gently touch the bottom of your arm, the injured part. You could feel it trembling as it tried to steady your arm. Jean gently guided your arm forward to rest on your leg, and moved her hand to hover above the injury. The sensation of flowing cool air surrounded the top of your arm, creating a tingling sensation you recognized as the wound slowly closing.
Jean’s other hand, still gloved, reached out and took the Bloody towel from you, setting it down on the floor next to you. What shocked you was when she grabbed your uninjured arm and started guiding it somewhere. A sob found its way rising to your throat when your free hand connected with Jean’s face, it was wet, she had been crying.
“Y/n…..” her voice cracked. Archons that hurt. You opened your eyes and shifted them down to look at her, and what you saw will be forever burned into your brain. One of jeans hands had created a bubble of ameno slowly healing your arm, her other was holding your hand to her cheek, her lips were trembling, her eyes were streaming tears that now made your hand wet. She looked so sad…. Had you really done this? “…why” was all she asked. She was shaking but trying her best to conceal it. You opened your mouth to talk, to say anything, to give her a reason why. She was sitting inches away in front of you, staring up with pleading eyes.
“I-…. i don’t…” you trailed off. How were you supposed to think when all you wanted to do was comfort her, tell her you were okay even if you weren’t, even if that was what got you into this mess, you didn’t want her to worry or cry over you. Jeans head fell forward and met your lap, her body shaking into sobs she couldn’t control anymore. The hand that was once on her face left suspended in air.
“I was so worried-” she choked out. The hand that was with yours left to fall forward and hold onto the leg of your pants, to hold onto you. “You didn’t come by- and when i got here and smelt the blood i-” she got cut off from her own cries. Your injured arm had stopped bleeding by now, but would still need time to fully heal or you would re-open the wounds. Your free arm reached down and pushed its way into her hair, hoping the simple familiar gesture would comfort her in someway. You watched her shoulders shake as she held onto you and cried. Small “im sorrys, im so sorry” was all you could muster out, you were now crying too. The two of you stayed like that, her head hidden in your lap, clutching your clothes as if you’d vanish in front of her if you didn’t. After moments of silence, only filled with quiet sobs and whispered apologies, Jean raised her face to look at you.
“Promise me.” her voice came out clearer than it had since she entered the building. Her bright blue eyes piercing yours in a resolute. “Promise me you won’t….” the words hurt her too much to say, her quick glance at your injured wrist told you enough about what she was referring to. “Promise me you won’t. Promise me you will talk to me, or someone….please” the grip she had on your clothes squeezed, you couldn’t tell if it was to emphasize what she had asked of you, or if it was unintentional. You leaned forward, maintaining eye contact as you lightly tapped your forehead to hers.
“I promise you.”