#like did u have nights like this with ur first so when u were young | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

explorevenus · 7 months ago

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baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5k

description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting

a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33

hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.

And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.

You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.

It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.

No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.

Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything.

With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.

For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.

Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.

You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.

It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.

And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.

He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.

Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.

Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.

But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.

He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”

Silence. He felt like he had been shot.

“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership.

Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.

He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.

A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you.

Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration.

You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.

Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.

On his side, of course.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.

But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.

You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.

“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.

But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.

“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.

His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.

Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.

“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”

You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine.

“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”

Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.

You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.

He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless.

“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”

A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…

“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”

You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.

He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up.

He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.

Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.

“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.

His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”

You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.

“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”

Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.

Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.

That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.

Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”

His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.

You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.

Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.

“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.

You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.

He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take.

In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?

In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.

Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.

Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.

“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”

He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance.

After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.

You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.

Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.

You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.

“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.

You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.

You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.

“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”

And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.

His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.

“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”

Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.

It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you

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notiddygxthgf · 1 year ago

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1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since.

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye.

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character.

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did.

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless.

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless.

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt.

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission.

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm.

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later.

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man.

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker.

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them.

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs.

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year.

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses.

“Choso, baby.”

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.”

“You brought protection?”

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker?

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck.

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks.

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him.

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him.

Take that, Choso.

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side.

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south .

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me.

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger.

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you.

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori.

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances.

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform.

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around.

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door.

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips.

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room.

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you.

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs.

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers.

He didn’t notice when the two of you had left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes.

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#choso kamo #kamo choso #choso #choso jjk #choso x reader #choso kamo xreader #choso kamo x you #choso x you #chousou #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuuji itadori #itadori x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #choso smut #choso fluff

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fairycrackhead · 14 days ago

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𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 | toxic fuck boy Gojo x toxic reader

pairing: toxic fuck boy.ᐟGojo x toxic.ᐟreader

summary: Halloween night is now engraved in your memory which you can only assume it will be for the rest of your lives. When you two should have been trick or treating as normal 14 year olds would do, you instead opt to take each others virginity’s. Now you two are stuck in an endless cycle of toxic bad romance.

warnings: mention of abuse, drunk people, porn, minors watching porn, minors having sexual Intercourse, slight degradation, having unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, hair pulling, mentions of murder, toxic relationship.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this was a random idea i thought up of when i heard the song ‘bad romance’ by lady gaga on the bus the other day! anyways this is my first fic i hope you sluts enjoy :)

⎜ 11:32 pm My Bitch (y/n) : your seriously a dick yk that?

⎜ 11:37 pm My bitch (y/n): i fuckin despise u

⎜ 11:45 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and your telling me again, y?

⎜ 11:47 pm My bitch (y/n): bc your w/ another girl like it’s clockwork, do you not see the problem here, Gojo? i asked you to stop the bullshit.

⎜ 11:49 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): ur not my gf. im in for pussy that’s it. yk im not a relationship guy

⎜ 11:52 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and yet you continue to come back to me. pathetic honestly

⎜ 11:56 pm My bitch (y/n): fuck you

⎜ 12:00 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): already needy? 😂

You should’ve known what kind of man Satoru Gojo was when you lost your virginity to him on Halloween night, 2011. It’s not like it was forced upon you, besides the occasional talk in the middle school hallway that ‘girls who were virgins were prudes’ or ‘how pathetic is it that there’s still virgins in the 8th grade’. Looking back at it now, it sounds really stupid…like really fucking stupid. All those supposed ‘women’ they would call themselves, ‘women’ who just now learned how to correctly put a tampon into the pussy that they just mercilessly shaved, (more like butchered), were all still scrawny, pathetic little girls inside. Of course hearing all the chatter about everyone’s virginity losses, the stories that were so horrific it made you wanna vomit and change schools, made you insecure on the inside. It’s not like you hadn’t thought of sex before, it just wasn’t your current desire to have some undeveloped boy’s dick in one of those…holes down there. Which also brought up another concern for you: how to even do the act. You assumed that the other person would lead (which was a bad guess because Gojo was a fumbling inexperienced idiot as well).

And it was almost nothing like the old pornos your dad had playing on repeat on the old box tv. He’d spend all his off days (which were more than days he actually got his ass up and went to work), drinking, belching, an occasional scratch of his ass, and watching naked women dance around on the grainy tv. You guys never got the money to buy a new one, maybe if he went to his job down the street at the local corner store he could afford more than the crappy ten dollar pizza down the block.

But who knows, you’ve seen those disgusting scenes, at an age way too young to even comprehend, so did you really have any knowledge? You were a curious kid, not a dumb one, you could easily depict whether or not the porn on the screen was realistic or not. Most the time it was the latter. The overdramatized moans and screams made you wince, on more than a few occasions, but it’s not like the paper thin walls separating the living room and yours did much to help. From having no mother figure to really correct your behavior, and a father that couldn’t give a fuck less, it started your one of many issues. Discovering sex at a really young age, not the act itself but any form of porn an eight year old could get their sticky, grubby hands on. The noises from the tv haunted your mind in a chilling way, making you want to stay as far away from it as possible, yet were still so fucking intrigued.

Until it was the start of the 9th grade, and surprisingly the comments the ‘women’ made in the locker rooms were still present in your mind, not surrounding your every thought, but still there deep down in the back of your mind. ‘Girls who are virgins are lame prudes’. If only you knew that those girls were bluffing about the whole virginity loss thing, but it seemed convincing enough at the time. The way they described how their ‘mans’ bent them over countless times over their granite countertops, or on the elementary school playground. It sounds absurd now, but they had big boobs, and horny teenage boys liked big boobs, so it must of been true, right?

And now here you are, at an headache inducing party, or rave, whatever you wanna call it, watching Gojo talk to yet another girl, more like plain on flirting. She seemed like one of those girls that wouldn’t know if a forty pound dumbbell hit her right in the forehead, so just Gojo’s usual fuck of the night. All he did was stare at her boobs which were spilling out the corset of her trashy costume, and make very poor conversation. What a man whore. You could see Gojo’s shit eating smirk on his lips even from far away and in the almost completely pitch black room, only flashing lights that could cause seizures giving you any sort of seeing ability.

His eyes move from her lips to her tits. Lips—tits—lips—tits. You just wanted to knock the red solo cup out of his overly large fingers and put them somewhere useful. (Such as your aching cunt just dripping in anticipation.) You wanted to go to the nearest open bedroom, drag him by is weirdly hot silver chain, and let him have at you. But you hold back your desires, trying not to let into another spiral of emotions with this man, the same cycle that’s been happening forever now.

You practically crush your phone with your bare hand after receiving that last text, but you refrain and shove it back into your bra since your day to day purse didn’t match your outfit. You take a long deep breath, one you often had to take due to Gojo’s infuriating cocky persona. Walking over to the kitchen, a mini bar was set up in this random kids house, which wasn’t even his you assumed by the family pictures propped up on basically every flat surface.

You hated the parties your friends dragged you to, you felt too old to be in the scene of just barely legal adults blacking out and throwing up so much to the point of you having to look around before walking to avoid stepping in someone’s chunky puke. But to your surprise you actually enjoyed the noise, not making it, but watching others create it. It gave you some sort of distraction from your thoughts which seemed to consume and take over your life since the 9th grade. You wouldn’t call it trauma necessarily, it’s not like you knew you had a fucked up home life until you were fresh out of high school. People on the outside saw your drunken father, crappy rundown home, and the rotational three outfits you wore each week to school and saw it has straight abuse. On some level, the lack of care you were given could be seen as abuse by default, but you were a happy kid. Sure, you were exposed to porn by the time you were eight, but it was just normal to you…in some kinda depressing fashion.

Gojo came from a completely different background, whenever you stepped into his gated community it felt like you were in some other world, an insanely futuristic environment. He was rich, but he wasn’t cocky like those spoiled brats you see on those UK television shows like Super Nanny. At least not when you two had met. It wasn’t a close friendship necessarily, but you two enjoyed each other’s company’s to the point of having sex with each other, so maybe you were closer than you originally thought.

⎜12:08 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): don’t forget you made me like this. don’t get pissy abt what u created.

You dig your phone back out of your lace bra and scoff when you see the message, your hand threatening to go find this piece of shit and chuck your phone at his big head instead. You don’t answer, stuffing your phone back where it came from. You gently push other drunks out your way, reaching for a beer from the ice chest. Using your mouth (one Gojo would call very useful and efficacious), popping it open with your canines.

One thing you loathed about Gojo (not to mention the other 52 things written in your notes) was he thought you were the reason for his ‘fuck boy’ qualities. Yes, you both took each other’s virginity’s, it’s not like he didn’t want it, in fact he wanted it more than you, judging the throbbing of his cock when he first showed it to you. It always comes flooding into your mind every night, more so each Halloween. You came to resent the holiday since it only reminded you of that night 13 years ago. Despite it being over a decade ago, you still recall the nervousness and excitement that you felt when he finally came inside you. It makes you laugh when you remember how totally freaked you were, how you thought you’d get pregnant with his baby.

At that moment you repeated over and over again how ‘this was a terrible idea’ and ‘i hate that you let us do this’. It was an all around shit show for a good twenty minutes before Gojo finally snapped and yelled at you to get over it. Besides it not being the most calm way to handle your panic, it worked. Who could blame him, he was scared shitless too. You both ended the night by trick or treating, it was a kinda dud of a night considering typical trick or treating hours ended two hours ago during your private fun. Luckily Gojo spotted a house on your near midnight walk, a load of halloween candy left in a bowl on some old lady’s porch.

“We shouldn’t-“ but of course, he didn’t let you finish, pressing a shy brief kiss on your lips instead. He had a subtle blush on his pale cheeks, a blush you would only see now during your angry make up sex sessions. Grabbing your hand, and practically dragging you to the house. “Just grab the fuckin’ candy, ya scaredy cat.” He laughs, looking around the dark streets before snagging the candy bowl with a big orange pumpkin face plastered on the front, running off.

“Gojo! YOU FUCKIN’ THEIF!” you giggle, suddenly the porch lights flicker on like some horror movie, and your heart drops into your ass. The door swung open to have your neighbor, Mrs. Miller standing there seething, her mini chihuahua perched in her arms like it was her newborn child. Gojo stopped in his tracks, still heavily breathing like some out of shape forty year old.

“Why you little!” Mrs. Miller reached out to grab you, only for you to duck her failed attempt of dragging you back. Gojo jumped up and down with an amused smile on his face, calling out for you to run faster, which you try to comply as best as possible. You run over to Gojo as fast as your legs would carry you, locking arms and running to who knows where, you can’t quite remember each detail. After that point the rest of the night was a blur to you, still thirteen years later. The sound of Mrs. Miller’s feisty chihuahua, later identified as ‘FeFee’ chasing after you being the most exciting part of the whole ordeal. Gojo and you laughing your way home, still heaving from running so fast from the tiny animal, a ‘disgrace’ to the dog community as he called it.

You both promised that after the scare of possibly having to raise a baby at the ripe age of 14, (and almost having bloody ankles due to FeFee) that fucking each other would be a one time thing.

But it wasn’t.

“F-fuck..! mhmph—God!” He continuously rammed into you from the back, his hands gripping your waist so hard it felt like you had broken bones. Your halloween costume was now thrown somewhere in the corner of this bedroom, who’s bedroom? You had no idea, but at the moment you couldn’t give two shits.

“Yeah? You like that baby?” Gojo thrusted harder, making a broken cry fall from your lips like water. “Knew you c-couldnt…resist my cock any longer, bitch.” Possessed grunts come from him at each thrust and movement he makes. Vibrations from the music of the party travel through the walls, Gojo going deeper and faster to the sound of the horrible rave music downstairs.

If it wasn’t a party, people might of thought a murder was going on by the sounds of your wails of pleasure, but it was normal to fuck at a party, no matter the location.

Tears seep into the pillow that the side of your face was squished down onto, mascara running down your face as you sob from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Gojo!” you sob, the pleasure becoming too much to bare, yet you couldn’t get the established safe word (which you two only made in 10th grade because you overstimulated him by riding his cock to the point of him passing out) to come out. His dick was that fucking good.

The sound of his heavy, cum filled balls coming in contact with your plush ass make you clench around his length, causing an animalistic moan from Gojo. A room echoing SMACK comes in contact with your ass, making you thrust your back into him, fucking him right back. The burning of the stinging sensation leaves you wanting more, the feeling of his hand still lingering on your left cheek.

Gojo begins going at an alarmingly hasty pace, his whole body aching for more of you, all of you, every single cell. The sound of your sloppy pussy squelching each time he pulls in and out, makes the heat in the pit of his stomach rise. By now you can’t see clearly, eyes welled up with tears and the remains of gooey eyelash glue. One of his hands leave your sore hip, grasping into your messy locks, giving it a good tug “MHMP! ….F-f—fuck!” This only causes him to yank your whole head back, you look up through your lashes, which are stuck together with a mixture of glue and sweat.

“Y-yeah,” he huffs, gripping your roots to a point of it being just downright painful. “keep looking at me….yeah mhmph—j-just like that.” The intense eye contact makes his thrusts even quicker and more efficient, his fat, squishy balls hitting your puffy clit over and over. “So fuckin’ tight for me.” Another hard spank wipes itself across both of your cheeks, the jiggle of them causing yet another guttural moan from Gojo’s throat.

Your soppy wet cunt drips all down his cock, his balls picking up the reminisce of your warm, flowing juices. Gojo’s fingers unravel themselves from your now frizzy hair, the thought of having to wash it later tonight makes you internally groan. His fingers make a slow, tantalizing path up and down your back, the contrast evident between his soft, gentle touch and his monstrous rock hard cock going in and out of your folds. Your face plants back down in the tear-drenched pillow case, the bed creaking from the force of your two bodies going at it.

His slow paced, soft finger touches come to an abrupt end when it meets your soft breasts. An aching cry sounding from your lips as his pointer and thumb mesh together around your now hard nipple. “Mhm…look at you…all whiny for m-me.“ He thrusts harder, your cervix feeling almost numb and incredibly bruised. At this point, your slobbering at the mouth like a dog with rabies, eyes rolling to the back of your brain each time his cock hits every delicious spot.

Gojo’s movements start to get sloppy, as well does the kisses he starts to place on your neck, back, and shoulders. The quick erratic pace starts to slow, forearms trembling from the strength he’s used to hold them on the side of your head all night. His thrusts are slow, long, almost like he’s grinding in slow motion, yet it’s not any less effective. Your thighs begin to shake with overwhelming pleasure, the pressure your body is holding in making you wanna scream it all out. “Mhmph g-gonna cum!” You practically scream a moan out, making Gojo’s lips turn upwards in a smug grin. His lips make their way from the left side of your neck to the middle, and then to the right, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. Dark red and purple bruised hickeys are now spread all down your body, surely to be left there for weeks to come.

“Nuh uh…not yet,” Gojo grunts as he feels your warm cunt clench around his throbbing cock for the millionth time that night. “This is my pussy…I g-get to tell you when to cum.” You almost wanna roll your eyes at his statement but your too drunk off his cock to care. You attempt to protest, the knot in your stomach becoming too hot to handle, but you get shut up right away when his fingers twist around your sensitive nipple once more, letting out a deep moan from your soul. Your hands grip the silk sheets in desperation, needing to grab something in order to keep you stable. “Mhm, tell me baby…who’s pussy is this?”

