#They unintentionally betray him…and that sets him off…and he can’t see past his own hurt and anger… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aetherarf · 3 years

Note

Can you write some hurt/comfort jeanluc (Jean x Diluc) where it takes place after Diluc is sexually assaulted and Jean hears that Diluc is injured (based off the injuries in the post you made about them) so she goes to visit him and he tells her what happened? Maybe she stays there with him for a while and comforts him and helps him around with his injuries?

Good......... Here u go

[[ WARNING: INJURY, TALK OF RAPE, ANGST ]]

[[ Summary: Barbara, innocently enough, tells Jean that Diluc had come to the Cathedral, but the other sisters' wouldn't let her near... Jean ends up going to see what happened, only for something she couldn't have imagined being the truth.

Word Count: 3'552 ]]

A rare few moments, where Jean and Barbara rested peacefully near each other--Barbara was reading some book, and Jean was writing some paperwork of someone who she arrested under...

Dubious conditions.

"You know," Barbara said, eyes not off of her book, "I saw Diluc just a day or two back."

"Oh yeah?" Jean asked, she had wanted to speak with him about... Many things. But she knew she couldn't, he was likely in a lot of pain, still.

"He was brought to the Cathedral..." Barbara lifted her head, looking at nothing, "The other Sisters wouldn't let me see him... And made me leave."

Jean froze, staring blankly forward, before jerking her head to look at her sister.

"Do you know why?"

Barbara looked at her, all sweetness and innocence, "They said that they couldn't teach me... Too many wounded. I wish I could help, but... I guess I can't."

"Was Diluc wounded?" Jean asked, nearly jumping up from her seat.

"Huh? Oh... Actually, probably. I didn't see him, but... I don't think he was standing..." Suddenly, her expression was quite shocked, "I... I guess I didn't think about it... "

There was an awkward silence.

"... Are you... Going to go see him?" Barbara asked.

... how could she not? But how could she abandon her sister, who was the world to her?

"No, I promised I'd spend today with you."

Jean smiled, but it was all pain and lies.

The guilt--of both making her sister worry, and not going to find the truth about Diluc, ate at her all day...

She did her best to try and enjoy the little time with her sister, giving her a hug before bed...

And she sat, finishing some forgotten paperwork until she figured Barbara was asleep, grabbed an overcoat, and found her way to the Cathedral, ignoring the bitter winds and sharp rain pounding down on her, slipping inside, and shutting the door as quickly as she could, gasping for air from the battle.

"Ah, Miss Gunnhildr," Jean jumped at the sudden voice, spinning around to see Sister Victoria looking at her, more than a little exhausted, and somewhat spooked.

"Greetings, Sister," Jean nodded respectfully, "I... Apologize for coming in at this hour, but..."

There was a silence hanging between both of them, a moment of painful hesitation.

"I had... Heard that... Sir Ragnvindr had... Been... Brought to the Cathedral under... Dubious conditions. I wanted to see what... I would like to understand the full situation." She explained, finally.

"Well..." Sister Victoria hesitated, "He is alive." But not well. If a sister did not mention wellness, it meant something awful. "He has been under intensive care for the past two days," she said, rather blunt compared to her past words.

"Intensive-" Jean echoed. "Intensive care?"

Sister Victoria looked as though she was ready to cry. "Well, the sisters are in disbelief of what he, uhm, claims to have happened, as well as I will not betray his trust in us." She said, honestly, "He has not been accepting visitors, and does not want his presence of being in the Cathedral known."

Victoria was a smart woman. She knew Jean was one of the three... Two, two people alive who could possibly get to Diluc, with how, especially as of late, he has made his mind into a fortress, every door barred and locked, windows nailed closed with wooden planks and massive bookshelves keeping them sealed...

Only three people had been able to jimmy the locks, wiggle enough room to find their way in, and to find Diluc, sobbing alone within, to console his true self.

There were now two, and Jean was one, even if she did not have half the freedom to his 'fortress' as Kaeya may.

"Would you ask him," she said, cautiously, "If he is willing to see me and me alone?"

Sister Victoria smiled weakly, "Of course. Please, wait a moment."

Jean nodded, with a smile that faded into pure despair as she was out of sight... She was tired, so she opted to walk to the backmost pew, and sat down, her head in her hands, arms propped up with elbows on her legs...

...

Diluc, do you not trust me?

Did you not even tell Kaeya?

Do you just want to suffer alone?

...

"You know, Diluc isn't as strong of a man as you'd think."

Jean jumped with a gasp, jerking to look at the woman next to her--a sister, Rosaria if memory holds.

"I," she swallowed thickly, "Please don't scare me like that."

Rosaria took a long drag of her cigarette, and blew it in the opposite direction of Jean, "I was always sitting here. You just came and sat next to me." She said plainly, her eyes dead as she stared right at her...

Jean wondered, for a moment, was she truly always there, or trying to toy with her in this moment of vulnerability...

But then her initial words hit her, and Jean was not offended--she was angry.

"Diluc is the strongest person I know--" she hesitated for a moment, as though trying to get a breath of air from simply forgetting to breathe, "Maybe the strongest person in Mondstadt." She finally said, finding herself much more stiff and poised than before.

Rosaria, carelessly, looked at the cigarette in her hand, toying with it, before setting it near her lips, and speaking, "Do you think he's strong all the time, then?" She then finally put it between her lips, and inhaled.

"N-No, no, of course not," she felt... weak. She was so tired, but she wasn't about to let someone slander him when... When he was already so bad off. "No one's strong all the time, but when he is strong, no one can compare."

Rosaria froze, the cigarette away from her mouth but smoke in her lungs... she exhaled, and it huffed through her nostrils, like a comedic depiction of an angry bull... but instead of being angry, her expression was less frozen and harsh, more... appeased.

"Maybe you actually do know the man, rather than just idolize him like that Donna girl.. " she said, a slight, sly smile on her features. "You want to know what happened to him, don't you?"

Jean was more baffled than anything, was this a test? To her own... friend? Mentor?

She didn't know what Diluc was to her anymore, but she knew that if he were to launch a revolution to put Vennessa to shame, she would be the first to stand beside him, no matter what.

"I do," she said, genuinely, "I'm scared for him."

Rosaria nodded, slowly, "You should be. He was weak around the wrong people, at the wrong time..."

She sighed, softly, looking away from Jean, at nothing in particular, if only to avoid the agony Jean's face may send... but then she snapped her head back at her,

"He was raped. Brutally. Men, women, he has no idea how many people were there, but not an inch of him was left clean." Jean had to fight herself from gagging at the image, but Rosaria continued anyway, "Bleeding from every hole, cuts on the most painful of places..." She grabbed Jean's jaw, roughly, "Can barely even speak from how they busted his jaw."

Her hand fell off of Jean's face, and slowly trailed back to fold over her own chest.

"No one was there he could trust when he was weak," she stubbed the last of her cigarette into the seat of the wooden pew, "And so he trusted people who used his trust against him, in desperation. And now, all the sisters are sitting here," she gestured to the pews, "Calling him a sexual deviant, who doesn't know how to tell the truth. Bitches, all of them." Rosaria declared, before standing up straight.

A little stunned at such behavior from a sister herself, but...

"... Did he," Jean asked, "Did he tell you to tell me?"

She let out a huff of laughter, "He's rather die than let anyone know of his pain."

A horrible sickness hit her, of course, she knew he was like that, but...

...

It was too late for regrets. This was between Rosaria and Diluc, for telling Jean.

"... Thank you," Jean looked up but, suddenly, Rosaria wasn't... There. Just disappeared into thin air.

Jean stood, looking around for the woman, or any hint that she was ever there... But no, not even the faintest marks on the ground, only some slightly wet bootprints Jean herself had, unintentionally, tracked in.

"Miss Gunnhildr?" A soft voice asked, and Jean turned her head to see Sister Victoria once again, "He... Is willing to see you. But, I..."

She looked so afraid,

"I must warn you, due to his, uhm, injuries, he is majorly unable to speak." She moved her hand to her jaw, "He can barely move his jaw more than a single fingers width."

Jean nodded, with a smile, "That's fine. I don't think I'm going to do much beyond sit beside him."

"That may be for the best," Victoria admitted, "This way."

It felt like the walk was far too long, to a small hallway with no more than four doors branching from the sides, and one at the very end. However, the room they turned to was the first on the left, and Diluc was in the bed, on his side, curled up in fetal position. How... weak he looked.

Was this what Rosaria meant...?

"Sir Ragnvindr, Miss Gunnhildr is here... I'll give you two your time."

Sister Victora had left as soon as she came, the door clicking shut softly, and Diluc and Jean remained there, in the deafening silence.

