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marvel-vision · 9 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (11/?)

Part Summary: You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.300+ | Warnings: Angst | Author's note: Buckle up you guys.

You've never looked at Leigh this way before.

Not even when she confronted you months ago, a formidable presence with a devastating revelation that shattered what you thought was a straightforward affair with a single man. Not even when she accused you of lying, or when she consistently made things difficult for you.

Now, you look at her as if she's an entirely different person. And from the way you fall back, it's obvious you don't particularly like what you see. Leigh hadn't realized just how painful it could be to be looked at in such a way. With each of your steps, panic swells inside her. Though you're only a few feet away, it feels as if you've drifted oceans apart. She can't reach you, and the growing distance makes her fear she never will.

“What did you say?” you repeat slowly, each syllable dropping like a stone—deliberate and heavy.

Your eyes, hard and cold, fix on her. It’s an unsettling sight; she'd almost prefer your anger. Anger, at least, is a familiar adversary, a clear-cut emotion she has long helmed and appeased within herself. She understands anger, knows how to quell it, how to unravel it into something resembling forgiveness or at least a truce. But this wounded belief—she doesn’t know what to do with it. It doesn’t want loud arguments or quick fixes. Instead, it seems to demand something she finds far harder to give: an explanation of motives she's not sure she fully understands herself.

“Your eyes are... enthralling?” Leigh stammers out, her voice quivering slightly as she attempts some self-preservation. She regrets the words as soon as they slip out, sounding hollow and clumsy to her own ears.

You don't laugh, or even react much at all, except to say, “You know that's not what I'm talking about.”

Leigh’s heart sinks a bit more. She winces, shaking her head, realizing the frivolous comment has fallen flat, doing nothing to undo the damage. In the end, she can’t bring herself to say what she knows you want to hear.

“After all this time, how…? How do you know about that nickname?” you ask, maintaining a façade of indifference though you can feel the cracks forming.

“I work for the website,” Leigh says, her eyes dropping to the floor when she hears you take in a sharp breath. “I used to run the advice column there. But when Matt died, I couldn't handle it anymore and I left.” She stops for a moment, her gaze flickering back to you, searching for a reaction, but you remain silent, your expression unreadable.

“They brought me back recently, just as a contributor. I wasn't sure how to tell you. It's part of how I'm trying to move on, getting back into writing, even though it feels different now,” she adds somberly.

“So, did you just read my entries and figure out it was me from what I wrote?” you ask, your voice low and uncertain.

Leigh swallows dryly, steeling herself for what she has to say next. “Not only did I read your entries,” she admits slowly, her voice a whisper of trepidation, “but I was the one replying to them.”

After her confession, Leigh struggles to meet your eyes. Her ears are filled with the loud rush of her heartbeat, thumping wildly as the seconds tick by without a word from you. Time seems suspended, and when you don't speak, move, or give any indication of your thoughts, dread begins to creep into the edges of her mind.

“I was going to tell you,” Leigh murmurs, the words barely escaping her lips. Your arms cross over your chest, sealing yourself off even more. She feels you slipping further away, when just moments earlier, you had been kissing the life out of her, as if trying to breathe her in.

This can’t be happening, Leigh thinks. It just can’t.

“When?” you scoff. “When you’re… what? Done with your revenge?”

Leigh’s brow furrows at the accusation. “Revenge?”

“Isn’t that what this is about?” you ask, retreating until your back meets the wall, leaning heavily against it. Leigh notices the fatigue etched into your features, as if the realization that she knew about your submissions and was the one responding to them is more than you can bear.

“I don’t—”

“Payback for what went on between me and Matt?”

“Y/N,” Leigh utters your name hard, like a deity in her prayers. “You’re misunderstanding this—”

“Am I?” you challenge, your voice rising. You don't care if the neighbors hear; you’ve never met any of them anyway. “I remember a ‘Gigi Herrel’ advising me to move on, to meet other people, to pursue someone else—”

Your words become stuck in your throat as you realize that ‘Gigi Herrel’ is an anagram for ‘Leigh Greer.’ How could you have missed it? How could you have been so blind?

Leigh aches to reach out to you, to touch you and reassure you that she never meant any harm, that her intentions were never what you're accusing her of. But her hands remain at her sides, afraid you might recoil or push her away. She worries that one wrong move could drive you away for good.

“I never meant to hurt you. Please, Y/N,” she begs, her voice trembling with an urgency neither of you thought she was capable of. “I was trying to protect you—from myself. I’m a mess, Y/N. I’ve been a mess since Matt…” Leigh trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“You thought toying with my feelings was protection?”

“I wasn’t!” Leigh objects forcefully.

You slump to the ground, your strength giving out as a sharp, nail-like pain spreads through your head. You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into your temples, while Leigh sits across from you, her hands nervously twisting together.

Quietly, you voice your frustrations. “If it wasn't a game, then why do I feel like I've been losing all this time? Things would be fine between us, and then suddenly, you'd ignore me. My texts went unanswered, my messages unseen for days. It felt like you weren't even treating me right as a friend. I'd drive myself crazy wondering if I said something wrong or did something wrong… It feels like I'm always walking on eggshells. So, if it wasn't a game, tell me you didn't do those things on purpose. Because if not, then you were awful to me without even trying. You know that, right?”

Leigh's eyes brim with remorse. She quickly wipes at her eyes before a tear can fall, trying to maintain her composure in front of you.. “I would never play games with you,” she implores. “I've been in pieces for so long that I've forgotten what it means to be whole. When I found out about your feelings, I didn’t understand them. I couldn't see how it could happen when I wasn't my best self.

“I pushed you away because I was scared of letting you see the real me—the broken, messy parts. I thought that if you got too close, saw too much, you'd realize there wasn't much to hold onto. That eventually, you'd see me the way I see myself and end up disappointed.” Her voice trembles, betraying the strength she tries to project.

You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

“You knew how I felt about you, Leigh,” you say, your lips curving into a wistful smile. “I understand that you're hurting and that being scared is part of it, but it doesn't justify leaving me hanging, wondering where I stand with you, feeling like I'm just... waiting for you to decide I'm worth your time.”

Leigh nods slowly. “I realize that now, and I'm so sorry. It wasn't fair to you. I was trying to manage my own issues, but I ended up projecting them onto you.”

You look into her eyes, searching for a sign that the change you need from her is possible. “Being broken isn't a reason to break others,” you say.

Leigh flinches slightly, your words hitting home. “You’re absolutely right,” she agrees, her eyes unblinking. You can tell that if you were to list her faults, she would agree and confess to them all just to resolve things right here and now. But that's not what you want, nor what you need from her.

“Y/N,” Leigh's voice almost breaks as she says your name. “Will you forgive me?”

Yes, you think instinctively. Forgiving Leigh feels almost second nature. But actually saying it out loud right now would set a course you're not sure you're ready to follow. Trust has been strained and rebuilding it isn't as simple as uttering a single word of forgiveness.

Leigh looks at you expectantly, anxiety lining her features. “Y/N?” she repeats softly.

You understand what she's silently asking: if there's a chance to reset everything. But you're not ready to commit to an answer. Offering her any assurance now might only lead to false hopes, especially if you later decide a real relationship isn't possible. Part of you wants to give in, to return to her embrace and pick up where you left off. But another part, perhaps the more rational side, holds you back.

“Leigh, I... can we just... I need some time to think,” you finally say. Disappointment flashes across her face, almost imperceptible but unmistakably there. As Leigh stands, you expect her to quietly leave, respecting your need for space. Instead, she spins around to face you with renewed determination.

“I'm not a perfect person, okay?” she whispers, but you can still sense the rough edges around her voice. This is a side of Leigh you're all too familiar with, having felt the sting of her impatience and temper more times than you'd like. But instead of rising to the challenge, you simply feel drained—too exhausted to argue tonight.

“You don't have to be perfect, Leigh,” you say, more tired than angry. Then, almost impulsively, you ask, “Does Danny know you’re here?”

Leigh's composure slips for just a moment at the mention of his name. Guilt or surprise crosses her face like a shadow, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. Her jaw tightens, and you sense her displeasure at the topic. “No, he doesn't know I'm here,” she says curtly.

Well, at least she’s being honest. But what were you expecting—that her presence here meant she had chosen you?

“You need some time to think too,” you say, pushing yourself up and moving toward the door. Leigh's expression stiffens as her eyes follow your movements. You open the door, gesturing for her to leave. She approaches, hesitating just short of it, her gaze searching for the right words or maybe just some reassurance, but finding neither.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs, her defiance fading. “This isn't how I imagined tonight would go. I don't regret what happened, really, but I hate that it ended up hurting you. That's not why I came here.”

“I know,” you reply, unsure of what else to say.

Leigh starts to leave, then hesitates again just before crossing the threshold. “Can I contact you?”

You let out a sigh. "Good night, Leigh."

She swallows hard and nods slowly. “Bye,” she whispers.

You gently close the door after her and lean against it for a moment. Leigh has turned your world upside down more times than you can count, and you two haven't even truly begun.

“Do you ever just think about disappearing?”

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. They lie side by side at the foot of Leigh's bed, with empty glasses of milk on the floor next to them and an open pack of Oreos, an invitation for the ants.

The night before, after the whole debacle with you finding out she’s been answering your advice submissions, Leigh had come home with her lips still tingling and her stomach in knots. She had almost run to her room in a huff, drawing puzzled looks from Jules and Amy, before slamming her bedroom door shut. They knew better than to ask what was wrong and wisely kept their distance. That was, until Leigh didn't come out of her room the entire morning until afternoon, except for a quick trip to the kitchen for some food, and even then, she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. A single whiff from a few feet away also made it clear she hadn't showered either.

Worried, Jules decided to intervene with a little gesture that she hoped might coax her sister out of her shell. She grabbed a packet of Oreos from the pantry and poured a glass of milk—Leigh’s comfort snack since childhood—and tapped softly on her sister's door. Leigh didn’t answer. She tried the knob, found it unlocked, and pushed the door open. The sight of Leigh, all disheveled and pale with those heavy bags under her eyes, took Jules right back to those first several days after they learned Matt had been found dead at the bottom of a cliff.

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. “Leigh, you're scaring me. You know that, right?”

Leigh quickly shakes her head, realizing how her words sounded. “No, no, I don’t mean like that. Not disappearing in the way Matt did.” She sighs, throwing an arm over her eyes. “I just mean... rebooting, you know? Wishing we could rewind to before everything got so complicated.”

Relieved by the clarification, Jules settles back down beside her. They both gaze up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“I wish I never tasted alcohol when I was fifteen,” Jules says suddenly.

Leigh frowns. “That bad, huh?”

Jules smiles wryly and nods. “Yeah. Some choices just stick with you, you know? Can’t undo them. Just have to live with what comes after.”

Leigh's thoughts drift as she listens to Jules, a rueful smile crossing her lips. “You know, I've got my own list of should've, would've, could've. I always thought I'd finish college, maybe become an editor or write something of my own one day.”

Jules tries to offer a silver lining. “But you don’t need a degree to be a writer, Leigh.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leigh mumbles, tracing a pattern on the bedspread absentmindedly. “It's just... having that formal education might have made things easier. Like being pushed by mentors... or the doors it would've opened, the people I would've met. But more than that, I regret not sticking it out. I quit too easily.”

Then, turning on her side with her back to Jules, she continues, “But in the end, it all circles back to Matt somehow. This… this inability to follow through really got to me after he was gone. We had so many plans, so many dreams together. And now none of them will ever happen.”

“You still really love him, don't you?”

Leigh’s answer is slow to come. “Yes,” Leigh whispers, her reply muffled slightly by the pillow. After a moment, she adds, “And no.”

Before Jules can comment on it, she continues, “It’s like… I love who we were, who he was to me. And I love all the memories, every plan we made, every silly promise. But,” she stops, picking her words carefully, “but there’s also this part of me that’s learning to live without that, to not need it so much. It feels like moving on, and that part doesn’t love the pain, doesn’t want to keep holding on if it just hurts.”

Jules reaches out, resting her hand on Leigh’s shoulder, offering a silent show of support. “And, um, does that tie into why you were so upset last night?”

Leigh's laugh is faint and strained. “Yes,” she says softly, “and no.” Then she rolls over to face Jules, burying the lower half of her face in the blankets.

“How so?”

“It’s complicated, Jules. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Alright,” Jules huffs. “I’ll guide you then. Does it have something to do with what I said about Y/N seeing Sara?”

Leigh doesn't answer. Instead, she sits up, letting the blanket fall around her lap as the steady breeze from the air conditioning causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps.

Jules sits up as well. “It's fine to be upset over her. You can grieve for others too, not just Matt. You can’t keep using him as the reason for all your pain. If you want to handle this, you’ve got to figure out what you're really up against.”

“Since when did you start playing therapist?”

Jules smirks. “Rehab over the past five years teaches you some things.”

Leigh forces a smile. She knows Jules jokes to cope, using humor to deal with everything she’s been through. Taking a breath, Leigh says, “I saw her last night.”

“I figured,” Jules says with a knowing look. “You dashed out of the house without even putting on a bra.”

Leigh covers her face, cringing. “You noticed that?”

Jules chuckles. “Well, it's not like any of us, including Mom, bothers wearing one around the house,” she jokes, and they both laugh. “So, did you actually forget to put one on, or…?”

Leigh rolls her eyes and gives Jules a light elbow to the side. “I forgot, okay?”

Jules grins, teasing, “Well, not like it got you any action considering how annoyed you looked when you got back last night.”

Leigh goes quiet, her eyes flitting around the room. “Well, actually…”

Jules leans in, eyes wide. “Oh my god, something happened?”

Leigh bites her lower lip. “We…kissed.”

Jules's brow creases together. “And it was that bad? You looked miserable and locked yourself up all day. Was it really just because of a bad kiss?”

“It wasn’t,” Leigh corrects her quickly. “It was good. Like, really good.” She must look a bit dreamy thinking back on it because Jules grabs a pillow and playfully smacks her in the face.

“Alright, be serious,” Jules says, fighting to keep a straight face. “What really happened?”

Leigh sniffs, clearly reluctant to revisit the details but she begins recounting it for Jules. She explains how she received a submission for the advice column she writes for, from someone using the pseudonym ‘EspressoEyes.’ It arrived on her birthday and was intriguing enough that she responded immediately. She had no idea it was you, but as the details matched too perfectly with your birthday surprise, she started to connect the dots. Then came another question, so on point that she couldn't chalk it up to coincidence anymore. After the kiss you shared last night, she let slip that you truly have espresso eyes.

“...and that's when everything fell apart,” Leigh finishes, flopping back onto the mattress with a bounce, face down, her hair fanning out around her.

Leigh waits for Jules to react, to say anything. But her sister doesn’t speak or even make a sound for a long time, and just as she’s about to sneak a peek at her sister, curious and a bit anxious, Jules says, “Honestly, if I were Y/N, I’d be very much horrified too.”

Leigh gives her a look that’s both curious and wary. “Yeah?”

“Telling someone you have feelings for them is scary,” Jules explains. “Imagine finding out that the feelings you’ve been hiding came out in such a vulnerable, almost embarrassing way.”

“I guess you’re right,” Leigh concedes.

“But,” Jules continues, “the real problem is that you didn't address it right after you figured it out. You let her pine for you before pulling her in.”

Leigh nods and grabs an Oreo from the floor, popping the whole thing into her mouth. “And I still don't know why I confronted Y/N about Sara right away. By the way, you're an asshole for that, Jules. Y/N isn't dating Sara.”

Jules just grins, completely unabashed. “I know. But it was fun seeing you all riled up.”

Leigh sighs, the cookie in her mouth losing its sweetness. “I feel so stupid for needing that push. I didn't even realize what was happening. It felt like being hit by a truck when I realized I wanted her. And I didn't trust it, you know? Especially since I haven't even been into women since my ex in college.”

Jules studies her sister thoughtfully. “So, what now that you've messed up?”

Leigh looks away, her face shrouded with uncertainty. She wishes she had a definite answer, but she knows only time will tell. “She said she needs some time to think, and I'll give her as much as she needs.”

“And in the meantime,” Jules asks, her eyes brightening with a bit too much enthusiasm, “are you going to break up with Danny?”

“Right,” Leigh mutters weakly, “I almost forgot about Danny.”

You carefully place your rental bike against the railing on the front porch, careful not to scratch the paint. After spending a year in sunny Los Angeles, the crisp autumn air of Camden, Maine, nips at your cheeks, reminding you just how unaccustomed you've become to the cold. You pull your bomber jacket tighter around your body, a futile shield against the chill, and find yourself yearning for the relentless sun that’s now hiding above the clouds of your hometown.

The aroma of blueberry pie wafts from the slightly ajar front door of the Ranch style home where you spent most of your childhood, drawing you irresistibly towards the warmth inside. From where you stand, you can see the boats bobbing in the harbor, their masts swaying gently in the breeze. You can nearly taste the ocean’s saltiness, brought back vividly through memories of sailing with your father.

“Mom?” you call out as you step inside after removing your shoes. “I’m home!”

Your mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted apron. She looks up, her eyes lighting up when she sees you, and she quickly closes the distance to wrap you in a tight hug. Over the years, she’s grown shorter, now standing three inches below you. As she hugs you, you rest your cheek on her salt-and-pepper hair, which smells sweetly of sugar and blueberries.

“Welcome home, honey,” she says, her voice muffled against your jacket. “I wasn't expecting you until dinner.”

“I managed to catch an earlier flight,” you say, squeezing her a little tighter. “Where's Morris?” you ask, referring to her partner and the man who's been sort of a stepdad to you, although your mom and he never got married. They've been sharing this home for the last ten years.

“He's out back,” she replies, pointing towards the yard through the kitchen window. “He's been trying to get the garden ready for winter before the frost sets in.”

You hum in response, dropping your duffel onto the couch nearby.

“Are you hungry?” your mom asks, turning towards the fridge.

“Am I too early for the pie?” you ask, your stomach rumbling at the thought.

Your mom turns around with a wide, toothy grin. “You made it just in time.”

Your bedroom is just as you left it last year, preserved in time. Your mom has kept the dust at bay, and the sheets feel freshly laundered, as if you'd only left them hours ago. Instinctively, you gravitate towards the shelves lined with various framed photos of your family. Smiling faces of your brother and your father gaze back at you from the pictures, and a warm, nostalgic smile spreads across your face. You feel a pang of yearning for them—it's been too long.

With a sigh, you collapse onto the bed and pull out your phone. As promised, Leigh hasn’t made any attempts to reach out to you. Without thinking, you browse through her social media accounts, though there's nothing new since you discovered she knew about your feelings all along. Nonetheless, you scroll through her old photos, the ones from before she was widowed, where her smiles seem effortless and full of confidence, as if happiness was her default.

You miss her; that much you can't deny. But you're still hurt, not just because she didn't come clean about her discovery, but also because of the way she often treated you—the hot and cold attitude, the confusion, the lack of kindness and consideration. Time and again, you've given her the benefit of the doubt, especially considering she's grieving a loved one with a secret that further complicated his passing. You understand loss, having faced it yourself, but you've never allowed your grief to justify lashing out at others or toying with someone's emotions. It makes you wonder how you even fell for her in the first place.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy and you nod off, your phone slipping onto the comforter. You're not sure how long you've been out when a soft knock on your door jolts you awake.

“Come in,” you mumble, still half in a daze as you rub your eyes.

The door creaks open and your mom pops her head in. “Dinner's almost ready,” she says with a warm smile. “Want to come down and help me set the table?”

You nod. “Can you give me five minutes? I promise I'll help.”

Without waiting for a response, she walks over to sit beside you on the bed, gently stroking your hair as if you were still a child. “What’s wrong?” she asks softly. Your mother has always been your confidante, able to read you like an open book. You can't hide anything from her; she'll know.

“I keep falling for the wrong person,” you say, offering a bittersweet smile.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Love is more complicated than the right or wrong person. We're all a combination of good and bad; it's just a matter of deciding whether it's worth it in the end.”

You reflect on your past relationships, few though they are, and realize you're better off without them. They were either taking what they could get or using you as a fallback for their own misery.

“Do you feel like this person could be worth it?” she asks.

“I honestly don’t know,” you say. “It’s all so uncertain.”

“And that's fine,” she says. “Love isn't a sprint. Give yourself the space to figure it out.”

You're finding it hard to agree with her. If only the answers could be handed to you, saving you from future heartbreak. Why do some lessons have to be learned the hard way? Why don't people come with warnings and expectations?

Noticing how unconvinced you seem, your mom offers an idea.

“Tell you what, let's ask Morris to set the table for us. How about you and I go see your brother and father before dinner?”

You and your mom walk side by side through the cemetery, hands clasped together. You haven’t visited your father and brother’s graves in over a year, and you've been fighting back tears since leaving the house.

Your mom unfurls a thick blanket over the damp grass, spreading it out with care before you both settle onto it. She surprises you by pulling out a bottle of white wine from her bag. You lift an eyebrow, and she laughs, saying, “In my defense, I used to drink stronger liquor back in the day.”

You chuckle, picking up an empty glass and holding it out. “Pour me one.”

She fills your glass before pouring her own, and the two of you sit there, sipping wine quietly.

A few minutes later, she turns to you and says, “So, tell me about her.”

You nearly choke on your drink, surprised she knows it’s a woman. “How did you know?”

She smiles impishly. “You’ve always had poorer judgment when it comes to girls, so I figured this is what’s been on your mind.”

You can’t help but be impressed by how well she reads you. “Her name is Leigh. She's the wife of someone I used to see,” you say.

Your mom’s smile vanishes, replaced by shock. “Wait, you're saying you had an affair and now you're seeing his wife on the side?”

You burst into laughter at her horrified expression. “No, it's not like that.” Taking a deep breath, you tell her the whole story: how Matt died and how his wife, Leigh, found you after discovering Matt had cheated on her.

As your mom listens, her shock softens into contemplation. She tops up your wine and says thoughtfully, “Well, that’s complicated.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You open up to your mom about Leigh, sharing both the beautiful and terrible moments without holding back. As you recount the story, it's like rereading a passage in a book and analyzing it with new eyes. When you finish, your mother sets down her drink and says, “She's mean to you.”

You nod, draining the last of your wine.

“Loss does things to people,” she says softly. “You and I both know that better than anyone.”

“We do,” you say quietly.

Your mom regards you for a moment, then asks, “What do you see in Leigh? Why do you like her?”

You think about it, grappling with how to express the spectrum of emotions Leigh evokes in you.

“She’s pretty, definitely, and there’s a sharpness to her that’s... captivating. She’s unapologetically herself, and it’s often really funny. But… does that sound shallow? I can’t help but feel a bit foolish listing these superficial things—”

Your mom gently places her hand on yours, stopping your words. “You don’t need a poetic reason to love someone,” she says with a small smile. “Sometimes you just do. But mostly, we feel connected to people because we recognize some part of our soul in them. Recognition is why people are together, Y/N. Can you really love a stranger?”

Perhaps it’s true. Leigh isn’t really a stranger to you. Aside from concealing her knowledge of your feelings, she never pretended to be someone she wasn't. She was honest, showing you both her strengths and flaws. And you didn’t have to like all of it. But you kept coming back, eager to uncover more of her layers.

She continues, “By the way, you must be wondering why I brought you here.”

You glance around at the headstones of your father and brother, then back at her. “Yeah, I was.”

She looks toward the gravestones, her eyes misty. “To remind you that we don’t have all the time in the world. We have to make our time count, even if it means taking risks or facing things we're afraid of. Love isn't easy, but it’s worth finding the right person and making it work.”

“What if it doesn't work out, though?” you ask.

She smiles knowingly. “If it doesn’t, at least you’ll know you gave it a chance. You won't be left wondering what could have been. And that matters.”

She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you return it, feeling a bit more grounded. She waits for her words to settle in you, before asking, “You’ve already made your choice, haven’t you?”

You nod slowly, a growing sense of certainty welling up inside. “I think I have.”

“Well, then. Let’s finish our bottle and head back.”

“You waited until after Thanksgiving dinner to break up with me?” Danny's voice cracks as he speaks, his figure looming in the doorway of his apartment, blocking Leigh's exit. His eyes dart between anger and desperation, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a stern line. Yet, his hands are open, reaching toward her—pleading.

They had just returned from Thanksgiving dinner at the Shaws'. Leigh wanted to create one last pleasant memory with Danny, something kind to look back on. Aware of his strained relationship with his mom, she didn't want to leave him alone during the holidays by breaking up earlier. Now she accompanied him back to his apartment, planning to end things there and collect her belongings afterward.

Leigh turns to face him, her expression somber. “I just... I thought it was the right time to talk, after everything settled down.”

“After everything settled down?” Danny repeats incredulously. “You mean after we spent the whole day with your family, pretending everything was fine?”

Leigh sighs, knowing how it looks but needing him to understand. “I know how it seems, but I couldn't do it before dinner. It didn’t feel right to ruin the holiday for everyone.”

Danny steps back from the doorway, giving her space to enter. “So, you decided to ruin my night instead?”

Leigh walks inside, closing the door behind her. “I'm really sorry, Danny. I’ve felt for a while that this isn’t working, and I can't keep stringing you along.”

Danny runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing. “Is this about Matt?”

Leigh stills for a moment, considering her answer. It would be easy to say yes, to blame everything on that one pervasive loss. Matt has often been her scapegoat, but Leigh is tired of deceiving herself and others. For quite some time now, it hasn't been Matt’s absence that's been upending her world. Which is why she resolves to tell him the truth, aware that he would find out sooner or later.

Leigh sucks in a deep breath and looks Danny in the eye. “No, it's not about Matt. It's because of Y/N.”

Danny stops in his aimless tracks, his eyes narrowing. “Y/N?”

Leigh feels her heart race, knowing she can’t back down now. “Two weeks ago… we kissed.”

He blinks, stunned. “You kissed Y/N?” His voice is flat, almost disbelieving.

“It wasn’t planned, but... it happened. And it felt right, in a way I can’t ignore,” Leigh says.

Danny crosses his arms, scoffing. “I didn't know you were into women,” he says with a sneer, as if trying to insult her.

Leigh grits her teeth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Clearly,” he replies bitterly. “So how many times? How long have you been cheating on me?”

Leigh shakes her head, holding her ground. “I didn’t purposely cheat on you, Danny. I didn’t even realize I had strong feelings for her until that night. It just happened.”

Danny's face contorts with rage, and he yells, “Stop lying to me, Leigh! You fucking checked out of this relationship a while ago, and now it makes sense. You were screwing someone else on the side.”

Leigh protests, “We’ve never slept—” but her words are cut off as Danny suddenly swings his fist into the wall beside him. The sound of splintering wood and cracking bones reverberates through the apartment, and Leigh stands frozen, shocked beyond belief at what she's witnessing.

Danny looks down at his bloodied knuckles, bewilderment creeping over his features as he pulls back from the wall. He catches his breath and stares at Leigh, their eyes meeting in horrified silence.

“Sorry… I’m so sorry,” Danny mumbles, cradling his injured hand.

Leigh quickly grabs his keys from the dusty fishbowl on the shelf. He watches her, his gaze confused and desperate. “What are you doing?”

She meets his eyes, surprised herself at how calm and collected she feels. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You need to get that hand looked at,” she replies.

He doesn’t protest, only nods numbly and follows her outside.

At the hospital, Danny sits in a stiff plastic chair, his freshly bandaged hand resting on his lap. Leigh is next to him, her eyes fixed on the speckled tile floor, avoiding his gaze.

After several minutes, Danny breaks the silence. “I didn’t know what happened back there,” he starts, his voice low and unsteady. “I didn’t want to be angry, but it just… it had to go somewhere. I’ve never hurt anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to explain.

Leigh turns to look at him, her expression blank. “You punched a wall, Danny. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never hit anyone; you’ve got some serious anger management issues.”

Danny stays quiet for a moment, staring at his bandaged hand as if he’s still trying to comprehend what he did. He finally looks up, his expression twisted in frustration. “I’ve been angry for a long time, Leigh. Long before Matt was gone. I can’t even remember a time when I wasn’t.”

“I understand that,” Leigh says, shifting in her seat. “Even with therapy, the anger and resentment don’t really disappear completely. They linger like shadows.” She exhales, glancing down at her lap. Before she can stop it, a small smile plays on her lips as she thinks of you. “But lately, when Y/N is around, I forget about it. So know that I didn’t make this decision lightly.”

Danny studies her for a moment before asking, “Did you ever love me? Did I ever stand a chance?”

There's no easy way to say this without hurting him, but she doesn’t want to leave him with false hope. “I tried, Danny. I wanted to,” she whispers.

Danny turns away, his body twisting from her. Leigh wants to feel worse than she does, but instead, she just wants this to be over. She hopes the billing clerk will soon call their name so they can pay and head home. It's been an unbearably long day.

As she waits, her thoughts drift to you. She wants to call you after this, to tell you that she wants to try with you, that it could be real. She wants to explain that she ended things with Danny, that she did it to be free to explore the possibility of being with you, without any reservations.

After a while, Danny lets out a slow sigh, then looks at Leigh with a despondent look. “If your mind’s made up, I should probably put everything out in the open too.”

Leigh looks at him expectantly, a little curious.

“I’ve been keeping something from you. I didn’t think it would matter, but now… well, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“Just say it, Danny,” Leigh says, crossing her arms.

Then Danny proceeds to tell her the one last secret he thought he'd carry to his grave.

364 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 16 days

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (10/?)

Part Summary: “Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you again.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.200+ | Warnings: UST, fluff, very light angst | Author's note: I think the summary should tell you what to expect *winks*.

Despite going to bed very late, getting up in the morning isn't hard for you. Though it’s mainly because you barely had any rest at all. The real reason you couldn't sleep wasn’t the couch’s fault—it was the soft, irregular snores drifting in from the bedroom and the new, quiet awareness of someone else in your apartment. Every so often, Leigh would make a sound or shift in her sleep, and you would clench your fist hard against the blanket, resisting the urge to go check on her.

The stillness of the early dawn settles around you, and Leigh’s words come back to you like a quiet sail. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone’s house and not have sex?” she had said once, during one of your long, winding confrontations about Matt. It was a statement that had deeply affected you then, and even more so now, with her just a room away. You remember recoiling when she nearly spat the words at you. You wonder if Leigh also remembers, especially considering last night.

You rise from the couch before your alarm has a chance to ring, padding softly into the kitchen.

Cooking breakfast has become a kind of ritual, an act of service between the two of you. Smiling at this thought, you crack eggs into a bowl, add milk and vanilla, and start whisking. You soak slices of bread in the mixture, heat up the pan, and place them down to cook. French toast is on the menu today, and you hope Leigh likes it.

You set the table quietly, arranging the plates and cutlery, pouring orange juice into glasses. As you lay down the last slice of French toast on the plates, you add a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few slices of fresh strawberries for a pop of color and sweetness. With everything prepared, you sit down at the dining table to wait for Leigh to wake up.

After a while you glance at the clock and see it's 6:30 AM. You need to be at the clinic in an hour. With a sigh, you cover Leigh's plate with a napkin to keep it warm and start eating alone, just as you've done since moving here.

Finishing your breakfast, you wash the dishes and put everything away, your movements mechanical. You know you should get in the shower soon, but everything you'll need to prepare is in the bedroom. Pushing the door open just a crack, you peek inside to see Leigh sleeping peacefully, her face so different from its usual, more troubled visage when awake. She’s lying on her back with her mouth slightly open. The sheets have slipped past her hips, and her shirt has ridden up, exposing her stomach to the cool air. You tiptoe into the room and carefully pull the covers back up over her, tucking them around her gently.

Afterward, you crouch by the bed for a minute, simply observing her steady breathing. You feel a surge of affection as you watch her, wondering if she feels safe here, with you. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, is the very same one that Matt woke up to every day of his life for the past decade until he left this world. You think to yourself what a privilege it was for him, to have shared so many mornings with her, to have been woven into her waking thoughts and dreams.

While you’re cautiously sweeping a few strands of hair from her face, Leigh’s lips suddenly move in her sleep. They part slightly as if she's talking, but no sound escapes. Her forehead creases into a frown—she's clearly dreaming. It's a serious, focused expression that makes her look like she’s deep in conversation with someone in her dream world, and you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

Realizing you've lingered longer than intended, you force yourself to stand. You quietly retrieve a towel and some clothes, deciding to take your shower in the living room bathroom. As you lather soap over your torso, the image of Leigh’s exposed skin haunts your thoughts—the small, soft patch of her stomach you saw earlier. Your fingers inadvertently brush over your own nipples, and you can't help but compare the sensation to what touching Leigh's skin might feel like, if the rest of her body feels just as smooth and supple as it looks. The thought sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming despite the warm water. Your fingers wander lower almost of their own accord. A gasp escapes your lips when the tip of your forefinger brushes against your clit, the touch sparking an unexpected surge of arousal. Shocked by your own reaction, you quickly turn the shower knob, the water temperature dropping to a chill that snaps you out of your fantasies.

Get a grip, you mutter to yourself, feeling a combination of embarrassment and frustration. Leigh is just in the next room, trusting you, and here you are getting carried away. Shivering a bit under the cold spray, you finish up quickly, wrap yourself in a towel, and get dressed.

You take one last look at Leigh before you leave. She’s still sprawled out in the same comfy position, deep in sleep. Waking her doesn't feel right—not just to say a quick goodbye before you rush off to work. Instead, you jot down a note on a piece of your prescription pad. It’s a quick message letting her know breakfast is ready on the table, she should feel at home, and you’ve left an extra set of keys for her. You apologize for the early exit and sign your name with a flourish. You tuck the note under her plate of French toast, placing the keys beside it. Then, remembering the night might have left her with a bit of a hangover, you put a glass of water and an aspirin by her bed. You're trying to think of everything she might need to start her day off right.

“Bye, Leigh,” you whisper as you give the room one final glance. You step out into the morning, locking up but leaving a part of your mind behind, picturing her waking up comfortable and cared for. It’s ironic that just when you decided to keep your distance, you start running into situations that make you fall even harder for her. It's as if fate is constantly nudging you in her direction.

And frankly, you don't mind it at all.

Leigh stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open to a room that isn't hers. For a brief, groggy moment, she thinks she’s in Danny’s bed, but the scent is all wrong. Where Danny’s sheets carried a distinct note of sandalwood, they smell of lavender and something more… feminine. The soft difference in fragrance tugs at the edges of her memory, pulling forward the events of the previous day.

She blinks slowly, her mind piecing together the snapshots: the sharp words exchanged with Danny that morning, the solo trip out on Halloween, finding herself unexpectedly in Matt’s favorite restaurant. That’s when you came into the picture, dressed up for a date that never showed, and Leigh stepped in. You both shared a beer on the hood of your car, surrounded by glimmering, dreamlike sights, but all she could focus on was how the streetlights played over your face, making you look almost magical as you laughed, a half-empty box of donuts on your lap. You looked so... pretty, she thinks, the image stubbornly etched in her mind.

The night didn’t end there. She took you to a party. It was loud, crowded, but when you danced, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She remembers drawing you to the dance floor, guiding your hands to her hips as she swayed. She recalls gazing at your lips, wondering how they would feel against hers.

Leigh buries her face into your pillow, her cheeks burning as she reminisces how close you were, your lips barely an inch apart. She tries to laugh it off, but it’s hollow, and her face grows hotter as she recalls you pulling away, the almost-kiss dissolving into nothing. The last-second rejection stings, but what really makes her squirm is the heat flooding her body just from thinking about it. In an attempt to distract herself, Leigh snuggles deeper into your bed, but it backfires. One deep breath and she’s engulfed by the scent you left on the pillow. It feels as if you’re right there beside her, the illusion so convincing that it briefly soothes the ache of your actual absence.

And it's in this moment, surrounded by traces of you, that Leigh finally allows herself to fully acknowledge the attraction she’s been trying to ignore. It's been a slow, maddening realization, an interest that has compounded until it could no longer be overlooked. It’s ridiculous, really, because it sort of feels like she’s proving Matt right, wanting you just like he did. She sits up, clutching the sheets close, her heart racing as she turns over everything in her mind. It feels contradictory yet somehow... inexorable, as if it were always meant to happen.

But Leigh pushes back against the idea that anything in her life is fated, especially when it comes to who she might fall for. She's always believed in steering her own ship, picking her paths, her battles, her loves. Not just going with the flow of something because it feels like the universe is pushing her that way. She wraps the sheets tighter around her, needing to feel safeguarded, needing to remind herself that she calls the shots.

She climbs out of bed and starts pacing restlessly like a mad woman. Yes, there's something about you that pulls at her, but that doesn’t mean she has to lose herself to it. For all she knows, it’s just a silly crush, perhaps amplified by the thought that you might have liked her first. It's probably just that—reciprocal attraction—nothing more.

A sudden noise from the living room jerks Leigh out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she frantically whips her head towards the door. It’s been so loud inside her head, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that you might be out there—in your own apartment. Leigh stops pacing and strains to hear more.

There’s another sound. Thud. Thud.

With a shaky breath, she calls out, “Y/N?”

When no answer comes, Leigh edges out of the bedroom tentatively, as if stepping into her own trial. Her nerves are strung tight with anticipation of confronting you, the newly-minted object of her affection. However, as she rounds the corner, she finds only an empty living room. The quiet is almost startling. Another thud makes her jump—a dull, persistent noise. Turning towards it, she sees only pigeons at the living room window, poking their beaks against the glass, and Leigh exhales a long sigh of relief.

Intrigued, Leigh approaches the window to observe the pigeons. They remain undisturbed as she draws closer, diligently pecking at seeds scattered on the windowsill. So, you’ve been feeding them. It’s a small, charming detail about you that she hadn’t known, and it warms her heart to see this caring, tender side of you. Much like the way you took care of her last night, she feels like one of those pigeons.

Leigh leans against the wall next to the window, watching the pigeons bob their heads and shuffle around. Her eyes then drift to the dining table and land on a plate, invitingly covered, with a piece of paper peeking out beneath it. She walks over and lifts the cover to reveal a hearty serving of French toast, artfully arranged and topped with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

The sight of the breakfast makes her mouth water, and without thinking, she reaches out with her hands and takes a bite. It's still slightly warm, a sign that you haven't been gone long. Comforted by this thought, she pulls out a dining chair and settles in, making herself comfortable. Then, picking up the note, she unfolds it to read while she enjoys her breakfast.

Hope you enjoy the French toast. I had to head out early, but I wanted to make sure you had a warm start to your day. Please make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you need, and here’s some extra keys to the apartment just in case. Sorry to miss saying goodbye this morning. I hope we can catch up later when I'm back - Y/N

Leigh bites her lip, staring down at the note and the keys beside it. It feels so... domestic. Almost too familiar, but too quickly. She can't help but recall the countless times she left similar notes for Matt, scribbled in haste before dashing off to her early morning classes at the Beautiful Beast. Her trips to Danny's apartment never felt quite like this. It had always felt more like a love nest, designed for pleasure, not partnership. It was somewhere to escape to, not a space she could ever see herself belonging in, being her own. But here, with these keys in front of her, it's different. This feels like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit the same way anymore.

Leigh hesitates, unsure if this is a good thing. If you are a good thing. With Danny, everything was safe, predictable. He wants her more than she wants him, and in a twisted way, that imbalance has become an assurance. It’s easier, requiring less vulnerability on her part. But with you, the balance feels equal, perhaps even tipping in a way that makes Leigh unsure of where she stands, unsure of her control over the situation.

That terrifies her. And she hasn't felt this scared since Matt left.

As if on cue, a loud ringing blares through the apartment. Leigh blinks, pulled abruptly back to the present, and realizes she has no idea where she left her phone. She scrambles to her feet, her search for the phone turning into a clumsy dance as she trips over herself in the process. After a brief, frantic search that feels longer than it probably is, she traces her steps back to your bedroom. There, beside the bed where she'd woken up, her phone is vibrating against the hardwood floor. The screen lights up with the name “Jules”. Leigh swipes to answer, holding the phone a bit shakily to her ear.

“Danny’s here.”

Shit, shit shit.

“Just get rid of him, Jules. I'll call him later,” Leigh says.

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

“Where are you, anyway?” Jules asks.

Leigh glances around, fiddling with the phone in her hand before answering, “I’m at a friend’s place.”

“Oh,” Jules lets out a low whistle. “Anyone I know?”

Leigh takes a deep breath. “Y/N.”

Jules falls silent, her breath the only sound coming through the phone. Leigh can almost visualize her sister on the other end, puzzling over why Leigh spent the night at your apartment and wondering if something happened between you two. She anticipates the barrage of questions that will greet her when she gets home.

“Leigh, I—” Jules starts to say.

“Don't. I'm leaving soon. Please make sure Danny's not there when I arrive. Please,” Leigh says.

“Okay,” Jules says simply, and then the line goes dead.

Leigh leaves the keys where you left them and takes your note with her.

As the day wears on, your phone remains dishearteningly quiet. You keep checking, hoping for a simple message from Leigh—a thank you for the bed, a comment on the breakfast, or just a note to say she’s left your apartment. But nothing comes through. Each passing hour stretches your patience thinner and makes you question every detail of last night.

Her lack of reaction leaves you with too much time to think. After the debacle with Sara and the no-show date you met from a dating app, you had felt a surge of disillusionment. So much so that last night, after Leigh left your car and walked into the party, you found yourself uninstalling the dating app from your phone in a moment of clarity. You decide it's time to focus on what feels more real, on what your heart has been screaming all along.

Leigh.

You want Leigh, and you’re going to go after her. Forget about Danny. You won't let Leigh spend another Halloween alone, or Christmas, or New Year’s. You're resolved to be there for all the important dates—and, if you're lucky, every day in between.

Hey Leigh, just checking in to see how you’re doing. Hope your day was good, you type and hit send. You won’t wait anymore for her to reach out when you can just let her know you’ve been thinking of her. You toss your phone down and rub your hands on your face. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if she feels the same.

Leigh postpones meeting with Danny until later that evening, having spent the day lounging in bed and replaying the songs you had on in your car the previous night. She received your text, but she hasn’t even opened it yet. It's silly, but she feels that if she starts talking to you, a dam will burst—and she's not ready for that. Instead, she reaches out to Danny, asking him over so they can talk.

When Danny arrives, she doesn't invite him inside. Since Jules and her mom are home, they walk to the front steps and sit side by side, maintaining a slight distance between them.

It’s Danny who breaks the silence first. “Leigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Look, I just think it's a great opportunity for us—or for me, at least. And since you’re not tied down to the Beautiful Beast anymore, and your writing and part-time job are flexible, I thought... Why not?”

Leigh's expression hardens at the mention of her old job, at Danny's reasoning, and his diligent insistence. She didn’t call him over to rehash the fight they just had yesterday.

“Just because I can work from anywhere doesn't mean I want to leave,” she says. “And if we're going to have the same argument again, then you should just go.”

When Danny told Leigh he had landed a job as a retail associate at a high-end hotel in Vegas, he expected she’d be happy for him. She was, but when he suggested they move there for a fresh start, her response was an unflinching no, leaving him feeling wounded.

“But what's really keeping you here, Leigh? I mean, besides your family. Is there something else?” he asks.

At the question, Leigh feels the past and present colliding. First, she sees Matt's face, always Matt's face—his smile, the comfort of his presence that used to fill her days. Then her mind flickers to the times she found herself passing your clinic after long, aimless drives meant to clear her head. Your face starts to overlap with her memories of Matt, not replacing but somehow intertwining.

“Matt,” Leigh forces herself to say, forces herself to believe. “If I leave this place, it's like... it's like I'm leaving him for good. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how it feels.”

“Matt's been gone for a long time. You think he'd want you to just stop living your life? Waiting for what? For a ghost?” Danny argues, his voice rising just a little. He looks away, down the shadowy street. His hands ball into fists and then relax. Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, it’s as if Matt’s shadow stretches beside him, a long, imposing figure that Danny can never seem to escape.

“Leigh, I’m just trying to help us move forward, that’s all,” he continues, softer, more defeated. Leigh catches the tightness of his expression, the effort it takes him to stay calm. She reaches out, her fingertips lightly touching his knuckles. Danny grabs this small sign of affection, quickly cradling Leigh’s face in his hands and drawing her into a fervent kiss. Leigh doesn’t respond immediately, but then she melts into its familiarity, allowing her lips to be pliable to his.

Danny breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he searches Leigh's eyes. “Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave Matt for good,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “I-I don't know, Danny—”

“Leigh, I love you.”

It's the first time either of them has said it. Leigh had imagined fireworks or something clicking into place when it happened. She expected the grand declaration to sweep her off her feet, but instead, she finds herself still teetering on the brink, not quite ready to leap. But what she cannot ignore is the sincerity in his words. Danny has loved her through her worst—in his own way. It's not easy to dismiss or reject such devotion.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Danny says quickly. He's afraid of hearing her say no again. Silence would be better; he could let himself believe that maybe she felt the same way. Silence could mean ‘yes’, right? he thinks, grasping at straws.

“Leigh, I’m taking that job, and I’m leaving after Thanksgiving. That gives us about a month,” he says, cradling her face now with both hands pleadingly. “Please, just think about it. Think about coming with me.”

Despite her reservations, Leigh ends up saying, “Okay, I'll think about it.”

Danny’s face breaks into a smile. He kisses her again, a soft, reaffirming kiss that seems to thank her for even considering his request.

The next second, Jules interrupts the moment, opening the door unceremoniously. Leigh throws her a sharp look, which her sister disregards with a shrug.

“Logan's been barking at the door for some time now, in case you didn't hear,” Jules drawls, cradling a bowl of cereal—her dinner.

At her words, Logan bursts through the opening and makes a beeline for Leigh. He leaps straight into Leigh's lap, settling in with a decisive huff, his eyes darting possessively from Leigh to Danny. It's as if he's laying claim to her, telling Danny without words that Leigh has roots here too deep to simply pull up, saying, she’s mine, you’re not going to take her away from me.

Leigh pulls Logan closer, thinking about how much you’ll miss him if she decides to go with Danny.

You get home from work just after nine, tossing your keys on the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. A quick check of your phone confirms what you'd been dreading all day: Leigh still hasn't read your message from the afternoon. That sinking feeling of disappointment hits you again—harder this time. It’s like a pattern with her: warm and engaging one day, distant and cold the next. You can't deny that this inconsistency is starting to wear on you. It's bordering on cruel.

What are you doing wrong? Why can’t you figure out what makes her switch off like this?

And then, unable to help it, you send another text.

[9:10 PM] You: Is everything okay?

Dinner is a microwave affair tonight, not that you're really tasting any of it. You sit down to eat, your phone still within sight. That message never gets read either.

Leigh has always been unpredictable, but she has never actively avoided you like this before. She knows what she's doing, leaving your messages unread for the past three days. Just when you declare to the universe that you'd pursue her, she shuts you out completely. You can't even feel sorry for yourself; somehow, you brought this on, right?