You cry into the pillow, pain, pleasure, and the feeling of being absolutely turned on in your whines. After not answering right away, Gojo grabs you by the hair again, yanking your head back, causing your neck to stretch to lengths you didn’t even know you had the flexibility to do so. “I asked, who does…this pussy belong to?” He says through gritted teeth. You feel every 8 inches of his cock in your stretched out pussy, every inch filling you up to as much as you could take. Each vein, the pounding pulse that acts as a second heartbeat, every thick, gurthy inch. When you don’t respond for the second time, too delirious to even understand what’s going on, he throws your head roughly back into the pillow, picking up his pace again.

Everything able to clench on your body does, gripping the pillow with such force that your knuckles turn white. Drops of sweat patter onto your back from Gojo’s forehead, the warm salty liquid making you squirm. Another sudden spank lands on your fat ass cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let loose. “FUCK—GOJO!” Strings of loud breaking moans and screams escape your mouth, sounding like a real murder now.

Gojo throws his head back once he feels your warm, sticky cum surround his palpitating cock. He pumps his dick back into you, pushing your cum back into your dripping wet cunt as far as his cock would let it. He himself finally let’s go, the thin string in his body snaps as his warm liquids mix with yours, in all too familiar feeling. His deep moans rush right to your core, the thrusts becoming inconsistent and sloppy once more. You hear the big analog clock from the entry way downstairs, giving you a slight reminder where the hell you were. Some random persons house, where his parents would probably be any second, and maybe you were even fucking in their bed. You bite your lip, slightly turned on by the fact of possibly getting caught, like you were a teenager back home, sucking Gojo’s cock before his father returned from work.

You whisper moan Gojo’s name over and over like a mantra, in other words, thanking him for finally giving you what your aching pussy had needed. You can tell he’s grateful too, being more gentle as if he had not just fucked your lights out. Caressing your back, like he did the first time this toxic relationship began back in 9th grade. Any memory loss from him talking to that girl just an hour ago was completely thrown out the window, even though you knew deep down you were just like her. One of his play things, the only difference was you weren’t oblivious to his motives. In fact you played into them, driving the toxicity just as much as he did. It made it fun that way. No matter how many guys you fucked, the number of cocks you sucked, the lips you kissed, none of them compared to his, and it made you feel sick in the most pleasurable way possible.

Gojo eventually pulls out, after speaking strange sweet nothings into your ear, which you haven’t heard since he was fifteen. You hated how it made your heart feel so warm, unlike the feeling of the cool air hitting your cunt. The cold air makes you wince, missing his cock already despite still feeling it’s outline in your folds. Fingers leave your hard, tender nipples, bringing them down to your dripping cunt, wiping the access off your thighs.

You start to come back to reality from the moment, the room still filled with humid sticky air caused by the amount of hot breaths and touches made throughout. The only sounds now being your heavy breathing, reminding you of the night you two ran away from FeFee, and slurping from Gojo, licking away at his fingers coated with your sweet salty release. Your folds still leaking with a mixture of your cum, trickling down your painfully sore thighs.

Gojo looks at the syrupy goodness leaking onto the silk sheets, a liquid you would only expect to see on waffles at the local cafe down the street. He finally collapses on top of you, softly massaging your right side, face pressed into the crook of your sweating neck. Placing gentle kisses on your sticky skin, bodies molded into one by your muggy bodies. You savor the moment, knowing deep down in your heart that things would go back to how they were in just a couple hours, fighting, screwing other girls and guys, and all together, a toxic romance.

You sit on the curb, voices from the party still able to be heard as you wait for your cab. You sit there like you’ve been through hell and back, you were if it meant having the best sex you’ve had in a good long while. Sitting on one cheek, the other still too sore to have pressure applied to it, you hear a ding from your phone. You wait a minute, trying to calm your pounding headache from both the alcohol and the amazing sex you just endured. The cool fall air blowing past you as you open the text you received, a small smirk tugged up your chapped lips.

⎜1:34 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): had fun. see u next halloween baby 🫴🏻🍑

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months ago

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Omg fucking stupid thing I thought of but like Sevika with a reader who is literally her number one apologist

Oh she got into deep shit? “I saw nothing actually” <�� (quite literally was there)

Oh she murdered a man? “I mean.. did we ever take time to consider why she killed them? I mean, they could have looked at her wrong! I mean, I would if I were her too—“

Oh Sevika was being an asshole? “So? And I was backing her up 😇🫶🏼”

this is so me, she'd chop finn's head clean off in front of me and i'd be like 'babe ur so silly! omg u have blood on ur arm!! lemme clean it for u...'

men and minors dni

sevika knows you're loyal to her.

in the five years you've been together, sevika's never once worried about your eyes wandering or you sneaking around on her.

but it's more than that.

you ride or die for sevika.

she realizes this the first time she's home to watch you talk to an enforcer.

sevika and silco's deal with marcus means they get away with most their dealings in the undercity-- but from time to time, to avoid questions, marcus will have to send a rookie down to the undercity to 'investigate.'

usually, the kid will snoop around for half a day, before high-tailing it right back up to piltover.

sometimes-- they actually try to investigate some of the evidence.

and, once or twice a year, one of the rookies will even have big enough balls to try to question sevika herself.

she's on the couch reading when someone knocks on your door. she's on high alert as she watches you open the door, her hackles rising when she sees the uniform standing on your front stoop.

"sorry to bother you so late at night, miss, is this the residence of a 'sevika'?" the enforcer asks.

sevika huffs, rolling her eyes and biting back her annoyed groan. she's in no fucking mood to deal with this. she's about to haul herself off the couch and take over for you, when you speak again.

"who?" you ask.

sevika blinks-- unsure if she heard you correctly.

"s-sevika?" the man tries again.

"sevika? i've never heard of a 'sevika' living in this neighborhood..." you say. sevika realizes what you're up to, and a smile breaks across her face. "do you mean savannah? there's a savannah a few blocks south, she owns a barbershop off third..." you suggest.

the rookie studies you for a second, and you just blink up at him innocently.

sevika has to smack a hand over her mouth when the idiot buys your act, sighing and slumping before turning around to leave your front stoop. "thank you for your time ma'am. sorry again for bothering you so late."

"put your gas mask on, young man, you'll hurt your lungs down here!" you call after him, waving sweetly as you watch him wander down the street.

you grunt and roll your eyes, your sweet smile dropping the moment he turns the corner, before you turn around and walk back inside your home, slamming and locking the door behind you.

sevika tackles you to the ground, kissing you fiercely. you burst into giggles. "what's this for?" you ask.

sevika can't stop laughing against your lips. "you're so amazing." she giggles. you just huff and roll your eyes.

"thought i'd turn you in?" you ask. sevika shakes her head.

"no-- didn't think you'd lie to a cop for me though."

you blink up at her, suddenly serious, and sevika's heart swells. "sevika. i'd do anything for you."

sevika has to hide her flustered face against your shoulder at this.

over the years, she realizes how much you meant the words.

you come home one night and find her panicking, a dead body in your living room blood soaked into her skin and clothes. you just blink, take a deep breath, and snap into action.

sevika watches in a daze as you gently guide her to sit on the couch, kissing her and calming her down as you strip her of her bloody clothes and toss them ontop of the dead man in the middle of your home.

you don't even ask her questions. you just gently guide her to the bathroom, and treat her like she's just got a cold, or something.

"you're so pretty." you whisper as you wash her clean.

you dress her in her jammies and put her to bed.

sevika stays awake, listening to you call ran and silco over, and then listening to the three of you clean up the mess for the rest of the night.

when you crawl into bed beside her at the end of the night, smelling vaguely of fire and gasoline and bleach-- sevika turns onto her side and grabs your hand.

"you okay, my love?" you whisper.

"will you marry me?" sevika asks.

you burst into giggles and agree, kissing sevika sweetly before dragging her onto your chest and scratching her scalp as she falls asleep.

it's not even the serious shit that you back her up on either. it's the dumb, petty shit too.

you can be sitting on her lap during a game of cards; muffling your giggles against her shoulder when sevika cheats by hiding a few of her cards one second, and the next you're swearing on your grandmother's life that sevika's never cheated during a game when one of her opponent's accuses her of hiding cards.

you hear her voice rise a bit when she gets in an argument with a goon, and you're by her side at lightspeed, glaring at whoever dared to question her authority, cracking your knuckles to back up her threats. when the goon stumbles away, nearly crying in fear, sevika turns to you with a guilty look.

"what?" you ask.

"i realized halfway through that i was yelling at the wrong kid... they all wear the same grungy eyeliner-- i can't tell these fuckers apart." she admits.

you burst into giggles and pull her in for a hug, and sevika finds out years later that you ended up tracking down the kid you'd both threatened and buying him dinner to apologize.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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multifariousqueer · 1 year ago

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im starving for 42 miles and i agree w ur hcs so can u pls write a fem reader fic where we’re chilling at home n he js barges in one night all roughed up n he has heaps of cuts n is bloody- and we get concerned but we know not to ask so we js silently patch him up while he stares at us (and hes got like sm thoughts in his head ab how much he loves us and appreciates us etc) and u can finish it off BUT YEAH

also pls include the pet names cos his accent has me WEAKKK and ik he def calls us ma and mami😩😩😩

Ofc Love!!! I’ve wanted to get this done for a bit now so here it is!!:

A/n: keep requesting miles!42 and regular miles fics please!! 🩷

Warnings: suggestiveness at the end, make out sessions, angst, fluff, groping(it’s consensual and it’s only seen when you squint), love confessions, possible spoilers if you haven’t seen atsv yet

3:00 AM

You: miles, baby are you okay?

Seen

You: are you mad at me for the joke I made about your braids being fluffy?

Seen

You: I didn’t mean it

You: text me when you can. Love you 🩷🩷

Seen

You fell asleep exasperated like you’ve been doing for the last three weeks now. Miles hasn’t been answering any of your texts or calls and has been leaving you on seen for no reason. When you did see him in person, he looked tired and diminished. Ever since his dad died, he’s been acting weird like this; but you could understand why. Although him and Uncle Aaron were closer, Miles was still really close to his dad and his dad loved you. You came over Rio and Miles’ house every day since then and tried to provide solace to them but Miles was always gone when you came over. His room looked different too, having ditched the bright superhero posters and traded them in for boxing gloves and a punching bag. Thankfully, you had established trust with Miles and he knew he could come to you any time, you just didn’t expect him to come through your window at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning.

It was about 3:15 when he saw your message, he wondered why you were still up and what were you doing but he couldn’t ponder the question for too long because he had someone chained up to his punching bag.

“Miles? Get off your phone, man.”- Uncle Aaron’s voice brought Miles back to reality

Miles did as told and geared up to kill the young boy who looked exactly like himself when all of a sudden, the chains fell and the doppelgänger swung at Miles’ perfectly structured face. A few of the punches connected but he was still able to subdue the mirrored image of himself(if everything went right).

However, Miles’ suit had been clobbered, his clothes covered in blood from a broken nose and blood from the fight. Even though he won, he couldn’t go back to his house because his mom would admonish him for this and Uncle Aaron was keeping watch so he went to your house.

You heard faint tapping on the window that you had assumed it was a bird, until the tapping became a loud knocking. You scurried up grabbing the nearest thing that looked like a weapon and went to the window. You found a battered Miles and knew something was wrong:

“Miles?”-you whisper shouted

“Ola mi amor” he said, trying to be suave but flinching in pain

You opened the window and let him in. You knew he was rough and bloodied up for a reason but it was late(or early depending on how you look at it) and you knew he wouldn’t tell you why; a small part of you also knew but chose not to acknowledge it. You just silently grabbed the first aid kit and patched him up as best as you could. You noticed he had a broken nose:

“Rough night?” You Said, trying to ease the tension

Miles didn’t reply, rather he looked at you through bruised eyes and simply nodded.

“Your nose is broken. You should probably go the the hospital for that” you said, nonchalantly

“Can’t you fix it?” He mumbled

“not easily” you mumbled, mocking his tone

He gave you an annoyed glare before saying:

“I’m sorry to come in late like this. And I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, Mami; it’s a lot going on that you wouldn’t understand and I’m trying to protect you.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to call or text” you said while closing the first-aid kit.

“I knew you would’ve worried about me and I didn’t want that” he said, hanging his head

“I’m your girlfriend, it’s my job to worry about you” you chuckled

It was like a Disney movie, Miles realized that if no one else would, you would hold it down for him and that you were gonna be there through thick and thin. He knew he loved you but this solidified it in his mind; he knew that if he survived long enough, you were gonna be his wife. It would be you waking him up everyday, it would be you kissing him goodnight and good morning, it would be you carrying and having his babies. Some days, he would wake up and wonder how he got so lucky with someone like you but he never thought too much into it because he knew he would find a way to sabotage it for himself but now, he didn’t care:

“I love you, Y/n” he said

“I love you too, Miles” you replied softly

“No. I mean like I love you so much that I can’t stand it, I wanna marry you, Y/n and be with you for life. If no one else has me, I know you do and I can’t even imagine myself without you.” Miles said

You started to tear up before crashing your lips onto his. Your lips moved in perfect sync as he grabbed your hips with one hand, and cupped your face in the other. You stayed this way for a while until Miles slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling for dominance against your tongue which he emerged victorious. He started moving his other hand to your ass as you moved yours to his chest when suddenly, you hear your parent call out:

“Y/n!!!”

“Yeah” you replied nervously, Miles leaving a trail of kisses down your neck

“Breakfast is ready” they shouted

You looked at your phone as Miles rubbed your back and saw it was 8:00 already.

“Shit” You Said under your breath, partly because of how Miles was making you feel

“Go Mamà, we’ll finish this later” he said against his neck

“Okay I love you, call me this time” you smiled

“Por supesto, Mami” he replied

You went down for breakfast and sat in your normal spot:

“Y/n?” Your parent said

“Yeah?” You replied

“What’s that on your neck?” They smirked

Damn it Miles

Translations

Por supesto- of course

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales headcannons #miles x reader #miles!prowler #miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles!spiderman #earth42!miles #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider verse #marvel #foryou

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ne-videl · 5 months ago

Text

𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽'𝓼 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶

♡

yandere Rezef Hill x immortal fem reader

quirks of eternal life and the obsessed prince.

yandere, sfw, mentions of violence, kidnapping & imprisonment, angst??, you are immortal and reaaly bored, poor english, possibly wild image of high society bc real history suck

word count: ~3.5k

a/n: hii!!

exams be killing me

glad its over until the next year but I still have a shit ton of books to read at summer bc I'm in literature class (Tolstoy I hope ur spinning in your grave I don't want to read 3rd and 4th tome of war and peace but I have to)

anyway for this fic I re-read first chapters and?? Rezef is such a dick in the beginning?? and I forgot abt it??

also when I think about someone immortal this type of person just comes to mind (I mean ofc u don't give a damn about some angry man, you literally have been through everything) and don't worry about Cayena she's chilling in a nice place

indeed, lady [name], you are shining brighter than usual today. you've only recently returned to the capital, haven't you?" – at that warm evening, a pretty young girl was chirping in your ear, sitting with you on a luxurious sofa in the ballroom.

you listened with half an ear to a mixture of flattery and sincere admiration, looking into nowhere from under your eyelashes.

the ball was playing its climax, and the guests were harmoniously spinning in a german waltz. others, more noble and older, entertained themselves with idle conversations.

you too, thanks to your position, were little constrained by the limits of secular norms, and did not bother dancing. tonight you wanted anything other than to gallop around the stuffy hall. your eyes, devoid of the childish brilliance peculiar to your peers, looked indifferently at the guests.

the ball in honor of the beginning of summer was a great event, even the royal family usually participated in it; such celebrations instilled in their noble participants a sense of reverence for the higher-ranking present and idle anticipation of the upcoming entertainment.

but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't see anything more from the height of your velvet sofa than pretentiously dressed men and women; strangely moving, stiffly dancing and talking vague figures under the sickening light of numerous chandeliers. all this in the stuffy luxury of the hall seemed to you so fake, pretentious and unnatural that you could barely restrain yourself from haughty laughter, or from a bored sigh.

