r4dvalentine

[r4dvalentine]

. ✦ ݁ ˖ with self-doubt plaguing her mind, you remind Jill how much you love her

wc: 1,8k+

content: fluff, hurt & comfort, age gap, 1 mention of sex, reader has no physical description, reader has a cat, no use of y/n, established relationship, insecurity, sad Jill☹️☹️, Jill has a scar from being brainwashed, you kiss her scar, happy ending, I hate that Jill “ages slowly” I want to see her graying and getting wrinkles!!!!!!!

Jill doesn’t get it. 

Out of everyone, why her? Why choose to lie by her side every night and not someone else’s? It’s not like she’s rich or looks like a supermodel. (although you beg to differ)

She's old and scarred, both physically and mentally.

The lack of wrinkles and grey hairs serves as a reminder of her disconnection from reality. She yearns to feel the normality of aging. She yearns to be normal. 

The jagged oval scar on her chest burns with memories. Just like then, she has no real control. She can try to hide behind domesticity, but her body and mind will forever bear the truth. She'll never truly be free. She became a prisoner when she set foot in that damn mansion. 

She lies on her back, hands folded across her stomach. She tries to listen to your rhythmic snores, distract herself, but it seems she can’t bring herself to focus on anyone but herself. How can someone be insecure yet so self-absorbed?

She stares at the clock. The soft tick stands as a reminder of the inevitable passage of time. Never in her life did she think looking at a clock would bring her dread. 

Sighing, she turns to face you. The moonlight shone through the sheer curtains; the lighting allowed her to discern you from the surrounding darkness. She envies your sleeping form; you slept like a baby, face smushed against the pillow with not a single worry etched into your face.

Softly, she grasps your hand, entangling your fingers with hers. She allows the weight of your limp fingers to ground her. Feeling you twitch every so often, Jill allows for her heavy eyelids to shut, hoping sleep will soon consume her as it did with you. 

It didn’t. 

Sounds of cooking fill the house—cracks of eggshells, sizzles from bubbling pancakes, the humming from the Keurig. 

She spent the last six hours tossing and turning, feeling the knot of dread spreading in her stomach by the second. 

Sunlight burns her eyes as she lies on her back listening to you hum in the kitchen, completely unaware of the thoughts plaguing her mind.

She’d let you believe she was fast asleep, basking in the soft kiss you pressed against her cheek before heading to the kitchen. You worry enough about her as it is there’s no need for her to make it worse. 

That’s all she seems to do, make things worse. One day you’ll realize it too and, like the smart person you are, you’ll pack your bags and leave her old traumatized ass in the wind. 

A soft creak breaks her train of thought. Almost breaking her neck, she whips it towards the door. There you stand, bearing a surprised expression at her attentiveness.

“I didn't know you were awake!” You saunter towards the bed, crawling slowly and burying yourself into her side. Sleep still in your eyes, you give her a soft smile. “I made you breakfast.” 

“I heard.” She rasps out as a smirk sneaks its way onto her face. 

Heat fills your face. “Sorry, I tried to be quiet, but the pans kept bumping into each other.” You say sheepishly. 

“What’s the occasion?” You really only cooked when your parents were visiting—shit, were they?

Jumping up onto your knees, you grab her hand. “Just come on, all my hard work is going to get cold.” You pout while groaning, trying to lift her.

Sitting up, her smile falters as she feels her back muscles strain, not missing the way you hesitate at the small drop of her lips. Unlike you, who was already skipping towards the kitchen, she was slower. Granted, it was more because of her job than her age—the T-virus did more than just stop her from aging on the outside. But it still contributed to the ever-growing knot in her stomach.

She walks to the kitchen, cursing when she steps on a toy left by your cat. As if on cue, her stomach growls as she’s hit with a waft of coffee and pancakes. 

It looks like a scene from a movie. Two plates sat next to each other adorned with pancakes and strawberries, accompanied by a cup of coffee. 