Jean took in the scene before her, the flashes of the disgusting images Rosaria forced into her mind blurring the true sight of Diluc before her.

...

How much he feel, to endure such a thing? She was being selfish.

Finally, the silence was shattered gently, like when a pebble had hit a massive pane of glass, and despite the soft click, it was followed by harsh cracking, and a web of cracks covering the pane, destroying it, but keeping it present as a broken entity.

Her footsteps were light on the ground, and she walked to the side of his bed he faced, and pulled a chair over, sitting in it, her hands on her lap, sitting resolute as she looked over him.

His eyes were closed. One arm was bandaged, likely broken from the casting around it, and his other arm was lifted to cover his face, almost bracing his own head from Jean's presence...

It reminded her of when she was in Liyue, briefly, and an earthquake struck, how many had fallen to the ground and shielded their heads with their arms.

It really hurt to see.

She reached over gently, and with the lightest touch she could, she grabbed his hand, trying to pry it away, so she could see his face. Even from his best attempt at obscuring himself, he could see that there were countless bandages, one eye covered, black blue bruising peeking out from underneath, and the bandages even covered much of his scalp, and wrapped around his jaw...

... Probably from whatever they did to him.

However, she didn't let go of Diluc's hand, keeping it as a reassuring presence, admittedly, more for herself than Diluc.

... But that's not what he needed. Likely, the Sisters had his hands on him endlessly, his body too weak to fight as his mind went in endless circles, eating itself alive with each and every movement.

Was it right? To bring up what he endured?

...

He deserved to know that she knew. She had no intention of sharing it, not even to Kaeya, unless Diluc requested her to deliver the news in his stead.

"Diluc," She said, pulling her hand from Diluc's, and petting his hair gently. How funny--he adored his hair, was so protective. Were she anyone else, even in this state, he would grab her wrist and force it away with an evil glare.

A smile appeared on her lips, oh, but the sight of seeing him like this forced it away all too quickly.

"I know you were... raped." She needed to say it as it was, there was no use in pretending it was anything less, "And I believe you. I only know what I've been told, but for now, I will believe that you were raped, and hurt. If you tell me otherwise, I will believe that instead."

And there it was, how he was hiding from her, curled up so tightly, it all finally unwound. His arm was no longer shielding his head, but it flopped to the bed, his body still curled in on itself, but his muscles weren't fighting the pain to remain tightly bound within himself, instead he had gone limp like a corpse.

But, luckily, his breathing seemed better, too. Actually--it was almost like he was gasping, she could hear how he roughly inhaled through his nostrils, lips sealed tight. He was very much alive, but...

...

A little bit of snot trickling down, and his one exposed eye was teary. The other--the bandage, it was slightly wet. Even with a bloody, bruised eye, it still shed tears.

His lips quivered, but his jaw didn't open--in his throat, there was the sound of muffled whines.

He was in so much pain, so much agony, he could not even sob.

Jean was unsure how she was going to survive this pain, watching him in such horrible misery. if she thought, for a second, that he may end up dying from this, and there was no other option, she would slice his throat herself and leave Mondstadt eternally, only her little sister in tow, should she wish to follow.

But, no, somehow it was worse, she had to watch him in this state, with complete unknowing if he was to survive, or if his soul was to survive.

Trauma broke people, turning them into husks of human beings.

It was a fate worse than death, to see and to exist with.

She looked around, and saw a box of tissues, reaching over and pulling it closer, and tugging one out, doing her best to wipe away anything that may cause him discomfort, tossing it away quickly.

He knew, he knew she knew... And he only continued to cry, not even to cry, to pathetically whimper, unable to do more from what his body was enduring. She had... she had heard horror stories, of women who were captured by Treasure Hunters, bandits, fiends and villains, left nearly dead...

But it was so much more real than any story could be, to see Diluc like this.

She tried to tuck his bangs--his hair was a mess overall--out of his face, only for it to fall back in the way. Unexpectedly, his hand grabbed her wrist, snatching it up with shocking agility...

And slowly, so slowly, she could realize how cold he was, how pale he was... He must've been suffering from blood loss.

He pressed her hand to his face, and she slowly shifted, making her hand a little less stiff and harsh, and he nuzzled into it weakly, barely moving, she couldn't even see him move, but rather felt it against her palm.

"Hmp... Huh... hurts," He finally voices, through tightly pursed lips--how he must've fought to speak this single word, a confession to her, to her alone.

Of course it hurts, anyone with eyes could see it, but it meant more, much more than the word he truly said.

I'm afraid, I'm scared and it hurts, it hurts so bad I can't handle it, I'm so scared.

Diluc, after all, was not a poet. He could write the sweetest verses and the most heartbreaking poems... But he could not speak up, truly better with the pen than with his voice. His voice spoke little, but meant so, so very much.

Only one other could understand this. The only other who was more deserving to be beside Diluc in this time than she herself.

But he wasn't there. He might never come be by his side like this, and he may never know.

"I know," She said, softly, "I don't know your pain, I know it's-it's horribly and terrifying and crippling... But I don't need to know that--I know that I'll be beside you as long as you'll have me."

He huffed out a sob, only to tense, and she froze, looking over his body--he was entirely tense, his body a little less curled up on itself, but frozen like he had just been shocked.

...

Oh, oh no, he hurt himself, his sob, his expression of pain, hurt him.

If she had any less self control, she'd want to be screaming in pain too... But she knew that her pain was nothing compared to Diluc's internal or external pain, much less both combined.

"it's okay," Gently, she ran her fingertips over his exposed skin, minding to be delicate, and he made a low whine, deep in his throat, "I promise."

Suddenly, Diluc had a tighter grip on her wrist, and pulled it almost to his shoulder, and once again, he tensed, electrified with the pain he caused himself. She jerked forward with shock, and looked down at his face, seeing one eye [ bloodshot as it was, with deathly dark rings under it ],

"Hey," she reassured, "Don't pull... Can you say anything? Tell me what you need?"

She felt so, so horribly cruel for asking this... but... she needed something. Assuming what he needed could end in catastrophy.

"Cl...cluh....ooh...sssshhh..."

"... Cluh... Close?" She asked, and, minutely, he nodded.

He wanted her close--Oddly. He was never a touchy person, even with her, but... It figures, when he is so weak and afraid, he must want comfort.

"Can you squeeze my wrist?" She asked, softly, "Squeeze for a second, and I'll get closer. Then let go when I'm close enough, okay?"

She shifted to get on her knees, thinking she'd have to have her upper half on the bed...

He squeezed her wrist, so she rested her free arm on the bed, and looked up at him.

Another squeeze.

She tried to get a little bit closer, even in the dim room, she could see how thin he looked in this moment.

Another squeeze.

Carefully, she lifted herself off her knees, and sat on the bed, seeing him tense in pain from the shift... She nearly moved, but--

Another squeeze, nearly painful from the sudden force, but it must've been so much for him, for it ended so quickly.

"Uhm," She looked over the bed, thinking, "Do you... want me to lie down? Squeeze if yes."

Another, brief but powerful squeeze.

...

She couldn't help but smile, even when she wanted to cry.

Slowly, she moved so slowly, taking her arm back, and he whined,

"I can't lie down if you hold my arm." She said, simply, and he huffed out of his nostrils... Pouting, pouting at a time like this?

A wave of relief flooded her heart.

She tried to be slow, and finally, she found her way onto the bed--it wasn't particularly large, and the railing dug into her back, but if he could endure this pain, she could endure some discomfort. She was on her side, eye-to-eye with Diluc, and he just stared at her, his eye wide...

...

But there was no fear, and that, too, was a wave of relief.

His hand found its way to her hip, touched only momentarily, and then kept searching...

And found her wrist.

And he squeezed again.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to get closer, Diluc."

He squeezed again, in three pulses.

He wasn't going to let this go, when he wanted something, he would always get it. He was a very determined person.

So, she shifted gently, and he too moved, a few moments where he was stunned by pain, and he turned his head a bit to look upwards, as his head rested on her chest, her arm now used as his pillow, he curled up to her... As close as humanly possible.

With the hand that was not used as a pillow, she moved it to his back, running up and down, and he sighed softly through his nostrils...

"Sleep," She said, softly, "I promise, I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

He made a whine-like noise, and turned his face to bury it in her chest--again, were it anyone but Diluc, she may think he was being... well, a pervert.

But he wasn't. She knew he wasn't, he was simpler than that, only seeking warmth, softness, and comfort. So terribly complex, but also so terribly simple.

That's what she loved about him, after all.