[name], beautiful [name]! daughter of the richest man in the empire, a brilliant socialite, trendsetter and muse of famous poets.

you vaguely remembered what was inside some rubbish that you read about a hundred years ago, you don't know when and you don't know where.

and although in your case, "a hundred years" might not be just a phrase, you couldn't care less. whether this the fifth life or the hundredth – what's the difference? right, there's none – you thought lazily, openly staring at the crown prince exchanging pleasantries with representatives of the capital's bohemians.

like you, who on the last night of spring were dressed up like a Christmas tree, his highness shone with the white brocade of his suit today. eyes with the color of ceylon sapphire peeked out from under his golden bangs, giving everyone present the condescending look of the royalty. little prince – as you laughingly called him to yourself – was handsome to the point that young girls blushed deeply as soon as they saw him, and married ladies sighed dreamily.

at the sight of the handsome prince, some memory cracked in your skull, however, it died as quickly as it appeared. this and a thousand other memories were simply not worth your attention, and, of course, you never scolded yourself for the forgetfulness inherent in your age. you were above it all.

Rezef easily distinguished among the crowd a lady dressed in thick silk with bare shoulders. on your neck, which he did not hesitate to stare at, there was a pair of pearl necklace with a large emerald. when you met his gaze, you smiled falsely and slightly bowed your head.

middle-aged count, whose name he could not remember, looked at the woman in the corner of the hall, and scratched his gray beard with a smile.

"gorgeous, isn't she?" – an old dog next to him grinned vulgarly – "the beauty of the empire, they say."

"what a wonder." – Rezef did not take his strangely enchanted gaze off you, and the words escaped from his lips with a gasp – "it's not a pity to fall in love with such a creature." – he said maliciously, as if he concluded for himself.

the crown prince walked towards you, ignoring the knowing look of the nameless old man beside him.

he walked confidently, with a deceptively friendly smile, and would have been incredibly ridiculous to you if he hadn't been so handsome.

"good night to you, lady [name]." – Rezef smiled warmly, and held out his hand in a snow-white glove to you, – "may I keep you company?"

he kissed your palm, and without waiting for consent, sat down next to you.

you talked about various nonsense; Rezef did not take his shining eyes off you and listened, and you chatted in a dry tone about the opera, exhibitions and the weather in the capital, hardly forcing yourself to remember the topics that the ladies had already retold a hundred times.

but the guests were invited to the cotillion, and you left the little prince as easily as you accepted him into your shining company.

with the last round of the dance, everything that was happening completely mixed up in your head into a bright, stuffy mess, accompanied by the imperial orchestra and the clatter of shoes on the lacquered parquet.

and in the end, caught by the prince's arm, you were only a little confused, but you didn't show it.

"why won't you stay the night at the palace?" – Rezef said, whose broad chest rose and fell rapidly after dancing, just like your own.

you raised your eyebrows, looking at him from under your eyelashes, and fell into thought, accompanied by the prince to one of the front balconies.

normally, you wouldn't mind spending the night with such a handsome man, but today you didn't want carnal pleasures at all. and of course, you could afford to just turn down the prince like that; just because you're not in the mood, just because you don't want to.

"thank you for the offer, your highness, however, I will refrain." – you said.

for a second, when his eye twitched, you saw something unpleasantly bitter in Rezef's soft features, a mixture of disappointment with something else. but you didn't care to the depths of your callous heart; today you're not in the mood, today you're not having any fun at all.

and what was the point of that endless journey that you called life if you weren't having fun?

Rezef fell silent, maintaining his sugary smile and standing next to you, and you leaned on the marble railing, looking up at the sky.

the pale disk of the moon is floating high on the horizon. there was music coming from the ballroom, the rustle of dresses and the clatter of shoes, irritating your ears; the little prince had been gathering his thoughts for a couple of minutes to speak; and you rested your chin on your silk-gloved hand.

"tell me, lady [name]." – your bored gaze returned to the Crown Prince, – "this night, the moon and the stars, and me, doesn't that remind you of anything?"

you raised your eyebrow. even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to remember; over the years, memories inevitably dimmed and got lost.

Rezef looked at you expectantly, with almost childish anticipation. a sick gleam flashed in his eyes.

the longer your silence dragged on, the more you disliked his face, his eyes; the childish interest in his handsome features contrasted unpleasantly with the look of a madman. as if you won't say what he wants to hear now, the earth itself will crack and split in half.

"I'm afraid not, your highness. nothing at all." – you said, lightly shaking your shoulders.

the little prince didn't say anything else. his lips trembled, and he stared into the distance, clearly terribly disappointed.

the last night of spring burned out in your cold eyes, and you sighed indifferently.

♡

Rezef remembered his childhood well. in a world where everyone hated him, for some reason, there were no pretty princesses or kind older sisters. nobody. at all.

there was only a lady dressed in silk and the moon.

you came to him in dreams; whether out of boredom or out of simple human pity, he didn't know. you came because you could and wanted to; because you said you loved doing what you wanted.

it was just the two of you in this dream world. you told him all the life you could remember; and you had a long one, longer than the biggest cat's tail.

the boy lay on your lap and listened, and sometimes cried.

in this world its eat or be eaten, but you definitely won't eat him.

"they all say that I have no place in this world. that I'd better disappear." – little prince was clutching the silk of your dress tightly in his hands and squinting. – "I hate them."

"all of them?" – you answered with a relaxed, lazy smile, running your hand through the boy's golden hair.

"you and I have a lot in common. that's the way life is, child. when you grow up, you definitely start hating someone." – you were grinning. – "and you cry and feel sad a lot."

"when I become emperor, I will definitely make you the happiest in the whole world! so that you will never cry again." – the boy squeezed your hands tightly in his palms and smiled radiantly. he hesitated slightly, and looked at you from under his golden eyelashes. "but you didn't tell me your name."

"[name]." – you breathed out laughingly.

"aren't you a fairy by any chance?" – little prince tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a radiant gaze of his blue eyes.

"perhaps." – you giggled.

prince laughed loudly. a fake moon was hanging over you two, and fake stars were shining; everything in the dream world is fake – you told him.

but he liked these strange dreams. and wanted them to become real; to have a real moon, real stars, and only him and you.

♡

every time already grown-up Rezef met the woman from his dreams, he felt his heart beating faster.

human heart, such a fragile and pathetic little thing. how many of these hearts have you got your hands on?

he would gladly have torn out each one with his own hands.

the love for you, which has passed through the years, was like bitter liquor sliding down his throat. after it, the stomach turns out, but it intoxicates so much that he can't hold himself from taking another sip.

there is no light in him to give you. all he has is the suffocating darkness of his mind, cultivated by the mores of the palace, the thirst for power and cruelty. but just as no one else besides yourself mattered to you, Rezef didn't give a damn about the nature of his feelings.

poor, pathetic little prince. no one told him that this is not the way he should love someone. like a child who has not been taught to walk, and now it's crawling.

he's still holding back, but if necessary, Rezef will gladly drag you with him into the depths of hell.

but it hurts so much. every time he sees you laughing with someone else, smiling at someone else, he wants to cry.

it should be me! – his heart screams – it should be me! – his wounded soul cries while the prince stands over the corpse of one of your suitors, whom Rezef himself turned into a bloody mess. you should have held his hand. should have been smiling at him.

when someone's neck crunched under his hands again, he thought about you. would you praise him if Rezef brought you this man's head? for your smile, he would give his own heart, still fresh, in warm blood, right out of the gaping hole in his chest.

if you knew, you'd laugh.

because you are eternal, and he is just a human being. Inevitably, there will come a day when you will live, but Rezef will not. one day he will die, will end, and you will laugh coldly and continue your endless journey.

no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, you will always have an escape route. you can leave him.

unfair.

Rezef was even a little mad at you for that. he loved you so much; if you had only fluttered your eyelashes once and smiled – even falsely – he would have laid the whole world at your feet!

but you're breaking him. you don't care. you're only interested as long as you're having fun.

oh, how he despised that feeling, and despised you. how much he wanted to kill all the butterflies in his stomach, tear out every shiny wing; wanted to never see your mocking smile and indifferent eyes again, one fleeting glance of which easily made Rezef forget about al struggles for the throne.

he loved you as he had never loved anyone before; and hated because he didn't want to love, because he knew that you won't ever reciprocate.

♡

he and you could't be called friends, however, in the capital's high society, almost all of its representatives were friends and enemies at the same time. in any case, it was not shameful for the crown prince to visit the daughter of the richest man in the empire for dinner.

tall pine trees lined up in orderly rows along the hectares of the estate's garden, shining with luxury no worse than the imperial palace. they bowed their gloomy heads and silently greeted the carriage that evening under the hot july sun that had not yet set.

after dinner was served and eaten, you ordered one of your maids to serve tea in the garden.

"undoubtedly, what happened to the count's daughter is a disgrace to the whole family, however, I cannot help but sympathize with her." – you talked a lot again and at the same time didn't actually say anything.

the only good thing about such conversations about nothing was the opportunity to listen to your measured, eternally bored voice, and just look at you like at a painting in a museum.

the upper world was completely fake and unnatural, and you gladly accepted this fake as a living embodiment of it. and Rezef was willing to play along, because he was the prince, because it was necessary to. and so your conversation drifted from topic to topic, from one rumor to another. the warm wind made him close his sapphire eyes.

"I've seen you in my dreams, marchioness. when I was little." – the crown prince lazily tilted his head to the side, – "I know you, yet you don't remember me. isn't that unfair?" – he said with mock, with sarcastic sadness.

"is it?" – you took a sip of flower tea from a porcelain cup – "well, life is full of injustices, your highness."

a small cabbage butterfly landed right on your finger, moving its thin paws under the cold gaze of your eyes.

"lady, do you like butterflies?" – the prince smiled warmly – "there are a lot of them in your garden."

"only poisonous ones, perhaps." – you replied, and with a smile reflecting his own, squeezed the butterfly in your hand. – "they bring death, yet die themselves if I squeeze my hand just like that. how curious."

"and what about you?" – Rezef, as if enchanted, watched the transparent wings fall on the countertop – "can't you die?"

"I can't be killed in a way that matters." – you answered with a grin, as if you were repeating these words for the thousandth time.

prince pursed his lips in a forced smile. in the end, nothing has changed; he is still just a man at the walls of the eternal city. you won't listen, won't understand, and won't love.

because eternity is beautiful by itself, eternity does not need anyone else.

Rezef likes to think he's doing the right thing.

It's your fault. you could not smile at him so beautifully, not illuminate his darkness with your cold light, not make him feel this.

he didn't want to expose the ugliness of his soul, didn't want to go that far. it's all because of you. you don't even know what an insane cocktail of love and hatred you're making him feel.

and you also don't know that your tea is poisoned.

♡

"do you like your new quarters?" – Rezef almost purred, – "I was trying to guess your preferences, but if something doesn't suit you, be sure to tell me."

huh?

"you won't feel a need for anything," – little prince smiled radiantly, – "prepare to enjoy family life. just have fun and obey me, and I will make you the happiest in the whole world."

what?

Rezef was sitting, busily folding his beautiful hands, and enjoying for the first time the confused, trembling look in your eyes.

a giant bedroom, a four-poster bed, silk sheets on which you were sitting, a translucent nightgown that barely hides anything, and a scarlet ribbon around your neck.

while you were looking around uncomprehendingly, the prince sat down on the bed next to you and smiled sickly.

you saw that abomination again in the bright blue; the look of a pure madman, love which became an illness, mixed with almost animal hatred. a ribbon around your neck.

did he just put you on a leash, like you were some lap dog? that pup, who cried on your lap? you, a being older than his entire palace? you, for whom biting off someone's head is like having breakfast?

you haven't been humiliated like this in the last half-millennium.

"child." – you said slowly and quietly, and in your dry voice there was no trace of the cheeky, fake politeness peculiar to this aristocratic disguise of yours – "I'll pull your guts out through your mouth." – your lips trembled in sheer rage.

Rezef stroked your head and sighed.

"you came into my life so easily. it didn't mean anything to you, did it?" – the corner of his eye twitched, and he laughed bitterly, – "don't think I'll let you go now. never."

hit landed right on the bridge of his nose. you turned out to be much stronger than he expected, and your face was distorted with rage like he had never seen before. Rezef felt his nose bleed.

was the devil himself looking at him through your eyes now? – he thought with a strange calmness.

you hit a couple more times, and, shaking the blood off your knuckles, tore the ribbon from your neck.

how dare he? all of them are just actors in your endless play. if you're not having fun, then none of this makes sense. if you're not having fun, then what are you living for?

you were breathing fast, and were silent. it was as if for eternity you two just looked at each other; you – with fury, he – with calmness, even affably. you were sick of that expression.

but that rage of yours quickly subsided. it wasn't that you forgave him, it was just that after a couple of days you got bored with being violent.

and a year later, you stopped paying attention to the seemingly completely insane circumstances of your new life at all. you didn't mind his sole yet imaginary control over you, just because he didn't mean that much to you.

even now, nothing has changed at all.

and with the tendons cut at your ankles, looking at him with the same bored eyes, you were still disgustingly beautiful to him in the moonlight on the last night of spring.

"tomorrow I will become emperor." – instead of greeting you, Rezef said, entering the room. his face did not express joy, rather, bewilderment, as if he himself for some reason was not completely happy with it.

"yeah." – you said, without looking up from the book, – "congratulations."

now it was difficult for you to move around by yourself, so Rezef usually carried you in his arms.

he sat down on the bed and put his head on your lap and frowned.

"tell me, [name]," – he looked up at you, and when he met your impassive face, he forced a smile, – "why do I feel like I'll never see you again?"

"because you won't. I'm bored." – you shrugged and continued, – "you know, I could hate you." – you spoke calmly and dryly – "but you're not worth it. because in the end, I go on living; I always go on, and you, child, will fall into the very depths of hell."

you stroked his golden hair and smiled calmly. Rezef hid his face on your hips.

"I don't regret anything," – little prince suddenly said softly and laughed.

the last night of spring burned out in your eyes as you disappeared.

brotha euugh

one day I'll go to therapy and stop being funny but not today

I finished playing slow damage and it's the best novel in my life (that shit destroyed me)

also good ends are for weak

I mean I write for yanderes ofc there's not gonna be anything good

it's either normal or "we're fucked" here

also I'm physically intolerable to good endings and will cry if I'd ever had to write one (I love sufferings)

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere rezef hill #yandere manhwa x reader #rezef hill #yandere imagines #misha.writes

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hazelfoureyes · 6 months ago

Note

i have a bit of a fun ask :) can u put ur spotify on shuffle and write a fic with vox based on the first song that plays? plz plz HAZEL PLZ

Please please please know I am still getting my sea legs with Vox! So don’t go into this expecting my usual… uhhh skill? Confidence? also testing the new tag list system

「Warnings/Promises: Val exists, Vox x Fem Reader, stalking, pastry decimation, casual sexism」

Stalker’s Tango

From the moment you stepped out of your home, he was eagerly watching.

The security doorbell camera on your porch let him see you wore black pants and a white blouse. Perfect. A white pocket square in his suit jacket pocket to complement. “Wonderful choice as always, babe.” He spoke softly to the screen; to you.

He followed every move, jumping with muscle memory speed from traffic camera to home security camera to shopwindow full of screens.

When you stopped to go into a bakery, he was there in the cctv cameras, fisheye view of your order of cold brew coffee and a croissant. “Impeccable taste.” A confident laugh between you two as he shot off a text to craft services, two words, ‘Croissants. Now.’

“Could you possibly warm that?” You asked the young man behind the counter.