You stood next to the table with your hands behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Do you like it?” You tried—and failed—to stop your lips from curling up, obviously proud of your work. You weren’t always the best cook, but after feeling her tossing and turning all night, you wanted to do something nice for her.

Jaw slack and eyes bugged out, Jill stood there for a couple of seconds before her mind caught up. 

“Uh… y-yeah!” You frowned slightly at her response, mind spiraling—what if she hated pancakes but never told you?

Noticing your panic, she reiterates. “I didn’t forget anything, right? No anniversaries?” The knot in her stomach that she almost forgot about grows.

You laugh, causing Jill to stare at you, confused. You closed the distance between you two, throwing your arms over her shoulders.

“You forgot nothing. I just—wanted to do something nice.” A sheepish smile graces your face, embarrassed at how making a simple breakfast is ‘something nice’. But in your defense, Jill can’t even boil water without something going wrong. 

She grasps your hips, giving them a little squeeze. “It’s perfect.” She leans in and touches your forehead, taking in your body warmth, before meeting your lips. 

It’s slow. The food behind you two was forgotten about. She lets a soft sigh of contentment against your lips. You taste like strawberries, probably from sneaking some while preparing the plates. 

The knot in her stomach loosens as dread gets replaced by warmth. 

You pull away, taking a few seconds to fully open your eyes. You look at her, eyes sparkling in adoration. “I love you.”

She takes a deep breath, absorbing everything you’re giving her. She wishes she could stay here forever, surrounded by your warmth and love. 

“I love you too.” She can’t hide the blush spreading on her cheeks.

Your hands cup her face. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

Her breath hitches, caught off guard. Was it that obvious? 

Her voice cracks. “Yeah.” 

Your eyebrows raise, head tilting up to examine her face. If you weren’t inspecting her, she would’ve grimaced. All she had to say was yeah, yet somehow she failed, miserably.

Your hands drop to her stretched arms—her hands are still on your hips. You squeeze her forearms. “Then tell me, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Shit. It was a trap. This whole thing was a ruse. Did you know she was faking sleeping the whole time? Were you some secret mastermind?

As if reading her mind—which in the current moment Jill believes you can—you let out a soft chuckle. “You were tossing and turning all night. You haven’t done that in a while.” 

“Oh.” 

“Ohhhhh.” You mock her with a teasing grin, batting your pretty eyes at her. She thought she was slick, thought years of fighting mutated monsters meant she could hide her dilemmas from you. Apparently not. 

She drops her head in defeat. There’s no way she’s going to lie straight to your face.

“It’s just—stuff.”

Your shoulders drop, lips curling down. You know what “stuff” is. It’s Umbrella, Wesker, the T-virus. Some days were better than others, but the things Jill went through weren’t easy to forget. 

You look down at the scar borne onto her chest, jagged in its shape. You remember the first time you saw it. It was early into the relationship, and you noticed how she always kept her shirt on during sex, her body going stiff whenever you touched the hems to lift the fabric off of her. Eventually, she told you everything, breaking your heart in the process—you wish you knew her back then, protected her from all the horrors she endured.

You can feel her tense under your touch as you reach out, shaky fingers caressing the rough lines. You lock eyes with her, asking for permission. After she gives a small nod of approval you lean down, soft lips grazing her chest. 

You press a small peck in the middle of her scar, continuing when you feel her body melt into your touch. You trace it, kissing each edge and corner, making sure not to miss an inch. Making your way back to your starting point you pause, hovering your lips over her skin. 

“I love you.” She shivers with goosebumps, feeling your lips saying each syllable. It’s like you’re saying it inside of her, not talking to her, but her body.

She tenses once more, but not out of shock, but out of love. The feeling of your pure adoration for her, for all of her, reverberates throughout her body—covering every inch of her soul.