After many long moments, Jean's own exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, his breathing slowed again... he didn't move, but he breathed steadily.

Tired. How tired he must've been.

She craned her neck a little awkwardly, hesitating... and pressed a kiss atop his head, before she finally closed her eyes, only to just barely miss the smile that formed on his own face...

...

It'd be awhile before she could get the full story, but...

If he could act like this now, then in the end, he would be okay.

Somehow.

#genshin impact #diluc #jean #jeanluc #jean x diluc #angsty bark #bark writes #hurt and comfort #// sorta #anonymous #request #// i always forget how to tag

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

best friend | loy!smau

⤑ series: less of you

⤑ pairing: fratboy!jimin + dancer!reader

⤑ genre: angst!!

⤑ rating: PG13.

⤑ word count: 3.9K

⤑ warnings: kinda sad idk.

⤑ chapter song: the knowing // the weeknd

⤑ A/N: another written chapter because this just would not!! work as a text part. read it and let me know what you think bc all im gonna say is... yall.....

DECEMBER 23RD, 2019 | 17:34

[17:34] she's my girlfriend: just to push it a few hours... or maybe rain check for tomorrow? promise to make it up to you.

“'We'll go to the place you like this time, hm?'” Jimin reads the thread of messages flooding his phone sent from you out loud. Back slouched against the couch, mind working a mile a minute to figure out what kind of emergency could Miju be having right now. And why were you always so willing to drop everything to be there for her.

Being bitter was the last thing that he wanted. Rocky roads with your best friend are something that takes a long while to sort out for girls, he could see that. Just hoped that you'd soon realize that something's gotta give. That he wouldn't always be so keen on letting Miju shift the plans that he made for the two of you.

All of this could definitely be fueled by the fact he's now pushing telling you what he should have a long while ago until the next time you were both free to spend time together. It won't be that bad, right?

[17:36] to – she's my girlfriend: yeah, baby. it's fine. if things clear up before late, let me know nd ill come pick you up.

The best he could do at this point, he'd just wait for you to have a free moment. He was done pushing this off, knew that speaking to you should've been at the top of his list since he found out about it. Would've been able to do it today if it wasn't for Miju. Would there ever be a time where he wasn't falling second to her?

“What's with the scowl on you face?” Yoongi's voice is breaking through Jimin's thoughts as he crosses the living room, entering the kitchen. He rummages through the cabinets before pulling down a box of cereal, head cocked to be able to see Jimin who's shifting his position on the couch.

“Yn canceled on me.” Saying it out loud made him feel shittier than he had been originally. What kind of boyfriend couldn't buck up when their girl had important matters to tend to? Got sulky because she needed to handle an emergency. At least she had the decency to text him about it, right?

You could've just stood him up.

Yoongi doesn't stop the snorted laughter that falls from his lips, shaking a large amount of cereal into an even larger bowl. He moves toward the fridge to fish out the half-finished carton of milk he hid behind Joonie's growing vegetable collection.

“What she finally get tired of you?” A lighthearted joke directed to his best friend that has Jimin's eyes rolling instantly. He rises to enter the kitchen where his friend had just sat at the island.

See? Why couldn't girls make up like this? Had, had his own dispute with Yoongi weeks ago and they were back on speaking terms – the normal way. No need for some serious sit down that wasted both of their time. Just the understanding of who was in the wrong and the changes that needed to be made to fix it.

Girls were too emotional, always wanted to talk and talk about everything when really?? telling someone when they're being an asshole is the most effective form of friendship counseling in Jimin's opinion.

“Yeah, right. She's crazy about me.” Jimin gloats, reaching for the cereal box Yoongi had left out and pulling a handful out. “That girl had some type of emergency so she wanted to reschedule... help her sort it out,” He shrugs his shoulders, opening his palm to pick out the marshmallow pieces instead.

“Her friend? You mean Miju?” Nodding, Jimin drops the cardboard tasting pieces back into the box, dusting his hands off in front of him. “Wait. Miju told Yn that she had an emergency which made Yn cancel on you?”

With a short laugh and a roll of his eyes, Jimin is nodding again. “Yes, that's what I just said. You feeling alright, buddy?” He teases, not noticing the perplexed look on his best friend's face.

It takes a few short seconds for Yoongi to put the pieces together, eyes widening at his realization. There's no way she'd do anything like that, right? He had been talking to her for weeks and it seemed like she had given up on her whole 'catch them in the act' plan. But this wasn't catching them in the act, this was just... wrong?

And there was Jimin, no the wiser, picking marshmallow pieces out of the cereal box without a care in the world. He had to tell him. That's what any self-respecting best friend would do. Especially with the growing regret in the pit of his belly, the knowledge of the mistake he made with letting the information slip.

The last thing he thought Miju would do was try and ruin this for Yn. Had it set in his mind that if she was able to get through this maturely with his help then she'd start looking at him the way that he had hoped she would. Maybe he was wrong.

That was a conversation for later, though. Right now, he had to prepare Jimin for the shit storm that was coming. The shit storm that he had unintentionally caused when he refused to mind his business.

“I don't think Miju actually has an emergency...”

DECEMBER 23RD, 2019 | 17:49

With a quick tap to your thumb over the blue button, your promise to try and make it tonight was being sent to your boyfriend. Ooh, your boyfriend. Just thinking sent a flutter through your chest.

Your boyfriend. Jimin. Park Jimin was your boyfriend. Yours. And you were his. And finally, you were starting to feel comfortable with him. Despite everything. It was like nothing could put a damper on the shine in your heart.

Not even the walk up to Miju's front door, knowing the conversation you were about to have. The conversation that you were going to have to force onto her no matter how much she tried to fight it. You were done feeling guilty, you were done lying to her. Finally ready to just be at peace with Jimin and if she wanted to support you great, but if not?? too bad.

Definitely, Jeongguk speaking, but you were sticking to it. If she didn't want to support you, then too bad!

The front door is swinging open before you even have the chance to knock. Miju stands opposite of you, wearing a pair of frilly shorts and a tank top despite the chilly weather outside. She greets you with a large smile, waving you into her warm home while stepping out of the way for you to enter.

DECEMBER 23RD, 2019 | 17:47

“You told her!?” Words can't describe how angry... how betrayed Jimin feels right now. Out of all the low things he could imagine someone he had referred to as a close friend doing to him? This had to be the lowest.

It wasn't a secret that he wasn't a huge fan of Miju, so why did Yoongi think that it would be a good idea to share his business with her? All because of his stupid crush? A crush that was pretty much one-sided at this point. The boy needed to open his eyes and realize that she was using him. For this exact purpose.

“Listen, I didn't think-” Yoongi starts, but Jimin is cutting his words. “Didn't think what? That she'd do something irrational with the information you've given her? Use what she knows as a way to hurt Yn, you didn't think she'd do that? And for what reason?”

Jimin was the most laid back in the house, what pissed him off pissed him off but he was never one to raise his voice. Always one to keep a level head in an argument, careful not to let words slip that might ruin things in the long run.

But right now and lately? It's like Yoongi has been testing his patience almost on purpose. For what? He had no clue, but he was starting to get tired of it. And it was starting to show.

Yoongi could see it. That he had royally fucked up. That Miju wasn't the person that he thought she was and it would take a lot more than just a few late night conversations to get her to see the error in her ways.

Her only focus was getting back at Yn for humiliating her and sleeping with Jimin. Nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. He was starting to see that now.

“I've been talking to her and she seemed-” Yoongi stops himself this time, the fact that he's been keeping quiet contact sort of a secret up until this point. Knew that it wouldn't sit well with his friends if they knew he was getting close to them who they all perceived to be the bad guy.

She never seemed all that bad to him, though.

“Jimin, be honest. Do you think she'd really go ahead and tell Yn? I mean, you guys were pretty fucked up for going behind her back – but do you really think she'd stoop that low?” Yoongi's words have Jimin's eyebrows lifting, hiding underneath his bangs.

What type of seed did that girl plant in his best friends head that had his mind all screwed up? Could he not see the blaring signs right in front of him? Was he just that against lying or was he really this pussy whipped?

Level headed, level headed. “Are you really trying to blame me right now?” He tries not to hiss his words but can't help the way they slip through his teeth. “Yes, Yn was wrong for lying about our relationship and I guess I was wrong for going along with it. But-,”

Hit with a sudden headache, Jimin is stopping his words. Hands washing over his face as he paces around the kitchen. A sigh leaves Yoongi's lips, his butt sliding off of his seat to make his way over to his friend.

“Look, Jimin. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything,” It really had been an accident. He didn't agree with how Jimin was going about things, but he would never sell him out like that. They were best friends, it just came out. And he's telling him all of that, Jimin only half-listening past his racing thoughts.