Another text. ‘Heated.’

He watched you at the bus stop. A man sat beside you and smiled at you. You offered a kind smile back. “Who the fuck is that?” He zoomed in, taking a screenshot to send to Velvette, ‘Find socials for this pissant.’

When you stepped onto the bus he sighed, relief the man was no longer bothering you but also with a heart heavy. You didn’t belong on the bus. Why couldn’t he just buy you a car? No, better, He should send a driver to pick you up daily. A personal chauffeur. You shouldn’t have to bother yourself with driving.

No, he was thinking too small. You should live in the tower. Angel Dust used to, why couldn’t you? A moment of fantasy.

Perhaps he’d walk in to find you in your pajamas. What ever could they be? He searched your online shopping history and couldn’t find a single purchase for sleep wear. Your lack of home television and a computer limited him to only watching you from your stoop and beyond. He buckled, what if you didn’t wear anything to bed? Why didn’t you let him see you at night? What did he need to do for you to trust him in your home.

A knock at the door he didn’t acknowledge. His sole focus was you. A book? You minx. Always playing hard to get. He knew you got the e-reader he sent. He watched you take the package from the doorbell camera, after all.

“Sir,” a small and slightly pathetic voice spoken through the door, “I’m getting word from downstairs they’re not sure how to keep croissants warm in the studio.”

Another zoom, what were you reading? He’d have the author on Vox programming, sure to take photos like old chums for you to see on your bus stop bench ads.

Vox rose slowly from his chair, eyes on you as he backed away from his desk.

A change in routine. You cut through Jekyll Park. No cameras.

Vox hurried to the door, huffing as he flung it open, “Have you never heard of a warming lamp?”

“They don’t have any… normally they only offer cold items.”

“Fine then have,” he pointed at a random employee walking by, “that fucker stand there with a toaster oven”

The eel demon shrunk, “Well he works for us not for-.”

The screen that comprised his head filled with static, eyes a swirling rage of red and black, “He works for the Vees. He goes where we tell him.”

He slammed the door, taking a moment to recompose himself before turning to face you. He didn’t want you to see him like that.

Spinning back, charming smile cocked on his face, “Alright where are you?” He strolled up to the displays and returned to his seat, scanning around until he found you again. But he wasn’t finding you. He couldn’t do anything about the park’s lack of cameras, it was pentagram city property, or else he’d have staff in there within the hour. Normally not an issue though, you never cut through that way.

Sixty seconds. Where were you?

Ninety seconds. Where were you.

One hundred and eighty seconds. Where were you!

Vox’s chair fell over as he stood with a panic, hitting the speed dial for Security. As the phone was answered and he began to instruct them to the west entrance of the park, you emerged from the tree lined path and tossed your empty coffee cup and food bag into the recycling bins. You’d just slowed your walk to enjoy your breakfast with a pretty view.

“Nevermind, false alarm fellas.” A nervous chuckle as he pulled at his collar. “Sir we’re not all me-.”

He hung up and leaned on the control panel. He should have sent a text. In fact maybe he still should.

Good Morning sinners! Reminder—- you’re only safe when you’re under the watchful eye of VoxTek Security Cameras.

A mass push text to every VoxTek phone in pentagram city. He watched you look at your phone and then up to the camera pointed directly at you from a light pole. A satisfied hum, “Good girl.”

As his view switched to the VeeTower camera system he danced into the elevator.

Vox’s foot impatiently tapped, staring directly into the eyes of the VoxTek employee holding the toaster oven in his hands. The fishy looking demon was squirming as the heat bled into the metal casing and burned his palms.

“Oh! I didn’t know I paid you to arrive late!” Val’s voice carried across the set.

You gripped the handles of your tote bag, “Val I’m sorry! The bus got a flat tire and I had to walk.”

A hiss as Val leaned down to get eye level with you, “Sluts lie as easily as they open their legs.”

“No, Val.” Vox interjected, tone stronger than he had intended, “She’s telling the truth. It was on the local traffic report. Cut her some slack.”

“I don’t watch that shit.” A sigh, exhaling pink aphrodisiac laced smoke into the air between you three, “Fine. If amorcito says so.” Val smiled to Vox before sending a sneer back to you, “Now fuck off to the dressing room.”

He walked away to shout at someone else, so you took the opportunity to say, “Thank you.” You offered a little head bow, grateful for back-up in your lie. Vox had already been trying to sneak off the set when you started speaking to him, causing him to sheepishly spin around on his heels. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but I see you all over the place. You’re Vox, right?” You extended a hand.

His screen flickered, blue background now with a gradient pink starting from the bottom, a blush rising up his face, “I see my reputation precedes me.” A false bravado as he gestured to himself. He moved the croissant to his right hand so he could shake yours.

“Well… your name and face is on everything. So, yes! I guess so.” You shook his hand, “Oh, I had a croissant too.”

He beamed, “Ya know what they say, great minds and all that. I was just having a little breakfast after reading. I hear they have some on set today in craft services.” You perked up, looking to the food table and the man holding the toaster oven.

“My lucky day! If only they had iced coffee. It would be perfect.” With a polite smile you took a step away, “I gotta go or Val will kill me. Nice to meet you!”

Vox stood still until you were out of sight. His hand crushed the pastry before he launched it across the room, mumbling about coffee before looking back longingly in the direction you’d left in, “See ya later babe.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #fanfiction #vox #hazbin vox

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reshinless · 8 days ago

Note

hello reshi good weather today innit

first of all iwant to say that i LOVE YOUR WORKS i gobbled them all up its not funny 😂😂😂😂😂hheneelelpp…… the brainrot is real and its eating AWAY!!!!!!!!!

seconf of all i keep going back to your kinich breeding kink fic. which made me wonder liek what do u think about dad kinich ,??:?\ mmmaybbeee…. mayhaps…

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS no pressure ^_^

also can i be 🦢 anon i think ill probably return

hallo 🦢 nonnie!!!1!1!1 and ty, I'm happy lots of ppl read n enjoy my stuff, feel free to send more ideas >_0

he'd honestly frfr be a super good dad. like as someone who's learned that life is precious, and he's happy to have made some with you.

but if you take it in the single parent kinich aspect instead—he's just such a good dad, and often leaves hi child with mualani IF he still decides on doing saurian hunter stuff. but for sure I feel he'd leave the night warden war stuff behind

he honestly felt...somewhat scared. he fact he might have been about to lose his chance to hold his little girl again :(

oh but real talk he'd let his kid get their own saurian. I feel like he'd get them a saurian that is anything but whatever ajaw is.

he loves to throw them up in the air like genuinely he loves it so much.

same with swinging them, probably makes a playground set for them from scratch because his kid asked

he watches cartoons w your guys' children and acts like it doesn't really hurt him when something crazy happens to the mc

like ex. trolls when poppy lost her color. he was just as heartbroken as your daughter.

lowkey gains a dad bod if you think about it >_0

he always does the "ask your mom/other das" when it comes to serious stuff or things he doesn't wanna answer

example: kid asks about where babies come from..? go ask your mother sweetheart.

he brings the kid on his adventures sometimes—sometimes—only because it's his gift to them. but he knows if it were any other occasion then the kid's birthday you would kill him 💞

whenever you both do corny couple stuff the kid is always gonna go "ewwww!!" and run away while laughing.

"well would you rather me and your daddy fight all the time?" you joke as you finish braiding the little splitting image of you both's hair. "nooo! never! but you guys are cheesy!"

ajaw will be teaching the kid swear words and then blame it on kinich

like randomly while you and kinich are discussing things about I don't know getting a yumkasaurus for your little girl—you hear the same little one shout the word 'fuck.'

"where on earth did you hear that word from young lady!" "from daddy." "KINIIIICH!!"

and ajaw giggles behind the curtain watching everything unfold and he's rubbing his hands together like "muehehhehe... ur done kinich!!!..." even when u meant ur scolding light hearted after finding out about uncle ajaw. and will scold ajaw later.

thanks for coming to my ted talk

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minustwofingers · 2 years ago

Text

exoplanet p.3

pairing: ellie williams x fem! reader (ur a girly girl in this one!!) (she/her pronouns)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: (PLEASE READ!) explicit language, violence, description of a medical procedure sans anesthesia, recreational drug use (idk how else to put it ellie gets absolutely zonked in the beginning), reader overthinks asf and is a little neurotic but that's why we love her x

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for the wait! it's been genuinely insane how sweet and incredible all of you are. i've never felt so appreciated for my writing!! also, some notes: this chapter is heavily inspired by my last relationship. sorry if it's not as immersive bc of it! and also i don't have ANY medical knowledge so...cast a blind eye when u get to that scene

part 1

part 2

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma

wc: 6.6k

enjoy x

“One more time.”

You gave Ellie a withering look from where you were sitting at the end of her bed.

“Please,” she said, drawing out the s. “Just once more. I promise.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes—a habit of hers that you were quickly picking up—and took in a deep breath. “Fuck.”

Ellie lost it, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. “Another one. Say something else.”

“I don’t understand why you think this is so funny,” you said.

“You say it so weird.”

“I enunciate,” you clarified. “I don’t ‘sound weird’. It’s called pronouncing every letter in the word and not having a lazy mouth.”

“Please,” she gasped. “At least say bitch. You haven’t said that one yet.”

You looked her dead in the eye. “Bitch.”

If you weren’t already certain that Ellie was high out of her mind by the smell of her room and the general haze in the air, the way she howled with laughter and fell back on her bed would’ve made you entirely positive.

This was new. You’d begun to hang out with her in her room after dinner—that was normal—but when she’d knocked on your door smelling heavily of weed once you’d said goodnight to Joel, you were nothing less than shocked. Of course, she had none left for you. Which was probably good, because only a sober mind could navigate a night sitting on Ellie’s bed without doing something really, really stupid.

“I can’t believe you call me weird,” you said, tucking your feet under her and giving her a pointed look.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t grow up where I did,” Ellie said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she tried (unsuccessfully) to rein in her giggles. “You would’ve been eaten alive, good lord.”

“What were you like as a kid?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

She considered for a moment, growing more somber. “Um…I don’t know if you would’ve liked me very much.”

“What do you mean? Of course I would’ve liked you.”

“No,” she said, swiping at her face so she pushed a strand of hair away. “I don’t think you would have.”

“Why not?”

“I was…” She paused, picking at her cuticles. “Back then I didn’t have anyone. I was an orphan, you know. My parents were never in the picture, so I was the only one I could count on. I was really rough around the edges and could be nasty. But I probably would’ve ignored you like I did everyone else. “

“Everyone? You didn’t have anyone? No friends at all?”

Ellie blinked, and her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “Basically, yeah. I mean, there was one girl, but that’s…I don’t want to talk about that right now, actually.”

“That’s okay,” you said, reaching forward to touch her knee. She flinched at the contact but didn’t brush you away. The image of a young, scared Ellie living somewhere alone made your chest ache. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“What were you like?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting your eyes.

“Hmmm…” Mirth crept into your tone. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Ellie echoed, her eyes cloudy as she thought. Then a small smirk formed on her face. “Oh god, were you one of those spoiled brats? Were you a mean girl?”

“God, no,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Not mean.”

“Then what?”

You paused. “I was really shy, I guess. And quiet, too. I didn’t do much but read for a good 10 years of my life. I used to have awful pronunciation because I would spend more time reading than talking to anyone. But I think I would’ve liked you.”

Ellie shook her head.

“Yes,” you said. “Maybe I would’ve been a little scared of you. I probably would’ve never had the courage to talk to you. But I would’ve liked you, I think.”

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? I was a kid.”

“I was mostly going off of how I felt when I actually first met you,” you said, shrugging.

She gasped theatrically. “You’re scared of me?”

“No!” you said, smacking her knee. “That’s not what I mean. You’re just really intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” She looked at you incredulously.

“You’re so tough,” you explained, feeling heat grow in your cheeks. “You seem just—I don’t know, just so capable. There’s nothing you’re too afraid to face, nothing you’re too afraid to say.”

“That’s not true,” she said lightly.

“Well, of course I’m sure there are things that you’re afraid of,” you amended. “But you hide it so well. You just seem so…fearless.”

“Hm,” Ellie said, letting her head rest against the headboard. “I think you would’ve made me a nervous wreck. If we’d met when we were kids, I mean.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re just so untouched.” She winced. “God, no. That sounds gross. I just mean…I dunno. I wouldn’t have known how to act around you. You haven’t had to harden up like everyone else I know.”

“Are you saying I should develop trust issues or something?” you asked, your voice a teasing lilt.

“You know,” she said, nodding seriously, “That is part of it. It was really off-putting how quickly you trusted me. But I guess that’s just a product of where you grew up.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wonder how I would’ve turned out if I’d grown up like you.”

“Can I be honest?” Ellie asked.

“Sure.”

“I don’t think you’d still be here if you were me,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “No offense. You just have zero survival skills. I swear that shit has to be genetic. I’ve never met someone more averse to violence in my life.”

You sighed, pressed your hands deep into Ellie’s comforter as a thought hit you. “I think if you’d been born in my position, you would’ve been greater than anything either of us could ever dream of. Much greater than me.”

“Definitely not,” said Ellie. “There’s no fucking way I’m studying the way you apparently do. I honestly think I’d take being an orphan over the study schedule I saw in your bag.”

She was of course referencing the time table you’d roughly sketched up the morning before you’d ended up in Jackson. It was blocked to the minute, citing the study content and the location of said study session. She’d been beyond horrified to see it.

You laughed, nudging her socked food with yours.

“Is there music? In Terranova?”

“Oh,” you said, startled at the abrupt change of subject. “Uh, yeah. Of course. I listened to it all the time.”

“I used to have a Walkman,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. She was lying flat on her back now. “It ended up breaking a while ago, but it was like my child.”

“Have you ever seen a movie before?” you asked, sitting up rigid straight as the thought occurred to you.

“Duh,” she said, giving you a weird look. “Do you think I live under a rock?”

“How many?”

“Hm.” Ellie began counting, ending on her second hand. “I think 6?”

“You’ve seen a total of 6 movies in your life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to see more?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s just tough to find CDs that are still functional after so long.”

“Hold that thought,” you said, holding a finger in her direction as you stood up.

“Hey!” she called as you bolted out the door. “Where are you going?”

You came bounding back to her room in a matter of seconds, your laptop in your hands.

“What the fuck?” she said. “Isn’t that your homework thing?”

“Yes,” you said, feeling around for an outlet, “But I also have a ridiculous amount of movies downloaded on this. Our dorm wi-fi is shit and I have way too much storage on this thing, so I just download, like, every movie I’ve ever wanted to watch.”

“Your dorm what?”

You waved your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was explain to her how the 802.11 standard allowed wireless connections a few years after the outbreak. “Not important. Here, come look at this.”

Your laptop roared to light with the help of your charging cord. Quickly, you typed your password in and opened your downloads. Ellie hovered over your shoulder, squinting at the screen with confusion.

“Here,” you said, opening up the album that had everything you had seen for your entire university career and passing the laptop to Ellie. “Use the touchpad—there, yeah—to navigate. Press to click. These are all movie files that I’ve seen. We can watch them on my laptop. Some of them were filmed in Terranova, too, so they’re post-apocalypse.”

She perused the selection you had for quite some time, the glow of the screen lighting up her face against the dim room. “Okay. This one.”

And thus began a tradition. Each night after you’d finished showering and Joel retired to his room, Ellie would come knock on your door and ask if you wanted to come over. You’d talk for a while, then open your laptop and pick something out to watch. Ellie was never high after the first time, which was unsurprising considering that there definitely wasn’t a way to get any in Jackson. Where she found any the first time was still a mystery to you.