When the day rolls around for Logan's next vaccine appointment, you catch yourself nervously checking the time more often than usual. But when the appointment time comes, a different Shaw brings him in. Jules holds onto Logan's leash as he excitedly sniffs every corner of the waiting room, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

“Hey,” Jules greets you, a bit out of breath from handling Logan's forceful tugs. “Leigh had some things to take care of, so I'm on Logan duty today.”

“Of course, no problem at all. How’s he been?” You try to keep your tone light as you kneel down to give Logan some attention, scratching behind his ears the way you know he likes.

“He’s been great, a real bundle of energy,” Jules replies, watching you with Logan. She hesitates before adding, “And Leigh’s been... well, you know Leigh.”

Actually, you think, you don't know Leigh—not as well as you thought. “Yeah,” you respond, looking up at Jules with a forced smile. “I know.”

After you administer the vaccine, the appointment passes with small talk, mostly about Logan’s antics and not much else. Jules is friendly but doesn’t venture into whatever might be happening with Leigh.

Just as you’re seeing Jules off, the clinic door swings open again. And you’re completely unprepared for the person who steps in.

“Hi,” Sara smiles at you, and then lifts the kitten in her hands. “Think you can help me with her, doctor?”

In a moment of unpreparedness, you cough awkwardly to cover your reaction, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Hi, Sara,” you say, a bit flustered as you usher her inside. “What do we have here?”

“It's a rescue. Found her all alone by the roadside,” Sara explains, handing the tiny kitten to you with a concerned frown.

Jules catches the interaction, her eyes narrowing slightly—not missing how your entire demeanor changes around Sara—who is undeniably beautiful.

“Right this way,” you tell the blonde, leading her to the examination table. “Let's see what we can do for her.”

As soon as you and Sara are out of earshot, Suzie muses aloud, “They'd make a lovely pair, don't you think? If only Y/N wasn't so hung up on a widow…”

Jules stiffens slightly, her voice cool as she says, “And you are?”

“Suzie,” Suzie responds cheerfully, extending a hand to Jules with a bright smile. “Y/N’s assistant and friend. Nice to meet you.”

Jules shakes her hand, her smile polite but reserved. “Jules,” she responds tersely, omitting her connection as Leigh's sister. “So, what about Sara and Y/N?”

Well, Suzie can’t resist a juicy bit of gossip now, can she?

You don't usually pour yourself a glass of wine on a weeknight, but after today, you've cracked open a bottle that's been gathering dust for a year. Sara’s surprise visit at the clinic left you rattled. She had called you out for being distant after the two of you ran into Leigh one morning, and it embarrassed you how right she was. You hadn't been upfront about your emotional availability—or lack thereof—because of your feelings for Leigh.

When you finally admitted to Sara that you were in love with someone else, you braced for a fallout. But instead, Sara laughed, a light, carefree sound that took you by surprise. “I don't mind if you're emotionally unavailable,” she had said with a shrug. “I'm just looking for something casual.”

For a split second, her proposition—friends with benefits—was like candy being dangled in front of you: appetizing and readily available. But that conversation was at work, in the middle of your clinic, and the timing felt all sorts of wrong.

You let the moment pass without responding, and Sara backtracked a little with a noncommittal, “Well, you have my number. I really like you, Y/N. We can be friends, and if you ever need to…unwind, well, I can be your best friend.”

You're midway through your glass of wine when you decide to check your phone again, automatically opening the chat window with Leigh. It's almost become a habit, expecting your messages to remain unread. But this time, Leigh's avatar is right there under the last text you sent. She's read them. Today.

Why now?

Before you can dedicate the rest of your evening into that question, a knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. It's late, and you don’t remember ordering food delivery. You set your glass down and head over to see who it is.

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a downcast brunette. She looks nervous, clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline.

“Leigh?”

“Hi,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet yours, searching your face for a reaction. As confused as you are, your heart kicks up a notch simply because she’s there, so close you could reach out and touch her. For a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if the alcohol is taking effect and conjuring up your desires right before you.

You notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s standing—a bit too rigid, like she’s bracing for something tough.

Clearing your throat, you start to ask, “Would you like to come—”

“Is she here?” Leigh interrupts abruptly.

You blink in surprise.

“Who?”

“Sara,” Leigh replies, her chin jutting forward. She attempts to peer past you, as if she might find the answer somewhere inside your apartment.

“No, she's not,” you say slowly, puzzled and a bit annoyed by her tone. “Why would she be?”

You can't hide your surprise at her directness, or the discomfort it stirs in you. It's a bit ridiculous, even rude, how Leigh has been avoiding you, leaving your messages unread, and now she's here, asking you about another girl without a preamble. Leigh doesn't wait for an invitation; she brushes past you and steps further into your apartment, her eyes searching every corner of the room.

“I thought you said it didn't work out with Sara,” she says, almost accusingly, turning to face you again. The way she's acting—like she has any right to demand answers about your personal life after days of silence—is starting to grate on your nerves.

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath to quell your rising irritation.

“It didn’t. She brought a kitten to the clinic today, that’s all. We're not seeing each other, Leigh,” you tell her. Although she did tell me she’s interested in sleeping with me, you nearly say aloud.

Leigh’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Then why did Jules…” she trails off, her expression falling as it finally clicks.

Jules lied to her.

“Jules…?” you echo incredulously. “What did she tell you?”

Leigh's confidence wavers even further as she says, “She... she said she met Sara at your clinic. Called her your girlfriend.”

You shake your head, exasperation seeping through your features. “Sara is not my girlfriend,” you repeat firmly. The situation is quickly becoming absurd, and you decide to push a bit, to get to the heart of what's really bothering her. “But what does it matter to you if she was?”

“It doesn’t,” Leigh replies in a flat, unconvincing tone.

“Then what are you doing here?” you ask gently, as if addressing a child mid-tantrum.

Leigh doesn't answer right away, her cheeks glowing red as she looks anywhere but you. She's clearly embarrassed by the entire ordeal, and you find yourself struggling not to smile at the implications of her visit. She's bothered by the idea of you with Sara because—

“Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you once more.

“No, I... maybe. I don't know,” she stammers, then sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she finally meets your gaze. “Yes, I guess I am. I don't like thinking of you with someone else. Is that answer enough?”

As you take another step forward, Leigh instinctively moves back, and this dance continues until she finds herself against a wall. You're close now, close enough to feel the tension radiating from her. Her back is pressed against the concrete, your body just inches from hers, effectively trapping her in the corner.

Leigh doesn’t know at which point she’s closed her eyes. Was it when she felt your breath whisper across her upper lip as you sighed, clearly as affected by the proximity as she was? Or was it when her back met the cool wall, the hard reality telling her she had nowhere else to go? Perhaps it was simply the anticipation, the tightening expectation of your lips meeting hers, the thought of surrendering to this—whatever this is becoming between you.

But then, two seconds pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

The anticipated kiss doesn’t come.

When she finally opens her eyes, the question in yours is unmistakable. You’re near enough, she could just lean in, but you’re giving her a choice, asking without words if this is what she wants. And that’s when she remembers how she ended up at your doorstep. Leigh's mind reels, darting back to Jules' little lie. She's struck by the realization that Jules probably felt compelled to lie because Leigh had been inadvertently pushing you away, leaving a door open for someone else to step in. And if she keeps this up, it might be Sara who ends up here, against your wall, in your arms. The image stabs at her heart, jealousy tightening her chest.

No, she can’t let that happen.

Summoning a courage she didn’t know she had left, Leigh reaches out and gently takes your hand. She brings it to her face, pressing her lips against your palm in a kiss so tender it steals your breath. It’s a silent plea. A tender claim.

It's just a small kiss, simple and soft, but it rushes through you like wildfire, stirring feelings deeper and more intense than any long, drawn-out foreplay ever did. You realize just how much you've been holding back, shielding yourself from potential pain. But now, as Leigh's kiss sears into your palm, all those defenses seem pointless. With a fervor driven by weeks of restrainment, you close the distance entirely.

Your kiss lands on Leigh's lips with everything you have, as if this moment, this single kiss, might be your only chance. Yet, even in your urgency, there's a tenderness, a reverence in the way your lips carefully slot between hers. As you kiss, there's a meticulous attention to the details—the softness of her lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours, the gentle give when you press a little harder. It’s as if you’re trying to memorize her through this kiss.

Leigh matches your ardor, her fingers weaving into your hair, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. You react instinctively, your hands sliding from her hips to her waist, lifting her shirt just enough to feel her skin beneath your fingertips. The slight pressure of your nails makes Leigh gasp, a sound that breaks the seal of your lips just enough for you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past her defenses. The act draws a guttural moan from her—a sound that vibrates through your core, sending ripples of desire pulsating through your body.

It shouldn’t be this perfect the first time, but it is.

The kiss grows wetter, more urgent. It's selfish, a relentless chase of sensation where both of you are simultaneously taking and giving everything you have, until it feels like there's nothing left to offer. While Leigh’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth, her hands find their way to either side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your skin, sending tingles straight down your spine. Your own hands aren't idle. They roam up her back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin under your fingertips. As you slide your hands upward, you discover something that emits a low groan from you—she’s not wearing a bra. A part of you, the rational part that's still functioning, slowly begins to recognize the gravity of what’s unfolding. It's too easy to get lost in Leigh, in the rush and the heat, but something stops you. You want this—more than anything in the moment—but it has to mean something. Because once you cross this line with Leigh, there's no going back to the uninhibited, distant longing you've managed until now.

Just as the thought crystallizes, Leigh breaks the kiss with a wet pop. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, lazily. Her gaze is unfocused at first, pupils dilated, the vibrant green of her irises almost swallowed by the black. Oh, she definitely wants you too.

“Why did you stop?” you murmur, your voice unmistakably laden with desire as you rest your forehead against hers.

A grin tugs at Leigh’s lips as replies softly, “I just wanted to see you.”

Your smile widens as her fingers absentmindedly play with the little hairs at the nape of your neck. She seems mesmerized by your eyes, now darkened with lust, and without thinking, she blurts out, “You really do have espresso eyes.”

Her words make you freeze in her arms. That nickname—it's the same one you use anonymously for your submissions to your favorite advice column. Maybe it's just a coincidence, right?

But Leigh's reaction a moment later suggests otherwise. Her face blanches, eyes widening in a sudden flare of panic as she realizes what she's just said.

“Y/N—” Leigh starts but you cut her off by stepping out of her embrace, your stance becoming guarded.

The warmth vanishes from your eyes. “What did you just say?”

409 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 23 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (9/?)

Part Summary: You get more than you bargained for on Halloween

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 7.300+ | Warnings: Light angst, R and Leigh being obtuse | Author's Note: Longest chapter so far (and about 90% of it is just Leigh and R)! I have officially written another novel length fic with this update. From a two-shot to this? Wouldn't be possible without everyone's support. Thank you, everyone. I have a little treat for you at the end.

Despite Leigh's promise to bring Logan in for his vaccinations, she missed the appointment again for the second time. Understanding that life gets hectic, you decide that rather than seeing Logan miss another round of critical vaccinations, you'll take matters into your own hands and arrange a home visit at the Shaw’s.

On the day of the visit, you discover that Logan has gained 2.5 pounds in just two weeks. The drastic weight gain might indicate that he’s not a purebred Shih Tzu as you originally thought when you got him, or Leigh has been feeding him more than the recommended serving size. You can feel Logan’s solid back as you hold him in place while you administer the vaccine on his scruff. Leigh appears nervous, and if you weren’t determined to scold her after completing Logan’s immunizations, you might have found it adorable.

“Just a quick pinch, buddy,” you murmur soothingly to the anxious pup. Logan yelps as the needle pierces his skin, but within two seconds, it’s over. You rub his neck to distract him from the sting of the medicine, then return to your insulated bag to dispose of the syringe. Leigh watches closely as you finish with Logan, a slight frown creasing her forehead. You notice she's dressed in what you figure is her nightwear—a thin olive camisole and matching capri pants. It seems too dressed down for receiving a guest.

“Why are these vaccines so important, anyway?” she asks lightly, but you don’t miss her apprehension behind it. “I mean, he'll mostly be indoors…”

The frustration from her missing two appointments sneaks into your voice as you say, “Vaccines can mean the difference between life and death for puppies. Take the parvovirus—it's lethal and spreads quickly.”

Leigh nods, taking in the weight of your words. You notice her swallow, perhaps realizing the graveness of her oversight. “I didn't realize it was that serious,” she murmurs.

You catch yourself, realizing you might be coming across as harsher than necessary. “It's alright, Leigh. That's exactly why I came here,” you say mildly. You've dealt with many uneducated dog owners before, and Leigh is no different. You know you need to be patient with her, just as you have been with others, and you remind yourself not to let your personal feelings interfere with your professional opinions.

Logan wiggles happily at your feet, seemingly forgiving you for the shot already. “And another thing,” you add, glancing down at Logan’s round belly, “he’s put on quite a bit of weight. We need to watch his diet. Too much food isn’t good for him either.”

Leigh looks slightly embarrassed. “I guess I've been spoiling him with extra treats,” she admits. “I'll be more careful with that.”

“It’s okay. I know how hard it is to say ‘no’ to that face,” you say, smiling at Logan while you rub his chin. “Just keep to the recommended portions, and he’ll be in good shape.”

As you gather your things to leave, you remember Logan's vaccine card. After filling out the final details, you head towards the kitchen where Leigh has silently drifted off. She's busying herself with breakfast on the stove when you approach.

“Here's Logan's vaccine card,” you say, handing it to her. “He needs another dose in two weeks, so don't forget to schedule that in.”

“Thank you,” Leigh says, accepting the card with a nod. “I won't forget this time.”

The aroma of coffee wafts through the room, tickling your nose.

“I've just made some coffee. Would you like to stay for breakfast?” Leigh asks.

You hesitate, considering the offer, but you’re inclined to refuse, still irked by her missing the previous appointments. “I’m good, thanks,” you say, a bit too briskly. Leigh's face falls slightly, a look of disappointment flashing across her eyes before she gives you a small, resigned smile and turns back to the stove.

You start to leave but something stops you—the frustration from Leigh’s no-shows running over.

“Leigh, can I ask why you didn’t make it to the clinic? And not even a text,” you find yourself saying as you spin on your heels to face her. “It’s not just unprofessional—it hurts more coming from a friend.”

“If you have a problem with me, it’s perfectly okay to transfer Logan to another clinic as long as you’ll follow through with his appointments,” you suggest, noting her standing there, mouth agape, her vivid green eyes sharply focused. Getting that off your chest didn't bring the relief you expected. Instead, you're left with a sinking feeling of regret. Looking back on your words, you realize how petty they must have sounded.

Leigh on the other hand, is momentarily stunned by your outburst, her eyes wide as she absorbs your words. Then, something shifts in her expression, a flicker of intrigue crossing her features before she clears her throat and apologizes.

“I'm really sorry,” she says sincerely, turning off the stove and setting down her spatula. “I didn't handle things well, and you were right to call me out on it.” Leigh takes a careful step closer, causing you to instinctively step back until your lower back meets the edge of the dining table. You weren't expecting Leigh to be so understanding, leaving you unsure of how to react. Should you apologize for getting upset?

Fortunately, Leigh doesn't leave you to dwell on your thoughts for long. She continues, “Why don't you stay for breakfast? I can whip up something nice, and we can catch up like we used to. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Feeling like an absolute fool and still grappling with the aftertaste of your flare-up, you find yourself in a quandary. Rejecting her offer would just drag out this uncomfortable moment even longer, which is the last thing you want. Besides, your stomach is growling—you haven’t eaten anything since you got here, and the smell of brewing coffee is too good to ignore.

“Alright,” you relent, glancing down at your feet. “That sounds good.”

Leigh looks relieved. “Perfect, just give me a minute,” she says, clapping her hands together as she turns back to her cooking.

You linger awkwardly, still standing. “Need a hand with anything?” you ask.

“Just sit there, be all pretty, and relax.”

That little compliment makes your cheeks burn even hotter. If you weren’t so distracted by your hunger and embarrassment, you'd swear it’s almost as if she’s flirting with you.

Wait.

Is she?

Then, as if the universe can hear you thinking, Leigh’s phone buzzes loudly on the kitchen counter. She snatches it up, and even though you can’t see her face, you can tell she’s happy he called as she chirps, “Hey, Danny.”

Right. Danny Greer. That name shatters your brief daydream. Suzie was right—you're too close, and it's clouding your judgment. Leigh laughs into the phone, and you look away just in time for her to turn slightly and steal a glance at you.

Alright, you think, that's it. After this breakfast, it's time to really put some space between you and Leigh. You need to clear your head and let her have her space too. It's the best move, for the sake of your friendship and your sanity.

As Leigh busies herself in the kitchen, you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through your phone, not really focusing on anything. The sound of her laughter while she talks to Danny floats over to you, making you regret agreeing to stay for breakfast and blame your inability to say no to her.

She ends the call with a lingering smile and soon approaches with two plates in hand. Each has a stack of pancakes and two sunny-side-up eggs with the edges just crisped up how you like them. The fact that Leigh remembered leaves you speechless. It’s a small detail, but it makes you guilty for brooding and feeling all jealous.

“I hope you still like your eggs this way,” Leigh says as she sets the table.

“Thank you,” you say warmly as Leigh pours coffee for both of you. Recalling her preference, you offer to add two sugars to her cup, and she rewards you with a small, appreciative smile. She then grabs the syrup from the fridge, along with two sets of utensils, and places them on the table.

You take a bite of the fluffy pancakes, perfectly cooked and deliciously light. “These are amazing, Leigh,” you say enthusiastically.

Leigh beams, standing a bit taller with pride instead of dismissing the praise. “I'm glad you think so! I've been working on perfecting the recipe.”

“Seriously, Leigh, you could sell these.”

She laughs. “Keep the compliments coming and I might just make you breakfast more often.”

You almost choke at her words. You really should take a little break from Leigh until you can get this crush under control. Even simple remarks are starting to feel like a tightrope walk.

Leigh tilts her head slightly, a coy look crossing her face. “So…” she drawls, leaving the word hanging as she waits for you to look up from your plate.

You stop chewing once you sense her heavy gaze on you. “Hmm?”

Leaning in slightly, she lowers her voice as though about to share a secret. “This Sara... is she a friend of yours? Someone new around here?”

The piece of pancake suddenly feels like a mouthful of sawdust as you process her question. You grab your coffee and take a quick gulp to help wash it down. “I, uh, met her on a dating app, actually,” you say.

Leigh's eyebrow arches. “Oh?”

There’s a short, tense period where you repeatedly stab your pancake and tap your foot rapidly against the leg of the stool you’re sitting on, while Leigh twirls her hair around her finger, lost in thought.

“She’s gorgeous,” Leigh finally says. “I didn’t know you were into women.” That is, unless you and the person from her advice column are one and the same. She's chosen to approach what she's dubbed the “EspressoEyes conundrum” as a Schrödinger’s cat scenario, where you simultaneously do and do not have feelings for Leigh.

You fiddle with your coffee mug. “Yeah, I think I've mentioned that before,” you say, though your memory suddenly feels unreliable.

Leigh shakes her head, certain. “No, you definitely haven't told me that.”

“Well, yes, I'm into women, but obviously I like men too,” you say, deciding it's perhaps better to just be clear.

“We're the same then,” she says casually, as if discussing something as mundane as their taste in movies.

“Really?” You’re hoping Leigh is buying the faux surprise on your face, even though Jules had let slip about Leigh's college days.

“Yeah,” Leigh nods. “I had a serious relationship with a woman back in college. It's not something I talk about much, but it's part of who I am.”

“I see.”

Leigh takes a slow sip of her coffee, eyeing you over the rim of her mug with a slight tilt of her head.

“So, do you like her? Sara, I mean,” she asks.

“Yeah, she’s great. We get along really well.”

Leigh sets her coffee cup down with a small clink, not missing a beat. “Have you guys...you know, slept together?” she asks, more bluntly than before.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling a bit like you’re under interrogation. “Um…no, we haven’t.”

A quick glint flashes in her eyes before it vanishes. Her shoulders relax as she leans back in her chair. “Sorry, that was out of line,” she mumbles with a curt, dismissive laugh. “I guess I'm just being nosy.”

The way she said it doesn't truly suggest she's sorry for crossing some lines, but you’re not focusing on that. Rather, you feel like you’ve earned the right to ask Leigh some questions about her own personal affairs.

“And you?” you start, trying to sound flippant. “How are things with you and Danny?”

Leigh matches your nonchalance as she stands up to gather the empty plates from the table. There's a smooth, practiced ease in the way she begins cleaning up, letting you know she's not about to let your questions corner her.

“Things are... going,” she replies, keeping it vague. “Danny's great. We're figuring things out as we go.”

“Where'd you meet him?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“He's Matt's brother,” Leigh says flatly, without flinching. You have to give it to her for being so straightforward about it. Not that you’re judging Leigh or anything—it’s just that moving from in-laws to lovers is quite an unconventional transition.

It’s also possible that you’re just bitter.

“Did you always find him attractive?” you ask, almost spitefully, curiosity getting the better of you. Leigh freezes, her back going rigid at your callous words. There's a moment of visible tension, but then she lets out a slow breath and lets it slide. She had been quite direct in probing about your dating life, so perhaps this levels the playing field.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Leigh says slowly. “I—”

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!”

Neither of you heard the front door open. Jules bursts in, holding Logan who's wagging his tail wildly at the sight of familiar faces, both oblivious to the cutting atmosphere they've just entered.

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!” Jules exclaims. She looks between you and Leigh. “Am I interrupting something?” she asks, noticing the residual stiffness in the air.

“Y/N was just leaving,” Leigh says.

You don’t need to be told twice. “Hey, Jules,” you say with a short wave. “I just came to give Logan his shots.”

Jules frowns slightly as you start to leave so soon after her arrival. You reach over to give Logan a quick pat on the head. Turning to Leigh, you manage a tight smile and say, “Thanks for the breakfast.”

As soon as you're out the door, Jules turns to Leigh with a worried look. “What was all that about?” she asks softly.

Leigh shrugs, her expression inscrutable. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replies evenly, turning away to busy herself with the dishes.

You get into your car but instead of starting it, you just sit there motionless. Your hands rest aimlessly on the wheel as you lose yourself in thought.

Here’s the truth about Sara:

She's exactly your type on paper—blonde, blue-eyed, stunning. But despite all that, she hadn't managed to hold your attention. Her beauty just couldn't pull your mind away from Leigh, from her vivid green eyes that always seemed to see right through you.

The silence in the car allows you to realize what an odd question you had thrown at Leigh about Danny. You realize just how inappropriate it might have seemed, how it must have sounded coming from a place of jealousy rather than concern.

Why did you even ask that? The answer is uncomfortably clear: you can't be just friends with Leigh. Not anymore. You’ve been lying to yourself, hoping things would just sort themselves out. But they won’t. Not like this. You can’t keep doing this to yourself—or to her.

Because right now, this friendship, if you can even call it that, is doing more harm than good.

“It’s not working.”

Suzie looks up from her clipboard, startled. Her red locks tumble across her face as she tilts her head, brushing them back with a quick flick of her hand.

“Seeing other people, you mean?” she asks, already guessing the root of your distress.

You run a hand through your hair, messing up your low ponytail. Frustrated, you decide to let your hair loose from the tie altogether.

“I thought if I met someone like Sara—someone who’s practically a checklist of everything I find attractive—it would make things easier. But it’s just... not.” You massage your temples, as if trying to rub away the spell Leigh seems to have cast on you. “She's perfect, but she's not Leigh. And no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about Leigh.”

“You're right about one thing though,” Suzie says, getting back to her task.

“Which is…?”

“That Sara’s perfect,” she chuckles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “Look, you can’t force these feelings. If your heart’s not in it, it’s not in it.”

“So…Should I keep seeing her? Maybe she’ll grow on me or something.”

Suzie stops and gives you a serious look. “Maybe. But love shouldn't feel like an obligation, you know? It’s not fair to either of you if you’re just waiting to see if you’ll catch feelings.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” you acknowledge with a sigh. “She’s everything I thought I wanted. And I think she likes me.”

“Sometimes what we think we want isn’t what we really need,” Suzie answers. “Why not take a break? Give yourself some space to think. It might help you figure out what really works—whether it’s Sara, someone else, or just time to yourself.”

“You think so?”

Suzie gives a small shrug. “Look, I don’t have all the answers.”

Hearing that makes you feel a tad embarrassed. You’ve been leaning on her for advice a lot lately, and it’s probably awkward for her, especially since you're her boss. Maybe she’s just being nice because she has to be.

“Thanks, Sue,” you say, standing up from your chair to head back to your office. “I appreciate you listening to all this.”

She smiles back, and you can tell she’s relieved to move on from the subject. Suzie might not have all the answers, but maybe there’s another place you can find them.

That night, in your bedroom, you settle in front of your laptop, the cursor blinking expectantly on the blank submission form of the advice column. You type in your handle—EspressoEyes—a moniker you’d used before, thinking it would increase your chances of being noticed again. Quickly, you type out your query and hit send, watching as it disappears into the digital ether. No sooner have you shut your laptop than your phone rings. It’s your mom.

“Hey, Mom,” you answer, shifting to sit against your headboard.

“Hi, sweetheart! Are you coming home for Thanksgiving? We’re starting to plan the menu and would love to have you,” she says. Your chest tightens. Just hearing her voice makes you feel like you’re already home. You pretend to think for a second, considering your rather empty social calendar.

“Yeah, I’ll come home,” you decide, realizing it might be nice to get away for a bit.

“Oh good! It’s been too long. We’ll make sure to have all your favorites,” she chatters on, already listing the dishes that would normally make you salivate. But these days, you just don’t have the appetite for food.

“Sounds great, Mom. Really looking forward to it.”

You hang up with a promise to send your flight details soon. Setting your phone down, you feel a slight relief at the thought of escaping to a place where no one knows about the mess you’re in.

Leigh can’t sleep. She lies wide awake, staring at the ceiling while Danny's snores fill the room. The weight of his arm draped over her stomach feels stifling, trapping her in place. She can’t breathe. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slips out from under his arm and tiptoes out of the bedroom. In the hallway, she grabs one of his shirts hanging over a chair and slips it on. It smells like sandalwood and something uniquely him—comforting yet somehow off-putting at the same time.

She pads into the kitchen to boil some water, the soft click of the stove burner igniting a comforting sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. With the kettle on, she wanders into the living room, pulling Danny's shirt closer around her. Even with the windows closed, the crisp chill of autumn seeps in.

Sitting on the couch, Leigh pulls her knees to her chest. The post-sex cocktail of oxytocin and vasopressin usually knocks her out, but tonight they fail her. Instead, her mind is filled with doubts and the urge to flee from any kind of closeness.

She remembers the last conversation with you, the disapproval on your face when you finally mentioned her relationship with Danny. It troubles her more than she expected. Were you right? Is she just scrambling to fit someone, anyone, into her life, even if it means ignoring the screams inside her head telling her to run?

The kettle whistles, snapping her out of her thoughts. She makes her tea and settles back into the couch, stirring slowly as she thinks about what it might mean to step back from everything—Danny, you, all of it.

With nothing but time until sleep takes her or the sun rises—whichever comes first—Leigh picks up her phone to distract herself. She scrolls through social media, news articles, anything to keep her mind off the spinning thoughts. Eventually, she wanders to the advice column inbox to check on the latest submissions.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees another entry from EspressoEyes, a handle she recognizes—possibly yours. It reads:

“Is it wise to pursue other relationships if you have strong feelings for someone else? That someone is a friend, and staying just friends is becoming increasingly difficult. My feelings seem to be putting a strain on our relationship. Should I give myself some space?”

Leigh reads the message two more times. She sets her phone down, her thumb instinctively finding its way to her mouth where she nibbles at the nail, a nervous habit when she’s thinking long and hard. And the more she thinks about it, the more obvious it becomes. Of course, she's the friend you're talking about. This is you, openly struggling with your feelings for her. She had hoped things might change, might become less complicated when Sara came into the picture, but she was mistaken.

When she asked about Sara, Leigh was trying to gauge your feelings for her, wondering if Sara's presence meant she didn't need to worry about whether you were EspressoEyes or not. In her mind, if you were involved with Sara, it would imply you weren't interested in Leigh. But she surprised even herself by asking if you had slept with Sara, unsure why she needed to know that detail. Deep down, she couldn’t openly admit just how relieved she felt when you told her you hadn’t.

Leigh picks up her phone again and starts typing out a reply to the submission. When she’s done she tosses her phone somewhere on the couch and goes back to her tea. Sitting there, she watches as the sky outside shifts from dark to a wash of pastels.

A week later, Leigh’s phone vibrates incessantly on the table, the screen lighting up with Danny's name again. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she turns it off and sets it aside. They've been cycling through breakups and makeups so often it's exhausting—a twisted routine, one that's leaving her more drained each time.

It's Halloween, and since she and Danny are off again, Leigh decides to take the night for herself. She picks Matt's favorite restaurant, which is fully decked out for the holiday, with jack-o'-lanterns lining the walls and eerie candles flickering on each table. She orders a pumpkin-spiced latte and a small plate of appetizers, settling in to enjoy her evening solo. Later, she’ll have that tiramisu that her late husband so adored.

Matt always loved this holiday because it was the one time of year Leigh would indulge him by dressing up as whatever comic book character he was into at the moment. They'd start the evening here for pre-dinner celebrations before meeting up with friends and family later on. But tonight, there are no costumes for Leigh; she's dressed simply in jeans and a cardigan, her face free of makeup, her hair tucked behind her ears to keep it out of the way while she eats.

As she waits, she watches families and couples in costumes come and go, a bittersweet creeping up at her.

Then, you walk in. You’re dressed sharply, scanning the room like you're meeting someone—on a date. Leigh catches her breath. Were you aware that this was Matt’s favorite restaurant? Moreover, it’s been almost two weeks since that awkward morning when you left in a haste. You haven’t noticed her yet. Leigh watches you for a moment, debating what to do. She’s torn between going over or staying put. The last she contributed to the advice column, she’d left a message she hoped you'd find useful if you were indeed the person she’s been advising to. From the look of things, maybe you were taking that advice after all.

Taking a deep breath, Leigh stands and walks over. As you turn and notice her, a small, tentative smile appears on her lips when your eyes meet.

“Hey.”

You return the smile, though it's imbued with a bit of wariness. She appreciates it nonetheless.

“Hey,” you say.

Leigh doesn't beat around the bush; she gets straight to the point of why she came over. “Look, I'm sorry,” she says, the words coming out almost demandingly. “About last time. I crossed a line asking about Sara.”

There's an unmistakable assertiveness to her apology, carrying the same confidence and directness with which she usually addresses any issue. She doesn’t bow her head or wring her hands; instead, she holds your gaze steadily, expecting her apology to be taken as seriously as she means it.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly in line myself when I brought up Danny,” you say, looking up at her. Then, searching for something else to say, you ask, “So, are you here to meet Danny?”

Leigh seems unfazed by the mention of Danny, yet again. You feel a bit silly soon after, realizing that after just acknowledging the awkwardness of digging into each other’s romantic lives, here you are, doing it again. You just can’t help yourself, can you?

“No. I’m on my own tonight,” she replies. Then she mirrors your earlier question, a slight tilt to her head. “And you? Here with Sara?”

“No, things didn’t push through with Sara. I’m meeting someone new,” you say, the words feeling strange as they come out. It was a simple yes or no question, and you're not quite sure what compelled you to open up about the specifics of your dating life.

Leigh just nods, her face neutral, not giving away anything in reaction to your news. “I should let you get back to your, uh, date,” she says, then quietly returns to her seat.

Having a date with a stranger just a few feet away from the woman you truly care about is about as ironic as the universe can be.

You’re on your second americano, the bitter taste barely registering as you glance at your watch for the umpteenth time. It's been thirty minutes past the time your date was supposed to arrive, and there's still no sign of him.

The restaurant has filled up around you. Families are tucked into booths, laughing and sharing plates piled high with food. Groups of friends clink glasses in cheerful toasts, and couples lean close, whispering and smiling over candlelit tables. Sitting alone at a table set for two, you start to feel conspicuously isolated.

The last two texts you sent within the hour remain unanswered, their blue bubbles on the screen marking the time you spent waiting. Determined to find some explanation, you open the dating app where you met him, your fingers tapping nervously. There, his profile pops up, showing that he is currently online. Relief washes over you for a moment—maybe there's a reasonable explanation. He might still show up. But as you tap the message icon to send him a query about his whereabouts, a sudden notification stops you: you can no longer message this user.

Feeling disheartened and embarrassed, you can’t help but feel all kinds of ugly for being stood up by someone who doesn’t even mean anything to you. Did he see you waiting and decide not to meet? What about you turned him off? You find yourself scrutinizing everything about your appearance. Was it what you were wearing—perhaps not feminine enough for his taste? Your hair was pulled back, exposing your forehead; maybe he didn't like that look. Or was it your posture—too slouched or too stiff? You even wonder if he might have passed someone else on his way here, someone he found more attractive. It's unsettling to realize how quickly the self-confidence you've spent years building can be shaken in just one evening.

You signal the waiter for the check. Although your stomach is growling, the thought of eating anything seems impossible right now. You're just focused on getting out of there as quickly as you can. Just as you finish paying, Leigh appears at your table. Without a word, she slides into the seat across from you. You're surprised to see her, and although you're not really in the mood for company or conversation, her presence is somehow less intrusive than you would expect.

“I couldn't help but notice your date never arrived,” Leigh comments with an amused smile, inadvertently adding salt to the wound. You think to yourself, Way to rub it in, Leigh, but you're too drained to actually say anything confrontational, so you just mumble a small, “Yeah.”

Leigh leans in a bit closer, lowering her voice as if she's about to let you in on a secret.

“Want to get out of here?”

It’s definitely not a date. Far from it.

It’s just two friends winding up spending Halloween together by chance.

It’s what Leigh keeps telling herself.

Leigh didn’t know what came over her when she went back to your table. She hadn't thought she'd be asking you to ditch the restaurant and wander the city for the rest of the night—together. What she did know was that she had been eating unusually slowly, glancing over at you occasionally to see how your evening was unfolding. But as it became painfully obvious that your date was a no-show, she couldn’t take it; seeing you left to handle the disappointment alone was more than she could bear.

Turning to Leigh in your car, you ask, “Do you mind if we stop first at the 7-Eleven on Main? I haven't had dinner yet.”

“What kind of dinner can you get from a 7-Eleven?” she asks.

You shrug and say, “Donuts.”

At the 7-Eleven, you grab a box of assorted donuts, and on a whim, you also pick up a few cans of beer to go along with them. With snacks in hand, you drive to a spot that overlooks the city—the same one where Leigh took you after getting takeouts the first time around. It’s not secluded—there’s a small crowd, with several cars parked and groups of people lounging on their car hoods.

“I wasn’t always attracted to him,” Leigh murmurs, after finishing her first beer. You both sit side-by-side with the trunk of your car open, swinging your legs while Leigh’s are crossed over the edge of the trunk.

You glance over at her, a curious ‘Hm?’ escaping your lips, though they're still full of donuts.

Leigh chuckles at your reaction, finding the sight of your cheeks stuffed with food more endearing than she probably should.

“Danny,” she clarifies with a sigh. “I actually used to hate him. He was always such a burden on Matt. Always dragging him into trouble.”

You think about what she's said, then offer a perspective, “You know, they say hate isn't the opposite of love, it's indifference. So maybe there’s always been something there, something more than just annoyance.”

Leigh leans back, stretching her arms out behind her for support as she considers your point. You find yourself wondering what's going through her mind. Is your honesty drawing her even closer to Danny? You could have exploited her past feelings, suggesting that maybe she's always disliked Danny and is confusing her loneliness for love. But you choose not to manipulate her emotions, even if it might be easy to sway her. You won't take advantage of her vulnerability just to get what you want.

Though you can’t deny that the temptation is there.

“Leigh, can I ask you a question?” you say, watching her closely.

She nods, her face open and expectant as she pops open another can of beer.

“How did you find out about me and Matt?”

Leigh takes a sip before answering. “Didn’t I mention it before?”

You purse your lips and shake your head, maintaining a neutral expression as you encourage her to elaborate.

“Danny told me,” Leigh reveals after a brief pause.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

Leigh hesitates, her eyes flickering to the side before meeting yours again. She sets the can down, her fingers drumming against the aluminum in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

“He just flat-out told me one night. I didn't believe him at first, so he mentioned your name to prove it, and I pieced together the rest. I tried to learn everything I could about you, where you lived... and that’s how I discovered your clinic in the city. And I... well, you know the rest,” she says. From what Leigh said, you easily conclude that Danny hadn't come clean to her about his role in facilitating your relationship with Matt. He had conveniently removed himself from the narrative, leaving out his involvement entirely. Lost in thought, you don't realize you've grown quiet until Leigh's voice pulls you back.

“Why do you ask?”

If you answer that question, you don’t believe you can continue hiding the truth about Danny any longer. As you watch Leigh, relaxed in the back of your car, her hair tousled by the gentle evening breeze, you're torn. You're afraid of disrupting her peace. The truth, as it often has, seems only to bring her pain. So, you buy yourself some time to think.

“Do you ever wish he had just kept it to himself? That you never knew any of this?”

Leigh appears briefly disconcerted by the question. She takes some time to think about how to respond, and you give her the time she needs, reaching for another piece of donut from the box. At this rate, you're on track to polish off half a dozen all by yourself.

“Knowing the truth hurt—a lot. It felt like I was suddenly a stranger to my own life,” Leigh says, looking somewhere distant before her eyes return to you. “But then again, knowing has changed how I see things, how I see him—and even how I see you. It’s given me a chance to see things as they really are, not just how I want them to be.”

“You never would’ve met me,” you say with a light-hearted grin, almost suggesting that maybe it was better she hadn’t. But Leigh gives you a look, a gentle sadness in her eyes that makes it clear she doesn’t entertain the thought of not having met you.

“What about you? Do you wish things had stayed hidden?” she asks, turning the question back on you.

A part of you—a very significant part—trembles on the edge of laying bare your feelings for her.

Fiddling with the edge of the donut box, you let a small smile flicker across your lips, but it doesn't reach your eyes. “There's something to be said for not knowing everything. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss,” you say softly. “I mean, not knowing can save you from a lot of unnecessary heartache.”

As you speak, you’re still weighing whether knowing Leigh is turning into an unnecessary heartbreak.

Leigh nods slowly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a bittersweet smile. “Well, when you put it that way, maybe not knowing some things is for the best.”

It feels like a silent agreement on that fine line between knowing everything and being happier not knowing. Perhaps what you can do for now is spare Leigh from her own unnecessary heartbreak. If what she has with Danny is working, why ruin it?

“You know what's missing here? Music,” Leigh muses, reaching for her third beer. “Oh, and you better keep up,” she adds, glancing at the single beer you’ve had.

“Or how about you pace yourself? I'd hate for the party to end too soon for you,” you quip slyly.

Leigh grins, unfazed by your warning. She leans closer, and her breath, warmed by the beers, brushes against your cheek. “Speaking of parties, I actually got invited to this Halloween bash tonight. Everyone's supposed to be in costume, and there will definitely be music. We should go. What do you say?”

You pretend to think about it, but you’re already clearing out your trunk and hopping off it as you reply, “Well, you did say you needed music.”

A party isn’t really your scene.

Leigh is already tipsy by the time you both arrive at it. People are either clad in bulky costumes or barely dressed at all. Halloween decorations dangle from the ceiling, a foot or two above the faces of the revelers as strobe lights flash in erratic bursts. You weave through a crowd of zombies and sexy nurses, the bass from the DJ's speakers vibrating under your feet.

As you're both making your way toward the bar, a co-worker spots Leigh and pulls her aside excitedly. “Leigh, over here!” they shout over the noise, grabbing her arm. She turns back to you with a slightly apologetic grin. “Just a sec, I'll catch up!” she promises, before being swallowed by the crowd, her hand slipping from your arm.

But that was half an hour ago.

Now, you're feeling dizzy from the alcohol that's been keeping you company in Leigh's absence, and the sea of masked and painted faces around you is starting to merge into a blur. You round a corridor that brings you back to the main room and finally, you spot her. Leigh is near the dance floor, laughing with a group dressed in characters you don’t recognize. She sees you and waves excitedly, her movements a bit too exaggerated. You make your way over, dodging a particularly enthusiastic witch.

“Found you,” you say, as you reach her side.

Leigh grins, her eyes bright. “Dance with me!” she yells over the music, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the throng of sweaty bodies. Too exhausted to argue, you let her lead you into the chaos. As the music takes over and you both start to dance, the rest of the party fades into the background. Leigh's hand is warm in yours, her other hand reaching up to loop around your neck. The music swells, and the crowd presses in, pushing you closer together. Her breath is sweet with the tang of alcohol, and her cheeks are flushed.

Leigh’s movements become less and less coordinated as she leans into you, her body heavenly against yours. Her lips come dangerously close to yours, barely brushing against them, and for a moment—surrounded by her warmth and scent—you're tempted. You want her, deeply, irrevocably—

But not like this.

You firm your hands on her hips, pushing her slightly away. “Hey, let's get some air, yeah?” you suggest calmly despite your heart going crazy in your chest.

She looks up at you, a bit confused but nods, her smile unfaltering. You take her hand again and guide her off the dance floor. Moving through the crowd proves to be a challenge with Leigh's unsteady steps. She stumbles, laughing as she clings to your arm for support.

“I almost ate it back there!” she exclaims, still giggling.

“Yeah, you did,” you mutter distractedly. As the festive sounds of the party fade behind the closed door, reality slaps you both with a sobering chill. Leigh is simply too drunk, and you’re almost a fool for nearly taking advantage of that. You can't concentrate on anything but what nearly happened back there.

You feel Leigh’s hand slip back into yours, slotting in place like magnets that just fit together. Her laughter has quieted, and she leans into you slightly, resting her head on your shoulder. It's then you realize that a drunken Leigh is more affectionate and less aware of physical boundaries—dangerous.

“You know, maybe we should call it a night? I can take you home,” you suggest, making an effort not to lean into her, even though the intoxicating mix of her shampoo and the faint scent of sweat beckons you closer.

Her reaction is immediate and surprisingly lucid. “I can’t go home like this,” Leigh protests, straightening up. “Jules has her own Halloween thing tonight, and I can't show up drunk and be seen like this by her. She’s been sober for a year now; I can’t just...” Her voice trails off, filled with worry.

You glance at your wrist and see it's already 2 AM. A sigh escapes you as the reality of your early morning responsibilities begins to weigh in. You have to be up in four hours to open the clinic at 8 AM, and staying out to make sure Leigh fully sobers up is far from feasible. Leigh appears exhausted, her eyes heavy, even as she tries to muster a smile.

“Listen, Leigh,” you say, eyeing a practical solution. “I have an early start tomorrow, and you look like you need some rest. How about you crash at my place tonight? You can sleep it off and head home in the morning when you’re feeling better.”

Leigh seems to consider this for a moment, her gaze drifting towards the street where groups of men glance their way as they pass by. Finally, she nods meekly, looking relieved.

“That sounds really good right now. My head feels heavy, and I just want to go to sleep,” she mumbles, letting out a weary sigh and rubbing her eyes. You help her to her feet and steady her as you both walk back to your car, which is fortunately parked nearby. Leigh curls up in the passenger seat, and you crack the windows to let in some fresh air.

Once home, you give Leigh some clothes to change into and then start setting up the couch for yourself, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from the cupboard. As you turn back a while later, you see Leigh, in her slightly tipsy state, misinterpreting your preparations. She gives a small, tired smile and plops down onto the couch. Reacting quickly, you catch her just before she falls completely into it.

“W-What are you doing?” she whispers, surprised as she finds herself practically in your arms, half-carried in a bridal style.

You feel the heat rise from your cheeks to your chest, aware of how close she is. “This is for me,” you say, nodding towards the couch, “you’re taking the bed.”

To avoid any further confusion, you slowly lift her up, wrapping an arm securely around her waist as you guide her to your bedroom. Leigh’s head remains tucked in your neck, her body relaxed and yielding as you move.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she mumbles against your skin, though her tone suggests she’s grateful for your care. You don’t see the blush that has crept to her own cheeks, your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assure her as you gently set her down on your bed. “Make yourself comfortable. The mattress’ much better for a good night's sleep.”

Leigh nods, pulling the covers around her. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft and more sober now.

“Anytime,” you respond with a reassuring smile. “Good night, Leigh.” You close the bedroom door softly behind you and retreat to the couch.

“Good night, Y/N…” Leigh whispers to herself, a faint smile touching her lips as she nestles deeper into the bed.

335 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 24 days

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (8/?)

Part summary: Leigh heads off to Palm Springs with Danny, while you grapple with what to do about your feelings for her.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 5.000+ | Warnings : Slight angst | Author's Note: No, I did not forget about Danny still not being honest with Leigh and R not tattling on Danny. Just let these loose ends dangle for a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

The morning after you gave Leigh a puppy for her birthday, your phone is flooded with texts from her, filled with questions ranging from vaccine schedules to the best chew toys. She shares a story about how Rogue, their previous dog, had always been Matt’s, and how she often felt left out of his care. Now, with Logan, she feels a full sense of ownership and is eager to get everything right.

You still flinch slightly whenever she mentions her late husband. It’s as if she forgets that you and Matt had something significant too, as if you weren't once the secret he kept close. Sometimes, you wish you could just erase his presence, simplify everything about your relationship with Leigh.

But you recognize that it’s selfish to wish him away, because Matt was a significant part of Leigh’s life, a major influence on who she has become. And who she is today is a lovely person—someone you've come to admire very deeply.

[6:20 AM] Leigh: Logan’s an angel, slept through the night.

[6:35 AM] Leigh: So, house training... how do I make sure Logan doesn’t turn my bed into his personal bathroom like he did five seconds ago?

You grimace at the message, picturing the hassle of laundering the sheets and possibly needing to call a cleaning service for the mattress.

[6:54 AM] Leigh: And shots? Rogue was all up to date because Matt was on it, but I’m clueless. Where do I start?

As you work your espresso machine, a grin spreads across your face, the kind that makes you feel like a complete fool but in the best possible way.

[6:56 AM] You: Good morning! You’re lucky I don’t bill for text consultations 😆

You typically charge $18 for a twenty-minute chat with a client.

[6:58 AM] Leigh: Oh. How much do I owe you? I want to pay.

Your smile falters a little at her missing your joke.

[6:58 AM] You: I was just kidding. Your texts are more than welcome, Leigh.

Feeling bold, you follow that up with something you've been wanting to make clear since last night.

[6:59 AM] You: This is what friends are for, right?

Waiting for Leigh’s reply feels like an eternity, and you're about to send another text to walk back your hint at friendship when your phone vibrates.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: I’d feel better paying. Can I drop by the clinic later?