Desperately trying to figure out how he was going to fix the mess that was being made right now as they stood here talking. “I need to call her,” Rushing to find his phone, Jimin is quick to scroll through his messages to find your contact.

DECEMBER 23RD, 2019 | 17:52

“You came fast,” Miju notes with a smile, watching as you loosen the belt of your light coat, pulling it from your shoulders. It falls heavy on the couch with the added weight from your phone in the pocket. “Yeah, you said it was an emergency.” You nod, taking a moment to peak around for any 'emergency signs'.

The air is tense, tight. Suffocating in a way. There's this awkward silence looming over the two of you as she stands there staring with those big accusing eyes of hers. Clearing your throat, you reach your hand up to push your hair back.

“What's the emergency?” You wonder, generally curious what had her texting you 911 when everything seemed fine?

The usual pout that she wears settles on her lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly to add to the whole look. “It's in the kitchen.” She turns without another word, leading you out of the living room and into the kitchen.

And you follow behind her, eyes landing on the mess littering the kitchen counter. “I have nobody to make everything but the kitchen sink cookies with me.” Her arms spread out at all the different ingredients she has laid out, peaking over her shoulder to shoot a large smile in your direction.

“We use to make these all the time when we were younger, remember? And this morning I woke up craving them, which is so weird because I never crave sweets.” She's moved to the other side of the counter, picking up the half beaten bowl of batter she left out. “And who better to share these treats with than my best friend, right?” She smiles, but there's something else written in it.

You don't have a second to analyze it because she's waving you over with a wooden spoon, handing you the utensil once you're close enough.

“Was this really it? I had plans tonight...” Despite the disappointment in your tone, you're still taking the spoon from her hand, reaching for the bowl that she had kindly set out for you.

Miju's ears perk at the mention of your plans, wondering if you'd actually let it slip what you had intended to be doing tonight. “Plans? Who with?” She asked, feigning curiosity, although she knew all the answers to her questions.

“Just plans. And when you said emergency, I didn't imagine you meant baking cookies?” Not paying much attention to your words, Miju busies herself with reaching for the sugar, measuring some out into her bowl.

“It's not about the cookies, it's about our friendship, Yn.” Her attention quickly shifts to you, pinning you with that 'duh' expression that she likes to pull when it seemed like people just weren't getting it.

Your friendship. Right. So right now is as good as time as any. If she had been thinking about your friendship recently, then she'd maybe take the news well, right? Not blow it out of proportion once you're able to give her all the details, remind her how much you thought about your friendship the entire time. How hard it made things for you. Jimin. And that you were done lying and sneaking around, that you were ready to come clean to her. For the sake of your friendship.

“Actually, it's funny you say that, because-”

Her words overlap yours in panicked haste, bowl clambering onto the counter, the large spoon falling suit. “And I've been really sad, lately!” As expected, she's hitting you with a large pair of sad eyes, paired with a pouted lip. She doesn't wait for you to ask what's wrong, she doesn't need to. Know that you'd listen despite the fact you were literally in the middle of a sentence.

“I know we haven't really been talking to each other, about boys and stuff... but I found out earlier that.” She pauses, reaches to push the loose strands out of her face. “Jimin is moving... to New York! And things have been so weird?? with him lately. I'm just- I can't believe he's leaving.” There's a whine in her voice, paired with a stomped foot.

But your mind is so far from whatever fit she's throwing. Eyes blinking slowly as you try to register the words that had just come out of her mouth. Jimin was leaving? Like moving, leaving? Packing up and going to New York... and he didn't tell you?

No way he wouldn't tell you something huge like this. No way he'd leave you clueless for God knows how long until you're finding out in your best friend's messy kitchen in the midst of making cookies. No way he'd do that.

“Jimin's leaving? How do you know that?” She must've got the wrong information, overheard it wrong. Jimin wasn't leaving. He wouldn't just leave and not say a word to you about it.

She's raising her shoulder in a slight shrug, eyes focused on the thickening cookie batter. “Yoongi told me.” Yoongi? As in Jimin's best friend? So if he was saying it then it had to be true, right?

“Yoongi told you? Or you just heard it?”

Miju's sucking her teeth at your pestering, facing you to get a good look at your face. Taking in the distraught crinkle of your brow, the frown on your lips, the widening of your eyes. “He told me. Jimin is moving to New York. Next semester.” She repeats, slowly just in case you couldn't hear.

Her brow furrows in mock confusion, head tilting to the side slightly. “Why do you look like that? Does Jimin moving mean anything to you?” She lets out a laugh to add to her facade. “I should be the one frowning. I mean, it's my crush moving six thousand eight hundred and sixty-three miles away. I looked it up.”

Miju doesn't take her eyes away from your face, lifting her hand to suck the batter from her thumb. You can only imagine how you look right now, could literally feel your heart shattering in your chest at the thought of Jimin being so far away.

Being so far away and not telling you about it. There was no telling the way it showed on your face right now. “You're getting really worked up over a guy that you're not even interested in, Yn.” She pushes, dropping her spoon again to set her hands on her hips, looking at you expectantly.

Jimin was leaving and he didn't tell you. He kept it from you. He lied to you. The two of you didn't lie to each other. Maybe to other people together, but never to each other. And here was Miju, staring at you – enjoying this all too much. She knew, didn't she?

That's why she had invited you over. That's why she made up this whole stupid cookie emergency. What? Did she want to rub it in your face? 'You may have stolen my crush but he's been lying to you this entire time'. Well, she won.

“Are you mad? That's so weird. You're mad?” She continues and you can feel your blood boiling just from the sound of her voice.

Droning on in your ear as if she had no end. Asking if you were mad, wondering why you would be mad about someone that you had no involvement with whatsoever moving away. Why would you even have an opinion on the matter whatsoever? It's not like you're the one that's in the love with him – and that's where you snap.

“God quit it! Alright!? I'm with Jimin, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? He's my boyfriend. Happy?” Voice much louder than you had intended it to be and you see her flinch from the way you're yelling at her.

Yet, you can't stop yourself. Can't find it in you to use your inside voice. “Is that why you called this whole fake emergency? Not two fucks given about 'saving our friendship', or whatever bullshit you made up. Just wanted a chance to get back at me?”

“You've been lying to me for weeks, yn! And you're supposed to be my best friend!? Best friends don't lie to each other.” You don't bother to mask the bitter laugh that falls from your lips.

Best friend. Best friend. The way she threw the word around as if it meant nothing. Treated it like it meant nothing. Just a label. Only close because you lived that way, but all the other best friend elements? Zero to none. The way she went out of your way to do all of this just proved it, more than anything.

“Are you supposed to be mine? Have you ever stopped to think why I felt like I had to hide this from you, huh? Or did you even think about how much it was killing me knowing how badly this would hurt you? Because that's the last thing that I wanted to do.” You're not yelling anymore, voice oddly level. And it's more off-putting than the sound of your shout.

“And I bet you thought I jumped at the chance to be with him, huh? Did you think for a second that I tried to fight my feelings for in, for your sake, and couldn't? Fuck all of that, right? Why would you have to worry about that, it's not like it matters, right? No, fuck the fact that I've actually fallen in love with the guy – which is much more serious than a stupid crush, might I add. Fuck all of that, because it makes you unhappy, right?”

There's more at the tip of your tongue, so much more than you've been holding back for the past seventeen years. Things that you didn't even think had bothered you before, but it's like the list keeps going on and on. You want to lay it all out, but your head is such a mess and it feels like everything is slipping all at once.

Tightness growing in your chest and spreading to your cheeks, eyes feeling heavy like they always do before you start crying. Sad about Jimin. This stupid friendship that you wanted so badly to save. Realizing that you had been the only one that cared that much.

“You don't love him. You were just trying to take him away from me like you always do...” Her words have your eyes bulging out of your head, jaw-dropping in disbelief. This girl really didn't quit, huh?

“What?” You try because maybe you didn't hear her right. Maybe she didn't disregard all of what you had managed to get out, focusing on the one bit that had absolutely nothing to do with her. “Name one thing that I've ever taken from you, Miju. Because how I remember it I've been bending over backward just to keep you from falling apart.”

She scoffs, rolls her big eyes before answering. “Yeah, exactly. You were always looking down on me. 'Ooh, poor little girl can't take care of herself, let me swoop in'. Always two steps behind me all the time, making sure nothing happens, protecting me when I never asked you to!”

“You're mad because I looked out for you?” Disbelief is evident in your tone. Slightly convinced that she might be joking, because if she was really mad about something like that then she should've learned to hold herself up a long time ago.