You lean back, getting a good look at her. Her closed eyes flutter open, unshed tears glossing her eyes. Your hand cups her cheek, thumb rubbing small circles. 

“I mean it.” You say it softly but sternly, leaving no room for doubt. The small quirk of her lips tells you it worked. 

She lets out a soft sigh, wiping her wet eyes. She leans her weight into your hand, savoring the warmth. She circles her fingers around your wrist, her eyes looking at you. 

“I know.” It’s quiet, but full of sincerity. She presses her lip against yours—it’s the right mix of soft and passionate. Her lips move in sync with yours until she feels you still.

You push her away with a gasp. “Shit—my pancakes!” Oh right, breakfast. Jill had completely forgotten why she was even in the kitchen to begin with. 

Turning around, you’re greeted with the sight of your cat enjoying your breakfast as if you made it for him. You screech, running to shoo him off the table, relieved to see he only busied himself with one pancake. You pick the sad cold flapjack, examining the damage—at least someone enjoyed your cooking while it was hot.

You throw it into the trash with a sigh, staring at your creation as it lies on top of the trash. A giggle interrupts your pity party.

You look over at Jill, betrayal covering your face, as she stifles her laughs. She walks over to the table, as she sits down she touches the pancake on her plate.

“They’re not that cold.” She reassures you, giving you a cute grin. You roll your eyes, dragging your slippers as you walk over to the table. 

As you sit down and go to grab your fork, Jill grabs your hand. “Thank you, for—uh—putting up with me.” She gives you a sheepish smile. You sigh, “Jill…..”

She puts up her hands as if she’s surrendering. “I know, I know, I’ll stop being self-deprecating—but you know what I mean.” 

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Her lips part for a second before curling into a soft smile. Warmth fills her chest as she looks at you, sure, she’s not “healed”, but she’s happy and that’s a start.

“Now eat the cold breakfast I spent hours on.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

[r4dvalentine]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ both Jill and you have a bad day, you two seek comfort in each other.

wc: 2,7k+

content: fluff, no smut, fem!reader, reader is in college, reader has self esteem issues, reader is unemployed #real, reader has no physical description, established relationship, possible age gap?? I wrote this imagining re1/re3 jill so it’s up to interpretation, smoking, a bit of angst, bit of sexual content?? Reader appreciates Jill’s muscles, brief mention of period typical homophobia(not being able to get legally married), talk of marriage, a bit corny......

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Smoke fills her lungs, and it stings.

She sits outside her apartment building with a cigarette in her hand.

She almost forgot about the mission, but the look from passersby reminds her of the dirt and blood that cover her. She silently prays it’s not hers.

She had made a promise to quit smoking, but her job made it hard, it certainly wasn’t one for the faint of heart. Especially, since that damn mansion.

She was hired to dispose of weapons, not mutated freaks. Unfortunately for her, it seems her life now revolves around monsters. At least she was doing good, or that’s what she would tell herself in the morning when she felt like not going to work.

She extinguishes her cigarette, now down to the butt, and throws it into a nearby trash can.

As she enters her PIN code, she becomes acutely aware of how dirty her hands are.

Her fingerless gloves did a poor job of protecting her fingers from the blood that covered her hands. She needs a bath.

She walks into the building making a beeline for the elevator.

ELEVATOR OUT OF SERVICE

“Fuck.” She meant to whisper, but the woman glaring at her while she covers her child’s ears says otherwise.

She’s too tired for this shit.

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With a sigh Jill drags her body up the steps, of course, the elevator was broken.

She swears she’s in purgatory.

Her stomps echo, knees crack, and the crick in her neck becomes more apparent. She’s starting to feel the onset of a tension headache, a byproduct of her clenched jaw.

After what feels like an eternity, she makes it to her floor.

She’s almost there, yet she feels like giving up and collapsing in the hallway.

Making her way to the door, she fumbles with the key, grimacing at the dry blood smearing onto it. She wipes her hand before reaching for the doorknob, and she can faintly hear a noise from the apartment.