Reading her message, you're hit with a rush—excited at the thought of seeing her, yet downhearted she's talking about paying, as if that's what's between you. But then, those little typing dots appear. You're practically holding your breath.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: We’re friends, which is why I’m paying.

It's a good thing you don't have a roommate, or else you'd never get away with grinning like an idiot at your phone. It's a bit ridiculous, you think, how high school this all feels—waiting for a glimpse, a moment, anything.

[7:01 AM] You: Absolutely, come by anytime. Looking forward to it 🙂

You hit send and lean back, trying to act like you didn't just have a mini celebration over a text.

And then, spurred by Leigh texting you first thing in the morning, you decide to add her on your social media accounts. You spend an extra fifteen minutes getting ready that morning, simply because you lingered longer in the shower, listening to songs that remind you of Leigh and how this crush is dangerously close to becoming something uncontainable.

[10:13 AM] Notification: Leigh accepted your friend request.

As it turns out, Leigh is a serial texter.

It’s odd, really. For someone who might come across as reclusive and somewhat untouchable, she is surprisingly talkative over text. The messages start coming in more frequently after this morning's exchange, just moments after you've finally left home to drive to your clinic. What's even more interesting is that this time, they're not about Logan.

And they’re all unusually random and unrelated to one another: memes that make you laugh out loud, articles on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence to the best way to juicing recipes. You find yourself waiting for these messages, eager to see what tangent Leigh's mind has wandered off to now. You get into it, dissecting the articles she sends over with the seriousness of a scholar. You type back your thoughts, trying to sound as insightful as possible, maybe even a bit witty, hoping to impress her. You imagine this might be her way of initiating deeper, intellectual conversations between you two.

So, when you send back a paragraph or two analyzing the latest article she's shared, maybe touching on its impacts on modern society or offering a counterpoint to the author's thesis, Leigh's responses aren’t what you expect. Instead of engaging with the discussion, she sends a simple thumbs-up emoji or, even more baffling, a random factoid about her day, like her opinion on the Kani salad from a sushi bar near the Beautiful Beast gym.

[12:15 PM] Leigh: [sent a photo] Just some store-bought crab sticks and diluted mayo. Don’t try it. Their saké though is 👌👌👌

You wonder why she’s having Japanese rice wine this early in the day.

[12:22 PM] You: Thanks for the heads up. I know a place for authentic Japanese food. You want to check it out with me some time?

Your text remains unseen for the rest of the afternoon.

You find yourself staring intently at the wall clock in your clinic, keenly aware of each minute slipping by, and with it, the dwindling chance of Leigh arriving before the doors lock for the day. As it nears 8 in the evening, Suzie is already wrapped up in her end-of-day tasks across the lobby. Leaning your cheek on your palm, you watch blankly as she meticulously arranges her desk, perfectly aligning each item, then moves on to gently pull the blinds closed on each window.

Suzie’s not blind. She throws you these knowing glances every time you let out one of your heavy sighs. Finally, after you've probably sighed loud enough to be heard next door, she stops what she's doing and plants herself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

You try to look puzzled. “Nothing. Why?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Please, you’ve been mooning over that clock and sighing like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. What’s up?”

You crack a smile, partly at her description, partly from being caught moping like a lovesick teenager. “It’s just… I thought maybe Leigh would come by. She said she would,” you say, wincing at yourself when the last part comes out a bit whiny.

Without missing a beat, Suzie pivots from her closing duties and makes her way over to you.

She’s not delicate with you this time. “You’re doing that thing again. Waiting around for something that’s probably not gonna happen. It’s not doing you any good.”

You know she's hitting the nail on the head, but it's tough to swallow.

Suzie continues, “You're young, you're attractive, and it's honestly weird that you're pining over your ex's ex. At first, I thought it was kind of adorable, in a bizarre, romantic-comedy kind of way. But now, it's like you're always hung up and disappointed.”

“Thanks for saying I’m young when I’m five years older than you,” you say with a sheepish smile, hiding your disappointment that she isn’t saying the things you want to hear, such as the possibility that Leigh just got busy.

Suzie shakes her head in disapproval. She's fed up, and her next words aren't going to be sugar-coated. “Snap out of it!” she barks, the command hitting you like a cold splash of water, and you jerk back in your chair, wide-eyed. Seeing you shrink back, quivering, she softens a bit and shifts back to the harmless receptionist you’re used to.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Suzie says, ensuring she has your full attention. You manage to meet her gaze, even though your eyelids feel heavy. “It's not fair to Leigh, either. You're giving meaning to everything she does—or doesn't do. It's putting her in an impossible situation. And honestly, it's not fair to you. You're missing out on your own life, waiting for someone who... well, who might never show up the way you want her to.”

Suzie knows she’s being tough, but sometimes love means being the friend who won’t let you settle for anything less than you deserve.

“I hear you, okay? It’s just… it’s the way I’m wired. I latch onto a person like a leech, refusing to let go until I see it through,” you mutter, shielding your face with your hands, a bit ashamed to even say it out loud. You get so tunnel-visioned, missing out on maybe better things and experiences because you're stuck on one track. You fall hard for your choices, never by chance.

“Good. You know what’s wrong with you,” Suzie says softly.

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound tinged with a bit of self-mockery. You're half-hidden behind your hands, peeking out at Suzie as if she's got all the answers. Suzie pries your fingers away from your face and then pinches your cheek so hard, you start to whine a bit.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest, rubbing your assaulted cheek.

“That's for being a pathetic little bitch.”

“Excuse me, I'm still the one signing your paychecks,” you shoot back, trying to sound offended but it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, boss,” she laughs, and you join in.

“Okay, so what do you suggest I do then?” you ask as the last of your chuckles die down.

“Go on a date,” comes her swift response. “All that stuff they say about love finding you when you're not looking? Biggest lie ever.”

You look at her curiously, assessing her physical features. “W-With you?”

“Dude, no! Not with me!” Suzie exclaims, laughing nervously. “I mean, sure, I'd take you out if you weren't my boss, but I don't see that happening anytime soon unless you fire me.”

“Got it, got it,” you say, still chuckling. Suzie realizes too late that you were just teasing her and huffs. “Not with you. But seriously, go on a date? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just meet someone.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“Because it is,” she says with a shrug. “Here. Give me your phone.”

Leigh doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you may or may not have feelings for her.

So, she does what she does best: Pretend.

Leigh pretends you’re not EspressoEyes. In her mind, it could just be a coincidence, and you might not be the person who wrote to her advice column. Without any concrete evidence, she holds onto this notion, using it as a shield to fend off the uncertainties and doubts that would follow if she believed otherwise.

Leigh pretends because she needs your help to figure out how to care for Logan. Because maybe she wants to be friends. When you join her for a run, you don’t press for conversation, a rare companion who's not afraid of silence. Having you around feels like having Matt around, in a way that she's reminded of him when you talk about the same things you like, the same books you've read, and the same music you listen to.

Leigh pretends it doesn’t bother her in case you are EspressoEyes. She’s no stranger to turning heads as she walks down the street, accustomed to the attention. There's a certain power in being desired, and Leigh revels in it. But the idea of you liking her doesn't quite make sense to her; it's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It’s not because you’re a woman—she’s been with women before. What Leigh can't wrap her head around is that you, of all people, could actually be into her. After all, she hasn’t exactly been her most charming self since you two met. Even her best friend is keeping a cautious distance. She’s been wearing down the people closest to her, those who are supposed to like her the most.

And this bewilderment doesn't sit well with Leigh. She is someone who thrives on understanding, on knowing where she stands with people and why. So, when pretending isn’t enough, she does what she does second-best: Avoid.

She must have been waiting in her car outside your clinic for the better part of the evening, debating with herself about what to do next. She's parked just out of view, positioned so she can see the clinic entrance without being too conspicuous. She hasn't eaten dinner yet, her stomach growling, but she remains glued to her spot across from where she knows you're waiting for her.

Ever since you subtly asked her out through text, she’s been on edge, second-guessing her actions (texting and sharing posts on the internet with you all morning, what was she thinking?) and wondering what they might have meant to you. Leigh didn’t mean to leave you hanging—she did come to your clinic, sort of. She remembers typing out a response to you, something witty and non-committal, but her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before pulling back. It felt like too much, too soon. She needed time to think, to figure out why the idea of checking out authentic Japanese food with you left her feeling so conflicted inside.

Leigh's guilt gnaws at her as she sits there, wrestling with how to extricate herself without causing further confusion—or worse, hurt. Eventually, it all comes to a head. She finally gives in, typing out a message to you on her phone with a shaky urgency.

[7:53 PM] Leigh: I'm so sorry, something came up. I can't make it to the clinic after all.

Your reply comes quickly, much to her astonishment, especially since she hadn't opened your message all afternoon.

[7:54 PM] You: It's fine, don't worry about it. I can have Logan's supplies delivered to your place if that works better for you.

Reading your text, Leigh bites her lip, another surge of guilt washing over her. Your kindness, your willingness to accommodate her, only complicates this predicament further.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: Yes, that would be great, thank you.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: How much do I owe you?

As she starts nibbling at her cuticle, Leigh is eager to resolve at least the financial aspect of her obligation. Though she knows she owes you so much more than just Logan’s supplies.

[7:56 PM] You: Like I said, it's on the house. But just this time ☺️

It’s still too generous. But Leigh knows better than to argue further, concerned that insisting might hurt your feelings.

[7:56 PM] Leigh: Thank you. I won’t forget this.

[7:57 PM] You: 😊😊😊

Leigh sighs, remembering her promise that you could visit Logan anytime. She hopes you won’t take her up on that offer too soon, at least not until she has a chance to sort herself out.

Danny isn’t too bad once you get to know him. That's what Leigh learns after more than two months of dating him.

Initially, Leigh wasn't sure what to make of Danny. Their shared wit and sarcasm often put them at odds, like two alphas vying for the upper hand, each one not willing to back down, always aiming for the last word. Yet, in their calmer moments, when the competitive edge fades and they're just enjoying each other's company, Leigh finds something unexpectedly comforting about being with him. He has this confidence about himself that Matt never had, knowing exactly what he wants—and that's her. His straightforward approach makes everything about being with him feel predictable. And lately, she's starting to see predictability as a good thing, a sign of stability. This is a welcome change from the uncertainty that often left her anxious about the future. Plus, all these traits spill over into the bedroom, making the sex between them feel effortless and satisfying in a way she’s never experienced before.

Despite all this, there are days when Leigh finds herself merely tolerating Danny's affections. A part of her remains tightly locked, still bruised from losing Matt, and she's not sure if those doors should—or even can—open again. To compensate, she often says yes when she can, whenever her mood permits her to be giving and amenable.

And it is exactly why she says yes when Danny asks her to go to Palm Springs with him this weekend.

The getaway feels like an extended lazy morning where the concept of time blurs into insignificance. They drift from one hotel restaurant to another, luxuriating in the art of doing absolutely nothing. This routine isn't new to them; it’s the same one they slip into whether they’re at Danny’s apartment or Leigh’s place—only now, the scenery is different, and the sheets they tangle in are expensively soft, boasting a thread count far beyond anything either of them owns at home.

They're lounging by the pool, sipping Margaritas—Leigh with a book in hand and Danny absorbed in his phone—when your name comes up in conversation.

“So, how are things between you and Y/N?” Danny asks, not looking up from his phone.

Leigh stiffens slightly. She carefully moderates her tone, her face schooled into an expression of indifference as she marks her page and looks over at him. “What about me and Y/N?”

“I don't know... are you guys friends now?”

If Leigh weren’t so preoccupied with her own personal concerns about you, she might have recognized the underlying worry his question poses. What he's actually trying to figure out is whether you've come clean to Leigh about his role in Matt’s secret affair with you.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she says. To say otherwise would be a lie, because you’ve been nothing but good to her. Danny seems satisfied with this answer, nodding before returning his attention to his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles. He's back to mindless scrolling, but Leigh can sense the tension from two feet away.

“No, tell me,” Leigh insists, placing her book on the side table between them with a definitive thud. Danny mirrors her actions, setting his phone face down and turning to her with a seriousness that clashes with their otherwise relaxed afternoon.

“I just don't get why you'd be friends with Matt's mistress,” he blurts out suddenly.

Leigh is taken aback. They've never fully discussed what transpired between you and Matt, so she hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to her interactions with you. Believing that he wasn't privy to all the details, she quickly jumps to your defense.

“Y/N didn’t even know Matt was married to me,” she explains, trying to clarify the misunderstanding and protect your integrity.

“Yeah? And you just took her word for it?” Danny doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism, and it irks Leigh more than usual. She doesn't understand why every conversation with Danny has to turn into a challenge or an argument.

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise,” Leigh replies, her voice tightening as she struggles to keep her frustration in check. “I mean, I even went through your phone to see what Matt had been saying to you, and there was nothing there indicating that Y/N knew he was married.”

Danny feels a lump form in his throat. Fortunately for him, Matt hadn't mentioned anything in their texts about Danny being Nick either. He has been debating whether to disclose his role in everything to Leigh. But things between them have gotten serious, and Danny's not so sure he should come clean. Part of him wants to delay—perhaps until they are married with kids, when he's more certain that Leigh won't leave him over a past mistake.

“Look, I'm not saying don’t trust her, but... she used to be in love with Matt, right? You don't think there's a chance she resents you even a little?”

Leigh stops for a second, Danny's words prompting her to consider aspects she hadn't really thought about before. Wrapped up in her own insecurities, jealousy, and pain when she discovered the truth about you, she had never stopped to consider your perspective—how you might have felt learning that the man you had feelings for was married. Did you feel just as fooled and stung as she did? The thought bounces around her head for a moment. From what she can recall, nothing in your behavior has ever suggested that you're a bitter ex. But then, what if you're just exceptionally good at masking your feelings?

Do you really like her, or is it all an act—a scheme?

But then, she remembers the night you gave her Logan, how your smile was nothing but warm, your eyes bright with something that, looking back, Leigh realizes might have been admiration. Not even Danny looks at her like that, whose gaze is always bridling yearning and a desire to possess. Leigh shakes her head, almost laughing at the thought of Danny being right about you.

“Danny, honestly,” Leigh finally says, trying to put an end to the discussion, “if what you're saying is true, I can handle it myself.” It seems the quickest way to close this topic, knowing that debating it could easily consume their entire afternoon and completely derail the purpose of their vacation.

“But doesn't it hurt, having her around? Like a reminder that Matt went for someone else?” He's playing on a different fear now, not questioning your integrity, but poking at the scars Leigh's tried so hard to heal.

Leigh wants to admit the pain never went away. She’s merely learned to co-exist with it. It's like the weather for her: on some days, her mind is a landscape of clear skies, but when the storm hits, it's relentless. For now, she chooses to keep this pain private, unwilling to give anyone the leverage to use it against her or even attempt to fix her. It's her burden to bear, and hers alone.

“No,” Leigh answers, reaching for her book again. “I don’t see it that way anymore.”

Leigh ends her nearly year-long social media hiatus by posting a series of photos from her Palm Springs vacation with Danny. Sharing such personal moments publicly is uncharacteristic for her, especially given her minimal online presence over the past months. Maybe it felt like sending a message to everyone that she’s doing okay. That they can go back to seeing her as just Leigh again—a single, actively dating woman in her early thirties—not as the young widow she was in her late twenties.

Danny's friends are the first to swarm the comments. They tag Danny, peppering the feed with teasing remarks, their comments ranging from jokes about the desert heat to compliments on the couple's sun-drenched physique. It's all typical, light-hearted friend banter, until one comment sharply disrupts the mood:

“Yo, isn't that your brother's wife?”

Leigh deletes the comment within seconds of seeing it.

A few hours later, you ‘like’ her post. Leigh's eyes fix unblinkingly on the notification. She's been idly wondering if you'd seen the post, and now, you’ve confirmed it yourself. But what does that ‘like’ mean?

Is it a nod of approval, a silent indication that you're happy for her? Regardless of what it means, Leigh discovers she was sending another message—one that’s exclusively for you. It tells you that whether you're EspressoEyes, whether you harbor any feelings for her or not, it no longer matters.

She's with Danny now.

Returning from Palm Springs, Leigh feels different—like she’s turned a corner or something. She feels refreshed, and she wants to take on something, such as Drew’s grievances about her advice column. She picks one to start with, something about anniversary ideas, and she's got the perfect story for this.

It was one of those anniversaries with Matt, the kind that stands out from the rest of his surprises because it's so quintessentially him—albeit a little nerdy. He took her away from the city's glare to a secluded spot where the sky was a blanket of stars, untainted by artificial light. After laying out a rug for them to both settle on, he began the painstaking process of setting up a rather complex telescope. It took him nearly an hour, but the wait just made the moment even more special. With the telescope finally ready, Matt pulled out this old, crinkly constellation map and started hunting for one specific star. It was one of the last times Leigh remembered them being truly happy—deeply in love, free from the shadows of Matt’s depression, Leigh’s instinct to fix things, and the small lies that slowly eroded their relationship.

When he finally located it, he excitedly guided her to peer through the telescope. There it is—a tiny speck of light, but it's theirs. Matt turned to her with a bashful smile and revealed that he had 'bought' that star for her.

Leigh shares this story with her reader, emphasizing that it's about understanding what truly moves your partner. For her, it was that star—simple, unexpected, and insanely romantic. She tells her reader to find that one-of-a-kind thing, that personal touch that says “I love you” in a way that can only come from them. Just like Matt did with a star and a starry night.

It's only after she closes her laptop that Leigh realizes tears have been streaming down her face.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It takes a moment to recognize who you've just bumped into. This encounter isn't as jarring as the last; it’s merely a brush of shoulders as you both maneuver to avoid incoming traffic. That ‘incoming traffic’ turns out to be none other than Leigh Shaw.

She's beaming up at you, and it looks genuine despite the sparse interactions since she last canceled on you. You’re still catching your breath, your heart racing from the speed of your run and something else entirely.

“At least I didn’t make you crash on the pavement this time. I'd say that’s significant progress,” you quip, drawing a soft laugh from Leigh. Last week, you made the firm decision to compartmentalize your feelings for Leigh, resolving to see her strictly as a friend. Yet, when faced with reality, such resolutions seem trivial, particularly when that reality includes Leigh smiling at you with her effortlessly charming grin—a smile that, despite your best efforts, still sends a familiar flutter through your stomach and makes your knees feel like they're made of something much less solid than bone.

“Speaking of progress, Logan’s due for his vaccines this week, right?” You remember the schedule clearly, not just because you’re good with dates, but because Logan has become somewhat of a shared responsibility between the two of you—or at least that’s how you still see it.

“Oh, right. I promise I'll swing by. No bailing this time,” she says, chuckling, but there’s a serious undertone that tells you she’s committed to making good on her word this time.

“You better not,” you tease, “Can’t have Logan missing his shots. He’s still very young, and it’s critical we build up his protection against—”

“I won’t, Doctor,” Leigh cuts in, giving you a playful salute that makes you blush. “So, where are you off to after this? I was actually about to grab some donuts for breakfast—”

Leigh pauses mid-sentence as a woman appears at your side. She’s stunning—slightly taller than Leigh, clad in a sports bra and tight yoga pants, with sneakers on her feet. An absolute goddess; even Leigh can’t resist a quick, appreciative glance.

“Who's this?” the woman asks with a British accent, adding the perfect touch to her 5-foot-7 frame.

“This is Leigh,” you introduce quickly, noting the surprise in Leigh's expression. “Leigh, this is Sara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sara says warmly, extending her hand. Leigh shakes it, though her movements are somewhat mechanical. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Leigh’s smile is strained. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly steer the topic back to Leigh's breakfast plan, asking where the donut place is. “It's just down that street,” Leigh points vaguely, but then stops short. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Actually, I just remembered I've got to pick up something from the laundromat.”

You frown, thrown by her sudden change of tune. “Are you sure? We could grab a bite after the run.”

“No, really, I should get going. Maybe next time!” Leigh replies hastily, already stepping back, her exit swift and decisive. As she hurries away, you're left there, watching her leave, trying to figure out what flipped her mood from happy to wanting to escape so quickly.

“Shall we?” Sara nudges you gently, already jogging in place.

You give Sara a nod, but as you start running, you can't help but sneak one last look back. Leigh is quick to put distance between herself and the park. With a sigh, you turn your full attention back to Sara, who’s already picking up the pace, chatting about a new trail she wants to try next weekend.

“Let's go,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you push your legs to match her pace.

Meanwhile, Leigh walks briskly to a different restaurant, forsaking her initial craving for donuts. She can’t quite explain why she fabricated an errand; all she knows is that she needed to get away from you and Sara. Earlier, she couldn't help but notice how close Sara was standing to you, assessing you with a look that seemed a bit too interested. Leigh keeps turning over Sara's words in her mind, puzzling over what she meant by saying she'd heard a lot about her from you.

Why were you talking about her with Sara? Who exactly is Sara to you? Just a friend, or something more?

And what Leigh finds even more perplexing is why she's so troubled by needing to know the answers.

348 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 26 days

Text

maternal instinct (2) II a.russo

part one maternal instinct (2) II a.russo

it had been a few days now and alessia hadn't heard much from you since the kiss, her confession and your reality check.

realistically she had known the moment it clicked for her that she had unresolved poorly harbored more than friendly feelings for you that it was complicated.

you had a child, a living, breathing, growing human being who depended on you for everything and anything. in turn of course you would be protective of that, of her, and of change.

alessia couldn't even begin to imagine what motherhood was like. the closest she'd come was her relationship with her own mother and even then in that scenario she was the daughter, the protected and ingthe cared for, not the parent taking the bullets as they came and shielding her from the wreckage.

so the striker had tried to her best to swallow her feelings, reminding herself that it wasn't fair on you to push them forward when you already had a very clearly well established routine and lifestyle.

but when those little dinners became weekly, the two of you spent more and more time together and in turn alessia earned bellas trust and started to get to know your daughter for the wonderfully bright charismatic and charming thing she was, there was suddenly two holes forming in the blondes heart.

then the thoughts started to creep in that just maybe this could work, maybe you might feel the same. alessia didn't yet have a maternal bone in her body but she wasn't opposed to learning, and she found herself daydreaming of how she might slot herself into your routine.

picking bella up from school when you had to work late, making lunches of a morning so you could have a few extra minutes to sleep in, the two of you in the stands in arsenal jerseys cheering for her.

but then alessia was fast to check herself, to remember that just because she could see herself slotting in that was far from the reality of what it meant to even date someone with a child let alone to be a step parent.

but all of that noise was pushed into a cupboard and the door firmly locked the moment your lips touched and alessia's heart swelled in size, hell she'd even give the grinch a run for his money that day.

though it didn't end how she'd hoped alessia meant what she said that night, she meant that she was okay to take things slow, she meant that she was more than happy to let you set the course and the pace and not overstep in any of that process.

alessia would be lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed as the days passed and you didn't reach out, and that her finger didn't often hover over your contact with the temptation to send a follow up message to her last one.

she'd heard both you and bella coming and going from your apartment, often hovering by her door in wait for your voices to either disappear inside or into the elevator before she'd exit her own apartment, wanting to respect the fact you were taking the space that alessia did tell you to take if needed.

eventually thursday rolled around and the blonde found herself in two minds.

over the time she'd been living in her new place and then become friends with you, the routine had suddenly become that each thursday one of you would go to the others for dinner.

those dinners alessia hadn't realised how much she'd treasured until she found herself looking at the prospect of a thursday passing without one and her stomach lurched uncomfortably.

but as the hours ticked by and considering that it was your turn to host and alessia was yet to hear from you, she found herself with no choice but to assume it wasn't happening, ignoring the small voice in the back of her head telling her to check with you.

training was a brief distraction, her full focus and attention thrown into football to take her mind off of you for a few hours, which was a bandaid solution but worked.

but then as soon as she was cooling down and getting ready to head home, you were right back in the forefront of her thoughts.

her teammates and friends knew very little of you, alessia selfishly keeping you all to herself and not sharing much more with her friends than that her neighbors were all nice and welcoming, especially those on her floor.

which wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the entire truth and that was a matter alessia was content to keep to herself if not mainly for your privacy.

needless to say though since the kiss itself the last few days had been a roller coaster of emotions for the striker.

regret that she kissed you. fear you may not want anything to do with her anymore. anxiety that she'd squandered a chance of even a continuing healthy friendship. hope that you might just maybe feel the same way she did with some time to think it over properly.

returning from her shower post training and drying her hair with a towel, tapping her phone to check the time alessia finally had some sort of a step toward an answer, a missed call and a message from you sending her heart into her throat.

she could hear emily talking to her, having been engaged in the conversation prior to now but after finally seeing your contact name on her notifications again she'd tuned her friend right out.

relief flooded her body seeing you were indeed checking if she still wanted to come over for dinner and apologising for the lack of contact this week, and alessia completely missed emily giving up on gaining her attention after snapping her fingers routinely at the blonde who didn't respond.

sending a quick message back confirming she'd love to come to dinner alessia was rudely slammed back into reality as her phone was yanked from her hand and she looked up to meet a cheeky grin.

"kyra! give it back." the striker groaned holding her hand out for the phone as the australian shook her head. "who are you smiling so happily at lessi?" the younger girl teased with a toothy smirk as alessia rolled her eyes.

"no one! not that its any of your business anyway." she snatched her phone back and tucked it away safely in her pocket as kyra merely smirked wider. "suure russo sure." the brunette teased again as alessia ignored her and packed away her belongings into her gym bag.

"anyway, your secret love life aside. are you coming for dinner? i think we're getting sushi but vic can't decide and we all know what she's like when its her turn to pick a place." kyra rolled her eyes as alessia stood with a slight chuckle at the truth behind her words of their dutch teammate, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"i can't tonight, sorry." the blonde apologized with a smile, trying to leave but sighing as kyra darted to quickly block her way. "i see...out for a date with your secret lover?" the younger girl made kissy faces obnoxiously.

"grow up kyra!" alessia chuckled shoving her away by the forehead as the shorter girl stumbled backwards and fell causing a few of the girls to laugh at her expense as alessia said her own goodbyes and headed for the door as kyra yelled out after her.

"hey that wasn't a no!"

alessia was expecting to see you today after your message and the missed call.

though it wasn't sat against your door with a miserable scowl on your face and your knees tucked to your chest. "good afternoon?" the striker greeted with a slightly nervous smile as you looked up and sighed.

"are you alright?" concern seeped into her tone now as she gripped the strap of her gym bag and anxiously rubbed her fingers against the course material to try and ground herself.

"i locked myself out." you admitted quietly with a huff, head thumping back against the door as your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and alessia bit down on her bottom lip to stop a smile forming.

"its not funny! my phones in there too so i can't even call someone." you whined with a groan. "your daughter isn't by chance locked in there too is she?" alessia teased lightly as you shook your head.

"no she's staying over at her dads tonight, she has a family tree project for school so he's helping her do his side." you sighed as alessia just smiled down at you.

"i see. so how did you manage this then? coming from an expert at locking herself out of course." the blonde tried to lighten the mood which you appreciated as she took a seat next to you but still giving you a respectable amount of space, gym bag sat in her lap.

"don't laugh." you warned as alessia feigned a cross over her heart and you exhaled heavily. "well the other day i ordered a new library card and-" you paused, head whipping sideways as you heard a snicker.

"alessia!" you huffed pushing her shoulder as she bit down on her bottom lip. "i haven't even started yet and you're already laughing." you complained with a frown as she waved it off with the excuse she needed to cough and encouraged you to continue.

"so i ordered a new library card and a huge haul of new stationary for the school. but of course it all got delivered to the wrong address so i complained and the post office picked it up and organised a re-delivery." you continued as alessia hummed, eyes fixed on you listening intently.

"well it finally arrived today and in my eagerness to grab the package from the lobby i sort of ran out without my keys, without my phone and apparently without a brain." you huffed picking at a loose thread of the hem of your shirt.

when there was no word from the blonde beside you, you glanced over to see her biting down on her bottom lip clearly trying very hard not to laugh as you sighed deeply.

"go on then." you waved her off with a roll of your eyes, unable to stop your lips tugging into a small smile at the melodic sound of her laughter. "you're the worst!" you huffed still smiling, pushing her again.

"is that really the way to talk to your only source of shelter, communication with the outside world and entertainment?" alessia teased, nerves having melted away now things seemed to be all normal between the two of you as she climbed up to her feet.

"come on. you can use my phone to call the building manager!" alessia held out her hands to help you up, bag balanced on her shoulder as you grabbed her hands, noting they were significantly larger than your own and immediately banishing that thought with a slight warmth in your cheeks.

"i'll even make you dinner if you ask nicely!" alessia grinned, pulling you to your feet and dropping your hands to open the door to her own apartment, a smile softening your features as you noticed the bracelet bella gave her was indeed attached to her house keys.

"oh my god and i'd already started to make dinner too!" you groaned in realisation, cringing at the thought of the mince meat sat in a bowl on your counter top where you'd intended to make meatballs.

"i've actually not gone grocery shopping thats a tomorrow errand. maybe we order in?" alessia realised as she let the pair of you in, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment as you nodded happily.

"i'll never say no to a takeaway." you assured as she kicked off her slides and ducked off to her room to dump her bag.

you'd been in alessia's apartment enough times now not to feel like a stranger, but it still didn't stop you smiling as you stood looking at the various framed photos which littered the walls of her entryway of friends and family.

"less you were so cute!" you squealed spotting a new addition, a small photo of a no more than four or five year old alessia in a dirty football kit grinning and holding up a medal and trophy in her hands.

"god you sound like my mum. every time she comes over she has a fit over the childhood photos as if she wasn't the one who took them and she doesn't have album on album of them neatly organised in year order." alessia groaned, bumping her shoulder into yours as she passed and headed for the kitchen.

"i think i need to meet your mum and see these albums." you teased as the blonde gave you a horrified look before offering you a drink which you politely declined.

"what is that?" you asked with a scrunch of your face as she pulled out a thick looking drink in a protein shaker which was a colour you don't think you'd be able to find on any colour wheel.

"recovery shake." alessia explained after she'd downed a mouthful of it without flinching, offering it to you as you shook your head. "whats in it? thats a less than desirable colour." you chuckled taking a seat at the bench.

"umm protein powder, milk, yoghurt, honey, two raw eggs, kale, electrolytes, avocado, pineapple-" the more ingredients she listed the more your look of disgust grew before the blonde caught it and laughed.

"it sounds and looks worse than it actually tastes. go on!" she encouraged again, rounding the corner and holding it out to you as you firmly shook your head. "one tiny sip, come onn." the footballer shook it in your face with a grin as you pulled your head back.

"it doesn't even smell bad. i eat with my nose so thats why i add the fruit in, disguises all the vegetables. promise!" alessia swore as you gave her a strange look.

“you eat with your nose? what are you a hoover?" you quipped with a smile as she flicked your ear with a roll of her eyes, her legs just grazing yours as she took a step forward slightly towering over where you sat.

"no like if i don't like the smell of something i won't eat it." alessia admitted bashfully, speaking again before you could quip back with a teasing remark.

"come on, one small mouthful. aren't mothers supposed to be responsible and demonstrate trying new things?" alessia mocked with a grin still holding out the shaker as you begrudgingly took it from her hand.

"do you see my daughter anywhere near this atrocity?" you scoffed but took a cautious sniff, unable to disagree that really all you could smell was honey and pineapple.

with a defeated sigh you took the tiniest of sips, recoiling and shoving it back into her hand, alessias head thrown back with laughter at your reaction as you coughed into the crook of your arm.

"thats foul!" you spluttered out as alessia grinned ear to ear and nodded. "yeah they taste horrid but its part of my training program that i have to drink them after every session, you get used to them after awhile." alessia shrugged and took another large mouthful.

"you knew it tasted horrible and still egged me on to try it?" you scoffed in disbelief as alessia nodded, downing it again as you pushed at her but she hardly moved an inch, grinning in amusement at your attempts.

"sharing is caring. now you got a taste of what its like to be an elite athlete!" alessia smiled, sculling the last couple of mouthfuls and bonking you lightly on the head with the empty shaker as you kicked at her and she side stepped, making her way to the sink to rinse it out.

"right i was going to buy dinner but after that little stunt its on you russo."

"alessia!" you gasped in shock as the striker nearly fell over herself in her haste to hurry into the living room. "what? what’s happened? are you alright?" she asked worriedly at your tone, having been changing into something a bit more comfortable.

"im fine. do you not know how to get dressed?" you laughed at her disheveled state as she huffed and wriggled around to twist her hoodie on properly, pushing her head through and smoothing it out.

"i do! why did you gasp like that?" alessia huffed moving to take a seat on the lounge beside you. "because you watched ahead, again!" you smacked her shoulder nodding to the screen, alessia having nearly finished the show you’d both been watching together.

"i didn't know when we were going to hang out and i wanted to know who the killer was!" the blonde defended herself, swatting away your hands which tried to smack her again. "so did i but i waited!" you groaned, head thumping against the back of the lounge.

"well it was-" alessia started as you dropped the remote and hurried to cover her mouth. "don't you dare spoil it for me." you warned as she rolled her eyes but nodded as you removed your hand and she wiped her mouth with the corner of her sleeve.

"well i'd normally watch the premier league, but why don't you choose a movie." alessia chuckled tucking her legs beneath her as you shook your head and dropped the remote into her lap.

"i've already caused havoc on your plans for tonight. watch your game less, please!" you assured, pushing the remote away where she tried to hand it back to you.

"i didn't have many plans for tonight. some cute girl was supposed to cook me dinner but she stupidly locked herself out for a library card." alessia teased softly as you blushed and knocked your knee into hers.

"sounds like a dork." you joked as alessia laughed. "oh the biggest. but she's also like really smart so i guess all those library books paid off!" alessia gasped sarcastically, leaning her head against the back of the lounge staring at you as you did the same.

"what a loser." you tutted as alessia grinned, bright blue eyes boring into yours. "nah she's alright." alessia smiled softly poking your shoulder and pausing for a moment, cogs ticking over for a second before she swallowed all the doubts swirling round her head.

"i quite like her actually, but i don't know if she likes me in the same way." alessia's gaze dropped, fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly into the soft fabric of her lounge as her heart beat thumped in her ears.

when a few moments of silence passed alessia felt her neck grow hot with humilation and prepared herself both for rejection and to deliver a sincere apology if she made you uncomfortable, beating herself up for even saying anything in the first place.

but then you spoke. "i think she likes you in the same way, she's just a bit scared about what that might mean." you admitted quietly, glancing at her to see her head snap up before in turn your gaze dropped downward unable to meet her eyes.

"i wouldn't ever push her to do anything thats not at her pace. because i know she has another little factor to think of, who i also like quite a bit." alessia moved her hand slightly, fingers bumping against yours as neither of you made eye contact.

"that little factor also likes her quite a bit, which is adding to the fear." you admitted, bella quite smitten with her new big blonde playmate who taught her how to make pasta and had feet the size of a small dog in your daughters overactive imagination.

a few more beats of silence passed as both alessia and yourself were caught up in your own heads, fingers grazing one another with a feather light touch.

"you know a very wise five year old told me once that her mum said that sometimes all you need is thirty seconds of confidence to do something scary." alessia started, glancing upward as you did the same, both of you locking eyes and blushing further.

"we don't have to do anything that isn't at your pace. i can stop coming over and being around bella as much if she's getting attached, and if all of this is a bit too much then please you can say no and i won't be upset." alessia promised, your breath catching as slowly her pointer finger bumped yours before gently interlocking with it.

"can i take you on a date? please." alessia finished softly, the question hanging in the air as you now felt your heart beat in your ears and alessia was shocked you couldn't hear her own thumping in her chest.

"yeah, i'd like that less."

it was safe to say you did in fact like it, so much so that one date turned to more and a few weeks later you found yourself even more smitten with your now not so new neighbour.

true to her word alessia hadn't put a single ounce of pressure on you to do anything you weren't ready for or comfortable with and that only had you swooning even more at how understanding she was being.

you'd both had the conversation after the first two dates about alessia's ongoing interactions with bella, you making the decision that you'd like her to keep hanging around your daughter for the weekly dinners but not so much to the point bella suspected the pair of you were anything more than friends.

for a five year old your daughter was incredibly perceptive, and having grown up in a semi split family had made her more mature than your average five year old and especially in tune with her emotions.

she knew that you and her dad were friends, and that at one point you'd been a bit more and thats how she came to be.

but the both of you made it your mission to never let her think she wasn't wanted or loved by both of you, and thats why the healthy communication and routine with swapping bella between you was so crucial.

which is why you held alessia at arms length away from bella, your daughter being so in touch with her emotions though mature could sometimes let them get the best of her as five year olds do.

so not wanting to dangle the prospect of a shiny new friend and yanking her away should anything happen with you and alessia meant you took their interactions in your stride, and alessia had been nothing but respectful of that.

which is why it took you by surprise one evening when you were caught in a somewhat compromising position.

with your parents going away for a couple of weeks on a cruise you'd been pestering them to take for years now they were retired, bella was spending the weekend with them before they left mid next week.

the rare night off with both you and alessia having no plans meant you'd gone out for a nice meal together and intended to see a film afterwards, though the london weather had other ideas and with the rain bucketing down you'd ditched the film and grabbed a cab home.

spurred on by a few glasses of wine and some much needed liquid courage you'd all but dragged a soaking wet alessia into your apartment after racing from the cab to your building in the rain.

promising she could use your shower and with the blonde having spent the last month learning her way around your body a few well placed kisses had her now dragging you into the shower with her.

still taking things at your pace nothing happened bar a rather steamy makeout session which turned into you dying of laughter at alessia somehow swallowing a mouthful of water and nearly choking herself to death, which had killed the building mood anyway.

the taller girl stealing a hoodie and finding a pair of her own joggers in your closet the two of you now dried and dressed had curled up together to watch a movie, which ended up in alessia watching you.

"the movies over there russo!" you teased, a slight blush on your cheeks as you caught her staring again and tapped her forehead playfully. "i prefer this film anyway." alessia shrugged with a grin as you rolled your eyes but swooned internally at what you knew she meant.

"you should come to the game sunday, my brothers away travelling so i've got a spare ticket." alessia started softy a few minutes later, her hand warm and comforting as it rested on your knee, her taller body leaned into your side as her legs sprawled off the armrest of the sofa.

"mmm wear an arsenal jersey? i'm just such a die hard liverpool fan-" you started, squealing in surprise as her slender fingers jabbed into your side with a frown of disapproval making you smile and unfurrow her eyebrows with your thumbs.

"will your family be there though?" you asked, the twitch of your hand all alessia needed to sense the apprehension behind the question as she sat up properly and swung her body to face you.

"they would. but you don't need to meet them or anything, or my teammates and friends, i know its a bit soon." alessia assured, grabbing your hands in hers and you softened as she lifted them to her lips and placed gentle kisses against your palm.

neither of you had really started the discussion on what exactly you were.

you were more than neighbors, more than friends, going out on dates but not exactly dating, alessia had wanted to clarify but staying true to her word of not rushing you and just cherishing what time she did have with you meant she hadn't prompted the conversation yet.

"lessi i'm sorry everything has to be so slow and-" you started with a sigh, alessia shaking her head and squeezing your hands in hers to stop you before you'd finished your sentence.

"don't, please. i told you it would all be at your pace and i meant it, so long as i still get to spend time with you thats all that i care about." the striker promised sincerely as you nodded, leaning over to peck her lips a couple of times in a silent thank you.

"such a charmer." you teased softly poking her cheek as she grinned. already missing the feeling of your lips on hers you leaned in again to connect them, catching the taller girl off guard a little as the tone of the kiss shifted.

within a few seconds you found yourself moving to sit on top of her, your knees digging into the sofa either side of her thighs as her hands splayed against your hips and she sighed happily into your mouth with was still pressed against hers.

"what happened to the films over there?" alessia mumbled teasingly against your lips, pulling away to send you a dazzling grin as you shook your head and moved a hand to the back of your neck and drew her in again.

"would you like me to stop and we can finish it then?" you whispered with a smile, laughing as alessia hastily shook her head and tugged on your top connecting your lips again.

"so needy." you mumbled into the kiss, squirming as she pinched you for the comment, using the slight hitch in your breath to slip her tongue into your mouth.

now had you not been so caught up in the all consuming feelings that came with kissing alessia, and had your head not spun when those kisses moved from your lips down to your neck, her face tucking into your collarbone, you might have heard it.

the few rapid knocks which were drowned out by the movie in the background and ignored by both you and alessia who were too busy with one another, too busy to then hear the key turn in the lock and the handle rattle as it opened.

but what you didn't miss was the cry out for mummy and footsteps sprinting toward the sound of the movie in the living room, tumbling backwards off alessia's lap as the blonde clutched for you but it was too late as you landed on your back on the floor with a wheeze.

"mummy!" you grunted as a body joined you, bella hauling herself down on top of you with a grin. "bell. you're back!" you forced out in shock, still trying to catch your breath as your daughter nodded and scrambled off of you.

"big feet!" alessia was next to be jumped on, hugging your daughter with a smile as you sat up and rubbed your back which was throbbing from the fall.

"sorry darling. we did knock!" your head whipped upwards with wide eyes which locked with your own mothers, who judging by the amused smile on her face had assumed something was interrupted.

"i thought she was staying with you until sunday night mum?" you hurried to your feet with a slight wince, bella detaching herself from alessia and sprinting away toward her room.

"she is. but she forgot harvey so of course we had to come back for him, i did also try to call but it would seem you're a bit busy." she smiled and locked eyes now with alessia who blushed.

"mum, alessia. alessia, this is my mum amelia." you introduced them quickly intending to usher the older woman away from the poor bright red striker on your lounge but of course she had other plans.

"alessia. thats a lovely name! i work with an alessia and i hadn't met one before her and now i've met two!" your mother smiled warmly. "its italian, dads side. its lovely to meet you, i live next door we were just..." alessia trailed off, slight panic in her eyes as they met yours.

"hanging out. nice to watch a movie that isn't frozen with someone my own age!" you forced a smile, pushing at your mums shoulders who caught the hint and allowed herself to be lovingly shoved toward the kitchen.

you heard bella return and start yapping away at alessia who nodded along, grinning at the story of how harvey (your daughters best friend and most prized posession) came to be in her care, and you softened with a glance over your shoulder seeing the blonde keenly hanging off her every word completely invested.

"she's quite attractive." you were snapped back to the woman in front of you as your eyes widened and you groaned. "mum!" you hissed as she held up her hands. "just an observation! its nice to see you put yourself out there darling your father and i were-" the woman continued making you sigh.

"-worried i won't be married off before i fall pregnant? so sorry to have done it out of order!" you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. "less and i are just friends. i am allowed adult friendships who you don't know the entire family tree and childhood upbringing of amelia!" you huffed as the woman smiled.

"fair enough. we'll get out of your hair then darling, isabella!" she called out as footsteps thumped away and a body hugged your leg. "got him! now we can all go get ice cream with pop. you and big feet will come right?" her chin rested against your knee as she looked up hopefully and you smiled brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

"not tonight bell. this weekends for you to spend some special time with nan and pop before they go on holidays, because they'll miss you lots and lots but i get to see you every single day. okay?" you explained softly as your daughter frowned a little but nodded and you dropped down to give her a proper hug.

"bye big feet! harvey says bye too." you stood and bella yelled out bye to alessia poking her head through the gap between your legs making the blonde laugh.

"bye bella, bye harvey. lovely to meet you!" alessia waved and you couldn't help but grin as bella made the teddy wave back. "nice to meet you alessia." your mum smiled before you ushered them out the door.

"bell don't run please!" you sighed as the five year old raced off to the elevator.

"you know darling back when i was your age my friends didn't give me little love bites, but i guess thats just a generational change then. have a nice weekend!" your jaw dropped and your hand clapped against your neck but it was too late as the older woman took off, taking your daughters hand and leading her into the elevator as you spun around and headed back inside.

"alessia!"

"is everything alright baby? you just don't seem yourself is all." alessia questioned for the second time as you sat on her lounge eating pasta she'd just cooked for the pair of you, bella at her dads for the evening.

your stomach leapt into your throat at the term of endearment and the way it melted so effortlessly off her tongue, the little nicknames weren't anything new only now they came a lot more naturally to the pair of you.

"i'm fine i promise. one of my friends from school is getting married this weekend and i can't go, they're all sending loads of videos and photos and i am happy for them i really am, but i wish i was there." you admitted with a sigh, alessia settling her bowl down on the coffee table and turning to give you her full attention.

"why can't you go?" she questioned carefully with a small frown, one hand holding her head up as it rested against the back of the lounge and the other tracing circles on your knee.

"well its an adults only wedding which makes complete sense, and i planned to go originally just for the ceremony and have bella sat for the weekend. but my parents are still away, bens going away on a work trip this weekend and i can't ask him to not go, his parents are sick, his brothers out of town and all of my friends are headed off to the wedding if they're not already down there for the week." you explained with a small smile, picking at your pasta as your eyes were trained down to the bowl.

alessia didn't think before she spoke, but before she could pause to take a minute the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

"i could watch bella for the weekend?"

your eyes snapped upward at that, halting the pushing around of the bowl of pasta in your lap. "less i can't ask you to do that." you shook your head declining right away.

"you're not asking, i'm offering. you deserve a nice weekend away with your friends and weddings don't happen every day! i can tell you were looking forward to it." alessia assured as you sighed, moving your bowl onto the coffee table beside hers.

"less, baby really this is such a sweet offer but its not like dog sitting, having a five year old for a few hours is a huge challenge let alone a few days." you tried to put it as gently as you could but it didn't seem to deter the blonde in the slightest.

"i've babysat before and i've got little cousins. i know thats not the same but i pay attention, ask me anything about bella and i bet i could tell you!" the striker challenged, hand removed from your leg as she waved for you to start.

"alessia-" "go on babe, anything!"

knowing how stubborn the tall blonde could be you decided to placate her wishes with a sigh and a shake of your head as she crossed her arms against her chest and raised an eyebrow in waiting.

"bed time?" "eight on weekdays, eight thirty on weekends or if she's been at her dads or your parents because she needs time to settle down before she can sleep but never later than nine especially on a school night."

"night routine?" "it tires her out to help with making dinner or keeping herself occupied with something that isn't just tv before she eats. but dinner first and at the table, one episode of something, bath, her cup of tea which is really just warm milk with a spoon of honey in it, book, bed."

"favourite foods?" "anything with carbs, nothing thats orange, no soda's from a can but its fine from the soda stream. she'll eat broccoli if the stalks trimmed but not if it isn't, she will only eat peas if they're seperate from everything else on her plate. she smothers everything in tomato sauce so you have to pour it for her or else she drowns the meal, she claims not to like cheese but if you hide it in something she doesn't notice."

alessia grinned happily at the look of shock and surprise which you made no move to hide at her answers, nailing every single one as she waved for you to continue and your eyes narrowed slightly.