Not made it seem like she was so needy all the time, acting helpless until you were forced to swoop in and fix everything. Like you always did. Without a moment of hesitation, but not anymore. Way past over it. Over the worrying. Over this fight. Over this conversation. Over her.

“I can't do this,” You're deciding with a shake of your head, a defeated raise of your arms. “I can't even be around your right now.” You're turning to leave the kitchen, scooping up your jacket discarded earlier.

Miju is hot on your trail, flops hitting against the hardwood as she moves to catch up with you. “Wait. Where are you going?” You don't say anything as you pull your jacket back on, her being the least of your worries at this point.

There were more important things than this childish back and forth with her. You had tried to tell her, the right way – maturely. She didn't want that, and instead came up with this whole plan to do what exactly? Hurt you as you had done to her? Make you feel humiliated? Great, she did it.

Got her way like she always did, you just couldn't bring yourself to care like you always do. “I'm going to see my boyfriend.” Eyes piercing as you lift your gaze to her, tightening the bow on your coat before turning and exiting her house.

Letting the door slam behind you without bothering to look back.

PART TWO OUT TOMORROW!

– girl code rule #1: never, ever, under any circumstances fall for your best friend’s crush. but what happens when your best friend’s crush checks all the boxes of your ideal guy… and to make matters worse… he’s crazy about you too.

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

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mooncat457writing · 4 years

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The Wolf

Written for 10 Days of Healing - Wolfstar Comfort Mini-Fest. I hope you enjoy and thanks @swottypotter for hosting!

A series of moments over the course of Sirius’ and Remus’ relationship told non-linearly.

Prompt: An Apology

Summary: February 16th, 1976. Sirius feels awful about the prank he pulled on Snape, so he writes a letter—or a series of them.

Word Count: 1.2k+

Also on AO3.

It was dark in the Hospital Wing by the time Remus woke up for the second time. He wished he hadn’t woken up, though. Because if he was still asleep, he could pretend that what happened the night before was a dream. A nightmare born out of anxiety. Some sick joke that his mind decided to play on him.

He could pretend that Dumbledore coming to his bedside and telling him about Severus Snape’s promise to keep his secret wasn’t real. He could pretend James hadn’t come by to tell him his side of the story and promise him that no one was hurt. He could pretend that his best friend hadn’t made the biggest and stupidest fucking decision to betray his secret and almost kill someone in the process.

But as Remus rolled over and looked at his nightstand, the evidence that the night before wasn’t a horrible dream confronted him head-on. Leaning against a bottle of pain potion that Madame Pomfrey must have left there for him in case he needed it in the middle of the night was a letter. A letter with the words “I’m sorry,” in Sirius’ surprisingly neat handwriting inked across the front.

He wanted to present, but he couldn’t.

Anger bubbled in Remus’ chest. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch Sirius.

That wasn’t a feeling he’d ever had before. Sure, Sirius had done some idiotic things in the past, some of which had unintentionally hurt Remus. But Remus had never been as mad at him about them as he was at that moment. He took a deep breath, unclenched his jaw, and relaxed his shoulders. It was probably just the residual wolf left in him. It was making his emotions go haywire.

He stared at the letter for a long moment before picking it up. Spellotaped to the back of it was a bar of Honeydukes’ Finest Chocolate, something Sirius had been bringing him after every moon since the one he confronted him about his condition. It was one of the fancy bars, too. He set the chocolate on his nightstand, still too angry to eat apology chocolate, and carefully unfolded the letter.

Dear Moony,

I am so, so sorry. Unbelievably sorry. I wish I could be telling you this in person, but Prongs won’t let me go with him to visit you. He says he’ll bring you this letter though, so that’s something. I hope he actually does. He’s pretty pissed off at me. Went off for about an hour at me once we’d gotten back to the dorm after meeting with Dumbledore. Said I didn’t get in nearly enough trouble. Wormy’s mad at me, too, in his own way. Won’t talk to me. And if even HE’S mad at me, then you must be livid.

You have to know, I would never have said anything if I thought it would hurt you. I would never do anything on purpose to hurt you. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. Or maybe at all. You always say I don’t think things through, huh?

Snivellus was goading me on, I swear. He kept saying these awful things about you, and I just—I snapped. I didn’t think he’d really be daft enough to go through with it. Prongs says that’s not an excuse, and I should have known better. Maybe he’s right.

I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.

Yours,

Padfoot

At the bottom of the letter was a little drawing of two paw prints, like there always was when Sirius wrote letters to Remus. From second-year on, Sirius had always made the joke that they were the dogs of the group. Remus and Sirius. The wolf and the dog star. The little paw prints that he signed his letters with were how Remus had come up with the nickname Padfoot. He had been proud of it. Now it felt too familiar.

—

A little over a week later, Remus woke up—this time in his own bed—to another letter on his nightstand. Remus hadn’t seen Sirius in a week outside of class and mealtime. James said that he’d taken to sleeping in the common room to give Remus space. The part of him that was still angry was glad about that. He didn’t care if Sirius was comfortable or not. But there was also the part of him that still loved and cared about his friend that felt bad for effectively kicking Sirius out of his own room and stealing his friends. Because although Remus hadn’t seen Sirius, he continued to see James and Peter.

The latter part of him won. He reached over to grab the letter and opened it.

Dear Moony Remus,

I’m sorry. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past week while I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t really been able to do anything but think, really. I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. All I’ve been able to do is think about how much I’ve hurt you. I am so, so sorry. I don’t really know how else to say it. I asked for you to forgive me in my last letter, but I know I shouldn’t ask that of you. I probably don’t deserve your forgiveness. What I did was so fucked up. It doesn’t matter if I didn’t mean to hurt you. The fact is that I did. I’m not even sure I can say that I didn’t mean to, because, honestly, I think a part of me knew what would happen and I did it anyway. I think a part of me wanted to see Snivellus Snape hurt.

I’m so sorry. If I could take it back, I would.

Yours,

Padfoot Sirius

P.S. Either one of the other Prefects or one of the house-elves snitched to McGonagall that I was sleeping in the common room, so I have to start sleeping in the dorm again. But I’m going to make sure I’m cleared out before you wake up so you can still have your space.

—

Another week went by before the next letter arrived. By then, Remus was starting to waver in his resolve to freeze Sirius out. Especially after his conversation with Lily about the whole event. He was still hurt, but he wasn’t angry anymore. And he was pretty sure that some of his hurt stemmed from the lack of his best friend orbiting around him. Remus loved James and Peter, but he’d always been closer to Sirius. Sirius, who stayed up with him the night before the full moon when he couldn’t sleep. Sirius, who made him laugh, even in the worst situations. Sirius, who knew exactly how he took his tea and which chocolate brand he liked best.

Remus missed him like crazy. Probably more than he should miss someone who was just a friend. He didn’t want to, because he wasn’t sure exactly what it meant for them in the grand scheme of friendship. But he did. Merlin, he missed him so much. So, when he woke up to another letter on his nightstand, Remus didn’t even hesitate before snatching it up and ripping it open.

I miss you.

I know I don’t have the right to say that, but fuck, I really miss you.

I’m so sorry.

Remus’ hands shook. It was the shortest letter he’d received yet. No greeting, no signature. Just words that made Remus crumble. Scrambling out of bed, he grabbed a self-inking quill and scrawled a quick message on the bottom of the letter. He let the ink dry while he got dressed for class, then before leaving, he left the note on Sirius’s pillow with a bar of Honeydukes’ Finest Chocolate.

I miss you, too.

Yours,

Moony

#10daysofhealing #wolfstarcomfortminifest #fic fest #fic mini fest #the path to you #wolfstar #sirius black x remus lupin #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #marauders era #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing

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yariibu · 3 years

Text

// finally wrote up a drabble for a super heavy conversation between koshiro & his mother , which got long & kind of irrelevant in most of my threads with him right now . but i was feeling angsty so i’m posting this anyway . enjoy . fair warning , i didn’t bother to spell check this . lmaooo .

also , this is entirely headcanon .

warning: csa & r*pe mentions .

-----------------------------------------------------------

❝ mom ? ❞ koshiro calls from outside his mother's bedroom door , peaking in from the small space where it stayed ajar . his step-father was on a business trip , not set to come home for another 2 days or so , depending on the train schedules . he'd come home that weekend specifically because he knew that man wouldn't be around , but even then it still took him until sunday evening to even build the courage for this conversation - one he'd suppressed for close to 15 years .