With the knowledge that you’re home, she sighs, she stands for a moment, trying to rid herself of her anger. The last thing she wants to do is make you worried.

With a, slightly, clear mind, she pushes the door open.

She peers to the left, hearing your presence in the kitchen.

You’re sitting at the dining table. Your eyes are red and puffy, with tear stains running down your cheeks. You’re shoving chips into your mouth, crumbs coating the table.

You pause at Jill’s arrival, wide-eyed eyes staring at her.

Putting down the chip bag and wiping your mouth, “Hi.” Your shaky voice contrasts with the fake smile that’s plastered on your face.

“Uh, hi?” Confusion fills her face as she takes in the sight of you.

She closes the door and locks it. Leaning down she begins to undue her boots.

While her hands work she looks up, she parts her lips to ask a question but is cut off.

“You smell like smoke.” You dramatically covered your nose, “Have you been smoking?”

She rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, placing one of her boots to the side, her hands busy with the next one.

“Look, I’m going to take a shower so don’t worry about it.”

“Jill!” You whine her name, hands waving in the air to convey your anger.

“It’s not just about the smell! Those things are bad for you, you said you would quit!”

Placing her other boot down she walks towards you. She puts her hands up as if she were surrendering, and she takes a deep breath.

“I know, it’s just, I—I had a bad day, and needed something to distract me, it’s a one-time thing, okay?”

Your eyes squinted, studying her face to see if she was lying.

“Okay, I believe you.”

Jill lowers her hands with a sigh as her lips curl, She goes to talk but is, once again, cut off.

“But, if you do it again, there will be consequences Miss Valentine.” You say sternly, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Jill chuckles, “Sure.”

“I mean it!”

She walks up to you, leaning against the table.

“What’s wrong?”

You look guilty, “You’re covered in blood.”

“That’s not why you were crying.”

“You don’t know that.”

Her eyebrow raises, giving you a stern look, knowing you can’t handle being under pressure.

“I failed my math exam.” You say it so quickly Jill didn’t even think it was English at first.

Sighing, her face relaxes, “It’s just one stupid exam, you’ll do better on the next one.”

You groan, “No I won’t! You said that last time and look, I failed again!” Your eyes begin to water again, embarrassment filling you.

You spent the whole week studying, surviving on only Red Bull, much to Jill’s dismay. You worked hard, only to get an F. You felt humiliated.

“You know, you’re much smarter than you think.”

You avoid her eye contact like it’s the plague, “Well, I’m not smart enough.” You mumble.

Jill sighs, pushing herself off the table, “You know I had a pretty bad day too.”

Your eyes widen, immediately looking at her in dismay.

“Jill…” you frown, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked what happened.” You fiddle with your fingers.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad!” She says quickly, reaching out for your hand.

“I just thought knowing that I was also having a bad day would make you feel better.” Blush covers her face as she slowly feels embarrassed as she realizes how stupid her idea was.

A faint smile paints your face, you let out a reassuring chuckle, “It’s okay, Jill.”

“You know what? It actually does make me feel a bit better.”

Jill looks up at you giving you a small smile. She leans in to kiss you.

Your hands stop her in place, “Look, I would love to kiss you but…. you stink.” She stands there looking at you as if you were joking, it takes a couple of seconds until she realizes you’re not.

You pat her chest, “How about you take a shower and then meet me in bed?”

Her eyebrow begins to raise but you cut her off, “Not like that!”

“Let’s just end this bad day with a nice calm night.”

She gives you a smile, “Sounds good.” She quickly leans down and gives you a peck, running away before you can properly register what happened.

“Jill!” You yell her name, and her laugh fills the apartment as she makes her way to the bathroom.

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You sit in bed, back rested against the headboard, hands holding a book you were trying to read, but you couldn’t get yourself to concentrate. Your mind continued to remind you of your failed exam, and your mind filled with self-deprecating thoughts.