"allergies?" "latex and peanuts, there’s an epipen in bella’s backpack and in your cupboard under the sink and in the bathroom vanity just in case. she doesn't have asthma but you carry a puffer around because when the seasons change and the airs a bit full of dust or pollen she can get random coughing fits."

your eyebrows shot up again as alessia's grin softened into a smile, reaching out for your hands in her own.

"i also know first aid, cpr, all the emergency numbers, you keep your parents numbers and bens parents numbers on a little card on the fridge. i know that the easiest way to calm her down if she's having big feelings is to rationalize them but not patronize her because she likes to feel cared for but she's quite independent. the easiest way to get her to eat if she claims she isn't hungry is to feed the monster in her tummy who she's called frankie, she cannot go anywhere without harvey and she always sleeps in one of your shirts even though she has pyjamas of her own." alessia rattled off flawlessly without missing a beat as you sat shell shocked into silence.

"how did you-" "i told you, i pay attention." alessia promised with a soft smile, squeezing your hands as her rings felt cold against your warm skin. "i know this is a lot but your friends babysit her too right? we're...friends. it wouldn't need to be anything more than that to her." alessia spoke a little more unsure now as you nodded to reassure her she was right.

"well you're very impressive superstar, just…give me a day to think it all over."

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marvel-vision · 26 days

Text

Don’t Blame Me

After a bad game, Alexia lets her anger get the best of her and blames you for it

you guys wanted angst - here’s angst

You wince internally when Alexia whacks the grass with her hand, the shot she just missed could have been the equaliser Barça had been desperate to get. You can practically see her scolding herself by the way she briefly closes her eyes and pinches her nose, the whistle from the ref announcing the end of the game. Barça lost.

You know how Alexia gets after these games, it’s always one out of two things. She’ll either ask you if she can take you apart and get the frustration out until she feels better, or she’ll want you to join her for a nice relaxing bath and be held by you so she can soak in the comfort you provide. With how important this game was and how pissed off but especially disappointed Alexia seems, you’re pretty sure it will be option number two today.

You’re used to Alexia being quiet on the way home, silent as she ponders the game and thinks about how they all - and specifically she - could have improved. You let her, having long gotten used to her normal routine after a rough match.

The first time you notice something is different - is wrong, is when you both get out of the car and walk towards the house and she almost slams the front door into your face with how quick she enters and moves to shut it again. She’s careless as she slips her shoes off and kicks them to the side, steps hurried as she just leaves her bag where it is and goes to the bedroom. You’re a bit confused for a moment at the sudden anger after she had just looked deflated a few minutes ago and decide to simply unload the bag for now, hoping she’ll have calmed down a notch once you’re done.

After starting the washing machine with her kit and some other things that need to be washed, you grab her electrolytes drink from the kitchen and move towards the bedroom. You make sure to knock, unsure if she might want to be alone for a moment. She doesn’t answer so you go inside, Alexia huddled underneath her blanket with her head barely even sticking out.

“Ale?”

She doesn’t react when you call out, blank stare fixed on the wall as she’s probably recounting the mistake she has made earlier.

“I brought you your drink. You should re- hydrate.”

Still no reaction so you put it on the nightstand and reach out to her, intending on gently moving some of the blonde hair strands out of her face. Her hand suddenly shooting out from underneath the blanket and whacking yours away stops you as you realise that Alexia is in a mood you’ve never really seen before. Even when she gets mad at something she’s usually quite reserved, cussing and gesturing wildly for a moment but then it’s out and she’s fine and ready to accept your comfort. Apparently this isn’t the case for now with how harsh her next words are:

“Just leave.”

You’re honestly a bit miffed by how rudely she said it but bite your tongue, Alexia is certainly not in the mood for any criticism and you know how snappy she can get after a game. Normally not towards you and you’re not happy with her starting that now, though you push that thought to the side.

For your girlfriend, football is everything. It’s the reason she wakes up and eats healthy and exercises and takes care of herself and you know how much pride she takes in being part of Barça and also getting to play for the national team of Spain. So a loss will always hit her hard, specifically because she always feels as if she could have done better.

You’re so certain that this is what’s upsetting her, that you try again to comfort her a bit.

“You still have a second chance to win, it’s not over yet. And it wasn’t your fault, the game just-“

“It wasn’t my fault?” Alexia almost rips the blanket off of her with how fast she gets up, pacing the room now before she angrily whirls towards you again.

“Of course it was my fucking fault, I missed the shot that would have made it 1:1 and given us a chance to end the game in a draw at least.”

You try to reach out, want to comfort her with your touch like you so often do but Alexia steps back and instead raises her arm to point an accusing finger at you.

“I would have been better if you had not distracted me this entire time.”

You’re genuinely confused for a moment, not understanding where the sudden anger is coming from, specifically the anger at you.

“What?”

“If you hadn’t constantly kept me here for longer than necessary every morning, then I would have continued my routine and gone to training early so I can practice my shots on goal.” There’s an intensity in her eyes as she musters the you, the almost disgust she seems to have for you clearly visible. “And now look, I let myself be dragged down by you and this is what happens.”

She scoffs, uncrossing her arms as she moves across the room to the bedroom door, almost seemingly hurrying away from you and you barely hear the last words thrown your way.

“Fucking bullshit all of this.”

You realise quickly that she’s about to go, following her towards the front door where she’s angrily muttering to herself in rapid Spanish while pulling her shoes on before she grabs her keys. The sight of her taking her car keys is enough to make you want to try one last time to solve this without her going, your chest already constricting uncomfortably with the stress at her clear anger with you.

“Please don’t go, can we just talk about this? It’s just one game, you can catc-“

She scoffs again, a frosty look in her eyes as she musters you.

“To you it’s just a game. To me it’s everything. You might be happy not having any aspirations in life beyond going to work and going back home, sitting around on your couch all day. I don’t. I have a responsibility to my other teammates and to the fans and I let all of them down today, simply because you were being so needy. If you hadn’t constantly distracted me and kept my mind somewhere else then I would have been better prepared and we would have beaten them today.”

She shakes her head, covering her eyes with one hand for a moment and the next words are enough to make any protest die on your tongue:

“I should have never gotten together with you.”

With that, she’s gone. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her seems to echo for a moment as you can’t hear anything but your laboured breath and racing heart. Did she just break up with you? Would she even come back? She took her keys, if she’s driving with her car then she might just sleep over at her sister’s house, preparing for the breakup. Or maybe just trying to finally get away from you.

Your legs almost feel mechanic as you move towards the window which is facing towards the front of the house so you can check, over a minute having already passed. Alexia’s car is indeed gone.

Usually when she needs a moment during a fight she assures you that she’ll be right back, that she just has to take a breath for a second. And she’ll only ever go by foot, telling you to call her if you need anything.

She didn’t do any of that today, simply leaving and also using her car to drive. Probably so she can get more distance between you two.

It takes almost another minute of staring at the empty spot where her car usually parks until you realise the whole situation, your brain finally catching up with the ugly words she had thrown at your head.

She blames you. The whole time you had thought she was just struggling with the stress of the game and feeling responsible and that’s why she was so short with you, but no. She just blames you for it.

Your feet are beginning to get cold with how long you’ve been standing motionless in the hallway and only once the tears start to blur your vision do you finally realise that she probably had just broken up with you. Why else would she leave like that, specifically after she had said that she regrets ever getting into this relationship with you.

Since this is Alexia’s house anyway and you’re not officially moved in you know that it’s probably inappropriate for you to stay here any longer. You just have some things of yours scattered here anyway since you two love spending time together every opportunity you get. Or at least you had thought so.

Your thoughts are circling around her words while you start to walk from room to room and grab your stuff. Your toothbrush in the bathroom along with your shampoo, conditioner and shower gel and some skincare, then your charger and your headphones on the living room table. You also get the very few clothes you left at her house, usually preferring to put her stuff on anyway.

Meanwhile you go through every moment these past weeks you two had spent with each other. Had you really stopped her from training? You had never told her to stay in bed or attempted to keep her in any other way. Sure you might have cuddled up to her when she was about to leave but that wasn’t really a conscious choice since you were still mostly asleep during that. And she also could have easily pushed you off if she had really wanted to go. Right?

You also hadn’t stopped her from watching the matches of opponents over and over. Most nights were filled with sitting on the sofa in her arms while she occasionally scribbled something onto the paper. You had never really done anything to keep her from doing that, even though you would have liked to spend some more time together where she wasn’t busy with football.

All in all you wouldn’t say that you had ever been the huge issue and had stood in her way of achieving her goals - but Alexia apparently thought so and that stung. Maybe she had already felt it for quite a while and now the truth had finally slipped out, a thought that made you even sadder. Had she just been annoyed with you this entire time and had hoped that you might go home so she doesn’t have to deal with you?

Whatever it was, she had made pretty clear that you weren’t welcome here anymore, so - eyes still awfully blurry and one shoulder hurting a bit from the weight of all of your things in your handbag - you took the necklace with the little A off of you and placed it onto the kitchen table.

Alexia had gotten it for you only a few weeks after you two had started dating. That had been months ago now and you had never, not once, taken it off. The happy smile on your girlfriend’s face whenever she saw you wearing had been priceless.

You tried not to look around too much while putting on your shoes, not wanting to make yourself even sadder by finalising that this would probably be the last time you had entered her home and apparently also the last time you had seen Alexia.

You only hesitated for a moment before opening the door, stepping through. And with a heavy heart but certain that she would prefer if you were gone, you closed it behind you again, walking back towards your own home.

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marvel-vision · 1 month

Note

Actually maybe but definitely in love with this.

omggg for aitana she's such a cutie, could you do one where reader and aitana are bffs and like dared to kiss at team bonding or bc of any other reason idk ahshs (aitana isn't sure abt her sexuality) and then after that aitana tries to find excuses to keep kissing reader. thank youuu love ur writing!!

Dares and Kisses

BIGGEST thank you to @leahswife for not only the request but also for literally carrying me through it with her ideas on how to continue it when I got lost halfway through 💓💓

i should be burned at the stick for how long it took me to write this, i apologise 🙏🏻

pure fluff :)

Aitana’s hands were shaky as she tried to ignore the chants of everyone else to finally kiss you. What was supposed to be a relaxing team night had just turned into something entirely else as Mapi had insisted that they needed to play truth or dare.

She should have known not to pick dare, seeing the mischievous glint in Mapi’s eyes when she had called up Aitana. But she still painfully remembered the last time where she had picked truth and Pina had asked her for her crush. She had tried to lie and say she didn’t have one - the dark blush on her cheeks causing nobody to believe her and since then she wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Lying had never been her strong suit so she had gone with dare this time - unknowingly walking right into the trap of Mapi and Cata who were very certain that you were her crush.

You two were best friends but suspiciously close, even for Spanish best friends. Aitana had denied again and again that there was anything going on between the two of you but the others didn’t believe her. So, obviously not able to stay out of it, Mapi immediately dared her to kiss you - at least for 5 seconds. You had rolled your eyes at the chants but you didn’t look put off and when Aitana reached out for you to tug you closer to her, you willingly went. So, knowing that a refusal would make everyone even more suspicious - or worse: hurt your feelings - which she really couldn’t live with, she decided to just go through with it.

The chanting from the others drowned out when she got closer to your face, trying to keep her breathing even as she pressed her lips to yours. For a moment the only thing she could notice was the warmth of your lips and how impossibly soft they felt. When she deepened the kiss and pressed closer to you it got even better, the soft gasp from you tempting her to slide her tongue into your mouth.

Though she was stopped by the loud whistle from someone, probably Lucy, before she got that far, pulling away from you with flushed cheeks.

Aitana had thought about maybe being into women quite a few times, taking quizzes about her sexuality only to be unable to answer the main question of every single one of these: ‘Have you ever been romantically interested in a woman?’

She would always be uncertain what her actual completely honest response was. Sure, her eyes would linger a bit too long on you when you would change after a shower in training. And yes, maybe she looked over to you first after she had made a joke to see if you found it funny. She couldn’t deny that her heart did something weird every time you smiled at her, your true bright smile, that she wanted to see as often as possible.

But this was all just because she was very fond of you, right? And of course she was, you had become her closest friend when you had transferred to Barcelona a year ago, you two spending almost every single day together. Obviously she would enjoy your presence and like seeing you happy - that’s what a good best friend does.

Her frantic thoughts got interrupted by the protests of Mapi, insisting that this hadn’t been a five seconds kiss. If Aitana was honest, the reason she immediately gave in and reached out to tug you into another kiss was definitely not because she was so intent on proving that she wouldn’t back down from a dare - she literally couldn’t care less right now whether Mapi thought that the kiss had only been 3 and a half seconds or not.

It was the prospect of kissing you again which was just too tempting and so she only checked your face for a second, looking if you had any protests before pressing her lips to yours again. This time was even better, Aitana being a bit bolder and wasting no time to pull you more against her - though she was still holding back as to not overwhelm you. After all you two were just friends, right?

She didn’t even count the seconds, just fully letting herself enjoy the kiss as her hands tangled a bit in your hair, trying her best to seem unbothered when she finally pulled away, missing the knowing look Keira and Lucy gave each other at the very obvious way Aitana had enjoyed that kiss.

You weren’t unaffected either, cheeks flushed and your scalp still tingling from where Aitana had buried her hand in it. You hadn’t expected her to be so bold about it, having thought that she’d just give you a quick peck - definitely not that she’d even kiss you a second time.

Both of you avoided each others gazes for the rest of the game but you did stay next to each other for the remainder of the night and when it was time to watch movies Aitana pulled you into her side like she always did. Only so you’d be more comfortable of course, no other reason.

She was relieved when you didn’t seem any different than usual towards her, laying your head on her shoulder and sharing the blanket with her. For a moment she had been scared that the second kiss might have been too much but you seemed undeterred - unknowingly to her, both of your guys thoughts were circling around it.

Aitana internally knew she was fucked when she couldn’t fall asleep that night in her bed, continuing to try her best to reimagine the feeling of your lips on hers. She wasn’t able to stop herself from hoping that another chance would present itself to kiss you again - trying to halt that thought as quickly as she could. She wasn’t into her best friend, she couldn’t be. You wouldn’t want her anyway. She wasn’t even sure if you were straight or not, having not seen you in a relationship at all since you two had met - and neither had she been. The realisation that nobody else had been interesting enough for her to date after she had met you was enough for her to be unable to sleep the entire night, tossing and turning as she tried to make sense of this new feeling and the impending doom that she might have fallen for her own best friend.

You noticed the next few days that something had changed after the kiss, as much as you had not wanted it to. Though it wasn’t really a bad thing because instead of pulling away and being weirded out like you had halfway feared would happen - you instead were met with an even clingier Aitana than usual. The girls love language had always been physical touch, her hand casually reaching for yours, hugging people left and right - especially you - and sitting so close that your legs were touching at all times.

Now, she was basically glued to your side, the big brown eyes you had come to love so much seemed to be on you the entire day now as Aitana watched your every move on the pitch in awe. You were a good player, she knew that. But the fascination for you that she had always attributed to you simply being very talented, was now slowly showing to be an actual interest in you. The way the sun would hit your face as you laughed and tried to defend the ball from Mapi who kept making various attempts to to take it from you or how your eyes met hers, you almost seemingly getting shy for a moment and she could swear there was a faint blush on your cheeks. It was adorable to see.

Though the majority of her attention was now focused on your lips whenever you were close enough. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she had kissed you just a few days ago, finding herself wanting to do it again and trying to remember the exact feeling of your soft lips on hers or the feeling of her hands in your silky hair.

The issue was that she couldn’t come up with a solid excuse to get a chance to kiss you again. The closest she could get was giving you an excited kiss to your cheek when you scored during the little mini game you often played at the end of training. She didn’t see that the action made you blush, the physical closeness to Aitana wasn’t anything new but her hands grabbing your face to keep it in place for the cheek kiss sent a short reminder through you what her hands had felt like buried in your hair for a real kiss from her. Thankfully the brunette was distracted by Mapi and Pina immediately whistling from behind, Mapi going as far as yelling at you two to just get married. You ignored it but could feel the heat on your face get worse while Aitana grabbed the ball and send it flying back towards the both of them.

For your teammates it was obvious that you both liked it each other - for the two of you not so much. As badly as Aitana had wanted to kiss you, she couldn’t just reveal all her feelings that she was still kind of in denial about and risk her friendship with you over this. Therefore she stayed silent, pining over you from afar and as close as she could get.

The next chance to kiss you thankfully presented itself on New Year’s eve just about two weeks later. It wasn’t the best excuse but when Aitana showed up next to you when the clock was almost showing midnight and asked if you’d be fine with a new year’s kiss you were quick to agree. She thought it was simply because you were just relaxed from the bit of alcohol and also because you two were close anyway - what was one more kiss. She didn’t realise that you’d been longing for another chance to kiss her as well, the looks you threw her when you thought no one was looking were obvious to everyone but the two of you.

When the countdown started you could feel Aitana slip her hand around your back, the dress that was clinging to your curves was thin enough that you could feel her body warmth as she stepped closer. You couldn’t help but lean into her, the small smile on her face as you looked over was enough to send your heart into a frenzy again - or maybe it was how she slowly got closer to you, her free hand moving up and tilting your head more towards her. Neither of you even heard the cheers as it struck midnight, the music from the party and the general darkness hiding what you two were doing in plain sight as Aitana closed the last few centimetres and pressed her lips against yours.

A new year’s kiss was usually supposed to be quite short, maybe just a peck even - at least if you’re not a couple. And you and Aitana most certainly aren’t. Still, she couldn’t help but use the chance to indulge herself a bit, not resisting the urge to pull you closer to her. When you practically melted against her chest she could swear she also heard a small moan as she let her tongue dart out a bit to touch your lips.

If Mapi hadn’t suddenly stumbled into the both of you, Aitana would have definitely used her chance to do some other things to you, intrigued by the little soft gasp she had heard and felt before she separated from you. You were incredibly grateful for Ingrid who was quick to pull you into her arms to celebrate as you tried to calm your absolutely racing heart down again.

Neither of you spoke about the kiss again, though you were both constantly thinking about it. Apart from the kiss the night was also burned into your brain because of the dress Aitana had been wearing, the sleeveless look making the hours she spent in the gym every single day apparent and it had sent your mind reeling. You had long given up on trying to tell yourself that this was just a harmless little crush on a friend, knowing that you had most definitely fallen hard and deep for your best friend - not aware that Aitana had realised the exact same thing about you.

Only three days after this was another team bonding night at Paños house - the one you had also spent your New Years celebration at. You were a bit too early - especially since most of the Spanish girls were fashionably late as per usual, so you helped a bit with the last preparations before going to wash your hands for a moment in the bathroom. A look in the mirror sent your mind back to the party a few days ago, where you had stumbled in here after a few too many drinks, your lips still tingling at the sheer memory of Aitana’s kiss earlier.

The door bell ringing pulled you out of your thoughts as you went and opened, trying your hardest not to immediately blush at the sight of the girl you had just been thinking about. It was difficult not to, Aitana’s hair was open and her typical bright smile on her face as she gave you a hug - one that lasted quite a bit longer than necessary. You were just about to lead her to the living room to tell Paños who had arrived when she abruptly stopped in the middle of the doorstep, a shy smile on her face.

You didn’t get it at first, confused on why she looked so bashful - until she gently titled your head up.

There was still one of the mistletoes hung up.

It had been a joke for New Years - though you had certainly ensured not to step under it with anyone until everybody in the room was too busy to insist for a kiss. The only person you had sometimes secretly wished for to catch you underneath was standing right in front of you now, a slight blush coating her cheeks as she tried to gauge your reaction. Unbeknownst to you Aitana had specifically asked Paños to keep it up until the team dinner, incredibly thankful that the older woman simply sent her a smirk and hopefully not told anyone else about it - she wouldn’t survive the teasing from the team who all knew exactly who Aitana wanted to kiss so badly again.

Your cheeks reddening as well gave her enough confidence to reach out and grab your face though Aitana waited a second to confirm you didn’t mind before she pressed her lips to yours again. It was even better than the other two times, nobody around to watch for once and Aitana therefore quite bold as she gently pushed you back against the doorway, cradling your head with her hand so you wouldn’t knock it against the wood upon impact.

This was supposed to be an innocent little mistletoe kiss but Aitana had been literally thinking non stop about getting another chance of kissing you and therefore she was not holding back this time. You could feel her tongue swipe over your lower lip, easily allowing her access as you let your own hands wander almost shamelessly over Aitana’s chiseled body.

The sound of the doorbell ringing brought you two out of it again, the brunette in front of you pulling back with bright red cheeks as she smoothed over your hair which she had just messed up.

You could hear Paños footsteps coming closer from the other bathroom she had apparently been in, quickly trying to make yourself look insuspicious by slipping out from in between the doorway and Aitana’s body that had trapped you against it. Though before you could go to the front door to open it, she grabbed your hand.

“Would you, uhm” you wouldn’t have thought it possible but she was actually blushing even harder now, trying to keep looking at you as she fidgeted slightly under your curious gaze.

“Would you go out on a date with me maybe? Not as friends- I mean of course still as friends, you’re still my friend, my best friend even but maybe - only if you want of course, absolutely no pressure-“

You shut the rambling up by pressing your lips against hers for a second time that day, leaving Aitana with a slightly dazed but very happy smile on her face when you pulled away after a few seconds.

“I’d love to.”

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marvel-vision · 1 month

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (7/?)

Part summary: Six weeks later, Leigh decides to throw herself a birthday party.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.600+ | Warnings : None | Author's Note: Just a reminder that this doesn't strictly follow canon events. Borrowed some elements from the actual birthday episode, but it's going to go very differently for us :) Enjoy!

Six weeks later

“Hey! Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Leigh’s mom calls out from the kitchen as Leigh hurries down the stairs. She runs straight into Amy’s arms, a ball of energy, drawing bewildered looks from her mom and sister. Ever since Matt died, they are used to Leigh either being too quiet or too snarky. Today, of all days, they were expecting her to be something else much worse. But it seems they're mistaken as Leigh turns to Jules, yanks her in close, and kisses her hair.

Jules and Amy share a look. To say this as an interesting development would be an understatement. It's her birthday—her first one without Matt, who had been at the heart of her celebrations for the last decade. They hope Leigh finds some happiness, truly, but these past several months have taught them to temper their expectations.

They keep their silent exchange to themselves, watching as Leigh picks up a croissant and takes a heart bite out of it, her face lit up with the widest smile. “Happy birthday,” Jules grins, pushing a small envelope towards Leigh. “Got something for you.”

“Thank you!” Leigh exclaims. She eagerly opens the envelope to find a bunch of homemade coupons, each promising some sort of favor from Jules, good for the next year. They range from “Will listen to your rants for 30 minutes, no interruptions” to “I will restart the book club you tried to get me and mom to do and actually read the books this time.”

Laughing, Leigh flips through them. “These are brilliant, Jules. Might have to use one today,” she says, already thinking about which one she'll cash in first. Then, she pulls Jules in a bear hug, as if it’s the most exquisite present she’s ever gotten in her lifetime.

“You okay?” Leigh asks when she notices Amy staring at her.

Jules gives their mom a warning look as Amy struggles to come up with a response. “Nothing, I just… I didn’t think you’d be doing quite so well today. That’s all.”

“I didn’t either but we all make choices and I’m choosing to have a great birthday. So, let’s do this thing!” Leigh says in a manner that Jules feels too over the top. Amy starts laying out the plans for the evening and Leigh has a blank look by the time she finishes running them through it.

“I think I want a party,” Leigh announces. It’s met with astonishment, as if it’s the last thing her family’s expecting to hear.

“You do?” Amy.

“A party?” Jules.

Leigh isn’t perturbed by their reactions. “I do. I want a party,” she confirms. She delights at the dumb look on their faces as she reiterates, “Tonight. I want a big party.”

“You’re not having a big party.”

Danny calls her up the minute he gets her Facebook invite. He's partly furious about receiving the invite through Facebook, given that they’re “kind of seeing each other”, and partly incredulous because he couldn’t believe she’s making plans on her birthday without considering the fact that they are “kind of seeing each other”.

Leigh, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she flips through a recipe book on her kitchen counter, rolls her eyes so hard she worries they might stick that way.

“Well, yes, Danny, that's exactly what I'm doing,” she fires back matter-of-factly.

Danny's frustration simmers on the other end of the line. He had already made plans, not bothering to consult Leigh because he assumed that their day would be spent together—privately, just the two of them.

“You didn’t think I’d have something planned?” he asks, more hurt than angry.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because we’re dating, Leigh,” he says, appalled that he needs to remind her. Leigh takes a second, biting her lip. Maybe it was a bit inconsiderate that she didn’t consider Danny when she impulsively decided she wanted a big celebration. But that flicker of guilt is short lived.

After all, she couldn’t remember the last time she’s actually excited for something, the last time she thought, I deserve to be happy.

“Yeah, well, I can still do what I want, Danny,” she retorts.

“Now you’re acting like a child,” he snaps.

Leigh feels a flash of anger, then something else—determination. “Maybe so. Come to the party or not, I don’t care. I'm going to have fun, Danny, with or without you.”

“Fine. Just don’t—”

Leigh doesn’t let him finish. With a press of a button, the call ends, his words cut off mid-sentence. Too often, she’s been criticized for not always following through with her declarations, but it's a different game when she's out to prove something.

Drew steps carefully around a minefield of clothes and makeup scattered on the floor to get to Leigh. She's curled up over her laptop, one leg propped on the chair, chin on her knee, in a posture that makes Drew wince. “For a fitness instructor, you're not exactly a poster child for back health,” he says, announcing himself to his best friend.

Leigh's head snaps up at Drew's voice, but instead of annoyance, a smirk quickly spreads across her face. “Good thing I'm not a fitness instructor anymore, then,” she says. Then she turns her attention back to her laptop as if he’s not there. Drew moves to sit on the edge of her bed, flops down on it like a ragdoll and stares at the cobwebs on the corners of the ceiling.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Leigh,” he says.

Leigh is unphased, keeps typing. Then, as if she’s just heard his remark, mutters a distracted, “What have I been doing?”

“Avoiding. You've been avoiding writing about anything that's even remotely related to love or grief,” Drew says.

This time, Leigh stops typing. She sighs, a long, drawn-out exhale that seems to carry the weight of the world. “I’m busy, Drew. This gig is eating up all my time.”

After leaving the Beautiful Beast, she took on a part-time job as a remote project manager. With Matt gone, she's left to deal with the debts they racked up together. She loved her studio job, really did, and wasn't fazed by the slim paycheck because it helped her mom out. Being surrounded by family has been a huge support (despite her occasional squabbles with Jules), but she knows she'll need to move out on her own again at some point. Ultimately, the pressing need for financial stability has pushed her to seek out better-paying opportunities.

Drew straightens up, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. “Bullshit.”

Leigh looks over her shoulder at him with mild irritation. “What do you want me to say, Drew?”

“You're meeting your weekly quota on other topics,” he points out. “Makes me wonder if bringing you back to the advice column was…premature.”

It sounds like a threat, but coming from him, she understands it as an early warning in case the senior editor begins to notice the issue. Leigh smiles thinly, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why does it even matter which topics I choose to engage with? First off, I'm collaborating with other writers now; it's not entirely my show anymore. Secondly, I've been doing a good job—”

“A great job, actually.”

Leigh tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. “So, what's the problem?”

“They're expecting you to lead on those topics because you've lived through them. They're looking for more authenticity in the pieces,” Drew explains.

Leigh looks out the window, seemingly lost in thought, then shakes her head slightly. “What, you want me to write about how I started picking fights left and right after Matt died? Do you want me to detail my attempts at fixing his depression, as if it were as manageable as setting a broken bone?”

“You don’t have to delve into the most personal details.”

“It can’t be authentic if it’s not personal,” Leigh sneers.

“Just think about it, okay?” Drew presses, a little desperately.

Leigh chews on the inside of her cheek, mulling it over. There's a whole part of her story she hasn't even touched on with him—the string of one-night stands with Danny, the way she's snapped at anyone who dared to disagree with her in the past few weeks. She's been on edge, not really liking the person she's been, and the thought of putting that version of herself out there for everyone to see is nothing short of humiliating.

As a writer, she knows what to say, the same way a psychologist would know what to do even if they don’t need to have all sorts of human experience to help someone in every situation. But she also questions her right to preach behavior to others when she's far from having it all figured out herself. Regardless of her indecision, she knows Drew’s not going to drop it until she at least tells him she’ll consider.

“Fine,” she says, with a nod. “I'll sift through the inbox and tackle the ones I feel up to.”

“There you go, that's my girl,” Drew says, visibly relaxing. But then, a moment later, he feels a stab of guilt for showing up mostly because of work. It's been a while since they've hung out, their usual brunch dates falling through one after the other, and their daily chats have shriveled up to a few messages a week, with mostly just memes from Leigh that Drew hardly ever acknowledges. Eventually, Leigh just stopped sending them.

Drew fidgets, avoiding eye contact for a second before it dawns on him—he hasn't just been busy; he's been dodging Leigh on purpose ever since he popped the question to his partner. He was worried Leigh wouldn’t take the news well, considering the things she’s been going through. But if he’s being brutally honest with himself, a part of him just didn't want her grief to dampen his excitement. He was worried her sadness might dampen his spirits, and in a bid to preserve his own happiness, he’d left her out in the cold. He hadn't stopped to think that maybe he owed Leigh more than just her column.

“So, uh, how’s it going?” Drew asks cautiously.

“It’s going,” Leigh offers. Heartfelt talks aren't their thing, so Leigh decides to brush it off fast. “By the way, I'm throwing a birthday party for myself.” It comes out a bit more cheerfully than she feels.

“A party? That's great, Leigh!” Drew exclaims. “And hey, if you need help setting up or anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah,” she forces a smile, not as enthusiastic as she was about the idea at breakfast. “It's tonight, though. You're coming, right? And bring anyone fun you know.”

“Wow, OK,” Drew nods before his face morphs into a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, is this where you're planning to hard launch your new relationship? At your party?”

Leigh’s eyes sharpen into slits. “You know about Danny?”

“Jules told me,” he says.

Rolling her eyes, Leigh retorts, “Let me guess, she told you so you'd join the haters club?”

“Nah,” Drew shrugs, his smile bright and sunny. “Danny's okay, I guess. If you're happy, I'm happy.”

She hasn’t been not happy lately. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it sure beats being on her own. So maybe she is—or at least, on her way.

“Thanks, Drew,” she murmurs thoughtfully.

Drew makes himself comfy, chin in hand, looking like he's all set for one of their marathon catch-ups. "So, how did you and Danny even start? Tell me everything."

Leigh's trunk is a one-can band, banging and clanging with every turn. Her groceries create a beat, something to fill in the lack of sound in her car. It’s how she drives these days—in utter silence. Before, she wouldn't even think of heading out without the perfect playlist, which often took her an extra five to fifteen minutes after settling into the driver's seat. But these days, as soon as the key is in the ignition, she twists it and takes off, not even waiting for the car to warm up.

Organizing a party by herself (with Jules' indispensable assistance, of course) and extending invites to her entire Facebook friends list has turned into quite the ruse. She's seasoned enough to temper her expectations—knowing well that not everyone who RSVP'd “yes” will show, and that some who didn't bother to RSVP might just surprise her by showing up. So, she's stocked up on as much food as her sedan can hold.

While Leigh's mind wanders to what snacks to whip up and what sauces to pair them with, she accidentally ends up on a lane that forces a left turn instead of going straight. This little misstep means she's got to take the scenic route home, which, by pure coincidence, takes her right past your clinic's street.

Her heartbeat quickens, though it shouldn't. There's no reason for it. She hasn't seen you in a month, not since the night she made a bold declaration on her bedroom door.

Leigh never planned on actually liking you as a person. Initially, her motive was purely to get a closer look, to dissect what it was about you that caught Matt's eye, what you possessed that she lacked. However, the answer to that mystery didn't remain elusive for long after spending a little time with you. You had this kindness about you, soft and easy, something Leigh’s always found just out of her reach. She prides herself on being decent enough but next to you, she feels a bit more like sandpaper to your silk.

Matt was like that too—gentle, easygoing. Leigh is well aware of her own rough edges, her sharp corners that don't quite align with Matt's smoother ones—and, by extension, yours. You and Matt had more in common than just interests; you both saw and reacted to the world in similar ways. Finding out that you and Matt were alike in important ways, in ways she wasn't, is something she's still learning to cope with.

As she nears your clinic, her eyes instinctively search it out, a habit she can't seem to break.

This time, her timing is impeccable; just as she glides by, you step outside with a puppy in your arms, licking your face all over. You catch sight of her car from a distance, and you couldn’t stop the surprise that flashes across your face. As she drives past, you give her a little wave, puppy still in tow. Leigh cracks a small smile, then throws on her aviators, maybe trying to hide a bit more than her eyes. She sneaks one last look in the rearview, catching you watching her car disappear down the street before you head back into the clinic.

As soon as she gets home and is safely out of the car, she opens her messages.

The last text you sent her says, “I'm sorry. I hope we can still be friends,” sent three days after the encounter in her bedroom. She didn't respond to it, and you didn't push any further or impose yourself on her.

She wishes she had at least reacted with a heart or sent a smiley face to your message. Maybe then, inviting you to her party tonight wouldn’t feel so awkward. Nevertheless, she manages to type out a quick invite and extends to you the courtesy of bringing a plus one, someone you believe would be good company.

Your response arrives within five seconds of her hitting send.

“Thank you, I'll be sure to drop by :)” - Y/N

Satisfied, Leigh sets her phone aside. Now, she can focus on making those Deviled eggs.

The dress she's pulled from Jules's closet is a bold choice: deep black with a plunging neckline and a hem that flirts with daring. It's sexy, but not quite Leigh's usual style—and that's exactly why she loves it. It clings to her in all the right places, promising a confidence that Leigh isn't entirely sure she feels. Her hair, which is normally pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, hangs loose and wavy. She tops off her outfit with a slick of red lipstick and layers of dark eyeliner.

With about an hour to spare before her guests are due to arrive, Leigh decides it's the perfect time to follow through on a promise she made to Drew. She logs into the shared inbox of the advice column she co-manages with two other writers at Basically News. Leigh scrolls through the submissions, Drew’s words playing on repeat in her head. He had a point. Maybe people don't always need the right answers—answers she hardly uses herself. Perhaps what they really need is someone to affirm what they're already feeling, to say it's okay to follow their gut, to be themselves.

She reads an interesting entry from one EspressoEyes:

“Do you think it's too much for me to give a puppy to this woman I like? I'm not even sure she likes me back (or like me in general 😣), but it's her birthday, and I feel like a puppy could be exactly what she needs at this moment.”

Leigh reads the message, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Personally, she muses, she'd welcome a puppy from just about anyone. But that's just her, especially with the rollercoaster of a year she's had—she's at a point where the gesture, no matter who it comes from, would be a welcome slice of joy.

Thinking it over, she starts replying, “A puppy is a big gesture—it can be an overwhelming gift for some. It might even be seen as too forward, especially in certain relationships.Yet, a gift is a gift. Sometimes, you need to just go for it, without apologies. If her feelings don't align, she'll let you know. She has to, because giving a puppy is essentially a love declaration, in case you hadn't realized. And who knows? She might feel the same about you. Just make sure she's actually up for the responsibility of a pet. They're for life, not just for birthdays.”

She signs off with her pen name—Gigi Herrel—a clever anagram of her name as it would have been had she taken Matt's last name in marriage: Leigh Greer. Though it never quite felt like her own. She only used it when she came back to Basically News in obeisance to his passing. Drew has granted her the autonomy to publish her responses without his oversight (“Just make sure your grammar is perfect,” he said), so Leigh doesn’t think twice before publishing her response.

Leigh moves on to browse through other submissions, this time, on those related to marriage and loss—the very subjects she promised Drew she would tackle. She’s been in those shoes, still feels like she's wearing them. With a deep breath, she clicks on one and dives right into it. Her first attempt at a response feels inadequate, prompting her to hit delete and start anew. This process repeats itself, one draft after another, until she has five versions sitting in front of her, none of which feel right. With a huff, she deletes them all.

Just then the doorbell rings, pulling her out of her advice-column vortex. Leigh glances around, momentarily disoriented. It takes her a moment to recall that there's a party happening downstairs, and she's meant to be enjoying herself.

She’s halfway down the stairs when Jules's eyes land on her. Leigh freezes, as if she’s been caught red-handed. “I…couldn’t find the coupon for borrowing your clothes.”

Jules just smirks and arches an eyebrow, taking in Leigh in her dress. “Oh please, as if I ever keep track. Besides, that was just gathering dust after my ‘slutty Halloween phase’ as you so lovingly called it.”

“Cool! Perfect!” Leigh says, ignoring the backhanded comment. Her focus immediately turns to the front door as another guest arrives. “Hey, Dad!” she calls out.

Leigh’s dad walks in with his partner, and she greets them with a warmth that's been rare these days. He hands her a large, beautifully wrapped box. Leigh grasps the gift with both hands, shaking it gently, much like a child on Christmas morning. She’s thanking them when an old friend from high school she hasn’t seen in forever walks through the door, a bottle of wine in hand. Her mom swoops in like a hawk, reminding everyone it's a dry party in support of Jules's sobriety, and the wine is swiftly traded for a mocktail.

For the next hour, the house fills up. Leigh finds herself out back, tending to snacks, when a small line of people forms to chat with her. They each ask if she’s doing okay, their condolences tucked neatly between cheerful birthday wishes. Leigh’s smiling, but it's so fake even she is not buying it, mentally blacklisting half of these people for next time.

Just when the parade of condolence callers is beginning to fray her patience, one of her actual favorite humans finally shows up, saving her mood from souring completely. Drew looks striking in a simple black polo shirt, so much so that it reminds Leigh of the time Matt got all jealous over him, until Leigh let him in on the secret that he plays for the other team.

He passes her a little envelope, his birthday offering—a gift card. Leigh’s barely expressed her thanks over the simple present when he jumps right into feedback on her latest advice column.

“Read your puppy counsel on my way here. It felt a bit... casual, don’t you think?”

Leigh smirks up at him, arms crossed, the gift card crinkling between her forearms. “Just say it's terrible advice if that's what you mean.”

Drew purses his lips before relenting. “Fine. It was terrible advice.”

“Expect more of that if I tackle the stuff I’ve been avoiding. Still think it’s a good idea?” Leigh says, nodding like it’s exactly what she wants to hear. Drew lets out a sigh, swiftly steering the conversation away before their playful banter escalates into a disagreement. With Leigh, he knows all too well that the edge of an argument is always closer than it seems.

“Anyway, happy birthday, again,” he says, trying to lighten the mood again. “Ryan's tied up with work stuff, totally wiped, but he did wish you a happy birthday.”

Leigh’s face hardens slightly at the mention of Ryan. She’s been harboring this nagging thought that Ryan dislikes her, a suspicion fueled by a criticism she once shared with Drew in confidence, suspecting Drew might have passed it along. Drew, seeing her expression change, doesn’t rush to correct her assumption.

“He hates me,” Leigh concludes before Drew can even get a word out.

“He doesn’t—”

“What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have kept it between us?” she demands, feeling betrayed.

“Because Ryan’s my person. I tell him everything. That’s how being in a marriage works,” he says, but the moment he sees Leigh's face fall, he wishes he could retract those words.

Leigh bristles, her voice rising, “I know how being married works!”

She's livid, because that should go without saying. How dare he imply that she no longer knows, now that she's only half of a whole—her best friend, of all people.

Drew exhales coolly, as if trying to douse the proverbial fire between them. “Why does it seem like we're always either fighting or about to fight?” he wonders aloud.

Leigh’s anger softens into something more reflective, and she sighs, the fight draining out of her. “I don’t mean to...” She trails off, searching for the right words. “It’s like I’m always ready for a battle. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m expecting it, waiting for it, at the end of every day.”

Drew lets the moment breathe, waiting for both of them to deflate completely before tacitly reaching out behind Leigh for a snack. “These are great, by the way,” he says between bites, acting like they hadn’t just been at each other's throats.

Leigh tries to match Drew’s candidness, but inside, she’s reeling. It bothers her, this pattern they’ve fallen into—her temper flaring up, followed by a quick brush-off, as if these outbursts are merely now a part of who she is. She hates that she’s become predictable in her volatility, that her explosions are met with a shrug and a wait-out-the-clock mentality from those around her. She’s tired of it, tired of being seen as a ticking time bomb, her anger and hurt dismissed as just Leigh being Leigh, waiting for the reset button to be hit so the countdown can start all over again.

But it's her birthday, and she's brought these people together on a Tuesday night for fun. She didn't gather everyone just to tell them, once and for all, that they need to stop acting as if her husband just died.

So, she goes with the flow, laughing when it's her cue, even though deep down, she feels more alone in the crowd than ever.

With the absence of alcohol, the party winds down by 11 PM. Guests begin trickling out as early as 10, and by the time Leigh is bidding farewell to the last attendee, she's already donned an apron, ready to take on the mountain of dishes left behind.

Which is to say, showing up right now pretty much means you've missed the whole party.

Pulling up in front of Leigh's house, the night already deep into its quiet hours, you’re running on the adrenaline of the day's emergencies. Two cases back-to-back at the clinic, one of them diving straight into surgery, left you no choice but to push everything else to the side. Suzie, who was meant to join you as your plus one, ends up stuck back at work, tending to a recovering St. Bernard, so it's just you and the sleeping puppy on your lap now. For her sacrifice, you promise to take her out to a nice lunch one of these days.

The puppy starts wagging its tail in its sleep, and you look down with a smile at the little dreamer. The decision to give Leigh the puppy wasn't made lightly. You've been turning the idea in your mind for a while now. Initially, you didn't even realize her birthday was coming up, and the invitation to her party caught you off guard, especially considering the somewhat unresolved way things were left between you two weeks ago. The timing of her birthday, your rocky history, it all made you second-guess whether a puppy was a good idea. In search of a voice outside your own head, you turned to a favorite advice column you often read in your spare time. To your surprise, your submission was picked up by one of the columnists, and the response you got wasn't just advice; it was the push you needed. You were lucky to be able to catch their answer, just before you got home to change for Leigh’s birthday party.

Trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach, you give yourself a quick once-over in the rearview mirror and apply a fresh swipe of nude-colored lipstick. With one last look, you carefully step out of the car, the sleeping puppy nestled securely in your arms. The moment you move, it stirs, burrowing deeper into your armpit, seeking refuge from the light of the street lamps.

Everything's too quiet as you walk up to Leigh's house. You anticipated some noise, music or chatter—anything to indicate the party was in full swing. But there are none. Could you have missed the party? Or worse, did Leigh get the date wrong on her invite? Hesitantly, you press the doorbell, instantly regretting it, thinking you might be waking up the whole house.

Just as you're about to bail, the door swings open and it's Jules.

“Y/N!” Jules nearly trips over herself getting to you, eyes wide when she spots the furball you’re holding.

“Hi Jules,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Is that a…” she squeaks out, already reaching for a cuddle before you've even nodded. Jules is all over the puppy, who seems just as happy to be the center of attention. After a while, she looks up, a bit more composed but still glowing.

“I didn’t know Leigh invited you. Too bad, you just missed the party. But you should definitely come in and say hi to Leigh,” she says. You want nothing more than to see Leigh again, even if only for a brief moment, just to accomplish what you came here for and perhaps wish her a happy birthday. But with the party over and you potentially being the only guest, it feels like walking into a situation you don’t think you’re prepared enough for.

Then, as the puppy licks Jules' face off, she pauses and looks at you funny. It clicks for her—no collar, no leash, just you and this puppy who appear no more than two months old.

“Oh my gosh, is this for Leigh?” Jules gasps.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I-If she wants him.”

Jules looks at you, then at the puppy, her smile blinding. “Well, I want him. But if she doesn’t, I’ll be more than happy to be his mommy.”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. Still feeling skittish, you ask, “Do you think it’s an appropriate gift for Leigh?”

“You're a vet. It's kind of on-brand for you,” Jules quips.

You laugh again. “Really?” you ask, kind of hoping for a more solid reassurance.

Jules considers it for a second, before saying, “I can at least assure you it’s not unwanted.”

Good enough, you think. Jules hands you back the puppy and then says, “She’s in the kitchen. Look, she’s not exactly in a good mood, but I think you should go for it anyway.”

That’s two people egging you to go ahead with your surprise. It must be a sign from the universe. You make up your mind for the final time. “Thanks, Jules,” you say.

“Anytime.”

You tread lightly, making sure your footsteps don’t give you away as you approach the kitchen. Leigh is at the sink, doing the dishes, clad in a black dress that skims her thighs, her feet bare against the cool kitchen tiles. Her shoulders are slumped, her movements laconic, as if her body is there, but her mind is miles elsewhere. The expanse of skin revealed by her hair tied up in a high ponytail captivates you, holding you back from announcing your presence. You allow yourself a moment to take her in, thinking this might be the only chance you get to really look at her like this.

You’re about to say “Hi”, when Leigh whirls around, startling you both. Leigh, not expecting anyone to be there, loses her grip on the plate she's holding, and it smashes loudly against the floor.

“Jesus!” Leigh’s scream summons Jules and her mom into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you are trying to do damage control—holding the puppy with one hand and attempting to gather the ceramic shards with the other as Leigh continues to stare at you in shock.

Amy, wrapped in her robe, looks from the mess on the floor to you and then to Leigh. “What’s going on here?”

Jules is unfazed, simply watches the entire scene from a corner of the room, smirking.

Your cheeks flush with shame, and you find yourself grateful to be still seated on the floor, your back turned away from Leigh's family.

“I’m so—” you start, but Leigh cuts you off.

“Okay, everyone just...calm down," Leigh says. She kneels down beside you, her hands joining yours in cleaning up the broken pieces.

“I'm heading to bed,” Jules says and then winks at you. “Happy to see you, Y/N!”

Amy wraps her robe more snugly around herself, then with a small, puzzled shake of her head, says, “Well, good night everyone. And happy birthday again, sweetheart,” before she walks down the hall and out of sight. Leigh gets to her feet, a slight nod of appreciation directed your way as she holds open a trash bag for you to deposit the ceramic shards. That’s when the puppy finally catches her attention.

“And who's this little guy?” she asks, a smile starting to play at the corners of her mouth.

You clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. He’s yours if you want him. Don’t worry about refusing, there’s someone lined up to take him in case you’re not—”

But Leigh’s already gently taking the puppy from your arms, instantly cradling and bouncing him as though he’s a tiny human baby. It’s a sight both funny and utterly endearing, and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling your heart grow a size or two.

“Who wouldn't want him? He's perfect,” Leigh says, her eyes not leaving him as he nestles comfortably in her arms. Hearing those words, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. She doesn't find it odd; she's already falling for him.

“Happy birthday,” you tell her, and when she looks at you, her smile is so bright it could light up the whole night. Right there is everything you hoped for. All you really wanted was to see her happy.

“Thank you so much,” she murmurs, clutching the puppy tighter to her chest. Then, cocking her head to the side, she inquires, “What's his name?”