" come in , sweetheart ! i'm just putting some of my laundry away - " his mother's voice is as pure & chipper as ever . she's just as she always was , a bright woman with a beautiful smile as she stood by her closet door , comfortably dressed in pajama pants & a pastel-colored hoodie with the name of koshiro's university embroidered by the right sleeve . koshiro meanders into the room , closing the door so the dogs wouldn't follow him in & taking a seat toward the edge of his mother's side of the bed . " thank you so much for helping me out around the house this weekend , ko . you know your momma loves it when you come home to see her . "

koshiro smiles for a moment , but doesn't verbally respond . his gaze slowly drifts off toward the window , a hand brushing blond hair behind his ear as he feels the nervous energy in his chest build up . his habits could ever go unnoticed by someone as perceptive as his mother , though . the tall woman's expression immediately falls into concern , abandoning her place in her closet & approaching her son . " what's wrong ? you look like you've got something on your mind , " she comments , nearly reading him like a book .

❝ ..... ❞ he has a hard time finding the words at start , & his mother senses that . she sits beside him on the bed , a hand reaching out to shift platinum blond hair away from koshiro's eyes before resting her palm against his cheek . she was a spitfire compared to her son , but she also had a lot of patience , especially knowing how soft-spoken koshiro tended to be . she'd wait there until he was ready to speak . when he does , his voice is already starting to come out shaken . ❝ can i talk to you about something ? ❞

she giggles , brushing her thumb against koshiro's cheek . " you can always talk to your mother about anything . you know that , don't you ? "

he should know that .

❝ it's.... about my step-father . ❞

that seemed to catch his mother off-guard . throughout the time she'd been married to her current husband , she did notice that koshiro never seemed to be close with him . however , they always got along . she just assumed that even though that man told her he viewed koshiro like his own son , & koshiro had expressed in the past that he liked having him around - she didn't think there was any problems . she couldn't expect her son to be as close to that man as he could have been his own father , after all , he spent the first 8 years of his life without one . but from what she understood , they were still a happy family . " what about him ? "

koshiro couldn't suppress the deep breath he needed to take , unintentionally going silent again as he fidgets his shoulders . the palm on his cheek moved to his shoulder , giving it a concerned squeeze . now , his mother was worried . the way koshiro's expression twisted in on itself , the way he couldn't seem to settle . she knew something was wrong . " koshiro ? what's going on ? " she murmurs softly .

he never got any of the words out . instead , he just shook his head , & the tears started to flow . now , his mother started to feel a bit of panic herself , immediately taking her son into her arms as he quietly sobbed against her shoulder . " koshiro.... " she whispers , stroking a hand against his hair . " koshiro , please , you have to talk to me . what about your step-father ? " though , this wasn't looking good for her current husband . when her son mentions him , then immediately falls into tears - she knows there's information she's missing . something isn't right , & she's quite nervous that she doesn't know what it is .

her embrace tightens for a mere second before she pulls back , cradling koshiro's face in both hands & brushing her thumbs against the tears that stained his cheek . she looks koshiro directly into matching eyes , the worry on her expression intense . " koshiro , what did he do to you ? " she spoke slowly , every word falling off her tongue sternly but her gaze still comforting , letting him know that she will believe any word that comes from him .

koshiro puts one hand on top of his mother's , sniffling as he takes in another breath & finds his voice . he can't go back now - he can't go back to their happy little life where his mom was deeply in love with someone that made her happy , & koshiro could pretend nothing ever happened for her sake . ❝ he.... when you were still a secretary for that realty company.... & you were late one night , ❞ he starts , unable to maintain eye contact & taking multiple pauses to catch his breath between words .

that was so long ago , she thinks . koshiro was around 7 or 8 years old when she worked there . but instead of commenting , she lets him continue at his own pace . ❝ he got really drunk - ❞ the stress on the word ' really ' was strong , leaving his mother's brows to knit tightly . he told her he didn't drink was her next thought - again , a thought kept to herself in order to hear the rest of the story .

he swallows hard . ❝ i t-tried to talk to him , & he just.... ❞ koshiro's composure was starting to falter , the tears falling quicker & body trembling at the memory . he felt sick , he doesn't want to continue - but his mother needed to know everything . she needed to know the worst part of the story . her warm hands rubbed at his neck & shoulders , shaking her head as a silent way of telling him to take his time .

koshiro's voice grew more panicked , sobbing a bit louder . ❝ he took everything off , mom . i just - ❞ his story ended there as he divulged into sobs against his mother's shoulder . tears started forming in her eyes , too - because he didn't need to finish that story for her to put the pieces together . her embrace around her son is tight & protective , apologetic even .

" oh my god , koshiro , " she sobbed right back . " koshiro , i'm sorry , i'm so sorry - " she whispers into his hair . in that moment , she felt like the scum of the earth . the worst mother on the planet . she preached for years about doing everything she could for her son , & something like that happened right before her eyes , kept a secret for nearly 15 years . & she never knew . she never suspected anything . what kind of mother can't tell that something so awful happened to her own child . from someone she thought loved him like their own . that man .

" that motherfucker , " she seethed , catching koshiro off-guard , who can't remember if he's ever even heard his mother cuss . " koshiro , i'm so sorry you thought you had to keep this from me . baby , please look at me , " she begs , placing those same comforting hands to either side of his face & pressing her lips to his forehead before their gazes met . " i should have been better , " his mother claims . koshiro merely shakes his head , because he knows how bad he is with telling people things .

the woman wants to ask him why he kept this from her for so long , wants to ask why he felt like he couldn't tell her - but she doesn't want to ask him now . she doesn't want to seem like she's blaming him for anything , because she knows not a damn thing was koshiro's fault . if anything , she had blame to take responsibility for , she was the one who brought that man into their lives & he got away with murder . it hurt , feeling betrayed by a man she thought she loved . who she thought loved her son . but her own tears are fueled by her anger for that man .

" koshiro , tomorrow morning , throw all of your things back into your bag . we're gonna take the train to chiba & visit your grandparents for a bit . "

koshiro leans back from his mother's embrace , his tear-stained expression confused . because from what he understood , he was going to go back to campus tomorrow afternoon . ❝ wait.... why ? ❞ he asks , his voice still unsteady .

" i'm leaving your step-father , " she declares harshly , expression bitter at the thought of that man entering their home again . she wants to burn his belongings , kick him out & tell him to never come back . file for divorce right that second . but it would be more complicated than that , & she wanted to be able to keep her son safe . this wasn't information she could simply hear & let her son wander back to university as if everything was okay . she wants to help him in the way she wishes she could have years ago . " honey , i'm so sorry to ask this.... can you drop the rest of this semester & comeback home for a bit ? just a semester . just one semester , & you can go back next fall . please.... stay with your mother . " every word divulged into a desperate whisper , desperate to make things right , desperate to fix as much as she could . to do everything she could for her son .

all of this was happening so fast , a part of him regrets every bringing up the situation with his mother . he feels like he broke their marriage , like he was the one who messed everything up . but when he looks into his mother's eyes , that flowed with tears of their own , she smiled at him . & he realizes that she still looks the same way she did when he was a little kid . koshiro nods . ❝ okay . ❞

he'll text his friends in the morning & tell them not to wait for him at the train station .

#** ( koshiro ) .#csa tw #rape mention tw

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serpent-jugheadjones · 7 years

Text

It’s The End Of Riverdale As We Know It - Phone Calls - Part 7

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Gladys Jones / Jughead Jones x Jellybean Jones / Jughead Jones x Reader

Description: Jughead’s phone call to his mom doesn't go as expected.

Warnings: Angsty af. IT WILL BREAK YOUR HEART.

Word Count: 1632

A/N: Before anything. I dedicate this whole series to my twin @southsidejuggie. I know how much she loves Jellybean (same as I) and that has kept me interested and happy through writing a not so popular series. She has been giving me priceless feedback that I can never fully express how much it means to me. Thank you so much Zoe! - I broke my own heart writing this. Changed a few things from the show to add something of my own. It saddens me to say, but this is the final part for this series. It was a pleasure writing this. I hope you guys enjoyed this journey! Happy 2nd episode.

Jughead lives his most fragile moment ever, feeling unable to take any other disappointments. First, he was betrayed by his closest only friends, then his dad’s trailer was trashed by the police when they arrested him for Jason Blossom’s murder. He can see nowhere else to turn to in Riverdale, so the apprehensive boy has one last glimpse of hope.

He stands in the phone booth outside the bus station, holding the piece of paper containing his mother’s number and a ticket. Before calling, he memorizes the number and slips the two sheets inside his travel backpack containing all his stuff. The line rings for a while before being answered.

“Yeah.” That’s barely audible as loud conversation and plates clanking mix with her voice.