What if college was a mistake? What if you weren’t cut out for it? What if you’ve spent all this money and time for nothing? Your breathing began to quicken as your eyes tried to fight off tears.

You look up at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Jill walks in, hair damp and a towel wrapped around her body.

She looks at you, brows furrowing at the sight of your glassy eyes. As if reading your mind she gives you a reassuring look, “You tried your best, and that’s all that matters, so stop thinking about that stupid test.” She says softly.

You give her a sheepish look, heat filling your face. You hate how sensitive you are when it comes to school. Sure, you knew grades didn’t define you, and one failed exam wasn’t a big deal, but your emotions didn’t seem to follow rational thinking.

“I know…”

You put your unread book away, watching Jill’s every move.

She undoes the towel, throwing it into the clothes basket. Even though you’ve seen her naked a million times, you’ll never get over the sight.

You frown at the sight of scratches on her stomach, those weren’t there before.

As she applies lotion, she notices your frown, “It’s just a scratch. Rebecca said I was good.”

The sound of the young woman’s name eases you a bit.

“I wish you had a regular job…. why couldn’t you be like an accountant or something?”

Jill chuckles, grabbing her pajamas, “I don’t think I could be an accountant, I don’t like to sit for too long.”

You should reply, but you’re too busy looking at her muscles flex as she puts on her pajamas.

“I thought this was supposed to be a ‘nice calm night’?” She pulls up her shorts and makes her way to her side of the bed.

“It is!”

She lifts the comforter, setting herself down, groaning when the crick in her neck cries out at the movement.

“You were just looking at me like you wanted to pounce on me!” She gets situated, turning on her side to face you.

You sigh, “Whatever helps you sleep at night!”

Jill scoffs, rolling her eyes. You move to lie down, turning your body to also face her. Your noses are inches away from touching.

You two lay there for a good minute, basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies. Jill lifts her hand and places it on your cheek.

“You know you’re smart, right?” She whispers, her thumb rubbing your cheek.

You inhale, your body language becoming awkward, “I guess..”

Jill looks at you like you’re crazy, “You guess?”

You flip onto your back, “You know I don’t like to talk about this stuff.”

Using her elbow, she props herself up.

“The only reason you don’t like talking about it is because it makes you upset.”

“Exactly! So, let’s change the subject, please?” You all but beg, your glassy eyes staring at her grayish blue ones.

“I don’t mean to make you upset, I—I just don’t like how you think about yourself.”

Your eyes blink rapidly to fight tears.

Jill sits there for a second.

“I said fuck in front of a kid today.”

Your body freezes, you look at her, “What?”

“Yeah, the elevator was broken….” She scratches the back of her neck.

“So you said fuck in front of a kid?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

Your body begins to shake as you try to hold in your laughter, a hand going to your mouth to hide the smile that’s creeping up.

“The kid's mom looked like she was going to kill me, I was scared.”

The seriousness in her voice breaks you, leaning your head back you laugh, snorting, trying to catch your breath.

Jill sits there with a smile plastered across her face. You let out a breathless sigh, you turn to look at her, “Thanks.”

“For what?” She asks, pretending to be confused.

You roll your eyes, “For making me laugh.”

She shrugs her shoulders, “All in a day's work.”

“No, I mean it.” You prop yourself up, you’re once again face to face with her.

“You always manage to make me feel better, even when you’ve had a crappy day.” You take a breath.

“Sometimes I wonder why I deserve you.”

She scoffs, “Trust me, it’s the other way around.”

This time, you scoff.

You sigh, looking back into her eyes, “I love you, Jill.” You practically whisper.

Her body relaxes, and she can almost no longer feel the crick in her neck.

“I love you too, baby.”

Leaning in, she pushes you down gently, placing her hand on your cheek before kissing you.