The grin on your lips can’t be helped, and you’re hoping she wouldn’t see just how much she’s having an effect on you. “I haven’t named him yet. He was always meant to be yours, Leigh,” you say.

Her smile just gets bigger as she gazes down at the little furball in her arms, and you think this is exactly how things were supposed to go down. It’s one of those rare moments where reality lines up perfectly with expectation.

“I think I’ll call him Logan.”

You and Leigh retire to the living room after she kindly offers to make you decaf. As you settle onto opposite ends of the couch, tucking your feet under you, Logan instinctively takes shelter in Leigh's lap, as if he already knows he belongs there.

“So…Why Logan?” you ask, after making a mental note of how Leigh makes her coffee: one cream, two sugars.

“Well,” Leigh says, her fingers gently stroking Logan’s deep chocolate fur, “he just looks like a little wolverine, doesn’t he? With that color and those defiant little eyes.”

The dots connect in a funny, unexpected sort of way. Leigh and comic books don't seem like the most likely pair.

“Ah, like the X-Men character. I didn’t know you were a comic book fan,” you say.

She laughs, a sound that’s light and free of any shadows. “Oh, I wasn’t. Not really. It was all Matt. He had this massive collection, and he was pretty obsessed. I guess some of it rubbed off on me after all.” The mention of Matt doesn’t bring clouds into her eyes like you expected. She talks about him like she’s looking at something distant but dear.

“Thought you were bailing on me tonight,” Leigh , almost casual but there’s this undercurrent, like she’s really saying she’s glad you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I got stuck at the clinic longer than expected.” Leaving her waiting, especially today, was never part of the plan. Your work as a vet often means unpredictable hours, but you hadn't expected it to stretch so far into the evening.

“It’s okay, you didn’t miss much.”

Her casual dismissal makes you wonder, but not wanting to pry too much, you shift slightly, asking, “So, how did it go? Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

Leigh simply smiles and shrugs, an action that speaks volumes without giving much away. “This,” she nods down at Logan, “getting him from you, feels more like my birthday than anything else today.”

The conversation that follows is easy, skipping over the day-to-day stuff—nothing deep, but you're both there—really there—and it's nice. It feels like a fresh start, and you're deeply thankful for the second chance she's offering you. You promise yourself you won't mess it up this time.

But just as you’re both delving into more personal topics, someone rings the doorbell. Logan perks up, his head tilted, ears alert. Leigh gives you a look, as if saying she's not expecting anyone else to show up this late at night. She puts the puppy down on the floor and when she opens the door, it’s Danny, looking sorry for himself. He’s holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It seems as though he has the whole evening planned out in his head—apologize, crack open the wine, and maybe be invited to Leigh’s bedroom afterwards.

Danny’s eyes find you and his face falls a bit. He wasn’t expecting company, certainly not you. “Leigh, can we talk?” he asks, then looks pointedly at you. “Alone?”

Leigh looks torn for a moment, glancing your way as if she's not ready to let you out of her sight. She insists it'll just be a minute, but you can read the room. This is something they need to sort out without you playing third wheel.

“It’s all good, I'll head out,” you tell her though you're staring Danny down, making sure he knows it’s not because of him that you’re leaving. Leigh either misses the whole glare-off or decides to stay out of it. Logan tries to follow you as you make for the door. It’s hard leaving him behind, but you know he’ll be happy to have found his forever home. You kneel down, giving Logan a soft kiss on the head, promising him you’ll be back soon. And then you turn to Leigh, a question at the tip of your tongue but she already knows what you’re going to ask.

“You can see Logan anytime,” she says with a faint smile. “I might need your help with him sooner than you think.”

The moment you close the door behind you, Leigh's jaw sets in a firm line, bracing herself to confront Danny. Her main priority is to get Logan settled, so she decides that forgiving Danny might be the quickest way to send him on his way. But Danny’s focus now isn’t on apologies or making it up to her. He’s fixated on Logan, his brows knitting together in confusion and, curiously, a bit of annoyance.

“Who gave you that?” he asks Leigh as if he’s just referring to an inanimate object lying around the house. He sounds like he's almost accusing her of something, and Leigh's baffled.

“A friend gave him to me,” she says, nodding towards the door you've just walked out of. Danny's face twists up in an instant, like a storm cloud bursting. “A friend,” he repeats, and the way he says it, it’s clear he’s not just asking. He’s fuming with jealousy, and Leigh can’t wrap her head around why.

A gift is just a gift, right? Why would…

Oh.

Earlier, while she was reviewing submissions for the advice column, someone asked if giving a puppy as a birthday gift to someone they're interested in would be a good idea. She remembers how she happily encouraged them, telling them to go for it.

At this realization, Danny, the puppy, and everything else slide to the back burner. The only thing occupying her mind now is the deep, dark brown hue of your eyes, like rich espresso.

EspressoEyes. That's how the person behind the submission signed off. It's like a lightbulb moment, but softer—like waking up slow.

It's you.

Oh.

367 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 1 month

Text

Golden Key To The Sweet Life - Alexia Putellas

It wasn't planned for this to be so long but I reaaally got carried away here and I honestly could have wrote a helluva lot more. I guess I have a habit of writing extra long fics when I'm down, I'm sorry!

There was something intoxicatingly endearing about the way Alexia interacted and whole-heartedly cared for her family and friends' children. Not to say you expected anything less, but you had been addicted to seeing it when you first met her and you are still addicted to it, if not more, now that you were a good few years into your relationship with her. Everytime you saw her with another's child, or when she would visit the Barca youth teams, or simply just talk with a young fan who gazed up at her like she was the Queen of the world, something ignited in your heart. Something strangely akin to the feeling of being homesick.

Over the course of your relationship, you two had had countless conversations about having children in the future. However, it was always ended with you both saying 'one day', it was never a concurrent topic. It was a dream, an ideal, never a reality.

But you just could not get it out of your mind anymore; the thought of her with your own children infiltrated your mind everytime you looked at her.

"Ale, I think I would like to have children soon."

It was blurted out whilst you both manuevered around the kitchen as you made a birthday cake for your friend's son and Alexia prepared some other small dishes to take along to his party. You saw the taller woman freeze in your peripheral vision but you were too nervous to look at her, so you continued mixing the ingredients in the bowl, acting as if you hadn't just said the words she'd secretly been thinking recently too. Then, to your surprise, she marched over, took the wooden spoon from your hand, placed it back in the bowl, and tenderly cupped your face.

"What do you mean?" She asked in an odd tone, scarily similar to the one she used when you would argue. It was hushed, flat, low, and slightly strict.

"I, um... I think we should talk about... us having kids together. Soon." You replied, your cheeks red under her hands. Her nostrils flared and her eyes went slightly wide.

"You mean that?" The look in her eyes was almost pleading, and it gave you a bit of hope.

"Yes, I do." You cover her hands with your own. "I really want to at least talk about it, properly, with you. Not right now, but soon. Please."

She stays silent for a few more moments. You both just look at each other wordlessly, but you are frustratingly unable to understand the countless emotions in her eyes right now. That is until she moves suddenly, picking you up and hugging you tightly, burying her face in your neck and releasing a shaky breath. There are words being mumbled into your skin but you can't hear them too well, too busy focusing on the feeling of her around you and the prospect of the future you'd dreamed of since you were young happening sooner than you thought it ever could.

"Ale, I can't hear you." You laugh lightly, but then your breath catches in your throat when she moves her head back to look at you with tears glistening in her eyes. "Oh, Ale."

"Yes, yes, yes. I want children with you, soon, I really do." Alexia whispers as she presses her forehead against yours, her eyes squeezed shut to keep in her emotions. "Nuestros propios hijos pequeños. No se me ocurrió nada mejor." (Our own little children. I couldn't think of anything better.)

That was the moment that decided it all, the moment that sealed and stamped your future. A few months later and you had gone through the early processes of reciprocal IVF. Your individual health screenings had thankfully given positive results that would ensure your plans for the process could go ahead.

It had been a worry for both of you, admittedly more for you, and there had been multiple sleepless nights and midnight discussions to quell your worries. Your decision to carry wasn't one out of convenience for Alexia's career, it was something you were certain on since you had your first thoughts of being a Mother, but that didn't stop Alexia from worshipping the ground you walked on at the selfless decision.

As Alexia had been there to comfort you, listen to you, and reasurre you when you had appointments and insecurities, you were there for her and squeezing her hand during every injection she had, as well as her egg retrieval appointment. She had been worried for quite some time about it, but in the room, she felt quietly excited. All the moments she'd imagined of herself with children of her own felt within reach now. The tears in her eyes weren't from discomfort or pain, they were from hope and excitement of what was to come.

Unfortunately, the first transfer didn't result in a pregnancy. It was heartbreaking of course. You both knew the chances of it working first time weren't that high, but that didn't soften the blow any less. It took about a week before the melancholy lingering in the air of your home left, but after spending crucial time together to come to terms with the news, you were both ready to begin the process again.

This time around, on the 11th day after your second transfer, you woke up with a strange, knowing feeling in your gut. Alexia had left some time ago for morning training, she had woken you up briefly with softly whispered words and a kiss to your forehead, before you fell back to sleep. But as you properly woke up, a thought immediately washed over you. It caused a little bit of anxiety and you probably should have waited until Alexia got home, but you had to find out before you got her hopes up. You bet that she hadn't properly let you in about her heartbreak the first time so you wanted to do everything to prevent her from feeling how you guessed she did.

So, throwing caution to the wind, you went to the medication cupboard and grabbed an emergency box of hCG urine tests before rushing off to the bathroom. You hadn't checked your phone at all this morning, you hadn't eaten or drank anything, you didn't even know what time it was. There was one thought and one thought only that consumed you.

Once you had prepared it all, you set the strip down on the counter and washed your hands. You sat in unbearable silence for about twenty seconds before you heard the front door open. A shocked gasp left your mouth before your hands could cover it and stop the sound.

"Just me, amor!" Alexia called out softly in case you were still asleep.

She headed straight to the kitchen for a snack, not knowing the huge secret you were harbouring just metres away in the downstairs bathroom. You figured there was no escape now, you just had to bite the bullet.

"Alexia, come here please!" You shouted in an unsure, breathless voice, unable to move from your spot on the bathtub rim with a shaking hand over your mouth still.

Alexia frowned at the slightly panicked voice shouting her, so she quickly made her way to the room you were in, chewing through half a mouthful of banana as she went.

"Sí, bebé, estoy aquí, what's wro-" She cut herself off when she noticed you and the test on the counter. Her eyes widen, causing you to panic.

"I am so sorry for doing it without you, I just had a really weird feeling and-"

Alexia shushes your tearful ramble and sits beside you, wrapping one arm around your back and ushering your face into her chest with the other that she places on your cheek.

"No, no, no apologies, I am here now. No apologies, just calm down." She whispers gently as the hand on your back slowly rubs up and down. Her eyes stay wide and focused on the strip on the counter, unsure of how long it's been there but she dispels her anticipation and focuses on you. "You say you felt weird, in what way?"

"I, I don't know, I... I just woke up with a strange feeling in my stomach, like in my gut. I had to do a test, even just one of these ones and not even a proper pregnancy test, I just had to know." You speak anxiously, moving your face back from her chest to wipe at the tears on your cheeks.

"Okay, that's okay. This feeling, is it like a sick feeling or a thought?" Alexia questions, tucking some hair behind your ear.

"A thought, a gut feeling." You sniffle, resting your forehead against her neck.

"Okay. I want you to know I'm not mad or anything like that. I'm just happy to be here with you for this." She reasurres you, pressing a firm kiss against your hairline.

"I am too. But... if it hasn't worked again, I didn't want to disappoint you." You mumble insecurely, fresh tears falling again.

"Hey, no. Don't think that. I could never be disappointed with you, I would only be disappointed with the world. Not you, never you. Never ever. I promise." Alexia responds in a stern but soft voice, squeezing you tight against her.

"Thank you. T'estimo, Ale."

"I love you too, so much." She smiles at you when you look up at her again. Quickly, she kisses you lightly once, before grabbing the box of tests off the counter. "How do we read this? What number means pregnant?"

You grab your phone and get up the screenshot you'd taken minutes earlier of which measurements meant what.

"Twenty-five means pregnant." You show her the image and she reads it carefully, over and over and over, giving you insight into how desperately she wants this.

"How long has it been going?" Alexia asks, her leg beginning to bounce as the nerves creep in.

"Maybe two minutes or more? But I think we should wait a bit longer to make sure whatever the result is is certain." She nodded in agreement and put the box back down, gently using a hand to tilt your chin to look up at her.

"Remember, amor, whatever this result is, it is still early. It has only been eleven days, there is still a chance, okay? If it's good, that's amazing and we will ring the nurse to try and get an earlier blood test. If it's not good, it's okay. We will deal with whatever happens." Alexia softly reminds you, a reminder for her too, to not get too disheartened (though that it is impossible in such a situation).

"I know. I have to be though." You say the last sentence ever so quietly, but Alexia catches it. She has no more words to say though, still so unsure what the 'right' way to go about this new life experience is.

Silence falls over the room, settling heavy over you both as you hold each other and think through your individual prayers to the world in your minds. It's not until Alexia grows impatient that she stands up and takes a deep breath, standing in between your legs and cradling your head.

"I adore you, guapa. Whatever this little thing says, I will still adore you. I will probably love you more after this no matter what the result is." She states.

You nod, tears still present in your eyes, and stand up beside her. With one arm wrapped around each other, you both smile, before turning your attention to the test on the counter. The air is still in the room, the world paused and faded, all the attention on this tiny strip that held the most important information in the world.

"Twenty-three." You mumble dejectedly. Alexia grabs your phone and gets up the screenshot.

"Mira, bebé, it says anything here is a 'grey area', it's still higher than we would expect and we are doing this early. I think that could be good news." Alexia explains shakily. Once you've read through the information on your phone, your head whips around to look up at her. She meets your gaze, a small and positive smile gracing her face. "I do think we should ring the nurse."

"Really?" You choke out with a quivering bottom lip, desperately trying to suppress the wave of hope that washed over you at Alexia's words.

"Yes, really."

"Oh my." You breathe out, knocking your phone out of her hand carelessly as you hug her tightly. "I might be pregnant."

"You might be pregnant." Alexia repeats in a shuddery voice, eyes stuck staring at the small test on the counter that might just have changed her world for the better.

Thankfully, to prevent days of anxious anticipation, the nurse agrees to carry out a blood test the following day. It's a game day for Alexia but luckily it's at home and later in the evening. She could be going into it with the excitement of an expecting mother, or she could be filled with suffocating disappointment. It's a contrast she doesn't want to think about, the game later that evening the last thing on her mind as her hand holds yours tightly on the drive to the appointment.

Her hand doesn't leave yours unless it's absolutely necessary, and even then she's very hesitant. But, as you lay on the bed with a hand over your eyes whilst the other is still held by Alexia, a heavy feeling of dread and doubt settles. The past 24 hours had been overwhelmingly positive; neither of you allowed a moment to think anything negative. Maybe it was naïve to do that, but the prospect of it all was so utterly exhilarating that you hadn't allowed yourselves to think of the next mental steps if it you weren't pregnant.

Now though, you were drowning under the weight of it all. Alexia had noticed, of course she had, but she was suffocated by her thoughts too. There was nothing either of you could say, it was simply just a waiting game.

Waiting, waiting, waiting, the ticking of the clock on the wall being a constant reminder of the meaningful depth of the moment. Time was a precious thing, of course, but right now it felt like the biggest dampener of all.

Neither of you knew how long you had been sitting silently for, plagued by the scale of the event, but then the nurse walks in and announces she has the results, causing you to snap out of your mindset.

"Are you ready to find out?" The nurse asks, offering no hint of emotion.

"No." You whimper almost silently. Alexia turns to you and goes to comfort you immediately, but she's interrupted.

"It's good news."

Your hand falls from your face as you sit up fully, eyes wide and tearful. Alexia can't tear her eyes away from you until you nudge her, bringing her back into the room.

"I can confirm you are indeed pregnant."

Your body collapses in relief and you fall back against the bed, hands covering your face again as you sob happily. Alexia rolls you onto your side and rests her forehead against yours, tears also falling from her too.

"Tienes un bebé ahí dentro, amor." Alexia cries, almost in relief. One of her hands is on top of your head whilst the other rubs up and down your side comfortingly. "Nuestro pequeño bebé. We are a family now."

You both relish in the great news until you calm down enough to allow the nurse to give you advice on ensuring your health is as best it can be for your pregnancy to go as smoothly as possible.

Later that day, when Alexia scored in her league game at the Johan, you shook your head disapprovingly when Alexia surreptitiously rubbed her hand over her stomach whilst gazing at you in the audience as she walked back to her position. Nobody knew about the news, nobody could know for weeks, and Alexia was pushing her luck with the celebration. You couldn't stay angry for too long, never towards Alexia, and all thoughts of irritation were forgotten when, at the end of the game, she ran up the stands, enveloped you in a tight but sweaty embrace, and whispered the most heart-warming words you'd ever heard her say in your life. People gave you puzzled looks when you pulled away from her with tears in your eyes, but that didn't matter. The bubble that the two of you had was perfect.

Alexia took the advice of the nurse a bit too literally. As if she wasn't doing it already, she did everything possible for you. Cooking meals full of the right nutritions, buying the best pregnancy vitamins, trying to do all the house chores herself (you couldn't let that one slide though), and sometimes literally carrying you whenever she could. On a bad day, did it wind you up? Yes, but she had the best intentions and when the hormones weren't overriding your mind, you appreciated every single act of care and kindness from her.

As you got closer to the 7 week mark when you would have your first scan, your anxiety grew tenfold. You were a stickler for doom scrolling, and varying websites and forums had argued a thought that was the root of your worry: the chance of miscarriage was higher with IVF. Alexia of course tried to dispel your concerns, but unfortunately this was one of them things that you just couldn't get over.

So the relief you felt at the first ultrasound when it was confirmed your baby was growing strong and healthily, was overwhelming. And as soon as you heard the heartbeat, you were a goner. Whether it was the hormones or just how much this meant to you, the overjoyed tears didn't stop all day. Leaving the building with a recording of the heartbeat and a strip of ultrasound photos, neither of you can recall a time where you were happier.

Keeping such a huge secret felt impossible. You had told your parents and Alexia had told her Mum and sister a few days after you found out just so you had a support system in case anything went wrong. The senior staff of the team at Barcelona also knew in case Alexia had to put everything on hold in case of an emergency, and it was the same with your work. But other than that, everyone else was none the wiser.

At least, that's what you thought.

"Amor, I have something to admit." Alexia sighed as you both climbed into bed one night during your eighth week of pregnancy.

"Hm?" You hummed, laying down and resting your head on her shoulder.

"Don't be mad." She grimaced, one arm behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. You frown and hold yourself up on one elbow, your other hand landing on her cheek to turn her face to look at you.

"Tell me. I doubt I'll be mad." You told her softly, and your smile automatically decreases her worries.

"Well, Mapi was the one who helped with my injections whenever I was at training." You nodded affirmatively. "I may have told her... today, at training, that you are pregnant."

"Ale, when are you going to tell me about this geeky smile that hasn't left your face?" Mapi teases her best friend as both of them tidy up the field after training.

"There is nothing, Mapi." Alexia argues, but the aforementioned smile graces her face as she does so.

"Come oooon! Tell me, I think I have a guess, but I want you to say it." Mapi grins, throwing an arm around Alexia's shoulders and nudging her in the ribs.

"I can't tell anyone yet." Alexia mumbles.

"Say it, Ale." Mapi sings in her ear. "I will not tell anyone, I promise."

"You tell anyone and I will kill you, María." Alexia says sternly, standing with her hands on her hips and glaring down at her.

"No, won't tell anyone." Mapi puts on an innocent face as she holds her hands up in surrender.

"Vale." Alexia sighs, looking down at the ground for a moment before turning back to Mapi with the biggest smile she's shown to her. "We are almost eight weeks pregnant."

Mapi screams out of pure excitement and jumps onto Alexia, the taller woman not expecting it which led to them both toppling to the grass in the middle of the empty pitch.

"I knew it!" Mapi shouts, shaking Alexia's shoulders which makes her laugh, pushing Mapi off of her hips so that they lay beside each other. "You are going to be a Mamá!"

"María! ¡Calláte! What did I just say?!" Alexia shushes her desperately, slapping her shoulder.

"You said you're having a baby! I'm gonna be a tía!" Mapi laughs giddily, kicking her legs like a child.

"I should never have told you." Alexia grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest to try and convey a stern, angry look, but it's completely futile.

"I am so happy for you. Nobody deserves this more than you." Mapi rolls onto her side to look at her best friend. "How is she doing?"

"She's so great. So happy. A little bit sick, but handling everything so well." Alexia closes her eyes as she thinks of you and the strip of ultrasound photos hanging on your fridge.

"I have no words, Ale. You both deserve it so much, to be this happy. I'm so proud of you." Mapi states, pushing away her childish side to try and have a proper moment with Alexia.

"I didn't do anything, it's all her." Alexia jokingly deflects, not wanting to get emotional when anyone could walk out and catch them.

"Ay, I didn't stab you at training for nothing." Mapi grins again.

"Sí, I guess." Alexia murmurs with a shy smile. "I am so excited. My own lit-"

"¿Qué están haciendo ustedes aquí?" A voice shouts from the door of the main building.

"Vamos. You both invite me around for dinner soon so we can celebrate and talk more, sí?" Mapi suggests, leaping up and offering a hand to Alexia who nods and stands. "¡Capi va a ser Mamá!"

You tilted your head at Alexia and smiled widely at the adorable story.

"I don't mind, Ale. She's one of your best friends, and she did help us get pregnant, technically." You told her, placing a reasurring kiss to the corner of her mouth. "But that girl cannot keep a secret. I bet Ingrid already knows."

"I knew she would tell Ingrid. But if she tells anyone else I will strangle her." Alexia grumbled with a disapproving look on her face to which you quietly laughed at.

"No you won't. I can't have my baby mama in prison for attempted murder." You joked, poking at her cheek to get her to smile, which you succeeded at.

"You are right. Por supuesto." Alexia whispered, leaning up to meet your lips in a gentle kiss. When she pulled away, she gazed at you so lovingly that it took your breath away. "Venga, lay down and get comfy. You need sleep to look after our chiqui."

You smiled bashfully and lay on your side facing away from her, to which she shuffled up behind you and draped an arm over your side. Her hand settled on your stomach of course, a new gesture you could never get over, so you covered her hand with yours and squeezed it.

"You are going to be the best Mami, Ale." You whispered, Alexia immediately smiling into the back of your neck and placing a few kisses there.

"Tú también." She mumbled, speaking her beliefs whole-heartedly.

Due to Alexia's busy schedule and her understandable defiance to miss an appointment, you both didn't have an aligned day off together for another scan until the fifteenth week of pregnancy. In the past two weeks, you had both told everyone in your life that you were expecting a baby. It was difficult to do since Alexia had to travel a lot, most of the time it was you meeting up with family or friends with Alexia on a FaceTime call, but it was still incredibly special nevertheless.

Today though was an important day; not only a check-up for the baby and yourself, but it would also be the day to found out the gender. You weren't too fussed about finding out or not, but Alexia was not a very patient person, she would plan out every step of her life if she could. So it was an easy decision, you would have the check-up scan, do a blood test, then go about the rest of your day whilst waiting for an email from the nurse.

Seeing the baby much more developed and bigger was of course an emotional moment, nothing in your life so far could compare.

"Míralo, dios mío. Mi bebé." Alexia said quietly, clutching your hand as she gazed at the screen showing the ultrasound. "I am so glad it is just one."

You laughed and shook your head at her comment, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the same.

"They have your legs, Ale." You smiled softly as you watched your baby kick their legs away on the screen. It wasn't possible to feel yet, but you knew in a few weeks time you would be in endless amounts of pain as the aforementioned legs kicked at you all over.

"They better like football." Alexia stated, again making you laugh.

"If they don't, you can't walk out on me." You warned her teasingly, but she took it too seriously.

"No, never, amor." She frowned, lifting your hand and pressing a firm kiss to the back of it. "They will just have to live with their Mami shouting about it every week."

"By the time they're born, it'll probably be the only sound that soothes them to sleep." You said.

The thought of that makes her smile and she falls into a daydream about it - her baby laying on her chest whilst she watches a football game, dressed in matching Barça shirts, desperately trying to keep her running commentary quiet for the baby and for you who was sleeping in the bedroom, and-

"Okay, let's do the blood tests now."

An hour later and you both were walking around Barcelona, looking at the city you love and where your family would grow. It was a waiting game now, you could get any email any second. Your plan was to wait for it to be sent, then go into a bakery and show the worker the email who would be able to give you some kind of baked treat with either blue or pink in it. Simple, yes, but it would be a moment for just the two of you (and the baker, you supposed) that you would remember forever.

So, some time later when Alexia's phone pinged with the email notification and she confirmed who it was from, you both smiled excitedly and immediately began heading towards the bakery. You picked up the small cake, thanked the baker who congratulated you many times, before heading home.

Once you were in the comfort of your own kitchen, you grabbed a fork each and sat down at the island, unable to keep your eyes off each other.

"Whatever it is, I am so happy to be doing this with you." Alexia states softly, taking your free hand and holding it tight on top of the counter.

"There's no one I'd rather do it with." You respond matter-of-factly.

"Me too." Alexia murmurs, raising your hand to her mouth so she could kiss your ring finger. "Ready?"

"Yes, come on, let's do it!" You urge her excitedly, unable to contain yourself.

"Vale, vale." Alexia laughs. "I count down from tres, sí?" You nod, a nervous smile on your face. "Tres... dos... uno."

Both of you dig your forks into the cake, cutting a chunk out to reveal that it's-

"¡Chiquitita!" Alexia shouts, jumping up from her chair. You grin at the news and at her reaction, but rather than reacting like Alexia, you simply eat the forkful of cake. "Bebíta, why are you not excited? We are having a baby girl!"

"I am excited, but I have cake in front of me, I'm not gonna just let it sit there." You say, to which she laughs and comes over to wrap her arms around your neck from behind. "A little girl, hey?"

"Sí, una niña pequeña." Alexia sighs happily, tears in her eyes as she rested her forehead on your shoulder. "I can't believe it. It feels a bit more real now."

"It was very real for me when I was throwing up every morning." You scoff, Alexia laughing again. "I get what you mean though. It feels different now that we know it's a girl. She."

Alexia hums in agreement, smiling when you offer her a forkful of cake. She accepts it and nods approvingly at it, making you grin again.

"What is that thing people say? When they have a baby and they want it to be a footballer? I think it is... project Putellas."

"Well, if she wants to be a footballer, she literally has the best person in the world to learn from." You tease, raising your free hand that wasn't devouring the small cake to rest on her forearm. "You just might want to start off by differentiating between an actual football and the shiny gold ones on display in the lounge. I have no doubt a small and excitable toddler who has a Mami kicking football around the house all day will find a golden ball very fascinating."

"I will make sure. But she can kick them all she wants, I will just get my revenge when she wins one in the future." Alexia grins, making you giggle as you squeeze her arm. "If she doesn't like football, I will only be upset for a tiny bit of time. I would just want her to be happy of course."

"She'd still go to every one of your games and would want to go with you when you aren't playing. Just like you and your Papi." You remind her gently, to which she smiles a little sadder this time, but nevertheless hums in acknowledgement.

"Ah... she. I cannot believe it." Alexia slides one hand down to rest on your ever-growning yet still small stomach. There was a bump, but in the majority of your clothes it wasn't quite visible yet.

"Now we have to start thinking of names." You say, finally turning your attention away from the cake and spinning around in the chair to face her. She groans and pulls you to stand up, then taps the back of your thighs to urge you to jump into her arms, to which you do. "What's up with you?"

"Names is the hardest part." She grumbles, leading you to the bedroom where she places you down gently on the bed before cuddling up next to you.

"Well, get thinking, guapa. We have a little girl on the way!"

At the 24 week mark, you both decide it's time to announce it to the rest of the world. It's been amazing having it be a secret purely between you and the people you love most, but your bump is getting a bit more noticeable now and you want to be able to go out without covering up so much.

Alexia posted a simple picture to her social media of the baby's cot in the nursery, along with a tiny Barcelona shirt in it of course, and tied it off with the most recent ultrasound photos set beside the jersey. She wasn't one for sharing much of her private life, so that's all she gave. No date, no gender, no confirmation of how far along you were, and to some people it wasn't even clear if it was you or Alexia who was pregnant. The media's reaction was funny to sit back and watch as you lay in bed together that night, and it made to be even more entertaining when Alexia told you she had been lightly scolded by the club for the lack of context, but her argument was that people should know she wouldn't be playing if she was pregnant. This social media speculation was followed by a post from Barcelona making it clear that Alexia wasn't pregnant, putting all the rumours to bed at the expense of the Barca PR management who had possibly grown a few more grey hairs after the whole fiasco. But it was funny to watch and it made for a great memory, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, the baby has started moving more, so much so that Alexia can feel it when she holds her hands against your bump. From the moment you first told her you could feel the baby moving, she had desperately wanted to feel it too. There was a worry in the back of her mind that she wouldn't bond with her baby like a second parent figure should, considering she wasn't the one carrying. Even though the baby would genetically be hers due to the type of IVF you chose, you would bond with the baby on a whole other level that she wouldn't experience.

So, she was desperate to feel the baby move against her hand because it would be her first chance of physically experiencing the baby, unlike you who had been through that from the early days of pregnancy with the typical early-stage symptoms. When she did, when she felt the first tiny but powerful kick against her, she immediately began to cry. She didn't really clue you in on why she had such an intense reaction, not that you discredited it of course, but you had an inkling that it meant much more to her than she would ever admit.

It was rare for pregnancy to be so smooth-sailing though. As the weeks went on and your baby girl grew bigger and stronger, all whilst the both of you remained healthy, it was like the doubtful and anxious thoughts slowly left. Until you noticed something.

You were sat at dinner with your friends before all of you were due to watch Alexia and the team play a Copa del Reina game at the Johan. You were taking a backseat from the conversation for a few minutes when a frightening realisation hit you. You frowned, holding your hands against various places on your bump, looking for a major sign that you hadn't felt in... how long? You couldn't even remember. And that was when it felt like your heart stopped.

"Chica, ¿estás bien?" Your friend asked quietly from beside you, thankfully nobody else taking notice.

"Yeah. I... I don't know." You answered shakily, hands unmoving from your stomach as you closed your eyes tight to concentrate.

"¿Es el bebé? ¿Qué ocurre?" She questioned in hushed tone.

"I... I can't feel her move." You mumbled, trying to suppress the tears already brewing. "I... she's normally moving all the time. But I haven't felt her move... at all today."

"Vale, vale. You want to go to the bathroom, somewhere private?" She suggested, to which you nodded desperately. "Okay. Let's go."

You both stand up, you still in your panicked daze as she comes up with a reason for you both to be excused, before quickly leading you to the individual bathroom at the back of the restaurant.

"I'm scared." You admitted to her, hands still firmly planted on your lower stomach where the baby normally would kick.

"It's okay, tell me what's wrong, yeah?" Your friend said, her hands on your shoulders to try and keep you grounded.

"I was just sat there and then, then I realised my baby hasn't, I haven't felt her move for a while. And now I can't remember the last time she moved. I was really tired yesterday and normally before I go to sleep she starts kicking a lot, but I don't think she did it last night because I fell asleep really quickly when her kicking usually keeps me up for a while and now-"

"Ay, calm down, chica. Take some breaths, do it with me, you need to calm down." You nodded and began to do as instructed, easing your breathing but not your anxiety. "What would you like to do? Don't feel like a burden, this is your baby you're talking about and if you are worried about her health then you must do whatever you feel you need to do to ensure she's safe."

"I... I need to talk to Ale. But she has an important game, I-"

"Alexia would want you to tell her. Forget her work, this is family. This is her little girl too, she would never play football again if it meant you and your baby were safe. Wouldn't she?" You nodded reluctantly, the tears now falling uncontrollably. "Sí. Will she be at the stadium yet?"

"Um..." You got your phone out to check the time, seeing a text from the woman mentioned who confirmed she was at the stadium without you even asking. "Yes, she's there."

"Okay, chica, I could drive you to the nurse now and you call her in the car, or I drive you to the stadium so you can be with her. Whatever you prefer, sí? Anything."

You forgot the rest of the world around you outside this one bathroom, possible solutions and outcomes passing by so quickly and convoluted it was almost impossible to land on one. Was it serious enough to pull Alexia out of a game? Were you just overthinking? Or could this be a genuine problem with the baby?

Ultimately, this was not a risk you could take.

"I need Ale. I need to talk to her." You decided, focusing on your breathing again to try and quell the nausea your anxiety was causing.

"Okay, I will drive you to the stadium. You take the keys and go straight to my car, I will tell everybody else that the plans are cancelled."

From that moment on, it's like your mind goes into shock. Everything is a distant blur, even the feeling of Alexia's arms wrapped tightly around you and Eli and Alba's hands on your back when you meet them at the stadium. You give a stuttered explanation to them, which makes Alexia's heart drop and she squeezes you tighter. She whispers words of comfort and reassurance of course, but if someone held a gun to your head and forced you to recount what she said, you'd be screwed. For all you knew, she could have said anything in the world, and you'd have no idea.

Eli and Alba drove you to the hospital whilst you and Alexia sit in the backseat, no words exchanged (or at least that's what you remember). The cityscape passed by fast as you stared blankly out the window, the moment feeling so surreal it felt as if you were living a nightmare. Your hand clutched tightly onto Alexia's, the only feeling that kept you in touch with reality as every memory you have so far of your unborn child played out in your head like a montage straight out of a film.

Images of you and Alexia in the bathroom with the test strip, you both at the blood test finding out you were 100% pregnant, having the first scan, telling your loved ones, finding out it was a little girl-

She doesn't even have a name.

She can't slip away without a name. That's unfair.

She cannot be taken away from you before you have even met her. Is the world that cruel?

"Amor, we are here." Alexia's hand leaves yours to brush away a few tears you hadn't even realised were falling. "How do you feel?"

"How... how am I supposed to feel?" You reply, almost in a whimper, and Alexia immediately understands what you mean.

"I know." Is all she says, unbuckling your belt for you.

"We will wait here." Alba smiles reasurringly at you, squeezing your knee then Alexia's.

"No hay mal que por bien no venga." Eli states, and that ignites a tiny spark of hope inside of you. (Every cloud has a silver lining.)

Hand in hand, you and Alexia walk into the Maternity ward and explain the situation to the receptionist who tells you again and again that the right thing to do was come in for a check-up. Alexia guides you over to some seats, her eyes constantly searching over your face as her arm wraps around your shoulders.

"I love you." Alexia whispers the only words she can think of right now, because what else is there to say?

She kisses your forehead before letting you tuck your face into her neck, and that's how you stayed the whole time waiting. Just in each other's arms, knowing that you had each other no matter the result of the day. The rest of the world went away; the confines of the hospital, the endless electrical sounds of machines and technological devices, people walking back and forth down the corridors, the sound of doors opening and closing, everything slithered away until it was just the two of you. No thoughts about anything else - football, family, media - solely just the two of you in this white sterile room, waiting on news that would shatter your world or paint it gold.

When your name was finally called, some unknown amount of time later, you shared a glance with Alexia, both of you holding an elixir of emotion in your eyes, before following the midwife to a patient room.

Again, you explained the situation to her whilst Alexia sat on a chair in the corner of the small room, the taller woman fidgeting anxiously as she can't be beside you to hold your hand. The midwife explained that she would do a number of tests on you first to ensure you are healthy, before doing an ultrasound for the baby.

Alexia watches with tears in her eyes as your tests are done, feeling somewhat relieved to hear there is nothing wrong with your health. Though her dread increases tenfold when the midwife brings out the ultrasound, and due to it not being a purpose-built ultrasound room, there is no large TV screen for her to see. It's only a small screen for the midwife to view, which makes her feel even more ill if that was possible. She subtly takes a few deep breaths to control herself and the nausea plaguing her whilst the midwife sets up the small machine and spreads the gel on your lower stomach.

The seconds leading up to the probe being pressed against your skin seemed to stretch indefinitely, like the laws of time bent just to purposely suspend the moment more. She held her breath, hands clenching and unclenching on her thighs as her eyes focused on you, her heart poised on the edge of a cliff between joy and utter despair. Every moment of her life so far felt like it had been built up just for this one moment here, like some sick trick of fate, until-

"And there is your baby girl, her little heart beating away happily."

There she was on the sonogram screen, perfectly fine, just getting on with her life like she hadn't caused the single most panic and fear either of you had ever felt, the tiny being causing a whirlwind of emotions before she was even born.

You broke out into deliriously relieved laughter, head thrown back against the bed as tears fell, whilst Alexia put her face in her hands and cried silently.

"Ale, come here." You plead, looking at her broken figure in the corner of the room.

Alexia instantly jumps up from her chair and goes over to you, cradling your face and ushering mumbled and scattered words of affirmation and reassurance. You both break indefinitely more when your baby's heartbeat echoes through the room, almost like her way of announcing herself and saying: 'I'm here to stay!'

The midwife explains that the reason for not feeling her move is because your placenta is positioned at the front of your stomach, meaning little girl is moving against that which subdues the feeling. But, you rest assured, because you both leave the hospital with a new and stronger recording of her heart beat and some updated photos of her. Eli and Alba spot you both heading back to the car with huge, relieved smiles on your faces so they jump out of the car to greet you. You can tell from the way Alexia deflates into her Mother's arms that the day had exhausted her just as much as it had you, and that plants a seed of doubt in your mind.

Alexia notices this as you both sit in the back of the car on the way back to the stadium, a frown forming on her face as she squeezes your hand.

"Why are you sad, amor?" She whispers to make sure only you hear it. You shake your head and look out the window, now a little embarrassed about the whole day. "Tell me, please."

"I just feel ridiculous. I pulled you out of your game for no reason." You mutter, humiliation settling in your chest.

It wasn't just Alexia who you had disrupted, it was her family, your friends, the whole of the Barça team and staff, their fans, and so many other people around the world who had been left disappointed and confused as to why she had suddenly pulled out of the match day squad. You let your anxieties get to you and ruined what was meant to be a good day for you and many other people.

"No. You had every reason to be worried. And I am so relieved you told me so that all three of us could be there for you. It is so important that you did that, no matter if the baby is healthy after all." She raises your hand to her mouth so she could kiss it softly, before placing it on your thigh and covering it with both of hers. "The fact you dropped everything and focused on our daughter is already a sign of an amazing mother. You both are so much more important than any game of football - league game, cup game, champions league final or world cup. I would do anything to make sure you are both safe, and that's what you did. As soon as you noticed something could be wrong, you did everything to keep her safe and find out she is healthy. I could never thank you enough for that."

She squeezes your hand periodically as her wide eyes assisted her in getting her point across - there was layer after layer of love present in them and when she looked at you like that, you could never doubt her.

"I really was worried. For like two weeks straight, she's been moving and wriggling in there constantly. And then all of a sudden she stops, I didn't feel a thing. Not even hiccups. It was terrifying." You say shyly, Alexia nodding in understanding. She goes to say something, but stops herself when Eli starts.

"Trust me, chiqui, I am proud of you. Ale is right, you are already displaying amazing habits of a good madre. You did the right thing and we are all so proud of you and happy that you spoke up about it. We would do anything if it meant my hija en lay y nieta pequeña were safe and healthy."

Is there any higher praise than that from a great mother already? That meant the world to hear from Eli. It almost entirely dissipated the regret you felt. You did the right thing.

"Mami is right. You are part of this family now." Alba adds, Alexia gazing at you proudly.

"Grácies, us estimo a tots." You reply confidently in Catalan, hoping it conveyed how grateful you were for them all.

Unbeknownst to you, that day plagued Alexia for almost two weeks. She thought about it every night before she went to sleep even when you were in her arms, she thought about it during training, when she stepped on the pitch, but she suppressed it. You had so much to focus on and worry about, you were growing a human for heaven's sake, she had to be strong for you and show that you can rely on her when you need it.

But, that all came falling down one night.

She had one bad game, missed one penalty, and it destroyed the demeanor she'd worked so hard on building. They didn't even lose the game, they drew 1-1 with the chance of bettering themselves for the second leg a week later, but no words could be said to make her feel any better.

The moment the final whistle blew, her face remained stoic and free of emotion. It remained that way in the changing rooms, when she met you and her family after the game, on the drive home, and all through her nightly routine. It killed you to see her like this, knowing in her mind she was reducing herself to something so miniscule and inadequate, you had to at least try and get through to her.

"Ale?" You whisper as you lay beside her on your side. She's in the same position but facing away from you, and you know it's another attempt at keeping the world locked out of her mind. "Alexia, talk to me. What do you need?"

"Estoy bien, vete a dormir." Alexia mumbles, lightly squeezing your hand that rested on her waist.

"No. Look at me, Ale." You demand gently, pulling on her hip so that she lays flat. She averts her eyes away from you, but you notice that they are bloodshot red, like she'd been silently fighting off tears. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

"I... uh, maybe... maybe a lot." She chokes out, resting her forearm over her eyes, her final attempt at fighting this losing battle on her own.

"Let me in." You urge her, taking her wrist and moving her arm away. "Come on. Tell me what's wrong."

"There... there is too much." Alexia says, almost in a whimper. "There is so much happening in my head."

"We can try and unpack it, hey? You're not going to be able sleep like this, you never do, so let's try and sort through some of your worries." You sit up against the head board and move her so that her head rests on your thigh. You recognise that she needs a few moments to collect herself, so you let her do that, silently combing a hand through her hair until she was ready.

"Well, first, I played like shit." She chuckles in spite of herself, making you smile sadly and lean down, despite the awkward angle and your bump, to place a kiss on her temple. "But... I can't change that now. That... it caused me to feel like this, but I'm not really thinking about that anymore."

"What are you thinking about, my love?"

"I... the baby." She sighs, bringing a hand up to her face as she turned to hide in your leg.

"What about her?" You probe carefully, your free hand subconsciously falling to your bump.

"We thought... we thought we lost her."

That statement breaks her, her first time saying it out loud, and now her body shakes as broken sobs rip through her.

"I know, Ale, I know." You shift back down the bed so that you can hold her. She tucks her face into the space between your neck and shoulder as her tears wet the pillow. The arm of yours she wasn't laying on wrapped around her, holding her tight against you, turning to place kisses under her ear. "She's okay, we saw her and heard her, she's healthy. In fact, I can feel her wiggling around in there. Here, give me your hand." She leans back so that she can see you place her hand over where the baby was moving at the side of your stomach. You pause for a few moments, Alexia waiting with bated breath, desperate to feel her daughter once more. "Oh, there she goes!" You smile brightly as a hard kick hits against Alexia's hand, who laughs breathlessly at it. "See? She's alright, isn't she? If you listen closely, you can hear her saying 'Mírame, Mami, I'm okay! Don't cry!'"

Alexia laughs again, though it sounds more like a choked sob, and buries her face back into your neck.

"You..." Alexia breathes out, smiling again when she feels another kick. "You are both perfect."

"Mm, I think you're pretty great too." You tease, nuzzling your cheek against her hair. "Is there anything else you're worried about?"

"Y-yeah." She mutters, her thumb stroking over your skin. "There's just so many worries I have. Not about her, not really, but... what if I'm not good enough?"

You'd be lying if you said you weren't shocked to hear that. And it breaks your heart.

"Ale, look at me." You place a hand on her cheek when she moves away to meet your eyes. "Why do you think you won't be good enough?"

"I can be a mess. I get frustrated easily and I have no idea how to care for myself, how can I care for a tiny, innocent baby?" She spits the words out like she's disgusted at herself and it's almost unbearable to hear.

"Alexia, you are being unfair to yourself." You state, hearing her sigh frustratedly. "I can be a mess too, I get angry too, you're only human, Alexia. You know how to take care of me, you do it so well, no one has ever treated me better than you do. You have so much love to give and I cannot wait to see you become a parent. I wouldn't want to have children with you if I didn't think you were good enough. In fact, I think you're going to be an amazing parent. Every step along the way already, through my pregnancy and the process of getting pregnant, even before that, I knew you were going to be great. And that belief only grows stronger whenever I see you with other children, like Mateo or my friends' kids. I don't have a single doubt about you, not one."

"But what if I don't bond with her?"

"Love." You sigh, holding a firm kiss against her forehead. "You will. I know I'm the one carrying her, but she's your baby just as much as mine. She's got all your genetics, of course you're going to bond with her." You poke her in the side teasingly, pulling a half-hearted chuckle from her. "I know she will adore you so much. She'd be crazy not to. You do realise you're gonna be the cool parent out of us two?"

"What?" She asks humourously.

"You're definitely the cooler parent out of us, think about it! Imagine her seeing you play football on TV every week, people with your name on their shirts, whole stadiums chanting your name, trophies and medals all around the house, she's gonna go to school and be like 'My Mami is famous!'" You grin whilst speaking, delighted to her Alexia laugh like she normally does.

"Stoooop." She groans, but you know it's in good nature. Another sigh leaves her lips, but this time it's a little less heavy and a bit more content. "You will be cool too."

"Thanks." You laugh and from that you feel her smile into your skin. "Do you feel a little better, cariño?"

"Sí. You are magic." Alexia responds, her head a lot less clouded. Now, it's filled with pictures of her little family of three, and it cheers her up more than anything ever has. "I love you. Thank you for... for everything, amor. Seriously."

You roll back onto your side, Alexia doing the same, and your hand falls to her neck. Your foreheads rest against each other, Alexia's hand still lingering on your bump, and you smile at the lighter look in her eyes.

"You don't have to be strong all the time. You can let go- you need to let go sometimes." You remind her, and when she goes to reply to that, you speak before she can as you know what she's going to argue. "Ah, no, I'm not hearing it, I know what you were going to say. And it's not true, it's not fair on you. I'm your partner after all, Ale. Yes, I'm carrying a baby, but that doesn't lessen any of your problems. I will always have time for you, Alexia, whatever you need, whenever you need it."

Alexia finally backs down and allows your words to mend the cracks in her mind, getting rid of that doubtful devil on her shoulder.

"Thank you. Just... thank you." Alexia mutters, seemingly allowing her post-match exhaustion to overpower her.

"Anytime, I promise. Now get some sleep, alright? You've kept me awake past my bedtime, even little one has stopped her night-time kicking now." You joke, glad to see she mirrors the smile you have and her body relaxes, the tension from the match and the past weeks finally leaving her. "Te amo. Siempre."

By the time June came around, Barça had basically wrapped up every single competition, it being yet another clean sweep for the record-breaking team. That included the Champions League, to which you had to almost force Alexia to go out and celebrate with her team, your argument being that it would be the last chance she got before her life was filled with baby bottles and diapers instead of shot glasses and night clubs.