“Hi, Mom.” This is the first time Jughead speaks to his mom since she left. He wishes it had been on better terms, but the boy had to learn the hard way early on to take what life gives you.

“Jughead! It’s been ages, so great to hear from you.” Gladys walks out of the diner lobby into the employees room to muffle the noise from the customers.

“Hey, guess what?”, Juggie asks in a somewhat cheerful way. Seeing his family again is the one light shining on the darkness that’s taking over his life.

“Did you win a writing award?”, the woman speaks through biting her fingernails, nervous she may say the wrong thing. “What?”

“I got a bus ticket to Toledo.”, Jug reveals excitedly, already anticipating how hugging his sister would feel like, finally able to see her play live.

“When? Why? Did something happen to your father?” That’s not really the news she was expecting nor the response he was hoping for.

“Yeah. I thought I'd come see you and Jellybean for a while.” Jughead feels weird at the need to have a reason for seeing them. In fact, something did happen to his father, but the beanie-clad boy doesn't think it’s wise to share that.

“Oh, son... You know we are already crowded in here.”, she explains hardheartedly.

“I could crash on the couch.” He’s been sleeping in thin mattresses on the floor at the Drive-in/School/Archie’s house, therefore a sofa would be an improvement, to be honest.

“I’m already sleeping on the couch so JB can have the spare room... There’s just no space. You get it?” Gladys opens her locker to look at a picture of the four of them under the tree house. She brushes her red fingertips over Juggie’s face.

“Yeah.” His heart tightens, barely allowing blood to pump through.

“You know it’s not that we don’t want to see you. I work all the time and JB has school and she’s always at her friend’s house. You’d end up wasting your time.”

“Mmm-hmm.” The eloquent writer can barely string two sentences together now.

“And you don’t want to miss school, right?” At her every word, the light he was moving towards diminishes more and more.

“No.” He’s dumbfounded that’s one of her arguments, like that ever mattered before.

“Maybe when I save enough for an apartment of my own. You can even have your own room. It’s just not the right time, you understand?” In a different time maybe the prospect of that would've brought him joy.

“No, I understand.” Juggie is used to being let down by his father, but this is a new feeling for him as for when his mom left, the last thing she said was “I’m always here for you, Jughead.”.

“Expenses aren't really that great. Your grandparents are already throwing at my face that they’re supporting JB.” Money, the one constant ruining his family. FP not earning any was the reason she left, not having any is the reason she doesn't want her own son.

“Look, forget I said anything, okay?” The freckled boy has to use all the strength left in him to not fall apart then and there.

“I’m sorry, Jughead.” Her words don’t mean a thing at this point.

“All right. Bye.” Jughead bites his bottom lip vigorously, trying to hold his tears in.

“Bye. I lov...” She’s cut off by Jug hanging up the phone.

If he could crawl into a dark hole right now, he would. They boy changes his ticket to Toledo for one to the next bus leaving, but there’s still a long wait ahead. Before anything, Jughead wants to rid himself of the clothes that reminds him of the epic fail of the school dance. The closest place he can go is his dad’s trailer. Getting there, Jug finds two helmets on the ground, his and JB’s, dropped by unattentive police officers searching the place earlier. He thinks his sister has the right to know what’s happening. Before even realizing, her voice is echoing through the small trailer as he puts her on speaker.

“Jug? Are you there?” Jellybean can hear his breathing.

“Yeah. I got something to tell you.” Jughead puts his beanie back on, for he needs all the comfort possible.

“Mom said you called and sounded weird. Does it have to do with that?”, the raven-haired girl asks. “Got worried something bad happened.”

“No... Everything is fine. Just wanted to see you guys.” In that moment, Juggie can’t burden his sister and the lie just fell from his lips.

“Are you sure?” She doesn't really believe him. “Before I’m incriminated, I yelled at mom for telling you to stay in Riverdale.” JB wanted nothing more than seeing her brother but her mother stopped that from happening.

“Well, I’m not staying, anyways.”, he confesses unintentionally, speaking his thoughts out loud.

“What? You’re coming regardless?”, the confused girl begs for information.

“No... Nevermind that.” Her brother denies her wish.

“I can’t just let it go, Juggie.”, she insists.

“Look, I gotta go, talk to you soon, JB.” His heart is shattered into a million pieces now..

“NO! Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third! Don’t you dare hang up on me.”, she shouts desperately.

“I love you, Forsthia.” He hangs up in tears.

His phone rings immediately. Ignore. Again. 1 Voicemail. Let it ring. 3 Text messages from JB Jones. Deep sadness.Turn off. He wishes the world had an on/off button.

He seeks mental refuge, turning to his only safe place in Riverdale. Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe. Deserted at this hour. Surprisingly, not too long after his hit of cafeine arrives at his table, the bell rings. Jug doesn't even make an effort to see who it is until the person is standing in front of his booth. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” He drinks his coffee and she sits next to him, still in her Homecoming dress. “I've looked for you everywhere. You just left me there. I had to find out what happened by Reggie gossiping.”, the hurt girl criticizes. “They went behind my back.”, he explains. “THEM, Jughead. Not me.”, she emphasizes by pointing at herself, but he just stares out the window, trying to keep himself together. “I know you are trying to leave. Do you know how much it would've hurt me if I found out you were gone?”, the girl confesses, her voice breaking from keeping tears in. He doesn't have the strength to reply. “He was set up. You’d know if you had stuck around.” That is the only thing that brings him back to reality, his eyes begging her for more information. “Alice confessed. She waited until he left to drop us off at the dance and set the gun in his closet, then called in an anonymous tip.” He can’t believe her words. “It was Grundy who killed Jason. They were having an affair, but then he wanted to be with Polly and she freaked out. Alice got the gun from Betty when she broke into Miss Grundy’s car...” He kisses Y/N into silence, for all he needed was to know FP’s innocent.

Pop brings the girl an extra cup of coffee. “I’m sorry. I freaked out.”, Jughead explains, holding her hand firmly, scared of losing her, just as she was not too long ago. “I know. Just figured if you were going to run away you’d know I’d go with you.” she rests her head on his shoulder. “Can we put this night behind us?”, Jug requests. “Done.”, she agrees. “Ok. Now explain to me what happened.”, the inquisitive boy requests. “Sit back and relax, because things are about to get crazy. Even I can’t fully understand it yet.” Y/N instructs. “Alice found out Hal had stolen the files from the Sheriff. She flipped, thinking her daughters would be orphans if both their parents went to jail. So she confessed to both planting the gun and stealing the files.” That is indeed a lot to take in, but the boy listens intently. Even Pop is eavesdropping. “She told Keller from whom she got the gun and he brought Grundy in for questioning. She broke easily, for she’s very unstable.” That concludes the mystery they've been trying to solve for the past months. “My brain has frozen. That’s fucked up. Who would tell?”, Jug comments shockingly, taking all that in. “Now let’s get you unpacked, Mr.. You’re staying with me.”, Y/N instructs. The couple leaves the diner, feeling the weight of the world dropping from their shoulders. They leave everything that went wrong behind, as if it was just a nightmare.

#Jughead Jones #Jughead Jonex x Gladys Jones #Jughead Jones x Jellybean Jones #jughead imagine #jughead jones imagine #Jughead Jones III #Juggie Jones #Riverdale #Riverdale Imagines #Riverdale Imagine #jughead jones imagines #fanfic #Jughead Jones x Reader #Jughead x Reader #Forsythe Pendleton Jones III #Forsythia Pendleton Jones #JB Jones #Jellybean Jones

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egoiistas · 7 years

Text

Even in the Darkness

Some Royai fluff/angst I managed to complete. omfg jump in joy with me now, all together. Decided to try my hand at Blind!Roy. I was very pleased with the experience.

Also found on ff.net and Ao3.

It was the early hours of the morning. Roy Mustang could only assume. He listened. The birds chirped just outside of the window. There was a subtle hum from the slow-moving fan above. He felt the sun blanket his skin with warmth and there was a crispness in the air. But when he opened his eyes, he only had the memories of the daylight. Beyond that, it was dark. It was quiet and still.

Roy traced his face, the strands of hair sticking up from a night’s sleep. Downwards, he acknowledged the clothes on his body, the sleeveless patient scrubs. He wiggled his toes. Everything seemed to be in place.

At his fingertips, he felt the bedclothes and the hospital bed mattress underneath. He carefully brought himself up, grasping the linens at his sides for support. As if there was no instance in his life that he didn’t sit up in complete darkness in his own bed. But it’s different, he mused. Blindness was different. There was no such thing as an instant reassurance anymore like the flip of a light switch had been or the simple act of opening his eyes.