A week or so after your first patrol with Ellie, Joel had taken it upon himself to teach you how to shoot. You were surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected, but the rebound was tough to get used to, and you were still hung up over the whole “killing living things” part.

Your first patrol—first real one—came quickly, and before you knew it, Ellie was handing you the same gun you’d dropped the first time with a suspicious look.

“Don’t kill one of us with that thing,” she warned. “Be smart, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” you said to her, mock saluting as best you could while you were leading Japan to the mounting block.

She rolled her eyes. “Please act normal or I’ll make you carry around that glorified pocket knife instead again.”

The patrol began as usual, Ellie leading you down the same path you went last time. It was a beautiful day out, with the early spring sun filtering through the evergreen trees that populated the woods and birdsong filling the air.

Though conversations with Ellie were getting easier (given that it actually seemed like she wanted to talk to you now), you were still starstruck. Nothing that you did and nothing that you thought could get you to stop seeing her the way you did. You were routinely distracted by everything about her. It was a wonder that you could even function as a normal person around her, much less handle a weapon and a horse.

You two had nearly made the full rotation when your surroundings exploded in action.

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed as someone behind you two fired a shot that narrowly missed Shimmer.

You whipped around, gun in hand, to see two men—two normal men who weren’t infected. One held a bow, the other a gun.

The one who had fired the first shot never even stood a chance. He was down on the ground seconds after you’d seen him, Ellie’s aim taking him out before you could even ready your gun.

The second man notched an arrow and managed to draw it back and release into the air right as Ellie’s bullet struck him, sending him falling back.

“I don’t think there’s any more,” said Ellie, slightly breathless as she scanned the forest. “Sometimes outsiders pull this shit—try to kill us for our supplies. I’ve never seen them this close to the wall, though. I’ll have to tell Maria and Tommy.”

Normally, you would’ve felt up to making some sort of sarcastic comment about how that was a really unconcerning thing for her to tell you and that you actually felt so much more comfortable going on patrol knowing that there were also just run-of-the-mill people trying to kill you, but a twinge in your lower body distracted you.

Slowly, nervously, you looked down. Air immediately left your lungs.

“At least we’re done,” Ellie was saying, wiping her hands off on her thighs and slinging the gun over her shoulder. “What a crazy end for your first actual patrol, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, she turned to you and saw the arrow sticking out of your side,

“Shit,” said Ellie, jumping off Shimmer and reaching you in seconds. “Shit, shit, shit. Oh god.”

“Am I going to die?” you asked, staring starstruck at the blood escaping the outline of the arrowhead. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Were you in shock?

“No,” said Ellie firmly. “Absolutely not. Do you need help getting off?”

Before you could answer, she was already helping you down, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow.

“Listen,” she said, back to being her unwavering self, “We’re right by the wall. I’m going to help you walk in, and then I’ll grab some supplies, okay? Don’t try to pull the arrow out. You hear me? Don’t.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. She helped you walk the few steps to be carefully concealed by the wall, then grabbed the two horses and darted past you, making a break for Maria and Tommy’s cabin.

In a haze of confusion, you could see Maria running out, holding a box out to Ellie in exchange for the reins of the horses. Ellie said something that made Maria point towards you. She nodded, then ran back to you.

By the time that she’d reached you, the shock had begun to wear off, replaced by the stinging pain from the object that had impaled you. It was worse than anything you’d ever felt before in your life, and it took all you had not to keel over.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your face so you had to look at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve done this before, okay? I’m, like, the master. It’s going to be alright.”

“Done what before?” you managed to grind out.

Ellie let go of your face to dig through the box Maria had given her, producing a needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and what looked like a spool of thin thread.

Horror slowly trickled through you as you realized what was about to happen.

“It doesn’t look all that deep,” Ellie was saying as she examined the arrow. “So I don’t think it’s hit anything. It’s just going to be a nasty hole. I’m going to pull it out now, okay?”

You let out a strangled scream as she grasped the arrow’s end and yanked it out without warning.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ellie repeated. She threw the arrow over her shoulder and knelt so she was hovering over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gasped. You were most certainly not. You couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus, and your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Alright,” she said firmly, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up so you were slumped against the wall. “Sit up straight, alright? Also, this is going to hurt.”

At first there were just snipping sounds as she cut part of your shirt away—then something cool and wet pressed to your wound. You cried out again as a fresh white hot pain bloomed in your middle.

“I know, I know.” Ellie’s voice was consoling as she reached up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Just a few more seconds.”

“Fuck—off—” you gritted out from your teeth.

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Just this once.”

She released the alcohol-saturated cotton pad, throwing it aside and fussing with the thread and needle until she was satisfied.

By the time her fingers were ghosting over your abdomen again, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the puncture wound and the needle she was wielding.

“Don’t look,” said Ellie. “Pick something else. You don’t need to watch.”

“I hate needles,” you whispered, choosing the air over her shoulder to be your focal point.

There was a prodding at the top of your wound, and you hissed.

“I can’t say I’m a fan myself.”

Something pierced through your skin, and your midriff exploded in pain.

The edges of your sight went fuzzy, stars forming in the corners of your vision. Someone that sounded suspiciously like you cried out. Your cheek rammed up against something solid and warm.

Once the initial sting had faded, you realized that you’d slumped into Ellie, your face buried into her neck. She didn’t make any move to push you off, instead just taking one hand to brush up and down your arm with a feather light touch.

“You're fine," she said firmly. "Everything's going to be fine."

Your fingers curled around the hem of her shirt as the needle exited through the other end of your wound, pulling another whine from your throat. It was easier to not feel like you were about to pass out when you were crushed into Ellie, clinging onto her and just focusing on the way she felt against you.

“Hang on, I'm almost there,” she muttered a few stitches later. You’d quieted down, only letting out the occasional gasp as she pulled the thread through. “You're doing so well. Just one more.”

Now that you were more conscious, you had no idea how she was managing to stitch your side while you were nearly on her lap, but she continued to weave her needle through your skin, pulling it taut.

“And done,” said Ellie. You felt her take another cotton square to swipe against your skin.

You laid against her for a few more moments, panting as the shock slowly began to fade. She shifted, and for a moment you were sure that she was going to shove you away, but then the hand she’d lifted hesitantly rested on your head, her fingers parting to card through your hair.

“How did you learn how to do that?” you asked, your voice muffled from where you were pressed against her.

“Trial and error.”

Her joke was enough for you to finally let go, sitting back against the wall. Her hand slithered out of your hair, resting back in her lap.

“Shut up,” you said. “That’s awful.”

Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling the bumpiness of the stony wall press into your back. “I have a really low pain tolerance.”

“So I’ve noticed,” said Ellie, the side of her mouth quirking.

“I’ve never been hurt before,” you heard yourself saying. “Like, beyond the occasional splinter or bee sting or accidental scrape or ankle sprain. It’s just not something that happens.”

“Must be nice.”

You smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s not nice being weak, though.”

Ellie looked away from you then, silent as she packed up the first-aid kit. Then: “I don’t think that’s true.”

She’d said it lightly, like it was meant to be an offhand comment, a throwaway addition that wouldn’t be remembered by either of you. But the sentiment still struck you, twisting your heart.

You were less capable because your survival had never required anything more. You were weak because you could be.

Her voice from the night she’d been high floated back to you. You haven't had to harden up like everyone else I know.

Out here, weakness was a luxury few could afford.

“Not so untouched anymore, huh?” you said, since you didn’t know how else to respond.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” quipped Ellie. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I still consider needing to be held to get 4 stitches as being soft. You haven’t changed a bit. No offense.”

Your cheeks burned bright red. “I—”

“I’m teasing,” she said before you could defend yourself. “Arrow wounds suck. I get it.”

“Right.” You turned away, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside you. With feeling more yourself came the inevitable shame at what you’d just done. What had you been thinking, touching her like that? Grabbing onto her like that?

This was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Don’t make that face,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It really is fine.”

It was not fine. It would never be fine. You wanted the thugs to come back to life and finish you off, and then have the earth open up and swallow you for good measure.

Ellie probably thought of you as an overgrown child. You doubted that there was ever a point where she could see you as anything equal. If she ever knew how often she appeared in your imagination, she’d probably be disgusted.

She called you pretty a contrarian voice in your head reminded you. Don't you remember?

But maybe she hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t said it explicitly: “Y/N, I think you’re pretty.” She just hadn’t argued when you’d pointed it out. Maybe because she was being nice, or maybe because she was actually being sarcastic.

“You were really brave, okay?” said Ellie. “Your first armed confrontation and you did well.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“It could have gone worse,” said Ellie. “You could’ve accidentally shot me. Or died. And neither of those things happened, so that’s successful in my book.”

“That’s very glass half-full of you.”

“That’s me. Ever the optimist.”

You snorted.

That night, Ellie knocked on your door and asked you if you were up for another movie. You found yourself sitting on her comforter, plugging in your computer and booting it up minutes later.

Physically speaking, it had always been a little awkward to fit two people on her twin bed if they weren’t right next to each other, given that your laptop screen was a very unimpressive size. When you’d first started watching with her, Ellie would rest against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of you while you would sit with your legs crossed, positioned sideways so you weren’t accidentally pushing her legs off.

But after the day you had had, your back was sore and your whole body ached. Sitting on something soft without any back support as you angled yourself to look at the screen was quickly proving unsustainable.

“Pause,” said Ellie about ten minutes in. You’d been watching an older sci-fi flick—Ellie’s choice.

You complied, leaning forward and pressing the spacebar. “What’s up?”

“Are you even comfortable sitting like that?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Liar,” accused Ellie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I don’t see you ‘discreetly’ cracking your back every 2 minutes. It’s ruining the movie.”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head and smiling in exasperation. “It’s from all the years I spent hunched over a textbook.”

“You know, you can sit up here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” you said, though by the time Ellie let out a laugh you were already unfolding your legs and moving so you were next to her.

She leaned forward, grabbing the bottom half of the laptop and lifting it. “Hey, do you want a blanket?”

“Sure.”

Ellie’s other hand grabbed the edge of her comforter and held it up.

Hesitantly, you slid your legs under and watched as Ellie did the same, awkwardly holding the laptop in the air before you were both settled enough to rest it on your covered right thigh and her left. “Better?”

When you nodded, she reached her tattooed arm out and pressed play. The audio picked back up, but you couldn’t for the life of you focus on the movie.

When Ellie had asked if you’d wanted a blanket, you were expecting her to toss the throw blanket that would really only fit one person at you, not invite you to get under the blankets with her. That was significantly more intimate.

You two were sitting close enough that your sides were touching, from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her chest lift with each breath, feel the heat coming off of her.

After a while, Ellie properly laid down, taking the laptop and hoisting it up so it rested on her lower abdomen as she settled into her pillow.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between her face and the screen. Ellie’s gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

You could be tired too. You weren’t, of course—your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. But she didn’t know that. It was normal to lay down next to her, right? You’d done that with Irena more times than you could count, and it was never weird. Yeah, you could do that.

Also, if you were totally horizontal, you would stop getting distracted by the sliver of her skin that her crooked shirt showed of her chest.

In a moment of blind courage, you scooted down so your head was lying right next to Ellie’s. She didn’t seem to react, just extending her hand from under the covers to steady the laptop as it wobbled from the movement.

Her sheets smelled like the soap that you used to wash your hair—a cottony freshness that had the slightest hint of lavender.

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” asked Ellie after a while, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, equally quiet. Then, because you hadn’t made enough rash decisions for the night, you angled your head so it rested in the space right above her shoulder.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. On her next exhale a piece of her auburn hair tickled your forehead.

“How’re your stitches?” she asked suddenly, like she'd just remembered.

“They’re okay. I think. As stitches go.”

“After this is over, I’ll check on them,” she said. “Don’t let me forget, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy. It was one thing for her to cut off your shirt and see your skin when she was trying to save your life while you were mentally gone. It was another thing altogether to pull up your shirt without adrenaline coursing through you.

You didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the movie, instead hyperfocused on the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing and the fact that if you moved just a little your chin would be on her shoulder.

Her mention of the stitches wasn’t helping at all, either. Now all you could think about was the embarrassing way you’d basically tried to crawl under her skin, burying your face into her and clutching at her clothes like you were a child.

A part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t been more lucid at the time. If you had, you would’ve been able to clearly remember the softness of her skin against yours. You would’ve been able to enjoy it for what it was—the only time you’d be able to touch her like that.

Because you couldn’t go around just grabbing onto her shirt and getting into her lap. That was a one-off, the only time that the rules were waived. You couldn’t touch her like that now, now that you didn’t have any excuse. It wasn’t allowed.

But sometimes you wanted to so badly that it hurt.

The movie ended abruptly, wrenching you out of your thoughts.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie. “Sit up so I can see.”

Reluctantly, you pressed yourself up from your back and began rolling up the hem of your shirt. Ellie twisted to face backwards, her thin top riding up and showing part of her back as she reached for the lamp.

Once golden light returned to the room, Ellie turned back and bumped your hands away. She bent over, tilting her head so that she was looking at the stitches straight on.

They didn’t look bad, you had to admit. Though you wouldn’t consider the actual experience of getting the stitches a 5-star experience, Ellie had clearly known what she was doing. The surrounding flesh didn’t look angry or irritated, and she’d pulled the stitches just tight enough without it puckering.

She prodded at the side, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks good. What did I tell you? I’m really good at this sort of stuff.”

“I think you would’ve made a really good doctor,” you said once she’d sat up straight again. “Under different circumstances.”

“Is this you telling me that you don’t think I’m a good doctor now?” she teased.

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” you offered.

Ellie laughed then, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You lived. You'll get over it.”

“Did you go to school?” you found yourself asking, hung up on the thought of Ellie as a potential medical student. If she’d been in one of your intro biology classes, you never would’ve been able to pay attention. That was a fantasy you could shelve away for later.

“Sort of,” said Ellie, looking down at her arms. “I went to a military prep school run by FEDRA. I didn’t graduate though—obviously. I was long gone by then.”

“Right,” you said, remembering that she’d mentioned that she’d been 14 when she’d left Boston. “And what was it like?”

She paused, opening her mouth before closing it. “It was—unkind. Joel's told me about schools before the outbreak. It was nothing like that. There were some normal classes, but most of it was meant to prepare us to be soldiers.”

“Is that where you learned how to do sutures?”

“Among other things.”

Terranova had no military academies, given that there was hardly any military presence. The founder of Terranova had bodyguards and there was a police force that controlled the borders, but it was nothing like Ellie described. With invisible borders and a social order that valued peace and tranquility over all else, there was no real danger posed to any of the citizens.

But from what you had learned from movies and books and comments from older people, you had gathered a very dim picture of what a military academy looked like—harsh, strict, and cruel.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” you said.

“It’s okay.”

“Is there anything you would want to study? If you could?”

Ellie’s eyes closed. “Yeah. There are a couple things.”

She did not elaborate.

It didn’t take long for you two to settle back into your routine of meeting in her room each evening and watching one of your downloaded movies. Following the night after you’d gotten your stitches, you wouldn’t even have to ask—Ellie would pull up her comforter and let you slide in next to her without giving you a second glance.

You’d also gotten over the fear of touching her. Now, when you flopped back so your head was on her pillow, you’d adjust until you were nestled into the crook of her neck. She never once reacted to it, remaining perfectly still unless she was adjusting the laptop or messing with the sound.

Because it was normal, of course. You and Irena would rest your head on each other’s shoulders sometimes. That was something that friends did.

One night a week or so into April, you and Ellie made a harrowing discovery: there was only one movie left in your collection that you two hadn’t seen together.

“Damn,” said Ellie, furrowing her brow. “And there’s no way to get more on here?”