Her lips were soft and plush, tasting like coffee and cigarettes. One of your hands rests on her shoulder, before making its way into her damp hair.

For the first time today, both of your bodies are relaxed.

Jill pulls her lips away, but still keeps her face close, eyes still closed, she rests her forehead against yours, a smile adorning her face.

Your hand rubs her neck, feeling how tight her muscles are.

“Why don’t you lie down? I’ll give you a massage.”

You didn’t have to tell her twice.

You let out a little gasp at the sudden weight of her body lying on top of you, her head nestling into the side of your neck. That’s not what you meant by lie down, but you’re not mad.

Your hand moves to rest on her back, while the other begins massaging her neck. You can feel her body melting into your touch.

You think this might be heaven. The scent of Jill’s shampoo fills your nose, the feeling of her short breaths on your neck, the heat of her body healing any aches you had due to walking across campus. You’ve never felt more comfortable in your life, nor have you ever felt more content before. You wish you two could lie like this forever, ignore the world around, and just bask in each other’s presence.

Your mind doesn’t think twice before talking, “Do you ever think about getting married?”

You hear a muffled “Mhm?”

Jill is lost in the feeling of your fingers loosening the knot in her neck, your fingers working with expertise. She feels like she’s floating, no mutated freaks, no Wesker, no blood and guts, just her and you. She’s so relaxed her brain can’t even comprehend what you just said.

You hesitate, wondering if you should even ask again, but you’re so relaxed you can’t find it in you to second-guess yourself.

“Do you ever think about getting married, like…. you and me?” You squeak the last part out, suddenly becoming aware of what you were truly asking.

You feel her tense on top of you, your hands leave her neck as if her skin were lava. You search around the room, gears turning, trying to figure out how to get out of your mess.

“Um… nevermi—“

“Yes.”

Jill lifts her head out from your neck, cheeks pink, eyes wide. She looks at you with certainty.

“Do you?”

“Well—I mean— yeah, but, like it’s impossible I guess.” Your voice lowers, lips curling down.

Jill’s head tilts to the side, eyes squinting slightly, “It’s not impossible.”

You look at her like she’s crazy, “I don’t know if you forgot… but we’re women Jill.”

She snorts, “I know that, silly, I just meant we can still do it.”

You bit your lip and uncertainty covered your face.

“What I mean is, we can still do all the stuff, just… without… the legal stuff.” She gives you a reassuring smile.

“So, you would want to marry me?” You say it with an eyebrow raised, not wanting to pressure her.

“Of course.” She says it like it’s an obvious answer.

She grabs one of your hands, squeezing it.

“One day, we’re going to get out of-” she moves her hands around, “-here.”

“You’ll graduate, I’ll finish this shit with Umbrella, and I’ll get you a nice ring, one that makes people think you’re married to a billionaire.”

You roll your eyes, she continues.

“We’ll have a nice house, a bunch of cats too, maybe a dog as well.”

You stare at her, adoration filling your eyes, “You’ll need a ring too, one that’ll make ‘people think you’re married to a billionaire’!” You say dramatically.

She chuckles, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

You two sit there, a comfortable silence surrounding you.

“Do you think we could do that, settle down?”

“Hopefully.”

You can tell Jill is beginning to get into her head, being reminded of how serious, and inescapable, her job is. You know how guilty she feels about her job interfering with your relationship.

“Well, I think that’s something for the future, we’re a bit too young and broke for that!” You say trying to lighten up the mood and distract Jill from her racing thoughts.

“Yeah, you might need to get a job for us to do that.” She teases.

You gasp, “You know the topic of jobs is a very sensitive topic for me!” You say jokingly.

“Don’t worry, I love you, unemployed and all.” She reaches over and once again lies on top of you, nesting her head back into your neck.

You wrap your arms around her, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Jill laughs, relaxing into your body. Honestly, she didn’t care about legality or rings, as long as you were next to her, she knew she’d be alright.

[r4dvalentine]