His head followed the sunlight’s warmth, looking around with his disabled eyes and could only bask in what the nerves of his skin told him. For all he knew, it could have been a heater placed in an awkwardly high place. But it was also spring, so that was also unlikely.

Less than a day had gone by since he lost his eyesight, forced to see the truth and giving up his vision as toll. He tried to keep his head up, tried to find the silver lining and keep his strength. It could have been worse, he thought. It could have been a limb or his entire body, like the Elrics, or vital innards, like Izumi Curtis.

But deep down, Mustang knew what he truly felt: despair and hopelessness and it didn’t even have to rain. A darker voice within himself told him a limb, a body, even the fingers he performs alchemy with could be replaced with automail. And if Izumi Curtis could live as long as she has, then so could he and he’d be able to move forward. He would have preferred any of those to his eyesight. But the Truth is cruel. He consciously clenched his fist, gritting his teeth.

If he were to follow that dark hole within him, he’d truly be lost.

He heard bedsheets shuffling to his left with a quick creak of the bed from someone relieving the springs in the bed next to him. He turned his head toward the source, still trying to use his eyes to see.

“Who’s there?” He demanded with a low gruff voice, attempting to conceal any emotion he was dealing with. He tried to keep his nerves under control. However, someone was in the room with him and he didn’t notice. How would I have noticed? How do I even get my gloves? How can I be a Fuhrer with no vision? I’m a sitting duck. A silent assassin would take advantage of that then and they could take advantage of it now. Bare footfalls resonated closer and closer. He braced for the worst.

“Colonel.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand gently rested on top of his.

“Sir, it’s me. I’m here.” She sighed. He felt the bed indent as she sat on the side of his bed just beyond arm’s reach. “I’m right here.”

“Lieutenant.” Relief washed over him like the warmth of the sun. The tension crippling his muscles immediately dissipated. Mustang found his commandeering voice again, “I didn’t realize you were here. Have you been here all night?”

“Yes.”

He narrowed his eyebrows, annoyed with her persistence and no consideration for her own wellbeing, “Wh-“

“As a patient for my injuries, sir,” she interjected emotionlessly.

Mustang froze, slightly bowing his head, clenching his fist again underneath her palm. He selfishly wound himself up, licking his own wounds, that he emotionally abandoned his subordinates. He had already forgotten Riza neared death and that frightened him more than any silent assassin. “I’m sorry.”

Her calloused, yet miraculously feminine hand uncoiled his fist and intertwined with his fingers. He knew these moments with her came once in a blue moon and not sooner, cherishing these lapses in professionalism. He smiled briefly until he felt moisture seep between her fingers. The substance was warm when it reached his own and slid off without resistance. It wasn’t thick like blood, but rather watery. Tears.

He almost reacted, before he beat her to it.

“It should have been me.” The Lieutenant finally spoke. The sound of her words didn’t carry directly to him but like she hung her head like he just had over their hands. The pain in her voice was hardly noticeable, but it was there and it was immense.

“I’ve been haunted all my life,” she managed, squeezing his hand. “By things I wish I could change in the past. But nothing like this.” He heard her suppress her sniffling. Teardrops continued to fall onto the back of his hand and her voice began to betray her for emotion. “It should have been me, Roy. Had I been capable of alchemy, had I been my father’s protégé it would have been me.”

There’s an indescribable agony listening to someone bring themselves down when they hardly deserve it. For him, that increased tenfold when it involved her. A victim of circumstances she didn’t choose and yet managed to build herself up, establishing her own name at his side.

The Colonel could hear her restraining any audible sounds produced by her moment of weakness. After all this time, even in the darkness, he could tell and judging by her words, her disregard for formalities, she was hurting. He was speaking to the woman beyond the military uniform.

“But then,” he said, pausing on the weight of his words. “I wouldn’t have had the pleasure to know Riza Hawkeye.” He said it abruptly, without a second thought. Roy realized nothing would be more true or half as sincere as that statement.

Roy heard her shift where she rested. Perhaps to sit up straight or to look away from him. Fortunately, she continued to hold onto his hand. He took the opportunity to scoot up closer to her, using her grip like a tether line. With his free hand, he trailed up her arm to guide him until he found the bottom of her jaw, cupping her face and wiping away an escaping tear. Warmly, he offered another smile whether she was looking or not. “I was on the edge of losing myself and you brought me back. I lost my eyesight,” he said, waving his hand in front of his face, then replacing it to hold her hand with both of his. “And you were my eyes. I’ve been through hell and back with you, Riza. I wouldn’t trade you to see again.”

She became still again. He counted his lucky stars no one had come in the room yet. “What time is it?”

“It’s early,” she murmured, confusion hinted at her voice by the sudden change in subject. “Nearing 6 am.”

“Ah, perfect.” He let go of her hand, leaning back on the headboard. “I need you to do me a favor. Get under the covers and hug me.” He lifted the sheets to gesture the invite, giving her a cocky grin. The fact remained that he was blind for the time being, but he needed her to know she was blameless, even if it meant throwing indecent jokes at her.

Riza laughed to his gratification. “You’re an idiot,” she told him.

“I’ll be your jester, if you’ll be my queen.” He smiled mischievously in response. He knew she’d leave his side, fed up with him. The springs creaked as she got up.

He set down the sheets and they rose on their own again. His head turned towards his side, feeling another body situate themselves, legs sliding in next to his, resting her arm across his chest. “Don’t look so surprised,” she stated. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Roy chuckled at the thought of being bested in his own antics. He instinctually wrapped an arm around her, hugging her close. Maybe being blind won’t be so bad at all.

He began to turn on his side to give her more space. Her arm shot out to aid him so he wouldn’t fall off the edge, then relaxed in front of him. He could only guess he was staring right at her. They lied in comfortable silence.

Roy could feel her quiet breath, the heat from her side of the bed, and smell the natural scent from her freshly washed hair. He didn’t need his eyes to see the soft expression she probably had in front of him, but he wished he did.

His hand glided over her shoulder, reaching her neck, thumbing the bandages. The result of her injuries. He frowned. “How bad is it?”

“They cut the carotid artery.” She grabbed the base of index and middle finger, trailing up and down her bandaged neck. “It would have been bad if May didn’t act as soon as she did. I should be discharged in a day due to the loss of blood.” He felt the vibration of her voice through the dressing as she spoke.

Roy maneuvered his hand around hers and brought her fingers close to his face, nuzzling her hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He took the pleasure in imagining her blushing, though she did tense up. While she didn’t respond, he did feel her feet rub against his under the covers. “How incredibly inappropriate, Miss Hawkeye. Footsies?”

“I’d hardly consider any of this appropriate.” She quipped back. “And if you’re going to play this game, I may as well warm my feet.”

He hummed in response. “It won’t matter. Those honorably discharged papers will arrive any day.”

She immediately became frigid, snapping her hand away. “What about your goals, ambitions? What we’ve worked for?” She asked him, sounding insecure and irate for the first time a long time. Mustang could feel the glare she was burning into him.

“Who’s going to believe in a man who can’t see the country he’s supposed to rebuild?” He asked, unintentionally letting a trace of dejection slip at the thought that his military career was prematurely over.

“I’d believe in the man who says he’ll get it done and honors his word through his actions.” Riza settled back down, closer to his torso.

“You’d believe in me?” He replied hopefully.

“I’d believe in you.”

“How would I lead if I can’t tell which way is forward?”

“The same way you always have whenever you’ve been unsure: placing your trust in your men and your instincts.”

“Oh.” She made it sound so simple. Maybe it was, maybe the sun hadn’t set for him yet.

He could almost feel her smile into his chest, “I can tell we’re both hopeless, aren’t we?”

“Beyond salvation,” he said. “I get the feeling we’ll make do somehow. As long as you’re with me.”

She nodded against him, “I haven’t strayed yet.”

“I noticed. But can you imagine yourself as a Flame Alchemist?” he asked, eyebrows raised in childish awe. “There’s a reason the Truth exists. We’d all be in trouble if you could use flame alchemy. You’d leave everyone in the dust. There’s got to be some fairness in the world.” She gave him an unexpected giggle masked behind the covers. He’d tease her for it later. “Now get out of my bed before someone walks in.”

“Yes, sir,” she offered diligently.

There was a tiny pang from the depths of his stomach, a little sadness when she picked up the formalities again. He felt the bed sway as she turned away from him, lifting herself from his side and he sat up simultaneously.

Roy’s head turned unwillingly, guided by a pair of hands to look in the direction Riza was just in. He felt her move closer, until finally he felt her kiss him on his forehead. “Thank you, Roy,” she whispered to him. A smile erupted from his lips.

“Thank you, Riza.”

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