“I’m afraid not,” you said, frowning. “To download more or stream one, I’d need either an Ethernet cable or a wi-fi connection. Neither of which function out here anymore without cell towers and maintained cables.”

“Right,” said Ellie, though her face told you that she didn’t understand a word that had come out of your mouth. “So—this is it?”

“Yeah.” Your finger hovered over the play button. “Savor it, I guess.”

When you settled back and into her side, the heavy weight of dread settled into your stomach. Now that you’d finished showing her your entire collection, it’s not like she’d have a reason to invite you over every night. And there was especially no reason for you two to lie so closely together unless you were both trying to watch something on a small screen.

Once again, your excuse to touch her was gone.

You pressed closer to her as your mind raced. There was no way that Ellie didn’t see what you were doing as platonic, right? Was it possible that she was creeped out by how touchy you were but just tolerated it to be nice?

Maybe. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. Ellie didn’t see you like…like that. She spoke to you like you were an obligation, a burden. Because you always had been. You’d been a responsibility thrust on her by a father figure who felt like he was indebted to you from that stupid bag of coffee you were lucky enough to bring.

Oh, god. Had Joel told her to befriend you? Had he asked for Ellie to pretend like she enjoyed spending time with you and to put up with your privileged, soft-hearted nonsense?

The knowledge that you were spiraling wasn’t enough to stop you. You did the best that you could—tried to remind yourself that it’d been a while since she’d looked disgusted with you, recall that she was outspoken enough to tell you to fuck off if you did something she didn’t like—but it was to no avail.

Ellie reached forward and hit pause on the movie, thrusting you both into silence.

“Is everything okay?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, why?”

“I can feel your heart going, like, crazy fast.”

You froze. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I was just thinking.”

Ellie pushed the laptop off of her, sitting up to give you an odd look. “About a near death experience or something? You running a marathon up there? That shit’s not normal.”

You laughed nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just an, uh, suspenseful movie.”

Which was actually really stupid of you to say, because you were watching some obscure Tarkovsky film that did nothing but pan over burning buildings and pensive men. For the past 5 minutes, there had been nothing on screen but the back of a car driving through traffic with minimal sound. Also, it was in Russian, and the English subtitles made zero sense.

There was a reason why this was the last movie you chose.

“This is the most boring fucking movie I’ve ever watched in my life, so you’re a dirty fucking liar,” said Ellie. Then her face pinched in worry. “Wait. Have you taken a look at your stitches lately?”

Before you could answer, she was grabbing a flashlight off her nightstand and yanking the comforter off you. She was pulling your shirt up when you finally found your voice.

“Wait!” you said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and yanking it back in place. “It’s not—I don’t have an infection, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I really was just thinking, okay?”

“About what?” She reached back to place her flashlight back on the stand without taking her eyes off you.

“It’s nothing important.”

“If you say so.”

She picked the laptop up and placed it back on her thighs, lying back down. You followed suit, but this time you didn’t touch her, opting to keep as much distance as you could so she wouldn’t hear the stuttering of your heart.

Not even 5 minutes had passed before Ellie sat up to pause the video again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You’re acting weird,” she accused, but there wasn’t much conviction behind her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re acting weird,” she repeated, shutting your laptop off and moving it to the bottom of her bed, despite the protests that left your lips.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “I’m just watching the movie. I’m not doing anything. “

“You’re not watching the movie,” she said. “You weren’t even looking at the screen. What’s got you so bothered? Did I do something?”

“Of course not.” You pulled your legs under you so your legs were crossed and your back was against the wall. “You don’t need to worry. It’s honestly fine. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to imply otherwise.”

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You stress me out. You can just tell me, you know? No need to be so cagey. I promise I’ve heard worse.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” she said. “I’m never going to know peace again with a hook like that.”

You were about to open your mouth to tell her that it was stupid and that it didn’t matter, but something stopped you.

That was the coward’s way out. That’s what you’d always done—hid your feelings and concealed your emotions. That’s how you’d been raised. That’s how you thought everyone was. But now that you’d spent 2 months in Jackson, you’d realized that some people actually just said what they thought. And that, in the grand scheme of things, it was a better system than the Terranovian culture of superficiality.

Just because the you 2 months ago would have shook her head and changed the subject didn’t mean the you now had to.

Maybe this you could be different. Maybe, for once, this you could be brave.

“I really—” You stopped yourself. Saying I really like you didn’t even begin to encompass what you felt for the girl sitting across from you. To distill the sheer magnitude of your feelings down to four words felt criminal. The swell in your chest that never went away whenever you were near her could never and would never be adequately represented in the puny offerings of the Latin alphabet and the English language, and if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.

You dared to look up at her for a moment. She was completely still, her green eyes reflecting the dim moonlight from outside. Once you met her gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull it away.

“I’m really sorry that I’m putting you in an uncomfortable position for saying this,” you began (because old habits ran deep, and you would rather die than be impolite), “And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“As much as I’m sure that this is some sort of cultural cornerstone for you, please spare me the 6 foot long disclaimer script,” Ellie drawled.

“Right.” You gulped. “Anyway. As I was saying.”

“Any day now.”

At that moment, she had never looked more perfect. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark lighting, so the weak moonlight that spilled in from the window above her created a halo around her head.

“It’s you.” Your voice came out tiny. “You’re all that I can think about, and I don’t know what to do.”

There. It was off your chest.

For a moment, it was as if you’d suspended time, stopping Earth on its axis as you both held your breaths. There was nothing but silence and the occasional wooden creak of the old house’s foundation in the wind.

Ellie’s face betrayed nothing, save for something in her eyes and the disappearance of the smirk that had been on her lips moments before.

Then she spoke, her response whispered.

“Come here, then.”

final a/n: NOW HOLD ON before you show up outside my dorm with pitchforks and torches 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i'm so sorry but this was a necessary evil as this was going to a massive scene without the chapter break. also a disproportionately massive chapter compared to the other ones coming out. i write very quickly and should get the following part out in a timeframe similar to the first 3 parts. thank u for reading ! tell me what you think abt this chapter while you wait x

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine

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footballfanficwriter · 5 months ago

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Hi!!!! I love ur work!!!! So watching bridgerton has inspired me a lot!! So imagine Jude and reader in regency era!! Like them maybe meeting at a ball at first, then they slowly start to court each other, fall in love etc! u can add ur own twist and spice and work ur magic!!!!!

Love's Redemption

A/n: I wanted to release this the day after of Season 3 pt2 and It's quite long, longer than my others but I hope you enjoy, pls comment at the end

The grand ballroom of Hartfield Hall sparkled with opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the assembled guests, their jewels glittering in the soft light. Ladies in resplendent gowns of silk and satin whispered behind their fans, and gentlemen in finely tailored tailcoats stood in small clusters, discussing the latest gossip or political intrigue.

Among these elite, Jude Bellingham, a young and dashing duke, stood out with his broad shoulders and an air of confidence that turned heads wherever he went. Despite his high status, his demeanor was approachable, his smile disarming, and his dark eyes keenly observant.

On the opposite side of the ballroom, I stood with my family, feeling slightly out of place amidst the grandeur. My dress, though beautiful, was simpler than most, a testament to my family's modest means compared to the aristocracy surrounding us. However, I held myself with a quiet dignity that I hoped would draw admiration from those who took the time to observe.

As the evening progressed, the time came for the first dance, and the Master of Ceremonies called for partners. The Duke of Ross's eyes scanned the room, finally settling on me. There was a spark of curiosity and recognition in his gaze but I quickly averted my eyes.

With a determined stride, The Duke made his way across the room, bowing slightly as he reached me t'was not until he was right in front that I noticed his presence as I was conversing with my Brother "May I have the honor of this dance?" he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

I felt a flutter in my chest but managed a composed smile as I accepted his hand. "It would be my pleasure, Your Grace."

The two of us moved gracefully onto the dance floor, and as the music swelled, we began to waltz. The world seemed to fade away, and for those few minutes, it felt as though the duke and I were the only two people in the room. His touch was gentle, his movements confident, and I found myself drawn to him in a way I couldn't quite explain.

After the dance, he led me to the refreshment table, where we engaged in conversation. We spoke of our interests, our families, and our dreams, and he listened intently. The evening passed in a whirlwind of dances and conversations, and by the end of the night, I knew I wanted to see him again.

The next day I break my fast in the drawing room with a copy of Lady Wistledown

"Ladies and gentlemen of the ton it seems as though we have a new arrival in town the young Duke of Ross Jude Victor William Bellingham has come to take over his estate and claim his inheritance, he made his first appearance last night at Lady Danbury's first ball of the season, which was exquisite to say the least

The young Duke immediately caught the eyes of the Young ladies and their Mammas as they fought over his attention but it seemed he already had his eye on another, young Lady Y/n Berth, who was conversing with her brother at the time, did not seem to notice the Duke when he approached

As he asked for a dance she gracefully accepted and they took to the dance floor staring intently into each other's eyes as if they had been longing to find one another for a long time

The whole Ton had their eyes on them as they danced and Waltz on the dance floor so elegantly

Could this be the couple of the season or is it far to early to tell, one things is definitely for certain, they make a beautiful couple"

I smile at the paper remember and thinking about the events of the previous night how he held me, how softly he spoke when adressing me, when he refused to let my hand go after I tried to pull away, his grip gently tightening on my hand, as a silent plead to not let go, how he was so polite and kind towards me, the way we spoke about many things that we related to and how easy it was for the both of us to converse about many things

"Good morning My Darling, are you well?"

"Oh mamma, I am far from well I am splendid" I say smiling

"Am I correct to assume that you feel this way because of a certain Handsome Duke"

"Well mother your assumptions are quite correct, I cannot get him out of my mind, he is all I think about"

"Be careful now dear, you have only just met the Duke, get to know the person he is first before making any confessions"

"Of course Mamma"

Over the following weeks, Jude made every effort to court me. He sent me flowers, invited me for walks in the gardens of his estate, and attended every social event where he knew I would be present. With each meeting, I found myself falling for him a little more, charmed by his sincerity and kindness.

One sunny afternoon, as we strolled through the blooming rose garden at Hartfield Hall, Jude paused and turned to me, taking my hands in his. "I know we have not known each other for long, but I feel as though I have known you forever," he said, his voice filled with earnest emotion and got down on one knee. "You have captured my heart completely, and I cannot imagine my life without you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

I nodded, unable to find the words to express my happiness. "Yes, Jude. Yes, I will."

Lady whistledown

Dearest reader as it seems that as of this Afternoon the Duke of Ross has taken a bride, During the early hours of the Afternoon The Duke of Ross proposed to Miss Y/n Berth and she has accepted, the two were having an afternoon stroll when the Duke suddenly stopped walking and got down on one knee I would assume that he spoke a heart felt of words as it was a happy moment for the two, we congratulate the happy couple and wish them all the best

The wedding was a grand affair, attended by all of high society, hosted by Lady Danbury as she insisted that she wanted to be the one to host it, and who were we to decline such a gift, Jude and I were happy throughout the day and we could not take our eyes of each other amidst the splendor and celebration, the most important thing was the love between Jude and I.

The first few months of our marriage were blissful. We traveled, hosted dinners, and enjoyed the admiration of our peers. However, as time passed, whispers began to reach my ears. Gossip of Jude's past indiscretions and rumors of a former lover began to circulate.

One evening, at a particularly opulent ball, I noticed a strikingly beautiful woman across the room. Her eyes were fixed on Jude, and there was a familiarity in her gaze that sent a shiver down my spine. I approached Jude, intending to ask him about her, but before I could speak, she made her way over to us.

"Jude," she said, her voice dripping with confidence and a hint of malice. "It has been too long."

Jude's eyes grew bigger , and he took a step back. "Lady Laura" he said, his voice strained. "What are you doing here?"

Lady Laura smiled, a predator's smile. "I simply had to see the woman who captured your heart so completely."

I stood there, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. "Jude, who is she?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jude hesitated, his eyes filled with guilt. "She is... an old acquaintance," he said, but I could tell there was more to the story.

As the weeks went by, the tension between Jude and I grew. The whispers of scandal became louder, and I felt the weight of society's judgment. I confronted Jude one evening in the privacy of our home.

"Jude, you must tell me the truth about Lady Laura," I demanded, my voice trembling with frustration.

He sighed, rubbing his face with both his hands. "She was... she was my lover before I met you," he admitted. "I ended things with her when I realized I loved you, but she has not taken it well."

I felt a pang of betrayal. "Why did you not tell me?"

"I wanted to protect you from the scandal," he said, his eyes pleading. "I did not want our love to be tainted by my past mistakes."

Despite his words, the doubt lingered in my heart. The rumors continued to swirl, and Lady Laura's presence became a constant reminder of Jude's past. It was not long before a particularly vicious piece of gossip reached my ears: a letter, supposedly from Jude to Laura professing his undying love and regret over their separation.

I confronted Jude with the letter, my heart aching. Walking to our shared chambers and enter the room

"Jude is this tru-"

Rather then seeing my husband reading in bed like he usually is I find him on my vanity with Laura, shirtless and Laura half dressed in nothing but her under garments

They quickly jump and let go of eachother

"I should have listened to mother" I say and walk out and pack my things in a haste

"Darling, please listen"

"Leave me"

"Just listen"

"I cannot stand the sight of you right now"

I leave in the carriage and go to my mother's house

When I arrive I tell my mother everything that happened, Laura's arrival, the letter and what I saw them doing and her face hardens and she tells me that I can stay for as long as I wish

3 days later

I'm sitting in my room reading a copy of Lady whistledown

"I am here to see my wife" I hear just outside the window

It's him, I slightly peak my head just enough to see him

His hair is a mess, he's in nothing but an untied shirt that slightly shows his chest and trousers

"Apologies your grace but we have been given strict orders not to let you through" I hear one of the guards say

"By who?"

"Miss Y/n Berth"

"That is not her name, her name is y/n Bellingham the Duchess of Ross and she is my wife"

He fights his way past the guards and makes it through into the house

"Where is she"

"Where is my wife"

I slightly walk down the stairs just to see the encounter but making sure I am not seen

"What is the meaning of this" my mother asks as she approaches Jude

"I need to see her"

"She needs time" she replies firmly

"I have given her time, I have given her 3 days"

"Give her more then"

"Please I need to see her"

My mother pulls out a portrait of me from her pocket and shows it to Jude

"There you have seen her, now take your leave"

"I refuse to leave without seeing her, I want her to tell me as she looks at me that she does not wish to see me, then and only then will I take my leave" he says with tears in his eyes

"My goodness"mother says

I walk further down the stairs

"Tis alright mother I shall converse with him" I say

"Very well but I will still be in the room as a chaperone"

"She is my wife, I do not need a chaperone when I am with her"

mother is about to protest when I reasure her

"Mamma I will handle this"

She leaves the room and for a moment I feel sorry for Jude

"My love, oh how I have missed you" he says walking towards me but I step back and that stops him from walking

As Jude's silent plea echoed through the room, I stood there, my heart torn between love and betrayal. His disheveled appearance, the anguish in his eyes—it was almost enough to make me reconsider. But then I remembered the letter, the damning evidence of his infidelity, and my resolve hardened once more.

"What is it that you want?" I asked, my voice cold and distant, betraying none of the turmoil raging within me.

Jude took a step towards me, his expression pleading. "I want to explain, to make things right between the both of us," he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

I held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Explain what, Jude?" I demanded, my voice tinged with bitterness. "That you were caught with Laura in our chambers, half-dressed and shameless? That you wrote her a letter professing your undying love, while your own wife lay in bed, oblivious to your deceit?"

Jude's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he searched for words. But before he could respond, I continued, my voice growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I trusted you, Jude," I said, my voice trembling with anger. "I believed in our love, in the promises we made to each other. But you betrayed that trust, in the most hurtful way possible."