It was fortunate that the team had done what they did when they did, because it was like once the clock struck midnight of the month of June, your baby girl had decided she'd had enough of her comfy little home and wanted to see what the real world was like. One minute, you were using the bathroom in the middle of the evening at home, the next minute you were in a patient gown on a hospital bed clutching Alexia's arm with one hand and some gas and air with the other.

There were thirteen hours between your waters breaking and the first cry of your daughter. Alexia had tears in her eyes the moment you stepped into the hospital room, but that was nothing compared to the tears that fell like a waterfall when your baby was placed on your chest. She rested her temple against yours and gazed down at the tiny being that you both had created. In her mind, she knew there was no better sight.

Once the initial check-ups were done for both you and your daughter, the business calmed down and it allowed for Alexia to hold her for the first time. Your little girl weighed a mere 6 pounds 11 ounces, but those numbers didn't do it justice - she looked miniscule in the arms of Alexia.

"Hi." Alexia croaked out in a tearful voice, making sure her arms were steady and that her little girl was positioned correctly. Yet to have her first sleep, the baby's brown eyes stared widely up at her Mami.

"Suits you." You commented tiredly, thoroughly exhausted but there was no way you could rest right now when this sight was beside you. You wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Bon día, A-" Alexia glances up at you briefly. "Are we still choosing that name? I think it's perfect for her."

"Yes. So perfect." You smile at your two favourite people.

"Bon día, little Anaís." Alexia whispers, using the back of her index finger to run it ever-so-gently along her daughter's cheek.

It's such a sacred moment for Alexia, like it would be for any parent, as she cradles her new little bundle of joy against her chest. Being able to put a face to the name you'd chosen a few months ago now, putting a face to the offender of the brutal blows her Mummy had been subjected to for two months, and finally bonding with her child - it was all overwhelming in the best way possible.

The weight of her daughter in her arms brought a greater comfort than anything in her life. Every tiny feature, from the delicate curve of her little button nose to the hands that fidgeted delicately against Alexia's chest, is a glorious sight to behold. Alexia feels her heart grow impossibly bigger as she traces the outline of Anaís' face with trembling fingertips, already trying to commit every detail to her memory.

You watch along in silent awe, your eyes glistening with unshed tears at the sight you'd been desperate to see for so long. There is so much admiration and wonder in Alexia's eyes, and you felt your love for the two humans in front of you reach limits you never thought it could.

"Come here." You say, shuffling over to one side of the bed and patting the free space now available. Alexia nods, eyes unmoving from the baby in her arms, and moves slowly and carefully to lay next to you. "Oh, look at her, Ale."

"You did amazing, amor. So strong and so incredible. Look what you did." Alexia praises you and kisses your forehead for what must be the thousandth time that day. You smile and lean your head to rest on her shoulder, one of your hands coming to rest on the back of Anaís' head. "Our little chiqui. Dios mío, she is so small."

"I can't believe those tiny feet almost broke my ribs." You say, giggling along with Alexia as she laughs too and holds both of Anaís' feet in the palm of her hand.

"I love her already." Alexia states, able to stroke one thumb over both of her feet.

"Me too." You hum, adjusting the small knitted hat that covered her head. "She has your eyes."

"Mm, those are definitely Putellas eyes." Alexia grins, gasping quietly when Anaís' tiny fist curls around her pinky finger. "Amor, mirar."

"I see." You watch the interaction in awe, feeling so blessed in this moment. "I told you she would adore you. She's so at peace with you."

Alexia smiled tearfully in reply as Anaís' eyes slowly fluttered shut in her arms.

"I adore her too." Alexia whispers, then she turns to look at you. "Thank you for giving me the greatest gift of all. I'm so proud of you. So so proud."

You smile bashfully at her words and turn to hide your face in her shoulder, stifling a yawn. The exhaustion was really hitting you now, but who in their right mind would pass up a moment like this?

"Thank you for being the best partner I could ask for. I wouldn't have gotten through it without you." You mumble into her jumper, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and settling down more.

"We must dress her in the Barcelona onesie when we take her home." Alexia states with a smug smirk, causing you to laugh and shake your head a little.

"There's no point even arguing, is there?" You say, giggling when she hums a polite no. "Fine, I'll allow it."

"We have to teach her early, amor." Alexia argues.

"Of course we do." You say sarcastically, a yawn slipping out of you.

"You can rest now. I will take the first shift, hm? You sleep as much as you can." Alexia suggests, glad to see you nod. "Want me to stay here?" You nod once more, and a content smile settles on her face. "I love you, rest well."

It takes a little while for you to fall asleep, not able to get fully comfortable as you harbour a lot of pain and achiness, but you eventually do and it warms Alexia's heart to see. Anaís had fallen asleep too, taking her first ever nap in her Mami's arms, and Alexia doesn't think she's ever felt such peace.

She takes the opportunity to photograph the occasion with a selfie of the three of you, before sending it to various people: Eli and Alba, your family, your closest friends, and lastly her teammates who were currently at training. They must have all seen it at the same time as her phone immediately started blowing up at the influx of overjoyed messages. Each one is filled with so much love and delight for you both, and that paired with the messages from Eli and Alba cause her to tear up once again. She wasn't sure how she had any tears left to be honest, it had been an emotional day and it seemed like it wasn't ending anytime soon.

The next day, after getting the all-clear, you were allowed to take Anaís home for the first time. Eli and Alba had been there waiting, making sure the house was tidy and cosy so that you and your little family could live as stress-free as possible (if that was a thing with a newborn) whilst you adjusted to your new way of life.

You settled on the sofa beside Alexia's mother as the now-abuela held her granddaughter for the first time. The look on Alexia's face as she placed a sleeping Anaís in her arms was one you'd never forget. It was priceless, there was so much pride present in her eyes and you were so glad for her sake that Alba was filming the moment. Next, it was Alba's turn to hold her, who also shed a few tears when she held onto Anaís for the first time, joking that she was glad she put no makeup on otherwise her mascara would stain the soft white blanket wrapped around the baby. Unexpectedly, as Alba cradled your daughter and conversed quietly with Alexia, Eli shuffled closer to you and hugged you tenderly, whispering the sweetest words you'd ever heard from her into your ear. There were so many core memories being created at once it was near impossible to keep up with everything, but you realised in a quiet moment in the middle of it all that you had finally achieved the life you wanted. This was it; you'd done it.

You stayed in your social media free bubble for a week, until you and Alexia decided it was time to confirm what everyone thought anyway. It was the same day that Barça had their penultimate Liga F game, the first game for the club since Anaís was born. As there would only be more speculation when Alexia wouldn't be named in the match day squad, both of you and the club decided today would be the best day to do it. When you were pregnant, you made an agreement that Alexia would continue playing until the baby was born, where she would take however long she wanted off to be with you and your daughter. And in the end, that agreement worked out perfectly.

So, Alexia posted yet another simple photo to her social pages, this time a selfie of her exhausted smile and the back of Anaís' head as she slept on her chest, the little girl of course adorning the Barça jersey featured in the initial pregnancy announcement photo. She did caption it this time, writing 'Nueva mascota del Barça' meaning Barcelona's new mascot, followed by two red and blue love hearts. You smiled when you saw the online reaction, sitting and scrolling through it whilst you fed Anaís and Alexia napped on the sofa beside you.

Throughout the week that followed, you both thought it was time to allow people outside your immediate family to visit. That meant that almost everyday there were new guests over. The most excitable one was of course Mapi, it was hard to keep her calm and quiet enough to let her hold Anaís but once the baby was in her arms, she immediately fell silent as she simply admired her. You, Alexia, and Ingrid all shared shocked looks at the scene in front of you.

"Buena, Ingrid, there is your solution to her constant talking." Alexia joked with a grin, making Ingrid roll her eyes.

However, Mapi's reply caught everybody off guard.

"Sí, elskling, we will talk about it later."

You had to hold back the laugh that threatened to burst out when Ingrid and Alexia's eyes widened so much that they almost popped out of their head. It would only be a matter of time before those two had children anyway, you secretly knew it. Anytime one of their friends announced they were having children, you could see the desire for the same thing in their eyes grow everytime. Whether they both knew they felt the same or not, you definitely could picture it in their near future.

Alexia missed the final game of the season too of course, but with it being a home game at the Johan, you urged her to go and watch it so that she could be part of the post-game presentations and celebrations. She was reluctant to do so, she hadn't really left your side for long since before you gave birth, but the smile on her face as she got ready to leave let you know you'd made the right decision.

"Say bye-bye to your chiqui." You say quietly, presenting a sleeping Anaís to Alexia where she was waiting to say goodbye at the front door. She smiles brightly and wraps an arm around you, looking down at your daughter's face that seemed to change everyday.

"Adiós mi niña, volveré pronto." Alexia whispers, leaning down to press a very light kiss to her forehead. "And you, I will be back as soon as I can."

"I'll be okay, Ale." You giggle, Alexia grinning and hugging you into her side. "Enjoy it. Promise me you'll make the most of it?"

"Eh, I will, but I don't want to be out too long." She shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"Why not?" You wonder with a frown, and from that Alexia can spot the speckles of insecurity in your eyes.

"Because I just want to be with you and Anaís. I'm not worried about leaving you with her, not at all, but there's nothing better than being with you both at home. I love it." Alexia admits, washing away any doubts you had and replacing them with the most adorable confession. "It's true. I will be gone for only a few hours but I will miss you both so much."

You gaze up at her, your heart so full, and lean up to peck her lips softly.

"We will miss you too." You tell her, watching on adoringly as Alexia raises a hand and gently takes hold of one Anaís' tiny hands. The difference in size is so big that it's absolutely adorable, making you smile and lean your head into Alexia's neck.

"Mi familia perfecta." Alexia murmurs, stroking her thumb over Anaís tiny fingers and kissing your forehead. "I don't want to leave."

"We'll be right here when you get back. Go celebrate you and your team, it was another amazing season and they'll want to catch up with you. We've kept you locked up here long enough." You joke, Alexia smiling and shaking her head.

"They won't want to know about me, I will just get a million questions about you and Anaís."

"We both know you'd happily sit there for hours talking about me and Anaís, it's all you do." You catch her out, but she just shrugs and smirks.

"Why would I want to talk about anything else?" She says smugly, but she means it genuinely. You are the best things in her life. "But fine. I guess I will go. If anything happens, please ring me immediately?"

"Yes, Ale." You roll your eyes and kiss her quickly once more. "Now go. Alba will be here any minute, I'll be okay."

"I know you'll be okay. Love you." Alexia smiles, opening the door but lingering in the doorway as she stares at you lovingly.

"I love you too. You look beautiful." You tell her, smiling humourously when a light blush covers her cheeks.

"This is what I look like when I can shower and I'm not covered in baby sick, if you remember." She winks.

"I remember it very well." You smirk, stifling a laugh when she grins knowingly. "Now go, you'll be late."

She puts on a very dramatic sad frown and steps out of the house backwards, turning around just as Alba pulls up and presses her horn.

"Alba! Anaís is sleeping, are you stupid?" Alexia snaps quietly at her sister who jumps out of her car with a grin.

"She's still asleep, stop stalling and go." You tease, ushering her away with one hand as Alba skips over and completely disregards Alexia in search of you and Anaís.

"Where is my favourite sister with my favourite baby?" She grins, shoving past her actual sister and walking straight over to you.

"Nice to see you too, Alba." Alexia grumbles, though there is a tiny hint of a smile on her face as she watches you three.

"Have fun at your game, Tata." Alba waves behind her dismissively and embraces you carefully, kissing your cheek before turning to Anaís. "Hola, belleza. Oh, she is so cute."

"Alexia, you're gonna be late." You laugh as she comes over to join you, standing behind you and Alba and wrapping an arm each around your shoulders.

"But this is so much better." She groans. "I have been to plenty trophy celebrations, what is one more?"

"That's so humble of you, Ale." You scoff jokingly, grinning at the disapproving look on her face and kissing her cheek.

"Mami will be mad if you stand her up, Tata. Now go. Angry Mami is scarier than you when you are angry."

That seems to shift Alexia into gear as she begrudgingly pulls herself away from the mini group hug and walks with a childish pout on her face back to the door. You wave at her as she walks out and she blows a quick kiss at you before closing the door gently behind her.

Alba kindly offers to look after Anaís so that you can take a relaxing bath before the match kicks off, and afterwards you feel ten times more refreshed and calm. When you're finished, you join her on the sofa and chat with her whilst Anaís sleeps peacefully in the space between you both. You feel completely content there, catching up with Alba whilst your baby snoozes away and Barcelona score what seems like goal after goal. Every so often, the broadcast will show Alexia sat in the stands and you have an inkling that she's overcome with the same feeling you have as she sits there calmly with a hint of a smile on her face instead of the stormy and stoic look she normally wears whilst watching a game.

Once the match ends, the players celebrate on the pitch for a little whilst the ceremony gets prepared. Various awards from the season are given out, Alexia receiving a few as expected, but what you don't expect is the large hamper of baby supplies and other things such as clothes or sweets treats that is handed to her. She laughs at it and holds it up in front of the camera for a photo, but underneath the mask for the camera you can see the pride in her eyes and the utter joy on her face at the acknowledgement given to her.

"Did you know about that?" You ask Alba, who grins slyly at you.

"It was Mapi and Jana's idea." She tells you.

It's a wonderful surprise nonetheless, and from the quick glance you get at it, it looks like it contains genuinely useful stuff along with some treats that you'll devour once Alexia brings it back home.

Shortly after that, the trophy ceremony commences and you beam as Alexia collects her medal before picking up the trophy and taking it over to her teammates. You'd seen her do this multiple times, and of course she obviously seemed overjoyed each time, but as you watch this particular celebration, there's a new, unrefined look on her face, almost like she's letting her happiness consume her instead of dimming it a little to keep her persona.

When she comes home later, an endless amount of gift bags in her arms, she frowns at the unexpected silence of her home. She thought she would walk into the sounds of you and Alba laughing and chattering away like you often did together, so the stillness of the house comes as a surprise. Dropping all her bags off in the kitchen, she wanders into the lounge that was lit up by one lamp in the corner of the room. She squints a little, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, and spots you lay on the sofa with a blanket over you as you sleep.

"Hola Tata." Alba smiles at the sight of her sister in the doorway of the living room. "She fell asleep after the broadcast ended, so I took Anaís to her nursery and stayed in there so she could rest."

"Is she okay?" Alexia asks, concerned, happily accepting a restless Anaís when Alba offers her.

"Sí, sí, she is fine. Just tired. I think chiqui needs feeding, I changed her diaper but she is still a bit unsettled." Alexia nods in agreement and grabs a fresh bottle from the steriliser. "Would you like me to do anything? I have dinner with friends later so I will need to leave soon."

"No, it's okay, Tati. Thank you for coming over today and keeping them company."

Alba watches on in astonishment as Alexia expertly prepares a bottle of formula for Anaís with only one hand.

"Of course. It was so fun spending time with your girls." Alba states, pausing for a moment before walking over to her older sister and hugging her tightly from behind whilst being mindful of her niece.

"¿Tas bien?" Alexia frowns, leaning her head against Alba's when the younger woman rests her chin on her shoulder.

"Sí, simplemente estoy orgulloso de ti." Alba tells her, Alexia chuckling shyly. (Yes, I'm just proud of you.)

"Grácies, Tati." She mumbles, smiling down at Anaís when she mewls quietly.

"I was going through some old photos before and I realised that this little chiqui looks just like we did when we were babies." Alba reveals, lightly tracing her finger over the curve of Anaís nose.

"Really? You have to send me them." Alexia says as the timer goes off, telling her that the bottle was ready. "Put your hand out." Alba does as she says and laughs quietly when Alexia tips a few drops of the milk onto her hand. "Too hot? Too cold?"

"Just right, I think." Alba shrugs, unattaching herself from Alexia. The older woman presses the lukewarm bottle to Anaís' lips, a tiny proud smile growing when she immediately settles and starts drinking. Alba can't help but be fascinated again. "I can't believe you're a Mami now."

"Me too." Alexia mumbles, eyes unmoving from her daughter who seems much more content now that she's being fed. She glances up at Alba, a little confused when she sees her eyes have turned glossy. "Tati?"

"Papa would be so proud." Alba blurts out, a down-turned smile on her face due to the array of emotions overcoming her.

"Alba." Alexia smiles sadly, finding herself beginning to react exactly the same as her sister. Her eyes glimmer in the light of the room when she looks back down at the little girl in her arms. "I wish he could meet her."

Alba sniffles and walks back over to Alexia, slinging an arm around her shoulder and kissing her cheek.

"He would have been an amazing abuelo, right?"

"Sí." Alexia whispers breathlessly, looking up at the lights for a moment to blink away her tears. "Go to your dinner, Tati, stop making me cry."

"Vale, I'm going." Alba laughs, giving her another cheek kiss and squeezing her side tightly before stepping away. "Te veo pronto."

"Buenas noches, disfruta tu velada." Alexia follows her to the hallway and watches her leave, smiling brightly as she steps out of her house and closes the door.

That smile stays on her face as she walks silently back to where you slept in the lounge, then sits down carefully next to where your head lay as Anaís carries on feeding. You had your face buried in the couch cushions, a blanket pulled up to your shoulder and your hands tucked under your chin. Alexia sighs contently, maybe a little too loud, as it seems to wake you.

"Ale?" You rasp, leaning your head back a little to glance up at her through one eye.

"Sí amor. You can sleep more if you would like, I have the baby." Alexia whispers. There's a piece of hair that's fallen onto your face that she would swipe out of the way for you if her hands weren't full with a tiny feasting baby.

"When did you come home?" You wonder, rubbing your eyes.

"Not too long ago. Alba left just now."

"Oh god, I can't believe I fell asleep while she was here." You groan, a little embarrassed at the fact you had just abandoned her for sleep and left her with your baby.

"No, it's okay, she was more than happy to look after Anaís. She said she took her up to her nursery and just relaxed in there with her." Alexia tells you as you hide your face back into the sofa pillows. "If you fell asleep, that means you needed it. It's absolutely fine, amor, don't be embarrassed."

You nod and rest there for a few moments, before deciding to sit up and snuggle into Alexia's side. She smiles down at you and kisses your forehead, the pair of you sitting in silence for a little while as Anaís drinks.

"Did you have fun today?" You ask, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of Alexia's shirt.

"I did, it was very fun. I got a lot of gifts from fans and the staff for Anaís. Also a lot for you, not many for me though." She frowns and you laugh at the sight as well as the disheartened tone to her voice.

"I guess you're just not so popular anymore." You tease, kissing her jaw just as Anaís finished off the bottle. You took it from Alexia's hands and placed it on the floor so that she could burp Anaís, watching on as she carefully positioned her so that she was sat up on her thigh with a hand holding her front to support her and the other gently rubbing up and down her back. "Remember when you thought you wouldn't good enough? You're a pro, Ale."

"Hm. I still worry that sometimes." Alexia admits sheepishly.

"Why?" You wonder quietly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezing once.

"I think it is just a general worry. But you do a great job of telling me otherwise. We don't know much about her personality yet but you and her make being a parent easy." She states softly, glancing down at you with a blissful smile on her face.

Out of all the places she's been, all the things she's seen, everything she's achieved and the once-in-a-lifetime experiences she's lived, these moments right here could never be topped.

"That's very adorable of you to say." You murmur, forever enamoured by how soft and affectionate she can be with her words. "I can't wait to see what she's like when she grows up."

"Me too, but she can't do it too fast." Alexia grumbles, once again making you laugh as you quickly wipe a bit of spit-up away from Anaís' mouth. "Before we know it she will be moving out."

It's said with a dejected sigh, and this time you laugh at Alexia instead of with her.

"You do realise she's not even three weeks old? She's not gonna be packing her bags and leaving next week, Ale." You say with a grin, giggling as a small smile breaks onto Alexia's face despite her trying to stop it. "We have at least eighteen years before we need to worry about that."

"I know, I just don't want it to happen ever."

You hum in agreement, before noticing the slight redness to Alexia's eyes.

"Have you been crying?" You ask her, sitting up a little more so you could look at her properly.

"Only a tiny bit, Alba made me cry before she left." Alexia chuckles lightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, she... she started talking about our Papi and... how proud he would be now that I have you and Anaís." Alexia replies, the same feeling from before taking over her. You smile sadly and wrap an arm around her shoulders, kissing her cheek.

"He really would." You whisper.

It falls quiet again, the only sounds being the tiny burps that Anaís lets out every so often, you and Alexia laughing quietly everytime. She grows tired after a little while, so Alexia cradles her back into her arms and you both watch as she quickly falls asleep in the company of her parents. It's a sight you don't think you could ever get sick of; it's perfect.

"It was nice seeing you so happy today." You say quietly to Alexia, not wanting to wake Anaís up.

"I am always happy, amor." Alexia replies in a confused tone.

"I know, but just seeing you at the game earlier, you seemed a different kind of happy."

"Because I have everything I have ever dreamed of now."

You might not have believed her at first - did she not already have that with all she's accomplished with football? But the way she looks into your eyes as she says it with so much earnest and love and a thousand other emotions swirling in her hazel orbs when she gazes at you, you might just believe her.

And two years later as you bake another cake, this time for Anaís' second birthday, a past memory - which seems incredibly distant now - washes over you. You mention it to Alexia, who's eyes light up instantly, though she doesn't immediately say what's on the tip of her tongue. You manage to coax it out of her, and this time around it's your turn to be completely caught off guard.

"I think we should have another soon."

You look up at her, surprised but completely on board with the idea. You say just that to her and afterwards, it goes quiet again as you stand doing your individual baking jobs with shy, excited smiles on your faces about the prospect of being parents again and growing your family. Anaís was such a happy and easy child, of course you'd have another if the next one turned out to be anything like her. And seeing Alexia with a newborn again? Absolutely.

However, you recognise a pattern in your family decision-making process.

"If we only want two kids though, we should probably stop baking cakes."

852 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 1 month

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (6/?)

Part summary: "You like Leigh, and that should be that. It shouldn't stop your world from turning, but it does."

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.520 | Warnings/Tags Unrequited feelings and pining | Author's Note: Thank you so much for the warm reception to this story :) I can't promise that this is the last bump in the road.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

“Thanks for meeting me.”

You came in early, already nursing a Mai Tai, having decided that facing this conversation sober wasn’t an option. The alcohol doesn’t make the situation any less twisted, but it dulls the edge of frustration just enough to keep you seated.

“Let’s get right to it,” you start, not bothering with pleasantries as you take another swig. “Danny.”

He winces slightly at you calling him by his real name, a telling sign of guilt or maybe just discomfort. It’s hard to tell. “Yeah, about that—”

You're not here for the runaround. Hence, the Mai Tai and the vodka that came before it.

“Look, Nick, or Danny, or whoever you are today. I just need some answers—”

“And I’ll give them to you if you promise me one thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, utterly flabbergasted by his nerve. “I'm not here to make any deals,” you state flatly. “I'm here for answers that I believe Matt owes me. And since he’s dead,” you say, not shying away from stating the grim reality in his face, “and you're in on Matt's little game, you owe me too.”

Danny looks like he doesn't want to challenge you on that; in fact, he looks downright worried.

“Please,” he implores. “This is important to me.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. Why is he suddenly acting like a dog with its tail tucked between his quivering legs?

“Okay, what is it?” you ask, signaling the bartender for another drink. Danny orders a drink for himself—a shot of whiskey. That's when you realize things are likely to get even crazier for you before they start to improve.

“It’s Leigh,” Danny says, and something in the way he mentions her name lets you know he's sincere about how important this is to him. “She doesn't know the half of it. She doesn't know I’m Nick, or that I helped Matt to... to be with you.”

You blink several times, rapidly, trying to clear the little haze in your head because you can’t believe what you’re hearing. He's asking you to keep a secret.

After he lied to you.

“And what, if I tell her you pretended to be someone else and helped her husband cheat on her, then what? She's—” you stop mid-sentence, the pieces suddenly clicking together in your mind. Danny doesn't want you to rat him out for being Nick, about his direct involvement in Matt's cheating, because he's… with Leigh?

They’re together?

As if he's tuned into your thoughts, Danny confirms your hunch. “I love Leigh. I think I always have. And if you tell her this, it's going to be the end of us.”

The first thing you feel is this urge to be all possessive about Leigh, coalesced with a sour taste in your mouth knowing someone else got there first. Except, you know Leigh would never look at you like that. So, it embitters you even more admitting you shouldn't be feeling this way at all.

You take a long sip of your newly arrived drink, buying time to think. Telling Leigh is supposedly the right thing to do, but it could also destroy whatever happiness she's found with Danny.

But is she though? Is she happy with Danny?

“So let me get this straight,” you say, the alcohol lending you a blunt courage. “You orchestrated this whole scenario—Matt meeting someone else—just so you could break him and Leigh up? You love her so much you'd do that to your friend?”

Danny looks even more defeated—as he should when he reveals, “Matt's not just some friend. He's my brother.”

You're midway through a sip of water when the words hit you, and you nearly choke on it, barely stopping yourself from spitting the water out.

“You’re despicable! And to think that—”

“But I didn’t orchestrate anything, okay? Do you think I’m some kind of god, picking you randomly to throw at Matt? You guys really met and fell for each other by chance. I had nothing to do with both of your feelings.”

You scoff, incredulous. There's no way you're going to believe anything he says next. You just can't.

“So, your big plan was what? Just to hang back and hope to catch Leigh on the rebound?” you say defiantly.

The look he gives you, and the fact that he’s not outright denying it—

“Look,” he drones, raising a hand as if to temper your barrage of questions. “There was no plan, all right? Matt met you, and he just couldn't shake you off his mind. It was all him. And yeah, it was merely chance he saw you again, going into your clinic that afternoon. He told me about it, and I went with him to talk to you because he asked me to. I was just as thrown when he introduced me as ‘Nick’.”

You're skeptical, to say the least. “Why would Matt do that? Why go through all that trouble?”

Danny shrugs. “I’m not sure, but I went along with it. Probably because deep down, Matt knew what he was doing wasn’t right. Maybe he felt guilty, or maybe he wanted to be someone else in that moment, someone who wasn't Matt Greer with a brother named Danny, who was at his wedding to Leigh Shaw. I don’t know. I mean, I know my brother, but that doesn’t mean I understand all his reasons.”

A sick part of you can't help but feel less sorry about Matt's demise. It's a disgusting thought, harboring anything less than sympathy for someone who's gone, yet you can’t feel anything but enmity for being duped. Not just by one, but two people who played you for a fool.

“God, what a mess,” you mutter, shaking your head. No amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for this.

And then another thought occurs to you.

“You were the one who told Leigh about me and Matt, weren't you?”

Danny doesn't respond immediately, his gaze dropping to his lap.

“And you did it... to get Leigh for yourself. To make her hate Matt, hoping she'd turn to you,” you piece it together, one after another.

“No,” he counters quickly. You smirk into your cocktail, as if you've just heard the punchline of a joke.

Danny looks up, his dark eyes earnest, almost pleading for you to understand. “I didn't tell Leigh about you and Matt because I wanted to ‘have’ her. That... that wasn't it. That thought came much later, and honestly, only after Leigh started... showing interest in me. I never pursued her, not after Matt died. I kept my distance, respected her grief. I loved her quietly, without ever letting on.”

You look away, knowing a thing or two about loving someone in the shadows.

“I told Leigh because if she was going to mourn Matt, she deserved to know the full truth about who she was mourning. Matt wasn't just the loving husband she thought he was, and she had the right to know that,” he finishes.

You shake your head, dismissing his attempt to appear noble by betraying his own brother and tarnishing Leigh's memory of him. It just doesn't sit right to you, using someone's absence to get ahead. Matt's not here to tell his side, to explain things. His only defense being crumbs of himself he left behind like those texts Leigh stumbled upon on Danny's phone.

With a tad of vendetta in your words, you turn Danny’s reasoning against him.

“Then Leigh deserves to know about you too. About how you were a willing participant in Matt’s deception and helped him pull one over on her,” you tell him, not missing the shock that flickers across his face. “She deserves the truth if she’s going to be with you. Not just your cleaned-up version where you come out looking like the good guy.”

Danny's face goes a shade paler, and for a second, he looks like he's about to argue, but then nothing. He just sits there, kind of deflated, like he's finally realizing the predicament he's in isn't just going to disappear.

You've had enough of his excuses and signal the bartender for the bill. As you pull out your wallet, Danny finds a bit of his backbone again.

“It'll be your word against mine,” he laments, twirling the ice in his glass leisurely. “Me and Leigh, we've known each other for years. Who do you think she'll believe? Because from what I understand, Leigh caught you in a lie too. She doesn't trust you. So good luck trying to ruin our happiness just because you can.”

His challenge makes you bristle, but you square your shoulders, meeting his gaze dead-on. “Do you think Leigh loved Matt?” you ask.

Danny looks momentarily unsettled by your question, as if it's the last thing he expected from you. But then, without hesitation, he answers, “Yes.”

“Yeah, she would've stuck by Matt, even knowing everything,” Danny continues. “She'd convince him they could start over. Leigh loved... loves Matt so much,” he corrects himself, a bitter smile on his lips as he admits, “I envied my brother for that.”

The bartender slides the bill over, and you hand off your credit card without even a second look, thoroughly pleased with how Danny’s response has played right into your hands. Once you’re done paying for your drinks, you turn back to Danny.

“You latched onto the idea of me and Matt right away, not knowing if I’m going to love Matt the way Leigh loved him, or even more. But you didn’t care,” you say evenly. “All you saw was an opportunity to get the woman for yourself. You’re selfish.”

Danny’s quick to defend himself this time. “You wouldn't say that if you were in my shoes,” he shoots back. “I love both of them. I wanted Matt to be happy, and he wasn't anymore, not with Leigh.”

“And you were more than happy to nudge him away from his wife, thinking that'd fix everything?” you counter sharply.

He squirms in his seat, looking like he’s run out of excuses. He can’t find the words that’ll make you see his side of things. It also dawns on you that he’ll never see your point either.

After a tense silence, he asks, “Are you going to tell Leigh?”

You stand up and let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly? I don't even know if Leigh wants anything to do with me anymore.” Just as you’re about to leave, something compels you to throw Danny a lifeline and you swivel on your heel to give him one last thing to think about.

“If this thing you have with Leigh is real, don’t let her find out about the skeletons in your closet from someone else. It's better coming from you.”

Walking away, you can’t shake off the regret of not taking your own advice, more than you’d normally like to admit.

Suzie's been on edge about how you've been acting lately. She's always on the dot with your meals, but you barely give them a glance before packing them up and handing them off to homeless people on the street who need them more. Your days have blurred into a continuous loop at the clinic, skipping breaks, and hovering around even when it's technically Foreman's shift to take the lead.

Today, Suzie's hit her limit watching you mope and brood in your office's corner. Without a word of warning, she marches in with a bottle of red and two glasses. You’re startled, feeling somewhat cornered, as she locks the office door behind her. Ignoring your shock, Suzie starts pouring a generous glass of wine for you, filling it right to the brim.

“Alright, out with it,” she orders, pushing a full glass your way.

Your gaze sweeps the room, looking for a way out. “Suzie, I don’t think it’s—” Yes, you own the place. But owning it doesn't mean you're about to bend your own rules about drinking on the job.

“Let's drink it out, girlie.” She sets her own glass down, already filled, and takes a seat. Last time I saw you like this, your team lost the Superbowl. And let's be real, the only other thing that had you this down before was that Matt guy ghosting you.”

You eye the glass of wine, your mouth feeling very dry all of a sudden. “What about the patients waiting outside?”

“Foreman's on it, as long as we save him some for later. I said we would, but let's be honest, this bottle isn't really enough for two,” Suzie says, giving you a wink.

You let out a sigh, your fingers instinctively inching towards your glass, yet you stop short of actually grabbing it. You're usually the vault, not the one doing the talking. You absorb everyone else's life stories, nod sympathetically, and maybe offer advice on occasion. The only reason Suzie even caught wind of the whole Matt situation is because he made his interest too obvious—showing up at the clinic multiple times with flowers, chocolates, books, and all those little things he discovered you couldn't resist. It wasn't so much you telling her, as it was Matt's grand gestures speaking volumes, making it impossible for anyone, especially Suzie, not to notice.

Taking a deep breath, you realize maybe it's time to open up to someone, to share the absurdity of your situation with someone who might just understand—someone who, at the very least, also likes women.

“Okay, so here's the thing... I've got this weird crush,” you say, letting that sit for a moment, partly because you're still wrapping your head around it, partly because you still can’t believe it. You can't pinpoint exactly when you started tumbling down a rabbit hole from which there was no climbing back out.

“On Matt's wife.”

Suzie's reaction is as you expected—her eyes go wide, her mouth drops, and the wine glass she's holding almost slips from her grasp. “You what?” she gasps, looking at you like you've grown a second head. “How in the world do you end up falling for your ex's wife?”

You never said anything about falling. But you suppose that's how it looks, given how much you've been out of sorts ever since Leigh called you a liar.

Sitting in your car across from Leigh's house, you feel like some sort of stalker. You tell yourself this is a one-off, not a habit you're planning to develop. Though, if you don't catch her tonight, you'll likely be back here tomorrow, or the day after.

After that wine-fueled heart-to-heart with Suzie, you left the clinic with a buzz and her words echoing inside your head: Just walk up to Leigh and say you were an ass and that you're sorry. And here you are, taking her advice a bit too literally and too soon.

It's getting late, and you've been watching Leigh's front door as if it might sprout legs and run away. You're semi-drunk, definitely not in the best state for making apologies, but Suzie's pep talk has convinced you that you need to do this, and now. “This is a terrible idea,” you mumble to yourself, checking your phone again to see if, by some miracle, Leigh has responded to one of your texts. Still nothing.

Just as you're starting to question your sanity and consider driving home, you finally spot Leigh’s car turning the corner. Your heart starts doing somersaults, threatening to beat its way out of your chest as the car pulls into the driveway. But as the car parks and the door swings open, your hopeful anticipation crashes hard into disappointment. It's not Leigh stepping out onto the curb; it's Jules. So, it's a family car, and today, of all days, you didn't get the driver you were hoping for.

A headache begins to brew as you scold yourself for even showing up here. “What am I even doing?” you mutter under your breath, rubbing your temples as if that could erase the last few hours. Leigh might be at Danny's for all you know, making this stakeout even more pointless.

In those few seconds of self-berating, you're completely oblivious to Jules spotting you from the sidewalk. So, when she taps on your side of the window, you nearly jump out of your skin, hand shaking as you roll it down to face her.

“Hi,” she says simply. She’s smiling, like she knows something you don’t.

“I'm not a stalker,” you say defensively. “I'm just…” An idiot.

You weren’t aware you said the last part aloud until Jules chuckles. “Well, at least you’re an honest idiot. You waiting for Leigh?”

“I was, but... I'll just go,” you stammer, ready to make a retreat and save what little dignity you have left.

“You won't get anywhere far on those flat tires though,” Jules comments offhandedly, nodding towards the back of your car.

“Flat tires?”

You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt to check. Sure enough, when you step out and circle to the back, both of your rear tires are depressingly flat, deflated against the pavement.

“Great,” you groan, raking your fingers through your hair and tugging in frustration. “Just my luck.”

You’re not drunk enough to find the situation funny, nor sober enough to deal with flat tires.

“Maybe you should call a tow or something and wait inside the house until they get here,” Jules suggests.

“My phone’s dead,” you say in response.

“No problem, I can call them for you.”

You're chewing over the thought, when your stomach decides to join the conversation with a loud rumble.

Jules grins and adds, “Plus, I've got pizza.” The thought of waiting it out with the comfort of food suddenly makes the idea of intruding a lot less unappealing.

“Why do you even like my sister?”

You're mid-bite on your first slice when Jules launches that question out of the blue and you nearly choke on your own spit. Crumbs dust your fingers as you set the slice down, buying yourself a moment to think. It's not like you've never asked yourself the same question. It's just that the answer doesn't make any more sense to you either.

“She, uh, has a way of making an impression. Mostly, I appreciate her candor—”

“You find her bitchiness… endearing?”

You’re stunned by the way she frames it, but it also makes you smile, recognizing the blunt honesty in her words—something that apparently runs in the family. You guess Jules could say that. Leigh’s sour attitude offended you one time, and then you heard her laugh and saw her smile, and it’s as if the sun never set for you.

“Her... directness is refreshing. In a world full of people trying to sugarcoat everything, Leigh just says it like it is. And yes, it can come off a bit strong, but there's something genuine about it. Plus, she's incredibly passionate about what she believes in. She has this authenticity that’s rare to find nowadays.”

Formidable. You think of the perfect adjective to describe it a tad too late, but you keep it to yourself, thinking you’ve gushed enough about her sister.

“Is that the alcohol talking or do you like, like Leigh?”

It's one thing to harbor a secret crush, quite another to have it recognized and named by someone else, especially Leigh's family. “I don’t—”

“I thought I caught a whiff of red on your breath out there on the street. Here, drink more water,” Jules says, pouring you a tall glass. “I’d offer you a beer but we stopped having those around here because I’m seven months sober.”

“Oh. Congratulations,” you say.

“Thanks.”

She seems to have moved on from her question, getting busy on her phone a moment later, but you haven't, and it leaves you feeling spotlighted in a way you weren't prepared for. “I, um…” You're scrambling for the right terms, something to deflect but not deny. Because the more you've denied it, the more your feelings have grown.

Determined to see you continue to squirm at the kitchen bar, Jules starts talking about Leigh almost casually, as though she's discussing something as mundane as the weather.

“You know, Leigh had a girlfriend in college, before Matt, of course. So, you don't have to worry about her not being interested in girls,” she says, her eyes not leaving her phone screen.

“She did?”

By this time, you're not even sure if Jules is just pulling your leg, and you're baffled as to why she's sharing details about Leigh that Leigh herself probably wouldn't tell you outright.

“Yeah, she was totally into her, just like she was with Matt. Then, out of nowhere just tossed her aside like that,” Jules snaps her fingers, “she completely cut her off. They had been together for two years, and she didn’t shed a single tear over the breakup. So, maybe that's what you should be worrying about,” Jules says, putting her phone facedown on the table.

The pizza suddenly looks less appetizing as you stew over this. It's one thing to worry about whether Leigh could reciprocate your feelings; it's another to consider that even if she did, there’s the reality that it might not go down the way you hope it would, given the chance.

You've always been told you're too much of a dreamer to be a doctor. That became even more apparent when they saw you couldn't help but cry alongside pet owners every time a pet didn't make it or when you had to make that tough call for mercy's sake. You've been in relationships before; after all, you're twenty-eight years old. But you've always treated them like free trials, never getting too serious, especially during those times when you couldn't stay in the same zip code for more than a few weeks. Then, the moment you decide it's time to plant roots, your concept of romance skyrockets to something out of a fairy tale, something as grand as the universe conspiring to unite two souls, forever. It’s how it happened for your parents, being each other’s first loves. You figured, the same should happen for you.

You like Leigh, and that should be that. It shouldn't stop your world from turning, but it does.

“Liking Leigh is moot,” you say after some time. “It’s a bad idea from the start.”

Jules tilts her head. “Why is that?”

You let out a sigh, fiddling with the bracelet on your right wrist. “It’s just... there’s something between Leigh and Danny, right? And it doesn’t usually end up with the mistress and the wife together. Besides, Leigh hates me right now. Most obvious reason being that I stole Matt from her before he... before he was gone for good.”

Jules hums thoughtfully. “Sounds like you've been doing a lot of thinking.”

“It's all I've been able to do since I met her,” you say.

Jules glances at the slice of pizza on your plate, now cold and forgotten. “You gonna eat that?” she asks, nodding towards the lonely piece.

You shake your head, sliding the plate her way. “Good,” Jules responds with a grin. “I'll save this slice for Leigh, then.”

Your ears perk up at that. “You’re expecting her home?”

“Yeah, any minute now. She texted a bit ago saying she was on her way. Plus, she's not working too far from here today.”

“Oh? Where's she at?”

Jules is just about to answer when the front door swings open, revealing Leigh as she hurries inside, her eyes quickly finding yours. There's no mistaking it—she's seen your car. She throws you a pointed look as she heads upstairs, her message clear without saying a word. Then, she murmurs a quick, “We'll talk about this later,” to Jules, who simply snorts in response and starts tidying up the dining table.

The sound of Leigh slamming the door prompts you to rise from your chair, but it's clear you have no plan. Should you go after Leigh? It's precisely why you came here, but now, the wine's effects have faded. Your feet are getting cold.

“You're wrong, you know,” Jules drones, her back to you as she wets a towel under the sink. “About Leigh and Danny.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I think she's with Danny as a form of revenge.”

You stare at her back, confused. “For Matt cheating on her?”

“Exactly. Matt was aware of Danny's feelings for Leigh. I knew about it, Leigh knew, and that's partially why she had such a strong dislike for him before she began to... well, you know,” Jules explains, her expression contorting slightly in distaste. “It's kind of absurd when you think about it, especially since Matt's no longer here. But Leigh holds onto her beliefs in the afterlife, so it's like she's putting on a performance for Matt's spirit or something.”

You look up at the ceiling, as if expecting to see through the hardwood floors. “And you're telling me this because...?”

“Because you've given up already,” Jules states matter-of-factly.

You're confused. “So, you don't approve of someone you've known for years, but you're okay with the idea of me, Matt's other woman, being interested in Leigh?”

Jules just shrugs again. “It's weird. Scandalous, even. Something none of us saw coming.”

(In your head, you wonder, ‘Who's ‘us’?')

“But when Leigh was hanging out with you, when you were attending her class, she wasn't with Danny much, I think,” Jules goes on. “And that’s enough for me.”

“You don’t even know me,” you argue weakly. Inside, you're kind of doing cartwheels because Jules doesn't seem to mind that you're into Leigh. Somehow, that feels like a win.

“I know Danny well enough. I've got nothing against him personally, but he somehow manages to bring out the worst in Leigh. My sister was… agreeable when you were around. She actually talked about you, even mentioned she thinks you've got gorgeous brown eyes.”

“She does?”

Jules cracks up, noticing your cheeks go pink. “Oh, absolutely. And I've got to say, seeing those eyes up close—they're kind of striking. Annoyingly so, even.”

Her tease draws a reluctant smile from you, a swarm of butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. It's comforting to know that there's at least something about you that Leigh notices.

“I should talk to her,” you say with resolve.

“Yeah, you should,” Jules nods, her laughter settling into a warm smile. “I'm not playing Cupid or anything, but I think I like you, Y/N. Leigh could use someone like you around. Most people just back off when her less charming side shows up. When she’s intolerable. I've done it too, sometimes. But I can't really leave her hanging because, you know, she's family and I love her, so…”

Hearing Jules say those things about Leigh transforms her from someone intimidating into someone truly worth sticking around for. And if your feelings eventually lead nowhere and quietly fade over time, then at least you could be the kind of friend to her who doesn't run at the first sign of trouble.

“Jules?” you say, stopping at the foot of the staircase.

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you too.”

Approaching quietly, you've left your shoes by the stairs, the cool floor under your bare feet making you feel all the more vulnerable. Jules had given you directions to Leigh's bedroom—right at the end of the hallway. Downstairs, you hear the murmur of the TV; Jules has turned up the volume, probably more to give you and Leigh some semblance of privacy than for her own viewing pleasure.

When you reach Leigh's door, panic floods back in. You keep swallowing, but it's like the desert in your mouth won't let up. “I got this,” you mutter under your breath, trying to psych yourself up. You lean in, ear against the door, trying to pick up any sound. It's silent until you catch the ping of a laptop, followed by fingers typing away noisily. She might be at her desk, probably by the window, or maybe lying in some awkward, back-breaking position on her bed. Knowing she's awake strips away your last excuse to back down. You lift your hand, pause for a split second, then tap lightly on the door. Your heart's pounding so loud, you're half-convinced Leigh can hear it from the other side.

“Leigh?”

No answer.

“It’s me,” you say a little louder. “Can we talk?”

She doesn’t answer.

You don't want to push her into a corner, to demand her to open up when she's clearly not ready. But walking away without laying your feelings out isn't an option either. With a heavy sigh, you slide down until you're seated on the floor, back against her door. It's a small surrender, but it doesn't feel like defeat. Not yet.

“I know you can hear me,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “It's okay if you don't want to talk. Really, it is. But there's just something I need you to know.”

You take a deep breath before the plunge. Here we go.

“Look, you were right,” you start, whispering almost, as if you're sharing a secret with the wood of the door itself. “I did downplay what Matt and I had when you asked me. But, to be completely honest, I didn't even realize I was doing it at the time.” You run your finger along the wood grain of the door, savoring the texture against your skin. Unknown to you, Leigh is on the other side, sitting with her back pressed against the same spot, hugging her knees to her chest.

“By the time you came to me, I hadn't heard from Matt in three months. I was... sober from him, and whatever we had felt like a distant dream. I can’t recall the specifics, just that it was... nice. And maybe intense at the moment, but looking back, it was more about lust and similarities than anything.”

Slowly, you lean your head against the door, closing your eyes as you continue, “I'm not telling you this to make excuses for myself. I don't want to justify the deceit. I just... I need you to understand that any impact he had on me was gone long before you and I met.”

Opening your eyes, you glance down at the space under the door, hoping to see a shadow, a sign that Leigh is right there, listening. She is, but you miss it. The hallway is dark and there’s little to no light coming from Leigh’s bedroom.

You keep talking, now more for yourself than for her. “If there was something real between Matt and me, it wouldn't have vanished so effortlessly. And he... he likely wouldn't have just vanished either, leaving me in the dark without any explanation.”

The door flies open suddenly just as you finish your thought. With no time to react, you're sent tumbling backwards, landing with a thud on the floor. The shock of the fall momentarily stuns you, but it's the sight of Leigh, upturned, that really takes your breath away. Her eyes are hard, her expression unreadable, but it's clear she's been listening to every word.

“You could've mentioned he slept over at your place. Not having sex with him that night didn't mean it was a dismissible detail,” Leigh says, her voice thick. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone's house and not have sex? To just be there, for the sake of being there?”

You're on the ground, staring up at her. You know it now. Dressing her wounds, that was intimate. Her hand correcting your posture during yoga, that too was intimate. Sharing burgers in the car, intimate.

Whenever you do anything, or find yourself somewhere, just for the chance to be with someone—that's intimacy right there.

“I—I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,” you say. You silently promise to her that lying about your feelings for her will be the last lie you ever tell her.

“You don’t know?” Leigh sneers. “Then think!”

You push yourself into a sitting position, unsure if you should get inside her bedroom or inch back outside. In this position, you're acutely aware of the power imbalance—her standing, you on the floor. It compels you to admit some of your truth.

“I didn't want to cause you any more pain than I already have,” you say softly. “Which is funny because my very existence is likely a constant reminder of that pain.”

Something shifts in the air. You’re the first to look away and you end up just waiting for Leigh to kick you out for good. But she doesn't do what you brace for. Getting a read on her has always been like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, and it feels like it always will be.

Slowly, Leigh extends a hand to help you up. You take it, feeling the cool dampness of her skin.

Just as she’s about to shut the door again, she stops short, locks her eyes with you, and says, “I can handle pain just fine.”

338 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 2 months

Text

Lena Luthor x Reader #3

Summary: Lena breaks up with Reader to keep her safe from Lex. Reader hatches a plan to get rid of him that goes terribly wrong, and naturally, torture follows. This mostly takes place after she’s found again.

Warnings:

Angst,torture, depression, trauma, childhood trauma

Notes:

Hey! I’m going about writing differently now. Everything I write from here on out will most likely be straight from the tumblr drafts and fairly quick. Something I decide to do in a random sitting (unless it’s paid for). Fair warning that this isn’t that, this is just something I worked on ages ago and didn’t publish. I did NO SPELLING CHECKS and remember writing at 2am, so warning number 2

———————

Lena loathed the DEO in that moment. She loathed Alex, and she loathed Supergirl , and she loathed every damn agent in the building so that she didn’t have to loathe herself instead. It’s not enough, there was still a small part of her that she couldn’t ignore, a part of her that screamed; ‘you should have held on. You should have been there’

She knows she should have been there. She knows she failed you before anyone else did. She knows. But she’s trying now and she doesn’t know how to get it to matter to the world. Trying won’t save you, and trying hasn’t led you back to her.

Trying has only led you there, far from Lena, laying somewhere unknown with a body and a heart too worn. Though, Lena imagines, that’s probably not a new feeling for you. She trembles with the image of Lex mocking her on video, holding a gun to your head, she trembles and thinks, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.

Then, miraculously;

“Found her!” Winn shouts loudly, raising his Supergirl action figure in victory, and Lena, CEO, multibillionaire, crumbles in relief in front of dozens of agents in the middle of the DEO.

—-

When you wake up Lena feels her heart stop.

She wanted to kiss you, hold you. She wanted to be the type of person that stayed. She wanted to be the type of person worth staying for.

She wanted to believe the both of you would be okay, and she wanted to hold your face and tell you that. That you’d be okay. She wanted more than anything in that moment to be the type of person that said the right thing. That did the right thing.

She wasn’t. She wasn’t any of the people she wanted to be. Your eyes met hers, full of sorrow, and human and hurt, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t because she was scared, and because she was human also. She wasn’t—so she leaves.

Now, as she’s gripping herself in the hallways of the DEO, struggling against the weight of what feels like worlds on her shoudlers, choking on breaths that should have been being shared with you, she’s filled with so much self contempt it could fuel the whole government. Whoever said that “It’s better to have loved and loss, than to have never loved at all”, has never met the two of you and has never loved this desperately.

Loving you made her feel just as much as losing you had, and is it worth it? Maybe, but It’s certainly not better to be feeling this than not ever feeling it. Can’t those things coexist? Can’t it be better for her to never love, but can’t loving also be a choice she’d make despite all the pain?

Can’t you love the things that will destroy us in the end? Doesn’t she always?

She should go back in. She should go back in and ask for forgiveness, but the fear of ruining things further, of the both of you hurting each other further, prevents her from trying to fix things.

When she broke up with you she had just wanted to protect you from Lex. Losing you like that would have nothing compared to—

Lena shivers, shakes her head, and clutches onto herself more tightly with trembling fingers.

“You’re hyperventilating,” Alex says from where she’s leaning against the wall beside Lena. Her eyes are watchful, careful, but Lena feels them like daggers.

She straightens, forces out a; “wow, you really are an amazing analyzer, detective,” and nearly gets a smirk for her troubles—but Alex is too soft, too caring to give her that. She moves towards her, ever the big sister, but Supergirl rushes in first.

“Lena,” Supergirl—Kara, Kara, Lena thinks, and often starts to forget, except when Kara looks at her like this—breathes out.

Lena steps back from them both, the humanity in the room tears her apart, reminds her of her lack of, and destroys her. “You have to…to warn people when you do that…super speed thing,” Lena grits out, cutting Kara off before she can even begin to try and be…be good. She gestures towards the room with shaky hands and begins to try and compose herself lHow long was she awake while I was asleep?”

Kara and Alex look at each other. Say nothing. “Guys—”

“She woke up two hours ago,” Alex says, at the same time Kara says; “you were wiped out—didn’t even hear the nurses, of course we couldn’t just wake you up”

Two hours, and she was asleep. Lena goes cold instantly. She remembers hearing Lex had you, remembers it like one remembers the worst moment of their life; both intimately and not at all. She remembers hearing Supergirl had you—that you were breathing , but people only say that when someone is very not okay, and Lena remembers the way adrenaline had rushed through her. She had felt both alive and utterly useless through it, and it sticks to her even now.

Alive, but asleep, never the person she needs to be to protect you. How alone have you felt because of her? How scared?

“Lena,” Kara starts again, “Lena, she wanted you to sleep— ”

“Go in there,” Alex cuts her off, gets a very annoyed look for it, because they both can’t seem to help cutting each other off today. “You want to show her she’s not alone, that she’s safe? I promise you that the only way she’ll feel that is with you there.”

Kara nods, suddenly straightening and transforming into Supergirl just like that, just in the stance. “Hero complexes will serve nothing except separation and loneliness. You taught me that. Stronger together, Lena.”

Wanting to save you had left you alone, and yes, alone to Lena meant away from Lex, but he’s not the only scary thing in this world, and she should have known that he’d never forget how to destroy her. To leave you alone, Lena thinks, was the worst thing she could have done.

While you were away Lena had to confront herself. Had to realize that so far, every good thing in her life has come with a cost, has led to ruin, and the threat of Lex…it had just seemed to her like the time had come. Like it was her only option. To sacrifice, to sacrifice and hurt.

If Lex had won by separating the two of you, then he had one like that. In her mind, Lena had already been destroyed, of course she imagined that to be the end of it, that he wouldn’t touch you. She’d rather hurt by pushing you away than you dying. Even the thought—

God, she’s so tired of being a coward. To being so scared of losing you that she’s willing to destroy you both.

Kara and Alex hating what she’s done in the unspoken way that they do hurts even more in a way Lena’s used to, because it hurts like regret. Their stances have turned from concerned and loving, to protective heroes. She should have never left you alone. Not when she was scared of Lex, and not now. She gives both Kara and Alex a firm nod and tries to walk past to get into the room. To make things right.

Kara stops her with a hand on her shoulder. She drops it instantly when Lena turns towards her. Ever the fragile hero, always afraid of her own hands for the strength they hold. “Before that…” Kara coughs awkwardly, “Um…we need you to understand her injuries…and what happened.”

—-

When Lena walks into the room, it’s not like you thought she would. She’s not the fragile human curled up in a chair, or the terrified women fleeing your medical room. She’s angry with rage and a whirlwind of feelings, caught in a tornado of emotion. She’s large in the way she’s always been, and yet it has never left you feeling so small.

You sink back into your hospital bed, pull the covers to your chin, and watch her.

“You went after him?” Lena hisses out, so lowly, so sharply, that she might as well have cut the words into your skin for the way that it dig into you. “Everything I’ve ever done is to protect you, and you just decided to throw it all away like it means nothing? Do you have any idea—”

“You were protecting yourself!”

Lena stops. She was pacing, shaking with emotion, but she stops dead in her tracks at the sound of your voice. You yell it, and yet it’s still somehow silent. Your throat is ruined, a testament to the cruelty of Lex, and the evidence of that and more is written on your skin. You’re covered in injuries. Your brokenness has never been more visible, you think, and it should leave you feeling fragile, and it does, god it does, but right now it gives you power.

Power over Lena, who looks at you like her life hangs in the palm of her hand.

“You think I’m stupid, that I don’t know that every fiber of your being is laced with fear?” You whisper now, hand on your throbbing throat. “You left me for you, and I went after Lex for me.” Its venom. Venom, and anger, and all of the thing you know Lena takes In stride. The thing she strives on.

It hangs in the air for a second. Then Lena, beautiful Lena, kneels by the side of your bed. CEO, one of the most powerful people in this city; on her knees for you. She doesn’t look invigorated, doesn’t looked fueled by anger, just looks sad with regrets.

“I did it for me,” Lena agrees, so soft, so not like them; not like her family. “I did it for you, too. Of course I did it for you, and maybe it was a terrible thing to do—led by my trauma talking to me—but don’t lay there and deny I wasn’t thinking of you,” she breathes, then pauses, eyes tracing your busted lips, bruised face, bruised neck. Her jaw trembles and her lips part, she looks as if she wants to say more, but her eyes are haunted by the home she grew up in.

As if reading your mind Lena whispers, “they haunt me. It’s as if I can never let go. I’m so sick of it. I’m so sick of it.” She closes her eyes with furrowed brows, as if not looking at you will prevent the shake in her voice. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For them. For them now, for them back then, and for them in the future—if you still want to be in my life, you have to know I can’t escape them. Even when they’re not there they’re there. It…god, it makes me sick.”

When Lena raises her hands and grips herself, digging her fingers into her skin like she wants to pull the trauma and memories out of herself, like she wants to get rid of them, something in you breaks. Breaks because your arms are raw and aching, and it wasn’t Lex. Breaks because you know so intimately what it’s like to face reality and find it so frustratingly unchangeable. To want so much, and for it to mean nothing is the most devastating thing.

To be so large, and so small.

You’ve been crying, and Lena doesn’t notices until a sob falls from your lips. You’ve been trying to hold it in, but when she startles up at it and looks at you with that same wanting, like you’re her heart walking and she’d give anything to take your hurt, the sobs break through like a dam. They break through and it hurts because there is no part of you left unbroken.

When you sob it disturbs your broken ribs, disturbs the bruises covering your torso, rips at your tarnished vocal cords, and has the machines in the room beeping so loud it alerts the nurses.

—-

Lena doesn’t even have time to stand before the nurses rush in and pull the blanket off of you. There’s no words to describe the shift that happens in side of her when she sees the extent of your injuries.

It’s like something both breaks and rebuilds in her, and then breaks again, paralyzing her. Then, she sees a nurse heading towards you with a syringe and it activates her.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Lena says, or thinks she says. She can’t recognize the venom in her voice, doesn’t feel apart of her body.

She’s moving in between the nurse and you, but your sobs begin to bring her back to reality.

“She needs to be put under, she’s hurting herself—”

Lena doesn’t pay attention to her, just sees Alex and Supergirl enter the room. Sees the way Alex shakes her head and nods to the corner of the room, and follows in suit while every fiber of her being says to do otherwise.

It kills her that she can’t protect you. Can’t protect you from the nurses that you try to pull away from, can’t protect you from the hurt on your skin, or in your heart, couldn’t protect you from— she thinks of Lex. Lex when he was her big, smart older brother that she admired more than anyone in the world.

She thinks of the way he’d give her a cheeky roll of his eyes behind Lillian’s back after a small verbal lashing. Thinks of every chess game, every hide n seek game, every reassuring grin. You’re smarter than they know Lena, he’d say, and she’d beam, not noticing the progressive darkness in his eyes as he said it.

Her eyes don’t leave you as the nurses put you down again. She thinks; I’ll kill him. In her peripheral she knows Kara is watching the floor, and feels Alex watching her. When the nurses cover you back up and they both turn towards you, Lena knows it was out of respect for you. She’s grateful for it—somewhere in her thunder of emotions she’s thankful for them, but also feels a bit of anger towards them.

This is why they kept her from seeing you when you were brought in?

“Why doesn’t she have a hospital gown?” Lena asks in a whisper.

“She took it off, said it hurt when the nurses moved it, and that it was sticking to her. Constricting her,” Kara explains, she sighs, shakes her head, and then turns towards Lena as Supergirl. With a fire in her eyes.

The same one in Lena as she allows herself to ask the very question she wanted to run from hours ago. “Where’s Lex?”

“No.” It’s both Supergirl and Alex.

“Alive then? Okay,” Lena starts towards the door. “If you’re here, he’s here. I’ll find him easily enough.”

Supergirl, familiarly, stands in her ways. Eyes sympathetic next to Alex’s hardness. “Where are you when you’re with them?” Alex asks from behind her. When you let them guide every bad decision you make, she hears.

Lena stops. Thinks about control, about gods, about leaving you to wake up alone again, thinks about murder, both in her blood and not, thinks about Lex with a gun to your head, with fists, and kicks, and a maniac smile, thinks about her dad in the same way—standing over Lex while Lillian gripped Lena back. She thinks of cycles, thinks of protection and all the ways it’s possible, all the ways she’s capable, more capable then him.

Smarter, Lena remembers Lillian saying casually. Always smarter than.

Better than, Kara will say.

The good one, Alex will joke.

My hero, you’d grin. Lena feels herself split. Starts forward again.

Kara whispers now, “Heroes don’t kill, Lena.”

Alex, “it’s both the best and most terrible thing about us.”

Us.

Lena wants to yell, wants to crumble, wants to curl by your side, wants to kill Lex with her bare hands, wants to erase the Luthor history from her mind, from her body, wants to erase it from yours even more. Wants it so desperately, so acutely it hurts. Sadness fills the room, suffocates them all.

Kara is watching you again, Alex keeps glancing back, they’re both unconcerned about Lena now. Full faith in her to be who they claim she is. Lena returns to the seat by your bed and allows herself to be that person.

“Whatever cell he’s in, I’m building it,” Lena whispers, thinking of the cuffs she’ll put on him, wondering if she can somehow slow down his mind.

Alex nods, running her hands down her face. The past couple hours have completely exhausted her in a way Lena’s not used to seeing from her. Alex cares so much about you, and it shouldn’t surprise Lena but It does. “We’re thinking about sending him to the phantom zone.”

Here, Lena is more surprised. They must know that’s a death sentence. Lena glances at Supergirl, she’s still watching you but she’s clearly listening, her eyes have turned hard. They aren’t underestimating Lex. They clearly know the responsibility that’ll bear on them if he escapes again.

Lena feels another bought of gratitude towards them as she takes your hand, and trusts them to handle the person she trusts no one to handle.

——

When you wake up the second time it’s because nurses are dapping you with wet cloths, clearly trying to clean you. They apologize profusely, say they thought the drugs would keep you down longer, and offer to finish the cleaning after you’ve gotten more pain killers.

Your eyes dart around rapidly, chest constricting in anxiety, and then you see Lena. She’s standing by the door, clearly trying to keep out of the nurses way. She’s not full of rage and untouchable in that way, and she’s not fragile, she’s strong.

Her eyes are hard, but not cold. They’re determined, and loving, and they’re your strength too. You suck in a shaky breath, whisper; “thank you. Later might be an option”, as you try to focus on Lena and not the thought of the nurses hands on you turning into Lex’s violent ones.

When they all shuffle out Lena quietly returns to the spot by your bed. This Lena somehow makes you feel more fragile than angry, furious Lena had, because in the place of your defensiveness you’re left to feel your guilt.

“I’m…I’m not weak, Lena.” It feels stupid to claim now as you lay in a hospital bed feeling nothing but. You clench your jaw. Lena’s hand reaches up and takes your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. She’s not gentle, certainly not rough, but her firmness gives you the power to continue. She’s the stable ground that helps you find your footing.

You find it. Meet her gaze unblinking. “I’m not Supergirl, I’m not you, I’m not Alex, or Jon, or Winn, or James, or Kelly, or— or Lex…I’m not capable in the particular ways you guys are, but I am capable.”

Lena’s eyes fall to your throat. You grip her wrist, the one holding your face, and her eyes meet yours apologetically. “I know,” she says, so softly, so quietly. “You being here is the evidence of it, isn’t it?”

You nod, but you aren’t done. “I’m not sure what Supergirl told you. Clearly she told you I went after Lex, and in a way that’s true, but more so I wanted him to come after me,” you pause. Lena is watching you with furrowed eyes, clearly trying to piece together what you’re explaining before you finish.

Her lips part after just another moment. She’s figured it out you realize, feeling a bit of pride because of it. Pride because she has faith in you, pride because she‘s so incredibly quick and you have had the privilege to know her so acutely. “All of this…was your plan?” Lena asks, sounding both shocked and not.

You wince, brushing aside her hand so you can look down, adverting your gaze. “Well…not all of it.” Memories flash through your mind. “I thought he’d keep me captive, not…” you left out a frustrated breath, angry, so angry at yourself for not being able to speak about it. Speak about him.

“It was a game to him, of course. He’d torture me, send you a video to torture you. He’d get you chasing him. He’s always liked the thrill.” Your eyes stay on Lena’s fists. Watch as they clench so tightly to her side that they shake. “I knew he loved messing with you, and was partly counting on it, not like that but— but maybe just having me wouldn’t have been enough, maybe it was good he did what he did—got so high off of it his guard lowered.”

“Don’t say that,” Lena pleads. You startle up at the sound of her trembling voice doing everything not to cry.

You breathe in; your ribs hurt. You breathe out; they hurt again. Lena shakes her head at herself, frustrated and biting her lip. She’s having a battle with composure and losing.

“Kara told me how you stole his nanotech and used it to immobilize him. That the tech that was missing from my lab last week was found with the stuff he confiscated from you. That you hacked his computer with my prototype to send her the location to his headquarters underground,” Lena rushes out, “I didn’t know you planned to get taken to his HQ, to steal his nanotech, didn’t know that anyone besides me and the DEO knew what he was working on.”

It’s a quick summary of the things you’ve done, leaving out the weeks of planning, leaving out the struggles of actually setting the plan in motion when the shifting variables shifted in a way you weren’t prepared for. It should leave you proud, but when you think of what you managed all you remember is pain and struggle.

“You stopped Lex like you planned. So many people are saved because of you. An unfathomable amount, and yet,”she says. And yet, you think, heart fluttering because you know Lena will say the very thought that kills you to think of, but the thought that can’t escape you anyways. “What…what you did was monumental, and thank you, but god, I so wish you hadn’t,” Lena breathes. “He gone, and yet he has never been so present. Perhaps you felt the effects of him through me before, but you know now what it’s like to have him really present, always right over your shoulder, and that…I would’ve given the world for otherwise.”

It’s exactly the same thoughts you have had. To hear it from Lena, someone you admire and trust so much, someone you believe to be good with every piece of you, someone you’d follow everywhere—it’s like a medicine for guilt.

“What I said before…about doing what I did for me,” Lena shakes her head, ever understanding, like she doesn’t need you to finish. You do though. “I did it for me because I wanted desperately for you to still be mine, and getting rid of Lex was the avenue for that,” you admit. “I didn’t want him to plague you anymore either.”

You hesitate. Memories of Lena pacing at night—startling awake, watching the news with the grimness of someone attending a funeral—memories of Lena’s affectedness come to you. Her humaneness at hearing Lex escaped again, and in her humanity in her vulnerability.

“I want to take responsibility, so I don’t want to say I did it for you, but what you said earlier made me realize everything is a bit of both. I did it for me, I did it for you too.”

Lena laughs. Laughs. It shocks you, causes you to jump and stop looking at your hand, causes you to meet her gaze again. “Ow,” you growl, unamused, because Lena is still laughing. She’s covering her face and has the decency to look apologetic.

Your ribs hurt from the startle but even you can’t help but be confusedly amused.

“I want to hate,” Lena starts, mirth in her voice, “that you did the thing I wanted you to do least in the world, and you got exactly what you wanted out of it. You captured lex, and in a way captured me back too.”

“Oh,” you perk up, smiling up at Lena innocently. “Guess I’m the brains now, brawn.”

Lena’s eyes narrow at you. “That insinuates that you were ever the brawn.”

Back to glaring. Lena lets out another huff of laughter and brushes your hair back, away from a cut on your forehead. Her eyes are so soft, so full of warmth, and love that you could cry. Would cry, perhaps, if it wouldn’t hurt every part of your body.

Instead you grin, because that’s what humans are taught to do instead of cry, and ask, gently—feeling like a shaky child; “does that mean you’re my girlfriend again?”

—-

Lena’s eyes widen as she realizes what she implied, and as you own up to it so hesitantly, so childlike, like Lena could ever think of pushing you away after everything. Her words, not for the first time today, betray her. All she can do is nod.

Your responding grin is heroin to Lena. You smile so wide the cut on your lip breaks open again and starts bleeding, but you pay it no mind. Lena does. She smiles back, albeit more gently, and squishes your cheeks together to prevent the split widening.

You pout in her hands. Lena’s heart flutters. She keeps getting hit randomly with momentous emotion, and she’s hit again with it now. The softness of this moment feels like seeing a rainbow after months of storms.

You here, alive, looking at Lena with so much love in your eyes, so much understanding. It feels like a fantasy. Feels like a lucid dream, a dream she’d choose, over, and over again, until the end of time.

Lena leans in and kisses you—not on the lips, they are cut and bruised. She kisses you on the space just below your eye. A spot, one of the few spots, clear of visible injury. She takes pleasure in the way you flush like it’s the first time. She always did, will always do. “I love you,” Lena whispers, promising herself that even if there are days you won’t believe her, there will never be a day you don’t hear it.

It’s you, and it’s her, and it’s the mountains of history and trauma you two are fighting against. Lena likes the both of your odds. Loves winning just as much.

You’ll beat Lex she knows. There will be a day soon where he stops haunting the two of you. Where he’s not even a thought. When that time comes you’ll have won the war, but for now she’ll take the pride of winning every battle in stride, for now, in the now; she’ll cherish every moment, the many moments, when trauma leaves the room and love consumes it.

“Lena Luthor,” you breathe. You breathe. “My love, my hero.”

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marvel-vision · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: after you step in to defend Jackie against one of her boyfriend's sleazy friends, you realise helping the popular girl and starting beef with a jock has its consequences.

warnings: mentions of sexual assault, minor violence and underage drinking.

author's note: i keep getting people asking about posting more jackie stuff so i’m happy to share yet another fic! it’s three parts and it’s the last thing for now that i’ve written for her, so i hope you all like it 🥰

I collapsed on the grass outside, breathing out with relief once the fresh night air cooled me down and the music from inside wasn't so loud anymore. How I'd let Van convince me to attend a house party was beyond me, but as my best friend, she usually got her way.

Tonight though, I may have gotten a little carried away and drank more than usual, feeling somewhat lightheaded and lazy. Drunk me wasn't so fun, so I'd come outside to cool off and catch myself, away from the compact house of some jock I didn't know.

As I relaxed, trying to tune out the few teens that were milling around the front lawn, I heard a commotion by the front door. Some couple were arguing, their voices familiar as they left the house and grew louder.

"–can't just check out other girls right in front of me!"

"I wasn't! God, you're overreacting, Jackie, you always do this!"

I sat upright, pushing my hair from my eyes as I glanced in the direction of Van's soccer teammate and the most popular girl in our grade, Jackie Taylor, arguing with her boyfriend, Jeff Sadecki.

The last thing I cared about was their relationship troubles, but they were so damn loud and I was suddenly entertained by their back and forth. From what I could gather in my drunken state, Jeff had been distracted by some girls, flirting with one of them, but didn't deem it flirting like Jackie did.

"–just forget it, we're over!" Jackie shouted at him, throwing her cup on the grass with frustration.

Jeff scoffed. "Whatever. I don't need this."

He returned to the house as Jackie clenched her jaw, still angry. She fumbled for a cigarette and lighter from her purse with irritation, her clumsy hands betraying how much she'd drank tonight too. Thoughtlessly watching, I saw one of Jeff's friends, Leroy something-or-the-other, trail out the house and approach her.

Not shouting like Jeff and Jackie had been a moment ago, the two of them were talking and I couldn't hear their conversation. Or rather Leroy was chatting up Jackie and she was visibly uncomfortable, attempting to step back. He began to get touchy though, his hands grabbing her arm, and whether it was a sense of female camaraderie or my absolutely stupid alcohol-soaked brain, I felt the need to intervene.

Dragging myself up off the grass, I stumbled over to them and fixed Leroy with a glare.

"She clearly doesn't want you here," I said in what I hoped wasn't a babble of English.

"Back off, bitch," Leroy sneered at me, before stepping closer to Jackie and letting his hand slip to her butt.

Jackie jumped at his unwanted touch, hazel eyes widened with panic, and without thinking, I made a swing at Leroy's face, fist connecting with his nose in a sickening crack.

A groan escaped my lips as I grasped my hand – what the fuck was his face made of?! – and then I realised what I did as he stumbled back, clutching his face. I saw a glimpse of blood, and then Jackie's widened eyes looked between us, and I knew I was fucked.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, before making a sloppy swing at my head, to which I thankfully still had the instinct to duck away from.

Not ready to finish this fight I definitely didn't mean to start, I shoved him back to buy time then grabbed Jackie's hand, telling her quickly, "Time to go!"

Thankfully she got the hint and I yanked her away, the two of us running as fast as we could. Leroy chased after us and I risked glancing over my shoulder, watching him trip over his own feet and buying us enough time to leg it down the street.

"Here," I said breathlessly, pulling Jackie down behind a car.

The two of us practically held our breath as we kneeled down, frozen in place. I didn't doubt that Leroy would kill me, and her by association, and I began to wonder how I'd even ended up in this situation.

Jackie risked glancing around the back of the car before sighing with relief. "He's not following us."

Mirroring her sigh, I turned around and sank to the ground fully, back against the car. She joined my side, both of us reeling from what happened. I glanced down at my hand, aware that it should be hurting but not quite registering the pain. It was distant, the alcohol fogging my mind.

"What the hell was that?" Jackie asked, reminding me she was there.

Dazed, I tilted my head and stared at the road. "That wasn't your boyfriend, was it? I can't remember."

She let out a breath before giggling. "No. That was my ex-boyfriend's idiot friend."

Making sense of it all again, I nodded. "Right. Yeah. What a dick."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Feeling hot and a little dizzy, I tried to focus on the present and looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her curled blonde hair bouncing as she did. "Yeah. Thanks to you." Hazel eyes flickered to mine in gratitude, and I could only shrug in response.

A silence fell upon us for a moment, and I suddenly became aware of how this was probably the most I'd ever spoken to Jackie Taylor in my life. We'd been in the same class since we were kids, and despite her being on the same soccer team as Van, there had never been need for us to converse. Until now, I guess.

"I feel sick," she suddenly said, and I noticed her face was a little pale.

"Then throw up," I said tiredly.

She scrunched her face with disgust, shaking her head. I shrugged, not caring, and then she leaned to the left and threw up a little. I pulled a face as she straightened up lazily, wiping her mouth.

"I've gotta go home," she said.

I checked my watch, but it did nothing to help because the hands were moving in all sorts of directions. "Same. I think."

She began to snicker, glancing sideways at me. "Leroy just might kill you."

A little delusional and finding her amusement contagious, I began to laugh. Leroy probably would, but right now, I couldn't care less.

She lifted a finger in the air with realisation. "Shauna," she exclaimed. "She'll drive."

"I can't leave Van," I remembered, as she stood up and yanked me up with her.

"I'll go get her," she promised, already tugging me back to the house, where Shauna's car was parked out front. "Don't move."

I saluted clumsily, waiting by Shauna's car and almost falling asleep against the door as Jackie seemed to take years to return. Finally, her, Van and Shauna all came back, Van shooting me an amused glance as she helped me off the door.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked with a stifled laugh. "Jackie said you punched Leroy?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "Barely."

She definitely wanted to know more but thankfully kept quiet as she helped me into the backseat, sliding in beside me.

"You two are gonna regret this in the morning," Shauna was saying from the driver's seat, but it went in one ear and out the other.

I vaguely remembered Shauna dropping me off home and Van helping me into my bedroom later that evening before passing out.

The next morning, my hangover hit me hard, but not harder than the pain from my broken knuckle. After waking up with a purple right hand, terrible memories from the night before reminded me of what I'd done, and after accepting that Leroy was going to kill me at some point, I went to the hospital with my mum who didn't seem to believe I'd punched a wall whilst drunk. Still, leaving with a splint and cast on my hand was worth it if it meant stopping some jerk from getting handsy.

School on the following Monday was definitely something to dread, mainly because I wasn't sure what would happen. Of course, after getting some stares off other students – word had undoubtedly spread about the incident – I stopped by my locker and was mildly surprised to see the word 'BITCH' scribbled in permanent marker pen across it.

"Lovely," I said sarcastically, before ignoring it, not wanting to give bystanders a show.

I opened it as usual and put my skateboard inside, mindful of my hand, when I felt someone bump into me from behind on purpose. I clenched my jaw when I turned and saw it was Leroy walking past, a bandage across his nose.

"Bitch," he muttered with bitterness.

"Yours truly." I returned his glare, before looking back to my locker.

If he was going to hate on me for stepping in as he sexually assaulted a girl, then let him. I'd never liked him anyway, the worst of Jeff's idiot friends. But hey, at least I'd broken his nose.

I'd like to say it ended there, but not even a moment later, his girlfriend whom I'd forgotten existed until she appeared by my side with a threatening glare, decided to defend his stupid arse.

"You better back off," she attempted to warn me. "I know it was you who broke his nose."

I quirked a brow with disbelief. "Do you know why?"

She scoffed. "Because you're a bitch."

I furrowed my brows, wondering if she was choosing to be this dense. "Tiffany, your arsehole boyfriend groped another girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Like I'd believe you."

I snorted with amusement. "Fine. Don't. I really don't care."

She stepped closer to me with narrowed eyes. "Stay the fuck away from us, bitch."

I rolled my eyes as she left, wondering how I'd managed to make so many enemies in the space of one night. Unfazed though, I continued to grab some books from my locker and ignored the looks I was getting from students with nothing better to do. This would all blow over in a few days, I just knew it.

When I closed my locker, I jumped, startled, when I saw Jackie stood behind it.

"Jesus," I said, clutching my chest. "A warning would be nice."

"Sorry," she said awkwardly, before her eyes fell to the cast on my hand and widened slightly. "Fuck."

"Hi to you too," I replied sarcastically.

She shook her head apologetically before meeting my gaze. "Friday night. That was... a lot."

I nodded, just as uncomfortable as she sounded. "Uh huh."

She pursed her lips, glancing at my graffiti'd locker. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. But I'm thankful for your help. You really showed him."

Not wanting her to feel bad, I tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, his brick head kind of broke my knuckle, but it was totally worth it."

She cracked a small smile, eyes flickering to my hand again. "Sorry."

I shrugged her apology off easily. "Seriously, Jackie, you don't need to say anything. Honestly, we were both drunk and I probably could have handled the situation better, but what's done is done. We're good."

She relaxed a little, nodding in agreement, though I couldn't tell if she was satisfied by my response. When she didn't say anything, I held my books to my chest awkwardly.

"So... see you in class," I said.

"Right," she agreed, and then we both turned to walk to class, only to fall into step with one another. "Same class," she mumbled when she noticed, and I tried not to laugh.

"Same class," I agreed, and a silence fell between us as we reached the classroom.

After exchanging a final glance, we split off to our seats, her joining Shauna's side as I found my usual spot next to Van. When she spotted me, she was already laughing at the sight of my bandaged hand.

"I can't believe you punched him," she said instantly, making me roll my eyes.

"Glad this is funny to you," I said playfully, giving her a disapproving look.

She continued to tease me. "I leave you alone for five minutes, Y/N! God, I wish I could've seen it. Everybody's talking about it. Apparently you broke Leroy's nose."

"Something like that," I mumbled as she laughed with amazement.

She continued to ramble about what people had been saying, enjoying how awkward I was at the attention, and I let my eyes wander around the classroom as I tried to tune her out. They subconsciously drifted to Jackie, who was listening to something Shauna was saying to her, and then she glanced at me and I quickly looked away, embarrassed I'd been caught.

—

I was relieved to see that the graffiti on my locker had been scrubbed off (terribly, but I wasn't complaining) by the cleaners last night, as when I showed up to school the next morning, it was gone. My headphones were on as I replaced my books for the morning, mindlessly getting ready for homeroom.

There was nothing out of the ordinary as I did, my eyes glancing around casually, and then I saw Jackie a little ways down the hall, leaning against the lockers with her apparently-not-so-ex-boyfriend, Jeff. I couldn't care less, but she must have felt my eyes as she awkwardly made eye contact, smile fading slightly, and I looked away. Whether she was back with Jeff or not wasn't my business – she was barely a friend, let alone someone whose relationship I cared for – but it felt strange knowing she would choose to go back to him after everything that had happened.

Once I'd grabbed my books, I pulled my headphones off and stuffed them and my walkman into my backpack. I was forced to walk past a flirtatious Jackie and Jeff, eyes trained ahead, and tried not to think much more on it as I went to homeroom.

I settled at my desk, flicking through my English book when I saw Van wasn't here yet, and began to look over my homework a final time before next period. In my own world, I was startled when someone appeared at my desk, looking up to see Jackie stood there.

"Er... hi?" I greeted with a quirked brow.

She swallowed awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. "What you saw just then, with Jeff and I..."

When she didn't continue, I pressed, "What?"

"It's not like it seems," she finished, cheeks tinged pink.

I wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain herself to me of all people, but I answered, "What, that you're back together?"

She pressed her lips together, nodding slightly.

Tilting my head and playing along, I asked, "Well, are you?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, yeah, but–"

"Cool," I cut her off, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "It's none of my business."

She scoffed slightly. "Yeah, but you're gonna think I'm being stupid after everything that happened–"

Growing tired of this conversation, I said, "Being stupid? You think I think it's stupid that your boyfriend was flirting with other girls and then his friend sexually assaulted you and you're still going back to him?" I tutted sarcastically. "Nah, not stupid at all."

She tensed her jaw slightly, clutching her books to her chest. "It's not like that."

I raised my eyebrows. "Then why are you telling me? You've never cared what I thought before."

She let out a low groan, having no reply, and simply walked away to her seat. Okay, so maybe I was being a little harsh, but it was just odd that she suddenly cared what I thought. And yes, I was judging her terrible life choices, but it wasn't my business.

It didn't matter anyway. I wasn't expecting this to be much of a problem now that she'd (terribly) explained herself to me.

—

Maybe I underestimated how long jocks could hold grudges for, or maybe I was just stupid for not knowing Leroy would never let things go. All I knew was that my one punch was never letting me live it down, nor letting me go back to being just acquaintances with Jackie Taylor.

About a week after Jackie felt the need to explain her getting back together with Jeff, I was skateboarding home from school like I always did. The crossing on the road was clear, so I started to ride across, headphones on my head as I did. I saw a car in my peripheral vision, but it was further down the road and they could obviously see me, so I thought nothing of it.

That was until it suddenly beeped and stopped right next to me, scaring the shit out of me and making my foot catch the ground, my skateboard slipping out from under me. Heart racing in my chest, I pulled my headphones from my head and sat up, just in time to hear a voice I definitely didn't want to.

"Watch out, loser!"

I looked to my left to see Jeff and Leroy laughing in Jeff's car, impressed with themselves and their ability to startle me. But the real frustration kicked in when I saw Jackie sat in the passenger's seat, flushed red with embarrassment and guilt as she glanced at me. Why was I not surprised?

Clenching my jaw, I stood up and ignored their laughter, instead grabbing my skateboard and finishing crossing the road. They beeped again as they drove off, but I didn't bother sparing them a glance.

My opinion on Jackie Taylor up until this point was practically nonexistent. In my eyes, she was just some popular girl in school who was nice enough to everyone, kind to my best friend who happened to be on the same soccer team as her, and that was it. We rarely crossed paths or spoke, and I'd never thought about her other than if she was right in front of me.

Now, however, she seemed to be in my life a lot more because of one stupid night, and I found my opinion of her worsening as I judged her poor choice of boyfriend and those she surrounded herself with.

The next day at school, almost to my amusement if I wasn't so irritated by everything that had happened, Jackie found me in homeroom at my desk again. I had a strong sense of deja vu as she hovered before me, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hey," she spoke first.

I blinked, expressionless, definitely not in the mood for this. "Hi."

It took her a moment to find her words, in which I was growing a little more annoyed by her apparent innocence.

"Yesterday...," she started, "I didn't mean for–"

"What?" I interrupted. "Your jackass boyfriend and his jackass friend to act like jackasses?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

Was she always this irritating? I couldn't remember anymore.

"It's cool, Jackie," I decided to end the conversation, afraid I'd say something I'd regret. "I didn't expect anything less from tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber."

I looked back down to my notebook, hoping she'd leave and we could be done with our lives, but she felt the need to keep going.

"He's not always like that," she said gently. "I swear, he–"

"Did you come here just to defend him?" I asked with surprise. "Because I don't wanna hear it."

She frowned, irritable. "No, I just– I wanted you to know that."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Great apology. Thanks."

Clenching her jaw slightly, she said, "If you gave me a chance to speak, I'd say it."

"Whatever," I mumbled, rolling my eyes and returning my attention to my book.

She huffed with disapproval, making me glance at her with a slight glare. Her playing innocent game was getting old.

"FYI, if you're dating a jackass, that kinda makes you one too," I reminded her when she didn't leave.

She returned my glare before turning on her heel and leaving for her desk. Van soon showed up, taking her seat beside me but noticing the blonde leaving.

"Jackie still on you about your hand?" she asked with amusement. "I keep telling her to get over it, that you're okay. But she feels bad."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of her. "Can't feel that bad if she's still hanging around with douche one and douche two."

Taken aback, Van gave me a look. "Woah, who shit in your cereal this morning?"

I shook my head dismissively, releasing a breath. "Sorry. Nothing. Just tired, I guess."

She clearly didn't believe me, and when I looked up at her, I saw her glancing over to where Jackie was sat, but I refused to look that way. Van smiled in that direction though, greeting her teammate, before giving me a confused look.

"Did you guys fight or something? She looks like you kicked her dog."

"No," I said with mild irritation, before facing forward. "Can we drop this?"

Van chuckled quietly. "Sure, weirdo."

—

Later that day, I was staring out the window in Chemistry class whilst I waited for other students to make their way in and for class to start. When I felt a presence beside me, I assumed it was my lab partner, Dennis, and straightened up to greet him with a smile, but then I saw it was Jackie placing her bag on the desk and pulling out the stool.

"The hell are you doing?" I asked with furrowed brows, watching as she got comfortable. "Dennis sits there."

"Not today he doesn't," she said knowingly, before waving a hand to Dennis who waved some cash in the air with gratitude.

I dropped my jaw with disbelief. "You paid him?"

She turned to face me, her honey-coloured eyes meeting mine guiltily. "I want to say sorry for real. The only reason you're getting all this aggression from Leroy is because you stuck up for me."

I gave her a sarky look. "Kind of, yeah."

She sighed, rolling her shoulders back. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't even want Leroy there yesterday, but he needed a ride home and Jeff said yeah. It's no excuse though."

I pressed my lips together, eyes studying her straight face curiously. There was a hint of sincerity somewhere there, and maybe finally putting this to bed would bring things back to normal. But then a smile grew on her lips and any chance of forgiving her went out the window.

"This doesn't make me a jackass now, does it?"

I lifted my brows with disbelief, her pride frustrating me. "Wow. Is that what this is about?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course not. But you should know that I'm not like that."

"Is the only reason you're apologising to change the way I view you?"

Again, she shook her head nonchalantly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe she was nice on the surface, but Jackie Taylor didn't seem genuine in the slightest.

"You know what? Fuck this," I told her, beginning to pack my books away. "I don't need to forgive you and I don't need your fake apologies or games. Just leave me alone. Things were a lot easier before I decided to be nice to you."

She watched me gather my things with bewilderment. "That's not fair."

I stood up and shot her an impatient look. "Whatever. You stick to your delusional princess land with your dick boyfriend and his friends and I'll stick to being a loser. Sound good?"

Her mouth opened with surprise, both offended and taken aback. "Y/N, just– where are you going?"

"To find my actual lab partner," I snapped, before moving past her to find Dennis.

I was beginning to think breaking my knuckle wasn't worth it. Getting involved with Jackie only seemed to bring me misfortune.

—

A few days passed with Jackie finally seeming to leave me alone. Don't get me wrong, I would occasionally catch her eyes in the hallway or in class, or sometimes she'd need to chat to Van about something and I'd awkwardly wait for her to finish before she'd leave, but she seemed to give up on bothering me with her half arsed apologies.

As for Leroy and his girlfriend, they clearly still held some sort of grudge for me, shooting me glares whenever they saw me. It got to a point where they seriously needed to get over themselves, though I guess that was hard when Leroy's broken nose was a constant reminder that he got decked in the face by a girl.

I was walking down the hallway when I resisted the urge to roll my eyes upon seeing Leroy and Tiffany walking in the opposite direction. I purposely avoided their gaze, not wanting to get into a confrontation with them, but Leroy purposely bumped into my shoulder with force, making me drop my books, and that was my last straw.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I exclaimed, before picking up my books.

"What did you just say?" Leroy stopped, turning around to fix me with a glare.

I clenched my jaw as I returned it twice as hostile. "You really need to grow up. Your big rock of a head is still in tact, so what's your problem? You think you'd get over this by now."

He looked like he wanted to punch me, but Tiffany stepped forward instead.

"Watch your mouth, bitch," she hissed, making me groan loudly with disbelief.

"He literally harassed another girl, and probably others too!" I reminded her. "Are you insane?!"

"Don't listen to her," Leroy said to her coolly. "She's just jealous."

"I know, baby, I know."

I laughed bitterly, looking between them like they were the world's strangest exhibit. Bystanders were starting to look at the three of us now, probably expecting a fight, but I seriously didn't care.

"You need to get a life and stay out of ours, loser," Leroy threatened me, fist clenching by his side.

"How fucking ironic," I said, shaking my head. "You're the one who won't get over yourself."

"You keep running that mouth of yours and I'll give you a broken nose," Tiffany attempted to threaten me, stepping forward, but she wasn't intimidating in the slightest. "You deserve it after hurting him."

I snorted with amusement. "I would love to see you try." When she squeezed her fists by her side, I glanced at her stupid boyfriend. "What? Can't fight your own battles, big man?"

Steam was practically leaving their ears as they glowered at me, and then the next events happened too quickly for me to make sense of.

Jackie came out of nowhere and stepped between Tiffany and I, saying, "Okay, how about we just–"

But Tiffany punched forward, aiming for me but Jackie got in the way at the same time and Tiffany's fist landed on her face. My eyes widened as Jackie stumbled back into me, clutching her nose, and both Tiffany and Leroy watched on with wide eyes.

"What the fuck?!" I shouted, before holding Jackie upright as I went to look over her face. When I moved her hand away slightly, there was blood streaming from her nose and I couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh my god!"

"What the hell, Jackie!" Tiffany cried out, holding her hand with pain.

"Are you kidding right now?!" Jackie retorted before wincing and holding her nose again, head tilted up to stop the bleeding.

"Okay, everyone move aside!" a teacher pushed through the crowd of entertained students surrounding us. When she spotted Jackie's bleeding nose, she said, "Miss Taylor, you need to go to the nurse's office–"

"I'll take her," I said quickly, before fixing Tiffany with a glare.

"You," the teacher continued, looking to Tiffany, "with me, now."

I didn't wait any longer to watch the death stares from Leroy and Tiffany, instead guiding Jackie to the nurse's office. I still couldn't believe she'd stepped in like that, and also that Tiffany had it in her to punch me. I didn't think she'd actually do it.

"Oh my god, it's running down my throat," Jackie whined with disgust, looking forward again. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Ssshhh, we're almost there," I cut her complaining off, though a large part of me felt extremely guilty.

When we reached the nurse's office, I immediately guided her to the bed to sit upright, whilst the nurse seemed to catch on and immediately jumped into action. I stood back and watched as the nurse gave her some gauze to hold to her nose.

"Is it broken?" Jackie asked with wet eyes, a little dramatically.

"No, dear, it's just a bloody nose," the nurse assured her, before glancing at me. "There's not much else I can do. Just keep changing the gauze and have her drink some water."

I nodded. "Will do. Thanks."

She offered a smile before heading to the other side of the room to finish helping out another student. I watched her leave before joining Jackie's bedside and looking to her with disbelief.

"What the fuck was that?!" I asked.

She moved the gauze so it wasn't blocking her mouth and motioned to her face. "I was trying to stop this from happening."

"A little fucking late," I said sarcastically.

"I figured," she snapped, before her face scrunched up with pain and she closed her eyes momentarily.

My jaw slowly relaxed as I really took the state of her in. The guilt pressed down on my chest – this wasn't her fight and she was certainly not the type of girl to get into one in the first place. Seeing her bloody nose and stained shirt was like seeing a puppy get kicked, and my irritation definitely wasn't helping.

"You shouldn't have got involved," I said with a sigh, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She opened her eyes, bright hazel ones swimming with guilt. "I just wanted to make things right. Show you that I really am sorry. It's not about how you view me and it's not a game. I'm just sorry."

Unlike the last time, she seemed genuine with her apology, and paired with her puppy dog eyes and bloody nose, it was hard for me not to give in.

"Fuck, fine, I forgive you," I breathed out.

She began to smile with relief before leaning back slightly. I frowned, eyes flickering over her guiltily, before I grabbed the spare gauze at her bedside and gently replaced the one in her hand.

"It looks like it's stopping," I said, disposing of the bloody gauze. "God, you're insane."

"It fucking hurts," she cursed, grimacing.

I tried not to smile as I wet a cloth in the bowl beside her bed. "It was barely a real punch. Tiffany's hand took most of the damage."

She narrowed her eyes at me as I began to wipe the dried-up blood from her nose and mouth with the wet cloth. "Tell that to my face."

A small smile of amusement broke out on my lips. "This was stupid, Jackie."

She sighed, removing the gauze so I could clean around her nostrils. "Probably."

The bridge of her nose was a little swollen and bright red, but at least the bleeding had stopped. God, as if Jackie Taylor got punched in the face for me. I literally never could have predicted that.

Once I cleaned her up, the nurse returned to give her some painkillers and an ice pack before making arrangements for her to be picked up from school.

"I'm sorry, I'd drive you home myself, but I don't have a car," I said with an apologetic smile.

She shook her head. "It's okay. You already stayed with me longer than you needed to. I'm just glad things are good between us again."

I exhaled softly, surprised that she cared this much. We were indifferent to one another, that was our thing. Whether it was because she felt she owed me after I broke my knuckle, or she was just trying to prove that she wasn't a bad person, I was left wondering why she was going through all this effort for a friendship that barely existed.

After she went home, it was easy to say that word of the fiasco spread around school like wildfire. Tiffany had been given a month of detention apparently, and I didn't see Leroy for the rest of the day, thankfully. Van found me after school, the two of us planning to walk home together, and that was where I debriefed her about everything that happened.

"Holy shit, what I would pay to see Jackie get decked in the face!" she exclaimed with a grin.

I quirked a brow. "Aren't you literally teammates?"

"Not in a mean way," she added quickly. "Like, it would still be funny though. Funnier if it was you, of course."

I shoved her in the arm with my good hand as she chuckled.

"I feel bad enough as it is, so no jokes," I warned her.