Tears welled up in Jude's eyes, his hands reaching out to me, but I stepped back, out of his reach. "I cannot forgive you, Jude," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not now, not ever."

As Jude's tear-filled eyes pleaded with me for understanding, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. But sympathy could not erase the hurt, the betrayal that had cut me to the core.

"What of the both of us?" Jude whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "What of our life together?"

I met his gaze with a steely resolve, my heart hardening against the pain. "There is no 'both of us" anylonger" I replied, my voice cold and distant. "Not after what you have done."

Jude's shoulders slumped, his heart breaking before my eyes. "But where will you go?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "What will people say if they are to find that my wife is living with her mother?"

I sighed, knowing that there was no easy answer to his question. "I will return home in two days time," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "And when I arrive, you will not refer to me as your wife. The only time we will play the role of husband and wife is when we are in public. Behind closed doors, we are merely people who stay together, nothing more you shall not disturb my peace and I shall do the same, you are free to seek solace in anyone in the ton, you have already been unfaithful, you might as well continue the streak."

Jude's eyes widened in shock, his heart breaking all over again. "But what about children?" he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "Who will bear the children, make the heir?"

I met his gaze head-on, my resolve unwavering. "Take a second wife" I said, my voice cold and distant. "Someone who is willing to bear your children, to fulfill the duties of a wife. I have no desire to bear your children, to be tied to you in such a way."

Jude's face fell, his dreams of a family shattered beyond repair. "But what about your dream?" he asked, his voice filled with desperation. "To be a mother, to care for our children, to love them wholeheartedly?"

I shook my head, a bitter smile playing on my lips. "That dream will never be fulfilled" I said, my voice hollow with grief. "I have come to terms with that fact."

Jude's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at my words. "But would you treat my children badly, with hatred?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I met his gaze with a steely resolve. "No, Jude," I replied, my voice cold and distant. "I cannot punish innocent children for the decisions their parents made."

With that, Jude wiped his red eyes and turned away, his heart heavy with regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he made his way to the door.

The minute he closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with my shattered dreams and broken heart, my facade crumbled, and I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks as I mourned the loss of the life I had once known.

2 days later

Two days later, as I returned home, the air was thick with tension, the weight of our fractured relationship hanging heavy in the air. Jude awaited me in the grand foyer, his posture stiff and formal as he greeted me with a curt nod.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice cold and distant, the warmth that had once filled his words replaced by an icy reserve.

"Your Grace," I replied, my own voice tinged with bitterness as I returned his greeting with equal formality.

For a moment, we stood there, two strangers in the grand expanse of our once-happy home, the silence stretching between us like a chasm too vast to bridge. I could see the longing in Jude's eyes, the desire to reach out to me, to hold me close and make everything right again. But he held himself back, the weight of our past mistakes too heavy to bear.

With a sigh, I turned away, making my way up the grand staircase and down the hallway towards my chambers. But before I could disappear behind closed doors, Jude's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

I paused, turning to face him with a cold stare. "To my chambers," I replied, my voice laced with bitterness.

Jude frowned, confusion clouding his features. "But your chambers are this way," he said, gesturing towards the hallway that led to our shared bedroom.

I shook my head, a bitter smile playing on my lips. "No, Jude," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your chambers are that way. Mine are this way."

Jude's eyes widened in realization, the truth of my words hitting him like a blow to the chest. "You did not think I would go back there," I continued, my voice filled with venom, "after the events that took place in those chambers."

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving Jude standing there in the hallway, his heart heavy with regret. And though I knew that our relationship was beyond repair, a part of me couldn't help but wonder what might have been if things had been different. But as I disappeared behind closed doors, the weight of my decision settling over me like a shroud, I knew that there was no going back, no undoing the damage that had been done.

The following day I received an invitation from Lady Laura for tea, after receiving the invitation from Laura, I hesitated for a moment, feeling a knot of unease tighten in my stomach. The thought of facing her again, of enduring her taunts and jibes, filled me with dread. But curiosity, and perhaps a hint of defiance, won out in the end, and I found myself making the journey to her estate.

As the carriage got in front fo the grand mansion, my apprehension grew. The imposing gates swung open with a creak, and I stepped out of the carriage, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The servants greeted me with forced smiles as they ushered me inside, but their eyes betrayed a sense of apprehension, as though they knew what awaited me within those walls.

Laura was waiting for me in the drawing-room, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as she greeted me with false warmth. "Ah, Duchess, how lovely of you to join me," she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do come in and make yourself comfortable."

I forced a polite smile, though every fiber of my being longed to turn and flee. "Thank you, Lady Laura," I replied, my tone carefully neutral as I took a seat opposite her.

As the servants brought in tea and refreshments, Laura wasted no time in getting to the point. "I'm sure you're wondering why I invited you here today," she began, her eyes glittering with malice.

I arched an eyebrow, though inwardly I braced myself for whatever barb she was about to unleash. "I must admit, the thought had crossed my mind," I replied coolly.

Laura's smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "You see, Duchess, I believe in honesty above all else," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "So I will not mince words. I invited you here today to gloat, to revel in the knowledge that I have won."

I felt a surge of anger rise within me, but I forced myself to remain composed. "Won what, exactly?" I asked, though I already had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Laura leaned forward, her eyes locked on mine with a chilling intensity. "I heard your footsteps approaching the chambers that day, Duchess," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I had known you were coming, and I saw an opportunity to secure my place by Jude's side once and for all."

I felt my eyes grow bigger as her words sank in. "You... you threw yourself at him?" I whispered, unable to conceal the horror in my voice.

Laura's smile turned into a smirk, devoid of any remorse. "Oh, please, Duchess, spare me your shock and indignation," she said dismissively. "You may have had his heart once, but now it belongs to me. And there's nothing you can do to change that."

Her words were like a dagger to my heart, each one twisting deeper than the last. But amidst the pain and betrayal, a fire ignited within me—a determination to fight for the man I loved, no matter the cost. With a steely resolve, I met Laura's gaze head-on, refusing to let her see the depth of my pain.

"Is that so, Lady Laura?" I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me. "Well, forgive me if I refuse to accept defeat so easily. Love is not a game to be won or lost—it is a bond that transcends time and circumstance. And mark my words, I will fight for Jude with every breath in my body, until the day I draw my last."

With that, I rose from my seat, every inch the proud Duchess, and made my exit, leaving Laura to stew in her own malice. Though the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and heartache, I knew one thing for certain: I would not rest until Jude was mine once again, body and soul.

As I raced home to find Jude, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of uncertainty gnawing at my soul. Every step felt like an eternity as I hurried through the grand halls of our estate, my mind consumed with thoughts of what awaited me at the end of my journey.

"Where is my husband?" I demanded, my voice tinged with panic, as I interrogated servants and guards alike in search of any sign of Jude's whereabouts.

But no one had seen him, and my anxiety only grew with each passing moment. It wasn't until a guard reluctantly approached me, his expression grim, that I finally received the news I had been dreading.

"Your Grace," he began, his voice hesitant, "Lord Bellingham has left the estate. He... he said he would return in a week's time."

My heart sank like a stone, the weight of his absence crushing me with its finality. But amidst the despair, a flicker of determination burned within me—a resolve to find Jude and make things right, no matter the cost.

With a steadying breath, I turned on my heel and made my way to my chambers, my mind racing with thoughts of how to reach him, how to let him know that I forgave him, that I still loved him despite everything that had transpired between us.

As I sank into a chair, my hands trembling with emotion, I couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency coursing through my veins. I needed to find Jude, to make him understand that I was willing to start anew, to rebuild what we had lost.

But as the days stretched on without any sign of his return, the weight of his absence bore down on me like a heavy burden. And though I longed to reach out to him, to let him know that I forgave him, that I wanted to begin again, I knew that time was running out.

With a heavy heart, I penned a letter to Jude, pouring out my thoughts and feelings in words that I hoped would reach him wherever he was. I begged him to come back to me, to give our love a second chance, to believe in the power of redemption.

But as the days went , and still there was no sign of him, I couldn't help but wonder if our love was truly strong enough to withstand the trials that fate had thrown our way. And though a part of me clung to the hope that Jude would return to me, I couldn't shake the nagging fear that our love had been lost to the winds of time.

A week later, the anticipation of Jude's return had me on edge. I had rehearsed my words countless times, determined to convey my forgiveness and my willingness to start anew. When the door to the drawing room opened, and Jude walked in, my heart leaped with a mix of hope and trepidation.

"Jude!" I exclaimed, standing up quickly, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "I have something to tell you—"

But his demeanor was somber, his eyes avoiding mine. His lack of enthusiasm made my heart sink.

"Your Grace," he interrupted quietly, his voice laden with resignation, "I have something to tell you as well."

I paused, my smile faltering as I searched his face for any sign of the man I had fallen in love with, the man I hoped to rekindle a life with.

"I will be taking Lady Laura as my second wife," he continued, each word like a dagger to my heart. "She will be the mother of my children."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as his words sank in. I felt a cold wave of shock wash over me, my smile fading into an expression of disbelief.

At that moment, Laura entered the room, her smug smile widening as she took in the scene. The sight of her, with her triumphant air, made my blood boil, but I forced myself to remain composed.

"Oh, how lovely that will be for the both of you," I said, my voice strained but controlled. I managed a brittle smile, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

With that, I returned to my seat and picked up my sketchbook, my fingers trembling slightly as I resumed my drawing. The lines I had been so carefully crafting now seemed meaningless, the vibrant colors now dull and lifeless.

As I focused on my work, I felt Jude's eyes on me, but I refused to meet his gaze. The silence between us was heavy, fraught with unspoken words and lingering regrets. Laura's presence only intensified the tension, her smug smile a constant reminder of the betrayal that had shattered my world.

Yet, despite the turmoil raging within me, I forced myself to maintain my composure. I would not let Laura see the depth of my pain, nor would I let Jude see the cracks in my facade. In this new reality, I had to find strength in my resolve, even if it meant burying my true feelings deep within.

The weight of the silence in the drawing room was oppressive, the air thick with unresolved tension and unspoken words. Just as I resumed my drawing, the quiet was broken by the arrival of a servant, holding a fresh edition of Lady Whistledown’s society papers. He handed it to me with a respectful bow before quickly retreating from the room.

Curiosity piqued, I unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning the familiar, elegantly penned words:

Lady whistledown

"Dearest Readers, it appears that the Duke of Ross has been seen entering his estate with Lady Laura, raising many an eyebrow among the ton. This unexpected development has left society abuzz with speculation. Is the once enviable union between the Duke and Duchess of Ross in jeopardy? Lady Laura’s presence at the Duke’s side has led to whispers of a potential shift in the household’s dynamics. What could this mean for the Duchess, a woman known for her grace and poise amidst adversity?

Rumors suggest that Lady Laura has been remarkably bold in her pursuits, capitalizing on the Duchess’s recent absence. Could it be that the Duke, faced with mounting pressures to secure his lineage, has found solace in Lady Laura’s calculated charms? Or is this simply a ploy to stir the pot

One thing is certain: this scandal will be the talk of every salon and drawing-room from here to Grosvenor Square. And, as always, I shall be here to document every delicious detail for your reading pleasure. Stay tuned, dear readers, for the drama is only just beginning."

The words stung, each sentence a bitter reminder of my current predicament. I glanced up to see Jude’s reaction, but his face was inscrutable, a mask of controlled emotion. Laura, however, seemed to relish the attention, her smile growing even more smug.

"Well, it appears Lady Whistledown has taken quite an interest in our affairs," Laura said, her tone dripping with mock concern. "It must be difficult, Duchess, to see your private matters aired so publicly."

I met her gaze evenly, refusing to be baited. "It is indeed unfortunate, Lady Laura. But I have always believed that one’s actions speak louder than any words written on a page."

Laura's eyes flashed with irritation, but she quickly composed herself, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. "Of course, Duchess. And I’m sure your actions will be watched very closely by everyone in the ton."

I forced a smile in return. "As will yours, Lady Laura."

With that, I turned back to my sketchbook, determined to ignore her presence. Yet, I couldn't help but notice Jude watching me, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. His gaze lingered, but I refused to acknowledge it, focusing instead on the lines and colors before me.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, Laura stood, her voice cutting through the tension. "If you’ll excuse me, I believe I shall take a tour of the gardens."

She left the room, her exit as dramatic as her entrance. I remained seated, my heart heavy with the weight of our fractured relationship. The reality of our situation had never felt more painfully clear.

"Your Grace," Jude said quietly, breaking the silence. "I—"

"There's nothing more to say, Jude," I interrupted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "You've made your decision, and I must live with it."

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but I turned my attention back to my drawing, signaling the end of our conversation. The silence returned, thicker and more oppressive than before.

As the afternoon light waned, casting long shadows across the room, I knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and heartache. But I also knew that I would face it with dignity and strength, determined to reclaim my happiness, even if it meant forging a new path alone.

As the days passed, Laura's presence in the house became increasingly unbearable. Her taunts and jabs seemed endless, each one more cutting than the last. One afternoon, as I sat in the drawing room, trying to lose myself in a book, Laura sauntered in, her smug smile firmly in place.

"Ah, Duchess," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Still lost in your books, I see. How quaint."

I didn't look up, determined not to let her get under my skin. "Yes, Lady Laura, I find solace in literature. Something you might consider."

She ignored my comment, seating herself on a nearby chaise lounge, her eyes never leaving me. "You know," she began, her tone casual, "I've been thinking a lot about the future. About the Bellingham legacy."

I stiffened but refused to give her the satisfaction of a response.

"It's quite exciting, really," she continued, undeterred. "Jude and I have talked at length about it. The children we will have, the heirs to the Ross estate. I can already picture myself with a little one in my arms, the next Duke or Duchess of Ross."

Her words were a knife to my heart, but I kept my expression neutral, my eyes fixed on the pages of my book. "How lovely for you," I said flatly, turning a page with deliberate slowness.

Laura's smile widened, sensing my discomfort. "Indeed. It’s a great honor to bear the next Bellingham heir. I imagine it must be difficult for you, knowing that your own dreams of motherhood will never come to fruition."

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the book. "My dreams are none of your concern, Lady Laura."

"Oh, but they are," she said, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "You see, I will be fulfilling the role you failed to. Jude deserves an heir, and I am more than capable of giving him one. It’s only a matter of time before the entire ton knows of our joyous news."

She placed a hand on her stomach, as if already envisioning herself with child. "Can you imagine? The entire town celebrating the announcement of our firstborn. Such a wonderful occasion it will be."

I forced myself to remain calm, though my heart was pounding in my chest. "Congratulations, Lady Laura. I wish you all the best."

Laura's smile faltered for a moment, as if my lack of visible reaction had disappointed her. "You’re very gracious, Duchess. But I can’t help but wonder how you truly feel, knowing that another woman will bear your husband’s children."

I finally looked up, meeting her gaze with cold detachment. "I feel nothing, Lady Laura. Your provocations are wasted on me."

She laughed, a brittle sound that echoed through the room. "We shall see, Duchess. We shall see."

Unable to endure any more of her taunts, I rose from my seat and made my way to the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

As I walked down the hallway, the weight of Laura’s words pressed heavily on my heart. I didn't notice Jude until I nearly collided with him, his strong arms catching me just in time to prevent a fall. The proximity was startling; I could feel his breath against my skin, his eyes searching mine with a mixture of concern and longing.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice soft and earnest.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause, and the anger and hurt between us faded into the background. It would have been so easy to close the distance, to let myself fall into his arms and forget everything else. But the reality of our situation came crashing back, and I stepped away, breaking the spell.

"I’m fine," I said, my voice colder than I intended. "Please excuse me, Your Grace."

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but I turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the hallway, a silent witness to our fractured relationship.

A few days later:

In the bustling halls of Ross House, tensions simmered beneath the surface as Lady Laura's shrill voice echoed down the corridor. I followed the sound, my curiosity piqued, only to find her berating one of the maids for a trivial mishap.

"You imbecile!" Laura screeched, her face contorted with rage as she loomed over the trembling maid. "How dare you break my favorite vase? Do you have any idea how much it cost?"

Before I could intervene, the dutiful maid stammered out an apology, her eyes brimming with tears. "I-I'm sorry, my lady. It was an accident, I swear!"

But Laura was relentless, her tirade growing more vicious by the second. "You're nothing but a clumsy oaf! If it were up to me, I'd have you thrown out on the streets where you belong!"

Unable to stand by any longer, I stepped forward, my voice calm but firm. "That's enough, Lady Laura. It was just a vase. There's no need for such cruelty."

Laura's eyes flashed with fury as she turned her venomous gaze on me. "And who are you to speak to me like that? You're nothing but a lowly duchess, barely fit to lick the dirt from my shoes!"

Her words stung, but I refused to back down. "I may be a duchess, but I will not stand idly by while you mistreat those beneath you. Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect, regardless of their station."

Before Laura could launch into another tirade, Jude's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his brow furrowed with concern as he entered the room.

The dutiful maid seized the opportunity to explain, her voice trembling as she recounted the events leading up to Laura's outburst. Jude listened intently, his expression darkening with each passing moment.

When the maid had finished, Jude turned to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. "Is this true, Y/N? Did Lady Laura really behave in such a manner?"

I nodded, my heart heavy with sadness. "Yes, Jude. I'm afraid so. She was shouting at the maid for accidentally breaking her vase, and when I tried to intervene, she insulted me."

Jude's jaw clenched with barely contained fury, and he turned to Laura, his voice cold and unyielding. "Lady Laura, this behavior is unacceptable. You owe the maid an apology, and you will show the duchess the respect she deserves."

But Laura's face twisted into a mask of defiance, her eyes blazing with rage. "I owe them nothing!" she spat, her voice filled with contempt. "They're both beneath me, just like everyone else in this wretched house!"

Jude's expression darkened at my words, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "That's enough, Laura," he admonished, his voice firm and commanding. "You will not mistreat our servants, and you will certainly not speak to my wife in such a manner."

Lady Laura's eyes narrowed, her defiance evident as she retorted, "She is not your wife, I am. She is merely a woman who resides in our house."

Jude's jaw clenched at her words, his resolve unyielding. "She is not just a woman, Laura. She is my wife," he asserted firmly.

With a huff of indignation, Lady Laura stormed out of the room, leaving Jude and me in an awkward silence. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over our exchange.

Before Jude could break the silence, I turned on my heel and left the room, the tension too thick to bear. As I made my escape, I could feel Jude's eyes on me, a silent plea lingering in the air.

But I couldn't face him, not now. Not when the wounds inflicted by Lady Laura's taunts were still raw and stinging. So I retreated to the solace of my chambers, seeking refuge from the storm that raged within me.

After the tense encounter with Lady Laura and the incident with the maid, an awkward silence settled between Jude and me. I found myself unable to look him in the eye, the weight of his betrayal heavy on my heart.

In the days that followed, I made a conscious effort to avoid him at all costs. I broke my fast outside in the tranquility of nature, seeking solace in the gentle rustle of leaves and the soothing chirp of birdsong. But when Jude approached, his footsteps echoing softly on the path, I couldn't bear to stay.

Certainly! Here's the extended scene with more excuses:

"I... I forgot something in the house," I stammered, hastily rising from my seat and fleeing before he could utter a word.

In the halls of Ross House, I found myself turning the other way whenever I caught sight of him, my steps quickening as I tried to put as much distance between us as possible. I knew he wanted to talk, to explain, but I couldn't bring myself to listen, not when the wounds were still so fresh.

At mealtimes, I either took my food outside, where the open sky provided a welcome distraction, or retreated to the solitude of my room. I couldn't bear the thought of sitting across from him, the weight of his betrayal hanging heavy in the air.

And when Jude dared to approach me in the library or the drawing room, I made excuse after excuse to escape his company.

"I just remembered an urgent letter I need to write," I would say, hastily gathering my belongings and making a hasty exit.

Or, "I left my favorite book upstairs. I must retrieve it at once."

Each excuse felt flimsier than the last, but I clung to them desperately, unwilling to confront the truth of our fractured relationship.

"I... I must check on the flowers in the garden," I would mumble, casting a quick glance towards the nearest window before hurrying away.

Or, "I think I left the kettle on in the kitchen. It wouldn't do to let it boil dry."

"I'm feeling quite fatigued. I believe I shall retire early tonight," I would murmur, pretending to yawn and covering my mouth with my hand.

Or, "Oh, look, I seem to have dropped my handkerchief. I must go back and retrieve it."

But no matter how hard I tried to avoid him, Jude was always there, a constant presence in my thoughts and my heart. And as much as I tried to push him away, a part of me still longed for the day when we could mend the rift between us and find our way back to each other once more.

The soft rustle of pages turning and the faint scent of aged parchment enveloped me as I lost myself in the world of my book. The Library provided a sanctuary of solitude, a refuge from the tumultuous emotions that swirled within me.

Lost in the narrative, I didn't hear Jude's quiet footsteps as he entered the room. It was only when he stood before me, his presence demanding attention, that I reluctantly tore my gaze away from the page.

"Y/N," Jude's voice cut through the silence, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation. "I require a moment of your time."

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden interruption. "Jude, I... I was just..."

But he didn't let me finish. With a determined stride, he reached out and gently closed the book in my hands, his eyes locking onto mine with unwavering intensity.

"Y/N, I implore you," he said, his voice softening slightly. "You've been avoiding me at every turn, and I cannot endure it any longer. We must converse."

I opened my mouth to protest, to make another feeble excuse and flee the room, but before I could utter a word, Jude's hand closed around my wrist, holding me in place.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and steady. "I shan't release you until you have heard my words."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I reluctantly met his gaze. There was a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding that tugged at my heartstrings.

With a resigned sigh, I allowed myself to be led to a nearby chair, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts and emotions. But as Jude began to speak, his words filled with sincerity and remorse, I found myself slowly letting down my guard.

He sat in front of me and taking my hands in his. His touch was warm and firm, yet trembling with emotion. "I simply cannot stand Laura, nor the distance that has grown between us. It's tearing me apart," he began, his voice filled with raw honesty.

I met his gaze, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "Jude..."

"Every morning, I wake up hoping to see your face, to see your smile." he continued, his voice trembling. "But all I find is an empty space beside me, a reminder of what I have lost. I miss you, Y/N, more than words can express. I miss the way you know exactly what I need, sometimes even before I do. The way you would bring me a cup of tea just the way I like it when I'm buried in work, or the way you'd remind me to take a break when I'm pushing myself too hard and you taking over my work even though you had your own duties that needed to be taken care of

I listened to his heartfelt confession. His words cut through the wall I had built around my heart, each one resonating deeply within me.

"Do you know how much I hope every day that you will change your mind, that you will forgive me and come back to me?" Jude's voice broke, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "I sometimes stare at you when you're not looking, hoping that one day you'll see the love in my eyes and decide to give us another chance."

He paused, his eyes searching mine for any sign of forgiveness. "I want you to be the mother of my children, Y/N. Not Laura. I want our children to grow up in a home filled with love and warmth, not the coldness and spite that Laura brings. She is not the kind of person I want raising my children. I want you. I needed you and I grew desperate to get you back on my side, Laura was simply a ploy of attempt to have you be my wife again,I had thought if you saw what Laura was taking from you, you would wake up and fight for our love."

His grip on my hands tightened, his eyes filled with tears. "Y/N, you are the light of my life, the reason I wake up every morning. Without you, I am nothing. I am lost. I know I have made mistakes, that I have hurt you in ways I can never take back, but I swear to you, with every fiber of my being, that I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, proving to you how much you mean to me. Please, Y/N, give me another chance. I cannot bear the thought of losing you forever."

His words hung in the air, filled with a raw, desperate sincerity that took my breath away. For a moment, there was only the sound of our breathing, the tension between us crackling like electricity.

Gathering my courage, I looked up and met his eyes. "Jude, I found out something... something that changes everything. Laura threw herself on you because she heard my footsteps approaching that day in our chambers making it the perfect set up to make it look like the both of you were in a compromising position."

His eyes widened in shock and anger. "What? She... she planned it?"

I nodded, my voice trembling. "Yes. She had told me when she invited me for tea the day I arrived. She practically gloated about it."

Jude's hands clenched into fists, "I was oblivious to her game," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought I was doing what was right, protecting our honor... but all the while, she was manipulating me, us."

I reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Jude, I wanted to tell you the day I had come to realise, to let you know I forgave you and that I wanted to fix our relationship. But you had been gone for a week, and when you returned, you brought Laura, presenting her as your second wife. I thought you had fallen for her."

He shook his head vehemently, tears forming in his eyes. "No, Y/N. I have never loved her. It was always you. I was blind and foolish, but my heart has only ever belonged to you and will always belong to you."

the weight of our misunderstandings and lost time pressing heavily upon me. "Jude, you must understand how much it hurt, seeing you with her, thinking you had chosen her over me."

Jude's expression softened, his voice breaking with emotion. "I am so sorry, my love. I know I can't undo the past, but I swear I will make it right. Laura will be gone, and I will spend every day proving my love to you."

The atmosphere in Ross House was tense as Jude and I waited in the drawing room for Laura's arrival. The soft glow of candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the solemnity of the moment. I stood by Jude's side, my hands clasped tightly together, feeling a mixture of apprehension and determination.

When Laura entered the room, her expression was one of smug confidence, as if she believed she held all the cards. But the steely resolve in Jude's eyes made it clear that he was not to be trifled with.

"Jude, darling, what is this about?" Laura asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Jude's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. "Laura, we need to talk," he said, his voice firm and authoritative.

Laura's facade of innocence faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "Of course, darling. What is it?" she asked, her eyes darting between Jude and me.

Jude took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Laura's. "I know the truth about what happened that day in the chambers," he began, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "I know you threw yourself at me because you heard Y/N's footsteps approaching."

Laura's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly masked it with a scoff. "Oh, Jude, whatever are you talking about? I would never—"

Jude cut her off, his patience wearing thin. "Enough, Laura. I know what you did, and I will not tolerate it any longer. You have caused nothing but pain and suffering in this house, and I will not allow it to continue."

Laura's mask of indifference cracked, her eyes narrowing with anger. "You can't just throw me out. I am your wife."

Jude's expression hardened, his resolve unwavering. "No, Laura, you are not my wife. You never were, and you never will be.You are nothing but a liar and a manipulator. I want you out of this house. Now."

Laura's face contorted with rage, but before she could protest further, Jude spoke again, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"You have caused nothing but pain and suffering to my one and true wife, the woman who will bear my children," he declared, his words laced with a raw intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

Laura's eyes widened in shock at the harshness of his words, but Jude was not finished.

"Every moment you've spent in this house has been a torment for her, a relentless onslaught of manipulation and deceit. You have tried to tear us apart, to poison the love we share, but you will not succeed. Not anymore."

As Laura stood before us, her arrogance slowly giving way to defiance, Jude's patience wore thin. He stood tall, his eyes ablaze with a fierce determination to rid our home of her toxic presence once and for all.

Jude's voice was like steel, cutting through the tense silence of the room. "You have caused enough damage. It's time for you to leave."

Laura's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing as she squared her shoulders in defiance. "And if I refuse?" she retorted, her tone dripping with contempt.

Jude's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You have no choice," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

For a moment, Laura hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. But then, with a defiant sneer, she straightened her spine and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not going anywhere," she spat, her voice laced with venom.

The air in the room grew thick with tension as Jude's anger simmered just beneath the surface. I could see the muscles in his jaw twitching with restraint, his eyes darkening with a dangerous intensity.

"Leave, Laura," Jude's voice was a low rumble, barely contained rage simmering beneath the surface. "Before I make you leave."

But Laura remained unmoved, her gaze defiant as she stood her ground. "You wouldn't dare, leave m for such a thing,?" she taunted, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

Jude's temper flared, his control slipping away like sand through his fingers. In that moment, his anger was palpable, a living, breathing force that seemed to fill the room with its sheer intensity. Even I, standing by his side, felt a chill run down my spine at the raw power emanating from him.

"You have no right to speak to her like that," Jude's voice was a thunderous roar, echoing through the room like a gunshot. "She is my wife, and you will show her the respect she deserves."

Laura's smirk faltered, her confidence wavering in the face of Jude's unrelenting fury. But before she could respond, Jude continued, his words dripping with contempt.

"You are nothing but a manipulative, conniving woman who has brought nothing but pain and suffering to both of us, especially to my wife," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "You treated her as if she was nothing, as if her feelings didn't matter. You used her, Laura, and I will not stand for it any longer."

The room seemed to tremble with the force of Jude's rage, the air thick with the weight of his words. For a moment, Laura looked as though she might argue, but then, with a defeated sigh, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Jude's shoulders heaved with the effort to control his temper, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. I reached out to him, my hand trembling as I gently touched his arm.

"Jude," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"

As the echoes of Laura's departure faded into the distance, leaving behind an eerie silence, Jude stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving with the remnants of his anger. I approached him cautiously, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm, a silent gesture of support.

"Jude," I murmured softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you alright?"

His shoulders tensed at my touch, but slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began to relax. He turned to me, his eyes still burning with the fire of his fury, but there was a hint of something else there too - a vulnerability, a rawness that made my heart ache.

"I'm fine, Y/N," he replied, his voice tight with emotion. "But she had no right to speak to you like that. No right at all."

I nodded, my heart swelling with gratitude for his unwavering protectiveness. "I know, Jude. But she's gone now. We do not have to worry about her anymore."

Jude's expression softened slightly at my words, and he reached out to gently cup my face in his hands. "I'm sorry my love" he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I did not mean to scare you."

I placed my hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "tis alright, Jude," I whispered, my voice filled with tenderness. "I know you were only just attempting to defend me. And I appreciate it more than you know."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jude's lips, and he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest. "I love you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

I nestled into his embrace, feeling the tension slowly melting away as the warmth of his love surrounded me. In that moment, as we stood there, united in our victory over Laura's tyranny, I knew that together, we could face whatever challenges lay ahead. And as Jude pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, I felt a sense of peace and safety wash over me, knowing that he would always be there to protect me, no matter what.

Months passed, and as the seasons changed, so too did our lives. The echoes of Laura's departure faded into distant memory, replaced by the joyful anticipation of a new life entering the world.

In the quiet stillness of our home, Jude and I eagerly awaited the arrival of our little one. The nursery had been lovingly prepared, filled with soft blankets and tiny clothes, each piece a testament to the love that had blossomed between us.

And then, one crisp autumn morning, our prayers were answered as our baby made their grand entrance into the world. The sound of their first cry filled the room, a symphony of new life and boundless joy.

Jude's eyes brimmed with tears as he cradled our precious bundle in his arms, his heart overflowing with love and wonder. I watched him, my own eyes misting over with emotion, as he pressed a tender kiss to our baby's forehead, his voice trembling with awe.

"Welcome to the world, little one," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "You are the most precious gift we could ever ask for."

And as I nestled into Jude's embrace, our baby nestled snugly between us, I knew that our journey was only just beginning. Together, we would navigate the ups and downs of parenthood, cherishing each moment as if it were our last.

In that moment, as the soft glow of dawn bathed our little family in its warm embrace, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, knowing that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by a love that was stronger than any storm.

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