"Hey, it's not your fault," she assured me with a knowing look, before pausing and adding, "Though if someone says they're gonna punch you in the face, you probably shouldn't tell them you'd love to see them try."

I tried not to laugh as I shot her a look. "How was I supposed to know she'd actually do it?"

Van began to laugh again. "God, I wish I was there."

"You've only said a million times," I said with a disapproving stare, though a smile tugged at my lips.

Despite the jokes Van wouldn't stop making on the walk home, I still felt extremely guilty and couldn't stop thinking about poor Jackie. How our lives had become so intertwined in the space of two weeks was beyond me, but I suddenly felt responsible for her.

The next day at school, I saw her by her locker with Shauna before homeroom. Even from a distance, I could make out the slight swelling on her nose and it only deepened the guilt I felt. We'd technically resolved everything between us yesterday, but I felt the need to go over there and check on her to see how she was doing.

After dropping some stuff off at my locker, I went over to her and Shauna with a small smile. They noticed me and their conversation ceased, the two of them returning my smile with their own.

"Hey," Shauna greeted first.

I nodded her way before my eyes settled on Jackie, and Shauna seemed to get the hint as she politely dismissed herself, leaving us alone.

"Hey," Jackie greeted warmly.

"Hi," I said, eyes scanning her face. "How's the–?" I gestured to my own nose as I asked.

"Hurts," she admitted with a small smile, "but I covered the bruising. It's still a little swollen, but it'll be fine."

I frowned guiltily when I noticed the extra makeup she'd used to cover the red-purple bruise that had formed on the bridge of her nose. She'd done a good job, but it was still peeking through a little bit.

"It's okay," she said when she noticed my expression, before lightheartedly nodding to my bandaged hand. "Consider us even."

That didn't make me feel better at all, and I shook my head. "It shouldn't have happened. As Van kindly pointed out to me, I egged Tiffany on and she was supposed to punch me. It's not the same thing as me stepping in to defend you."

Jackie rolled her eyes playfully. "It's okay, Y/N, really. Besides, maybe her and Leroy will finally back off now."

I hummed, partially agreeing, though I knew this was still my fault.

"By the way," she added, "I broke up with Jeff."

At this, I raised my eyebrows with surprise. "What?"

Her lips pressed together into a faint smile as she looked down. "Yeah, you were right about what you said. He and his friends are jackasses. And I can do a lot better."

I wasn't sure what to say at first, not expecting her to have actually listened to what I said. But then I nodded slightly, acknowledging her words.

"You can," I found myself saying. "Do a lot better, I mean."

She breathed out with amusement. "Thanks... anyway, I should get my things, but see you in class."

"Yeah, see you," I said, still a little shocked, but nodding nonetheless.

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marvel-vision · 2 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (5/?)

Part summary: With Leigh, it feels like for every step forward, you end up taking two steps back.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.600+ | Warnings Some angst, het stuff | A/N: Texts in italic indicate they happened in the past. We get an insight about R's past with Matt and a little surprise at the end.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV

You'd hardly expect to meet a decent guy on the street nowadays.

Though, to be fair, it's less about meeting him and more about running straight into him. At the moment, you don't give it much thought. You distinctly remember wincing from the impact, feeling solid muscle and jutting bones, and a surge of irritation bubbles up inside you because you're not exactly having the best day. But then, the man you ran into looks up, and his face is all apologies.

He looks like he might cry if you don't forgive him, so you do. As you stand there, trying to process the situation, he notices the coffee spilled all over the floor—your coffee, which has now created a sad, dark puddle around your feet.

“Can I buy you another coffee?”

Despite the kind gesture, you find yourself shaking your head, more keen on changing out of your coffee-stained coat than sticking around any longer.

From a few steps away, his impatient friend calls out, “Are you coming, Matt?”

“Yeah, just wait a sec,” Matt responds, his attention still on you. You usually don’t trust men running into you without an agenda, but there’s something about him that tells you he didn’t mean to, and that he’s more than willing to make up for it.

“No, thanks. I got it…”

He looks unnecessarily worried as he leans in a bit closer. “You sure about that?” he asks.

His brown eyes are the friendliest pair you’ve seen in a while. And being essentially alone in this new town, they pull you in like gravity.

“Y-Yes. Just watch where you’re going next time,” you stammer, attempting to stabilize your shaky legs.

“Matt!”

Matt nods hesitantly, then mumbles, “Sorry, I have to go. Again, I'm really sorry,” before his gaze releases you, and you feel its force that held you in a vice-like grip easing away.

As you're walking away, you keep having to tell yourself not to look over your shoulder, even though every part of you kind of wants to.

You guess you must be really lonely, to cling onto the first bit of kindness someone throws your way.

Your deliberate attempts to bump into Leigh finally pay off one brisk Friday morning. But it’s not in the way you’ve imagined it would go.

The town is just waking up, the chill in the air biting at your cheeks as you take your routine jog through the quiet streets. You've discovered that running suits you better than yoga, mainly because it's something you can do solo, and you've always leaned towards activities where you can be by yourself. You’re tired, but you try to lift your knees higher with every stride, keeping your cadence in check.

Turning a corner, a sudden commotion catches your attention. A group of rowdy teenagers barrel down the sidewalk, loud and oblivious to anything but their own world. One of them, a bit too caught up in the fun, nearly crashes into you, forcing you to swerve unexpectedly.

In your effort to dodge, you step right into the path of Leigh Shaw.

It all happens too fast; there's no chance for either of you to do anything else. You crash into each other, the impact sending a jolt through your bodies. You tumble sideways, your arm shooting out instinctively, breaking your fall and softening the impact as you land. Leigh lets out a sharp yelp as she staggers forward from the force of the collision, a look of shock quickly spreading across her face. As she falls, her knee scrapes against the rough concrete, and when she finally sits up, there's a noticeable gash, bleeding freely.

“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry,” you blurt out, horrified at the sight. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

She grimaces, glancing at her knee, then back at you. “Well, I've definitely been better,” she says, trying to keep her voice light despite the pain. You give her a hand up, and as she leans on you for support, you can't help but notice she's dressed in denim shorts, a blue parka, and flip-flops—not exactly the attire for a morning jog. The sun's just starting to show its face, and you're left wondering where she's headed so early, if she's not out for a run or something.

Looking around, you notice the roll-up shutters of nearby establishments are still down, indicating they won't be opening anytime soon. It’s apparent that there's nowhere immediate to find help or a first-aid kit. You scratch the back of your neck, an awkward idea coming to you.

“I don’t think there’s nowhere we can ask for help,” you start, trying not to sound too anxious about what you’re about to suggest. “I've got a first-aid kit at my place, though. It's not far. We could fix you up there, if you're okay with it?”

Leigh takes a beat, and then gives you a nod. “I guess that's my best option right now. Lead the way.”

As you start walking, Leigh instinctively grabs your arm for support. Your foot have barely hit the pavement when she suddenly grips tighter, fingers clawing into your arm as she lets out a hiss of pain. The wound must have stretched as she bent her knee to take a step, and with the way she's limping, you realize making her walk is a bad call.

“Shit, I'm really sorry,” you apologize again, the situation dawning on you. This isn't at all how you wanted to run into Leigh again, especially after trying to find a way to reconnect since the dinner in her car. “Let me get an Uber.”

Leigh starts to object, but you're already pulling out your phone. The last thing you wanted was for your attempt to help to end up hurting her more.

“So, where were you headed earlier?” you ask casually, hoping not to pry too much. “Doesn't seem like you were out for a run like I was.”

Leigh’s injury is more severe than you first thought; after hitting a rough patch on the pavement, her knee took the brunt of the fall. The skin is scraped away in several places, revealing angry, reddened flesh beneath.

“Grocery, or something,” Leigh mumbles, distracted and wincing a bit as you ready another dab of antiseptic for her knee. The moment the cotton touches the wound, she can't help but jerk away slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur, soothingly, noticing she's struggling to stay still. To help steady her, you gently hold onto her calf, and that's when you feel your cheeks start to warm up. “I'll be as quick as I can,” you promise, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I’m okay. You're doing...fine,” Leigh sighs between clenched teeth, obviously trying to downplay her discomfort.

You know you're not fine, certainly not in the way Leigh means. All you can hear is yours and Leigh’s breathing, and your heart stuttering in your chest, because despite barely seeing Leigh in recent weeks, this annoying little crush won’t go away. It’s weird enough that she’s Matt’s wife, and you can't shake the feeling that you’re probably the last person she’d ever look at that way. Not to mention, you're not even sure if she's into women.

Once you’re done cleaning her wound, you carefully wrap a bandage around her knee. Then, you head to the fridge to grab some ice, noticing Leigh's puzzled look when you return.

“What’s that for?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

“I have a feeling you're going to have a bone bruise after that fall,” you explain, handing her the ice wrapped in a cloth. “This should help with the pain and keep the swelling down.”

She accepts it, a small smile of gratitude on her face as she says, “Thanks.”

“No problem, it's my fault anyway.”

“It was an accident,” Leigh points out.

An accident that, if I'm being honest with myself, I was somewhat hoping for, you reflect with regret.

Leigh looks relieved as she presses the ice against her knee, eyes closing for a moment. With the immediate pain taken care of, you can't help but wonder again where she was headed earlier as you start pulling ingredients out of the fridge to whip up some breakfast.

“Hope you're hungry,” you say, flashing a smile as you fire up the stove.

“I'm fine, really,” she says, but the moment the bacon starts sizzling, she caves. “Actually, I could eat.”

With your back to her, you could smirk all you want at her change of heart. After frying up the bacon and eggs, you pull out some leftover rice and begin chopping garlic.

“What are you making?” Leigh asks suddenly from behind you.

“This is something I picked up on my travels through Southeast Asia,” you share as you cook. “Can't do bacon and eggs without it anymore. But I'll get some toast going for you.”

Leigh's face lights up, almost childlike. “Toast sounds great.”

You and Leigh settle into your meal, you with your plate of garlic rice, bacon, and eggs, and Leigh with her toast done just right alongside her bacon and eggs. She surprises you by complimenting how you cooked the eggs, noticing they're slightly burnt to a crisp around the edges.

“I've never had my eggs quite like this before,” she says.

“Oh, that?” you chuckle. “Learned the technique by accident some time ago. Got distracted and ended up leaving them on the heat a bit too long.”

She laughs too, and soon enough, you're both just talking like old friends, the conversation breezy and effortless. You begin to get a real sense of Leigh's sense of humor and it complements yours in the best way. Leigh loops back to when you mentioned visiting Southeast Asia, and you're more than happy to share your experiences, considering she's never left the country.

“...I’m pretty sure Hawaii counts, right? With the weather and everything, plus it’s really far—”

You’re still cracking up over some joke she made moments ago, and now you’re wondering if you’ll ever stop.

“No way, Leigh, it doesn’t work like that!” you get out between laughs, holding onto your stomach as you shake with laughter.

The more you talk, the more Leigh hangs on every word, making you feel surprisingly at ease. Sharing stories about places you've been and things you've seen becomes less about bragging and more about just sharing your adventures with someone who’s really listening. It's kind of refreshing, actually, feeling this free to dive into your memories with someone so interested.

That is until the topic eventually shifts to your fitness routine. It's then that Leigh offhandedly mentions, “You'll probably see more progress with the new instructor next week. I heard she’s got a certificate and all.”

You pause, fork paused mid-air. “New instructor? You’re not leading the class next week?”

Leigh simply shakes her head no.

“Then, when are you coming back?”

Leigh takes a breath before saying, “I actually quit.”

Hearing her say she’s left the studio nearly makes you spit out your breakfast. You're halfway through a bite, trying to wrap your head around the news, when suddenly, Leigh checks her phone. Before you can even dive into a million questions about why she quit, she's saying she needs to head home.

Your thoughts are spinning, but you don’t miss the opportunity to offer her a ride.

“You drive?” Leigh looks surprised.

“Yeah, just got the car this weekend,” you manage to say, still reeling from the shock that Leigh won't be at Beautiful Beast anymore.

“Are you sure? I can just call a cab,” Leigh mutters, probably noticing you're a bit out of it.

“No, really, I insist,” you say. Making her walk on that knee seems like the last thing you should do.

Leigh tries to brush it off once more, “Again, an accident.”

You ignore her, grabbing your keys from a dusty fishbowl. “Doesn't mean I won't be kicking myself over it.”

She lets out a sigh, and you can't quite tell if she's resigned or just annoyed.

As you pull up in front of Leigh's house for the first time, you're immediately taken in by its typical three-bedroom layout. The lawn, however, looks like it hasn't seen a mower in quite some time, giving the place a lived-in, somewhat neglected feel. You quickly get out of the car to help Leigh to the front step.

Then, out of nowhere, Leigh curses, patting down her pockets in a panic. “Fuck, I forgot my keys.”

“But someone should be home, right?” you ask.

Leigh rings the doorbell, her expression turning sour. “Yeah, my sister,” she mutters, clearly not thrilled at the prospect.

You're taken aback when, a few seconds later, it's Jules from the studio who opens the door. The sharp look they exchange isn't lost on you; it's clear there's more to the story than just Leigh coming home without her keys. You're gearing up to say goodbye, assuming Leigh will head inside, but instead, she turns to you and says, “Wait right here.”

You do as she says, glancing at the ground, shuffling your feet back and forth.

“Hi, I'm Jules, Leigh's sister. I've seen you around at Beautiful Beast. You're one of Leigh's clients?” Jules smiles at you, politely offering a hand for you to shake. You accept it and introduce yourself in return. Watching her face, you see the moment she puts it all together.

“Oh, you're the vet who Matt had—I'm sorry. It's just, I wasn't expecting to see you here, helping Leigh home.”

You knew where that first sentence was going, but you're silently thankful Jules decided to pull back and not finish it. You force a smile as you explain how you got here. “She was out for groceries, and I kind of ran into her, leading to a bit of a fall, and now—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Jules cuts in sharply.

“Sorry?”

“Leigh didn't come home last night,” she says. But before you have a chance to process this new information, Leigh returns, clutching a fifty-dollar bill.

“For the trouble,” she tells you, getting in front of Jules.

You attempt to wave it off. “Hey, you don't have to do that—”

But Leigh isn't taking no for an answer, she presses the bill into your hand. You never see it coming what happens next: she plants a quick peck on your cheek, effectively shutting down any further protests. The spot where her lips brushed against your skin tingles, and it’s all you can think about for a moment. Without waiting for you to react properly, Leigh starts herding Jules back inside the house, throwing over her shoulder a quick, “Thanks again, Y/N. Bye.”

You're left there, holding the bill in one hand, touching your cheek with the other, and staring at the closed door, suddenly very aware of how little you actually know about what's going on in Leigh's life.

Suzie shoots you that knowing look again as you head out of the clinic decked out in your active gear.

This time, a blush creeps up on your cheeks, memories of your chat with her about someone “making those sweat sessions worth it” floating back, and you try your best not to let your thoughts drift to Leigh. But then it hits you that she won't be there. Despite your dedication, the sheer excitement of going to the studio isn't quite what it used to be without her as your instructor.

Just as Suzie is about to lock up, the door bursts open. A man rushes in, cradling a small dog in his arms, panic written all over his face. He explains, breathless, that his pet is struggling with labor.

Suzie looks back at you. “I could call Foreman for this,” she says, already reaching for her phone. You stand there for a second, deliberating. Leigh won't be at the class; she's no longer at the Beautiful Beast.

Then, making up your mind, you hold out a hand to stop Suzie. “No, there’s no need. I've got this.”

It feels like you've just walked into one of those old-timey romantic movies, where chivalry isn’t dead and everything turns out way better than you could've ever hoped. In hindsight, it’s better. Because it’s real, and you're right in the middle of it, living a dream you didn't even know you had, with the kind of guy you thought only existed in those movies.

The night air is cool and light, brushing against your skin as the car slows to a stop in front of your apartment. To say the least, it's been an unexpected evening for a first date, and easily one of the best.

As Matt pulls up to your building, he turns to you, a sheepish grin lighting up his face. “Well, here we are,” he says, as if surprised you've arrived so soon.

You don’t want to say goodbye. Not yet. So you stay put in the passenger seat, doing your best to draw out the last strands of the evening.

“So, Nick was the mastermind behind all this?” you tease, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two.

Matt chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that... I had no clue he asked for your number until he handed it to me and said, ‘You owe me one’.”

“He’s the perfect wingman, then?”

“I guess you could say that,” Matt agrees, smiling. “I didn't tell him about my interest in you, but Nick knew anyway. He's good at reading people, always has been.”

“I see,” you say, your gaze following the contours of his cheeks, which carry a soft pink blush. It could be from the red wine you both enjoyed at dinner, or, you find yourself hoping, it might be because of you. “Well, he has my thanks. I really thought he was the one interested in me though.”

Matt laughs, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “No, it was always me. Since the moment I, uh, ran into you.”

There’s a moment where you both just stare at each other, tacitly acknowledging the serendipity of it all—the accidental meeting that could've ended with a simple apology and nothing more.

Yet here you are.

“You know, I'm glad it was you,” you profess, feeling a boldness that usually isn't there.

Matt breaks into a huge grin, but it's really in his eyes where you can see just how happy your remark has made him.

“Would you... maybe want to do this again? Without the running into each other part, I mean,” he says softly.

You laugh, nodding. “I'd like that. Just maybe start with coffee next time. And no spilling.”

“Deal,” he says, his grin infectious.

As you step out of the car, a proposition forms in your mind and you backtrack.

“Would you like to get that coffee now?”

Sometimes, you find yourself dreaming about your memories with Matt, particularly the part Leigh interrogated you about. Even though you stuck to the facts, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were somehow deceiving her.

You wonder if this is why you haven't been able to sleep for days. That, coupled with the fact that you've been handling emergencies yourself instead of calling Foreman as you used to. Suzie has mentioned that since you're taking on all the emergency cases, you might be overcompensating your intern. You don’t tell Suzie though that your work has become a welcome distraction from the realization that your new hobby no longer holds your interest, leaving you with extra hours to fill before returning to the solitude of your apartment.

And without seeing Leigh, there’s only your own head to get your fill of her. You find yourself thinking about her now and then, about what she's been doing, wondering if she's found a new job after leaving her yoga instructor position. She crosses your mind at the most random hours of the day, take right now, for example—staring at this little 8-day-old Shih Tzu puppy in the incubator, its fur somehow has you thinking of Leigh's hair color.

The puppy was part of a litter brought in for a C-section. Tragically, its mother didn't survive, and the owner, possibly overwhelmed by the situation and the impending bills, abandoned them. Out of four puppies, this one, the runt of the litter, was the sole survivor.

“What are we going to do with you, huh?” you muse aloud, the puppy blinking back with innocent eyes. “I can't take you for myself; you'd just end up living here in the clinic with me. And let's be honest, living in a hospital can't be much fun, right? It’s not safe either, exposes you to diseases.”

You sigh, brushing its length with your forefinger. “The other choice is to send you to a shelter. I'm sure someone would fall head over heels for you and adopt you in no time. But,” you sigh, your heart heavy, “I can't guarantee that'll happen quickly, as much as we both might want it to.”

“Finding where you fit in this big world isn't easy, you know? It's like searching for that one place, or that one person, where you could simply just… belong to. But I guess when you finally find it, it feels like winning the lottery, right?”

The puppy makes a noise, automatically bringing a smile to your lips. You wonder if Leigh has ever thought of the same thing—about searching for where she belongs after losing her home and everything familiar when Matt passed away. Perhaps it's even scarier for her. The thought of finding that one thing that's uniquely ours, only to lose it forever. What if we're only given one thing that's truly meant for us?

And once it's gone, what does that leave us with?

One sleepless night, after deciding to bring the puppy home for a more personal touch in its care, a thought crosses your mind. What if you could restore some of what was inadvertently taken from Leigh? Maybe bring back a piece of home and purpose that seemed to have slipped through her fingers when her world turned upside down?

It’s true, the puppy's late-night energy partly nudged the thought your way, but deep down, you believe Leigh will be perfect for him. You're sure she'll adore him, and he's bound to love her just as much.

Just as you're settling back to attempt sleep again, your phone starts ringing. You blink at the screen, disbelief washing over you as you see it's Leigh calling—the same woman you've recently realized you have feelings for, and who's been on your mind just moments ago. A part of you wonders if she dialed the wrong number by mistake, but it keeps ringing, compelling you to answer.

“Leigh?” you answer, the name almost a question in itself.

On the other end, you hear her take a deep breath—an ironic move given how the call exudes a vibe of urgency. Then, she speaks, her voice clear yet carrying an undercurrent of something you can't quite place.

“Y/N Are you available to talk right now?”

“Yeah, I am. What's going on—”

“No, not on the phone. Can you meet me right now?”

You glance down at yourself, noting your sleep shorts and tee. You're so comfortable and cozy in bed, and the puppy had just gotten to sleep. It's tempting to reschedule this some other time. But the thought of Leigh Shaw on the other end of the line, coupled with the worrying nature of her request, tilts the balance. The idea of saying no, only to find out something bad happened to her, is something you know you wouldn’t forgive yourself for.

“Yes, I can meet you,” you say, hurrying your movements and snatching your jacket from the cabinet. “Where?”

The date doesn't end with just late-night coffee.

Matt's hand is on your ass, fingers digging in like he owns the place. You’re gripping his tie, pulling him in, again and again. Both of you are still wearing all your clothes, but they're starting to feel like barriers as you both lean into each other, striving to get as close as humanly possible.

The invitation for a nightcap, decaffeinated per his request, had both of you sitting a bit too close on the couch, sharing silly smiles over steaming cups as if you were already lost in love. When the cups were drained, conversation drifted dangerously towards the topic of sex, and that's when you caught yourself staring at Matt's lips. Before he had a chance to react, you were going for it, giving into weeks of pent-up sexual tension.

Matt's lips find their way to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Encouraged by the heat of the moment, your fingers start to work on the buttons of Matt's shirt, eager to explore further.

But then his hands caught yours.

“W-Wait…”

You’re stunned, pulling back almost reflexively, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to figure out if you crossed a line.

“Did I... do something wrong?” you ask.

Matt shakes his head and then kisses you on the forehead. He further reassures you by saying, “No, no, it's not you. I just think we might be rushing things a bit. I really like you, and I want us to be sure about this, you know?”

Inside, you’re a mess of wants and needs, but as much as you want him tonight, you realize you want him even more tomorrow, and the day after. You won't rush this, especially if he's not ready. So, you nod, squashing down the throbbing between your legs as you try to concentrate on anything but his half-open shirt.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything,” he adds, wearing that apologetic look on his face that got you the first time.

In response, you hold Matt's face gently, giving him a quick, soft kiss on the lips. “I really like you too,” you say, despite feeling like those words pale in comparison to what you truly feel for him.

Standing up, you figure he'll say his goodbyes and head out. But instead, Matt looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

“I don't want to rush things,” he repeats. “But, I also don't really want to leave just yet. Would it be okay if I stayed the night?”

The request takes you by surprise, a warm fluttering sensation bubbling up inside you at the thought of him wanting to stay. “Of course, you can stay,” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I hope you're okay with the couch.”

Matt laughs and starts pulling off his socks. “There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Ever since Leigh asked to meet at a gas station on the sketchier side of town, your anxiety hasn't settled. It's a part of town known for trouble, somewhere you'd rather not be, especially in the dead of night. It doesn’t matter, because you’re hopelessly driven by concern and an unspoken affection that won't let you say no to her, no matter the time or place.

You walk up to the convenience store next to the gas station, its fluorescent lights flickering ominously, almost like you've just stepped into the opening scene of a horror movie. It's dead silent, aside from a radio playing inside the store, turned up by the person manning it in a feeble attempt to fill the silence or maybe to keep company. Leigh is inside, visible through the large, pane-glass window, nursing a coffee, alone. The way she's standing, something's off.

You make your way towards her, hands buried deep in the comfort of your hoodie's pockets.

“Hey—”

She's like a coiled spring at the sound of your voice. That should’ve been your first clue.

“Why did you lie?” Leigh asks point-blank.

“Leigh, I—What do you mean?”

Leigh's face twists into a grimace that chills you to the bone, a clear sign that tonight's going down one of two paths: either you both find a way through this mess, or she cuts you out for good. But you're lost, genuinely clueless about any lie she's accusing you of. You've been straight with her, at least you think you have.

Her nostrils flare, her eyes burning holes into you as she waits for some sort of confession. But all you can give her is a dumbfounded look.

After a while, Leigh's patience wears thin. “We're not doing this here,” she growls, glaring at the lone store clerk, who seems amused and makes no attempt to hide his interest in eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Leigh, I seriously don't know what you're talking about.”

“Just come with me,” she snaps, ushering you back outside, pulling at your arm with a grip that leaves no room for argument. It's painful, the way her nails dig into your skin, but you suppose you deserve it, whatever it might be. If it helps her release her anger, you're willing to bear it.

Leigh stops, plants her hands on her hips, and just looks at you, like she's waiting for something to click in your head. “Leigh, please—” you start, but you're cut off not by her anger this time, but by the sight of her eyes glistening, fighting back tears.

“You're really going to make me say it?” she manages to choke out, before giving a humorless laugh and running a frustrated hand over her face. Before you can protest again, she thrusts a phone into your hand. It's lit up, a text conversation open and waiting. As you scroll through the messages, your mouth opens in shock. They're from Matt.

Skimming through the texts, your jaw nearly hits the ground. He's recounting your first date, detailing how the night ended with him at your place. He admits nothing happened, but not for a lack of desire. Instead, he confesses he held back because he's still wrestling with the fact that he's married to Leigh. He mentions wanting to make sure when he jumps in with you, he's not dragging any “chains” along.

He goes on, saying he felt you were on the same page, ready to go further, and implies the only reason things didn't heat up was because he had self-control. Reading this, you can't decide if Matt's just showing off or if he's trying to justify his half-steps to whoever's reading this on the other end.

“Whose phone is this?” you blurt out, the only question that registers in your brain. It turns out to be the wrong thing to say, though, as it’s precisely the spark that ignites Leigh's fury, sending it cascading over the edge.

“Don’t fucking change the subject!”

You press your lips into a thin line, your own frustration simmering. “I didn't lie to you, Leigh.” You wave the phone with Matt’s messages like some kind of proof, arguing, “He even says here nothing happened!”

“It's not just about what did or didn't happen!” she fires back, her eyes blazing. “You wanted it to happen. You were ready to go there with him. You wanted more, and you're still not owning up to it.”

At this point, keeping your emotions under wraps isn't an option anymore.

“Yes! Of course, I wanted to go there with him,” you explode, your hands coming up in the air in surrender. “I found him attractive, thought he was a great guy, and—single, Leigh! I thought he was single when I was falling for him, okay? Are you happy now?”

Leigh's response is to laugh, but it's not a happy sound. It's bitter, mocking, and it just keeps going.

You're standing there, breathing hard, your breath visible in the chilly air, when it hits you why she’s so upset: When you were telling her the details of your affair, you made it sound as if what happened—or almost happened—was just a casual fling. And Leigh, she just soaked up that version. In doing so, she somehow managed to forgive Matt, forgive you for your role in it, and even toy with the idea of being friends with you.

You made her believe it didn’t mean anything more than what she meant to him. It ripped off the bandage and thrust a knife back into her wound.

After Leigh's laughter fizzles out, the cold seems to bite a little harder, and you notice her shivering—whether from the cold or the tumult of emotions, you can't tell. She's just in shorts and a thin shirt, unprepared for the temperature drop.

Seeing her like this, vulnerable and cold, you feel the urge to just hug her and make her feel a fraction of how badly you regret deceiving her all along. Because saying “I'm sorry” feels way too small for the giant mess of feelings you're dealing with, especially the ones about her that you didn't even realize were piling up until now.

“Leigh,” you whisper, bargaining for something you don’t know.

She meets your gaze, a bit more peace in her eyes now, but that doesn't stop the tears from finally rolling down her cheeks. She's about to speak when suddenly a car pulls up in front of you, its headlights flashing across your faces, momentarily blinding you both.

A man steps out of the car, and Leigh recognizes him immediately. You do too, although it takes you a second longer to realize. Before either of you could react, he's already launching into a tirade. “Leigh, what the hell? Leaving in the middle of the night, stealing my phone—”

“Not now, Danny.”

You freeze, every fiber of your being locking onto the newcomer—because you're almost certain Leigh misspoke.

His name is not Danny.

It’s Nick.

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marvel-vision · 2 months

Text

Are You The One? - One

A/N: I've been sitting on this idea for a minute. Some quick background on AYTO: it's a gameshow -- there's usually 9 or 10 couples that are matched based on compatibility. They have about 10 weeks to figure it out by playing games and going on dates. They pair off at "matching ceremonies" to see how many light beams they get to clue them in on who might be a perfect match. Anyway, here goes nothing--all mistakes are mine of course.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, Jerk!Vision lol

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

No match!

Wanda stares at the screen, mouth agape and mind racing. Vis squeezes her hand.

"Wanda-"

"You're not my match," Wanda whispered, "you're not my match and we only have two matching ceremonies to figure everything out."

"That doesn't change what we have," he turns to her, taking both her hands into his.

"It changes everything," Wanda bites, "I wasted so much time with you," she runs a frustrated hand through her hair. Vis just stands there, arms stupidly hanging by his sides. Wanda thought she was winning this game by sticking with him. She ignored everyone's pleads for her to pick someone else the last few matching ceremonies. That one beam of light was her and Vis without a doubt.

Until now.

"My match is still here," she's quiet again. Vis looks like he's still processing. He's been extremely persuasive up until this point. Vis would just talk Wanda out of actually playing the game every time she mentioned talking with anyone else. To the rest of the house, he sounded like a broken record, but to Wanda--he sounded like her favorite song.

"So, that's it?" Vis mumbles, his face contorts into something like disbelief, he looks foolish.

"That's the point, Vis," Wanda doesn't spare a second glance at him as she leaves.

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

The house buzzes with conversation. Wanda is sitting on the patio alone, twirling her glass in her hand.

"Hey," Shuri slowly approaches the seat across from Wanda. After the Truth Booth, everyone gave Wanda some kind of sympathy. A hug, some words, tight smiles and other gestures that did nothing to stop Wanda's stomach from churning something awful. The guilt has been making her shoulders sag heavily since coming back.

"We've been crunching the numbers," Shuri starts again, Wanda keeps her eyes on the dancing glass in her hand.

"We think your match could be y/n."

That gets a side glance and cocked eyebrow from Wanda, "she barely talks."

"Because she makes you do all the talking," Shuri shoots Wanda a knowing look who only rolls her eyes in response. You were good at getting Wanda to talk on your group dates. It only took a few questions to spark a conversation among the whole group, actually. Sometimes you just shared a comfortable silence, it threw Wanda off so bad. How can you connect with someone without a conversation?

"Look, y/n has won two dates in a row with you, that's two more dates than Vis ever won. Plus, you guys haven't sat together at a matching ceremony yet. If it's not you, then it has to be Carol--but we don't have any more time left to figure this out. If some of our guesses end up being correct this week, then we can figure out the rest of the matches from there."

"So you want me to sit with someone that I have no chemistry with?" Wanda asks, trying not to sound less than amused with the plan.

"Technically, you don't have chemistry with anyone," Shuri says without missing a beat, it makes Wanda flinch.

"But," Shuri drawls, "now that Vis isn't helicoptering over you, there are a few days to see if something sparks between you and y/n before the ceremony."

Wanda shifts in her seat with a heavy sigh that all but burns her nose. Outside the island, finding love is hardly ever a team effort. But in this game, teamwork is key. While getting a blackout would have costed money from the prize fund, it would have crossed off a lot of potential couples. That one beam belongs to someone, just not to Wanda and Vis.

"Have you talked to y/n about this?"

"Told her before your Truth Booth," Shuri flashes a nervous smile, "if it's any consolation, she was also hesitant at first."

Wanda can't help but look puzzled. She chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before nodding slowly.

"Alright, I'm in."

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

Wanda walks back into the house with Shuri. Everyone is sitting around in the living room, half of the group is gossiping about Bruce and Natasha sneaking off into the boom boom room for one last time. Shuri gives Wanda a parting glance before sitting down next to Namor. Half the room has paired off into new couples, Wanda realizes. Vis is nursing a bottle between Tony and Steve, Wanda doesn't look at him as she makes her way over to you. You're busy nodding along to whatever Thor is talking about, while Carol is leaning against you as she talks to Maria. Your eyes are on Wanda as soon as she fills in the space between you and Thor.

"Hey," you give a warm smile that Wanda barely notices over the burn of the alcohol in her throat.

"Hey," she rasps back to you.

"I'm sorry about today," you look frustratingly genuine as Wanda searches your eyes for a few beats, looking for a reason to be mad at you. She gives up, turning back to her glass to down the rest in one gulp.

"Yeah, me too."

---------

As it turns out, you're also good at having conversations. It only took one "and what about you?" from Wanda to get you to actually participate. Vis was seething from his spot on the couch until Tony tugged him away to talk with another group. Maria had to do the same against Carol's protests when she realized you and Wanda were trying to hit it off. Your housemates continued to leave until it was just the both of you sitting on the couch. Wanda never noticed. She figured the two of you were alone this whole time with the way you looked at her.

Wanda is listening to you talk about your favorite movie when she fails to stifle a yawn.

"Shit, it's late," you watch the clock in the kitchen, realizing that you can hear it's ticking now. The rest of the house is dead silent. Wanda thumbs at the ring on her index finger. Shit, where is she supposed to sleep now? All the beds are likely taken.

Except for one.

"Hey," your voice is gentle, "I can sleep on the couch, you take the bed."

"I'm not going to ask you to do that-"

"You don't have to," you take a breath, "I just want to give you space, if you want it."

Wanda's brows furrow, space? She thinks back to the night when Vis made out with Hope and insisted on sleeping splayed on top of Wanda afterward. Space was never an option with Vis, that's why she's looking at you like you just grew a second head. You wordlessly grab Wanda's glass to wash, your way of giving her some time to think it over. You're drying off your hands when Wanda walks up to the bar.

"What side of the bed do you sleep on?"

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

Wanda tries not to think about the fact that you like to sleep on the left side while she tries to fall asleep on the right, the side she prefers.

309 notes · View notes

marvel-vision · 2 months

Text

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 [𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

one / two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when Jackie gets into a fight with Eve, she stops talking to you before finally revealing a bombshell that changes your relationship forever.

warning/s: mentions of underage drinking and of cheating.

author's note: here is the long awaited part 4! glad to see this one got a bit more interest, it was a fun one to write. this particular part is longer than the others, but i couldn’t split it so yeah, enjoy :)

After that random encounter with Eve at the arcade, I never really expected her presence to affect Jackie and I again. Oh, how wrong I was.

Jeff and I were at school to watch another Yellowjackets game, coincidentally against Eve's team, the Lions. Of course, I didn't think much of it as I was only here to support the team and Jackie. Jeff was waiting in the bleachers for me whilst I went to grab something I'd forgotten from my locker since I was already at school. It was on the way out and back to the bleachers when Eve found me, giving me a playful smirk.

"Well, if it isn't Y/N Sadecki," she said, eyeing me.

"Eve," I acknowledged with a nod.

"You here to support your little girlfriend?"

Knowing she was talking about Jackie, I felt my cheeks grow warm and tried to remain indifferent. "Jackie's just a friend."

"You should tell her that," Eve suggested with a knowing look.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing she was trying to wind me up for whatever reason.

"It's unfortunate you have to watch me beat her," she said with a satisfied smile.

"You can try," I retorted, defending the Yellowjackets.

All Eve did was smirk before walking away to rejoin her team on the pitch. As I watched her go, I noticed Jackie in the distance, watching the two of us and glaring at Eve. The game was about to start so she couldn't do much, but I hoped she knew there was nothing happening between us. The last thing I wanted was for Jackie to think I liked her arch nemesis, especially after we almost kissed a year ago.

The referee blew his whistle, signalling for the players to get in position, so I returned to my seat beside Jeff as Jackie was forced to let it go for now.

"Popcorn?" Jeff asked when I took a seat.

I accepted it wordlessly, stuffing my face as I watched the game with anticipation.

The game started out pretty tense, with both sides getting close to scoring but eventually getting beat by each other's defenders. It was almost half time and everybody could sense a tension between Jackie and Eve, with the latter blocking every attempt Jackie made to score. She was following the blonde like a shadow, never giving her chance to breathe, and though that was expected, it was a little more extra than usual. Even from where I was sat, I could see Jackie getting frustrated by her presence.

Just before half time, Shauna was racing towards the goal, kicking the ball to Jackie. Everybody was on their feet as they watched her approach, ready to score, but out of nowhere, Eve performed a sliding tackle. Jackie hit the grass instantly, making everyone wince at how hard she landed on her knees.

The referee blew the whistle – possibly a yellow card? – and Jackie was sitting upright and fixing Eve with a glare. Then Eve must have said something to piss her off because before anyone could react, Jackie got up and shoved Eve backwards on the grass. She looked like she was about to go at her again, but Shauna intervened and held Jackie back as she yelled something at Eve. The referee was frantically blowing his whistle as a few more players broke up their almost-fight, and the crowd stared with surprise, wondering what was happening.

As Jackie was escorted off pitch by the referee, I could see Coach Scott scolding her, but she didn't seem to care. Very unlike her, she rolled her eyes and walked off.

"The hell was that?" Jeff muttered with confusion.

I shook my head. "I don't know... but I should see if she's okay."

He nodded as I got up to leave, hoping Jackie was alright. Not only did that sliding tackle look painful, but clearly Eve had set her off, and Jackie wasn't easy to piss off.

I followed after her as she stormed inside the school, but she didn't get far when I called after her in the empty hallway.

"Jackie, are you okay? What was that?"

She didn't stop marching forward as she answered, "Leave me alone."

I furrowed my brows. "What? Jackie, I just–"

Suddenly, she stopped and turned around to glare at me. "I didn't ask for your help, now go."

Taken aback, I swallowed awkwardly. "I didn't–"

"Why the hell were you talking to her?" she interrupted, hazel eyes staring into my soul.

Feeling lost, I said, "What?"

She mimicked me, "What?" before scoffing angrily. "Don't play dumb, Y/N. Eve. Why were you talking to her?"

Unsure what this had to do with anything presently, I decided not to let her accusatory tone get to me. "She talked to me."

Jackie rolled her eyes. "How convenient."

Definitely lost, I asked, "You're mad at me? For that?" When she didn't answer, her jaw clenching, I said, "What did she say to you out there? Why are you upset?"

She shook her head, suppressing a frown. "Just leave me alone."

And with that, she stormed off towards the locker room, leaving me super confused and also super curious as to what Eve could have said to rile her up.

I hoped she'd calm down within a day or so and finally talk to me, but all weekend after the game, she'd been avoiding my calls. And if her mum picked up, she'd lie terribly saying Jackie wasn't there. I didn't understand why she was so pissed at me when Eve was the one who'd annoyed her. Could she really be angry at me for one conversation?

The only reason I finally got through to Jackie on the Sunday afternoon was because she picked up without meaning to.

"Jackie, wait, please!" I exclaimed, not wanting to lose her. "I don't want to fight. I just want to fix this."

To my surprise, she stayed on. "What?"

I swallowed hard. "You've been ignoring me. I... I know you're upset, but I just want to fix this."

I heard her sigh on the other side, but she said nothing.

"What did I do?" I asked in a pleading voice. "Tell me and I'll make it right." She fell silent and I sighed tiredly. "Okay, well, can you tell me what Eve said to upset you? You've never acted like that in a game before. You're supposed to be the team captain."

Just when I was convinced I was talking to myself, she finally spoke quietly. "She was saying how she was going to win the game." She paused, then reluctantly continued, "And you. Talking about how irresistible the Sadeckis were and how you were next on her list. That it was a shame she couldn't get to Jeff first."

My eyes widened slightly, not expecting that.

Sighing, Jackie admitted, "It sounds stupid now I'm saying it aloud. I never cared what she thought, she's just some girl. But I... I saw her talking to you and I just– I thought–"

She didn't finish, and I tried not to hold my breath, not wanting to read into it.

"Jackie, that's nonsense," I assured her kindly. "She was just smack talking you to get to you and she succeeded in that. I wish you hadn't let her."

"I know," she agreed. A pause, and then: "I'm sorry for getting upset and yelling at you. I was just pissed."

"It's okay," I said, giving in. "Just..."

"No," she suddenly said, a little more confidently. "I wasn't pissed. I was jealous."

Eyebrows furrowing, I said, "What?"

Upset, she continued, "She doesn't get to do that! Everything I've ever wanted, Eve tries to take. Jeff. Winning states."

I wasn't sure what to say, sensing her frustration through the phone.

"You," she finished, making me second guess if I'd heard correctly. Judging by my silence, she added, "Yes, I want you."

Jaw dropping a little, I said, "What?"

"I don't want to do this over the phone," she said, exhaling deeply.

"Jackie–"

"I've gotta go," she said, and hung up before I could say anything else.

I couldn't move for a moment, reeling at what she'd just said. Did she just admit she liked me?

—

Jackie's words were on my mind for the rest of the weekend and well into Monday. I tried ringing her again, but there was no response so my only hope was to see her in school and talk it out there.

But at school, I didn't see her around like usual. At lunch time, I found Shauna eating, who redirected me to the library, and that was where I ended up finding her. She was tucked between some shelves, looking for a book, and I told myself it was now or never before approaching her.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," I said quietly, aware we were still in the library and also not wanting to startle her. Still, she jumped a little.

Recovering from her surprise, she remained focused on the bookshelf. "I was studying."

"You avoided my calls," I reminded her. "Dropped a bombshell then hung up."

She swallowed visibly, before glancing at me. "Sorry."

Her eyes didn't linger for long, and she was back to looking at the books.

"i just want an explanation, Jackie," I told her.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "There's not much to say."

Her feigned innocence was admittedly starting to frustrate me, and I frowned as she continued to avoid my gaze.

"What did you mean when you said you wanted me?" I asked outright, tired of beating around the bush.

She mumbled, "Nothing."

"Jackie," I pressed, impatiently.

"Really, nothing," she assured me with a quick glance.

"It wasn't nothing. Not to you. Or you wouldn't have hung up. Wouldn't have gotten so upset."

She pressed her lips together, sighing deeply, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt when I watched as she seemed to struggle with an internal conflict.

"Jackie–"

"Fine," she said suddenly, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "It was something."

I waited, heart sinking to my stomach the longer she took to speak.

"I want you," she finally admitted, turning to face me with a worried expression. "Because I fucking like you. And you make me happy. And I hate that I didn't see it sooner. But there it is."

It was as if someone was squeezing my insides, everything shrinking into nothingness as she said the impossible.

"But... but why is that a bad thing?" I asked softly.

She exhaled, shaking her head and looking away. "It's not. It's just... complicated."

I tried to meet her eyes. "Why? Because of Jeff?"

Saddened eyes finally met mine, accompanying a guilty nod. And it spurred me on for some reason, because the girl I liked actually liked me back, and how the hell was that possible?

"I don't really give a shit about what he would think," I said truthfully, surprising her. "What anyone would think."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

It was hard not to laugh as the realisation of my situation dawned on me. "I liked you way before he did, Jackie. I've had a crush on you for years. Why the hell would I let him get in the way of that now that I have a chance?"

The fact that she seemed genuinely taken aback by my admission made me wonder if I'd hid my crush well enough all these years, or if she was just terribly unobservant. Either way, she didn't know what to say as she tried to study my expression.

"I do have a chance now, right?" I asked with a shocking amount of confidence than I thought I was capable of.

As if the roles were reversed, she struggled for words. "I– yes, but–"

That was all the confirmation I needed when I stepped forward and kissed her, hoping to put her mind at ease. She relaxed against me, kissing me back slowly and carefully and in a way that made me forget anything other than her.

After a moment, I pulled away to speak, but she grabbed me by the shirt, tugging me back to her lips, and I didn't argue it. My arms wrapped around her waist, her back gently hitting the bookshelf behind her, and she didn't let go of my shirt as she held me in place, lips devouring mine.

My mind was spinning and my insides were humming with desire once we pulled apart for air, and I could still barely believe I'd just made out with Jackie Taylor.

"Now what?" I breathed out, eyes flickering between hers.

She caught her breath. "Well, I like you and you like me."

"Yeah..."

A ghost of a smile was on her lips as she let her head fall to my shoulder with feigned frustration. "Jeff is gonna be pissed."

I snorted with amusement, shaking my head. "He doesn't have to know. Not for now, at least."

She hummed in agreement, pulling her head back to look at me again, though this time truly looking at me. I grew nervous under her gaze, any confidence I had disappearing.

"Sorry, you were studying," I said lamely, though in my defence, I didn't expect to interrupt her by making out with her between the shelves.

She shrugged like it was a mere inconvenience before tugging me back to her lips, and of course, I couldn't resist Jackie Taylor's charm.

—

Sometimes I couldn't quite believe I was in a relationship with Jackie, albeit a secret one. But then she'd look at me in a way that only I knew meant more and I thanked my lucky stars she liked me back.

When we were in the presence of others, we'd act like we always did, though Jackie would sometimes leave lingering touches or stare at me for a little too long, and I always warned her not to make it so obvious but she seemed to take that as a challenge.

Not even Y/BF/N knew, and one time at school, she grew suspicious. Again, all Jackie's fault, but I'd like to think I denied it pretty well. I was at my locker talking to Y/BF/N about our Music class assignment when Jackie approached us with her usual smile.

"Hey," she said to us both.

"'Sup, Jackie," Y/BF/N greeted, returning her smile.

"Not much, just wanted to ask Y/N if she was still on for studying later," she said, glancing at me. Funnily enough, that wasn't code for anything – she was actually gonna help me study. But the way her hand rested on my forearm as she awaited an answer definitely earned a second glance from Y/BF/N.

I nodded, remembering I had her notes in my locker and grabbing them. "Yeah, that's fine. Can you take these? I'm just gonna forget otherwise."

She accepted the notes, finally letting go of my arm, stuffing them between her books in her hand. "Awesome. I'll catch you later then."

"See you later, Jackie," I replied, and her gaze definitely lingered a second longer than it should've, making my cheeks grow warm at the attention. I broke our stare and she chuckled before walking away, probably not even realising she'd done anything out of the ordinary.

I cleared my throat, about to resume my conversation with Y/BF/N, but she was glancing back at Jackie before quirking a brow at me.

"What?" I asked, closing my locker.

"The hell was that?"

I played dumb. "I don't know what you mean."

She looked at me with disbelief before tracing her hand up my arm exaggeratedly. With a high pitched voice, she mimicked Jackie, "Oh, Y/N, I do hope we're still on for studying later!"

I slapped her hand away, avoiding her eyes. "Oh, be quiet, that's not what happened."

She followed me as I attempted to walk away. "Isn't it? Girl, that was weird, even for Jackie." When I didn't reply, she asked, "Are you two together?"

I scoffed a little too quickly, glancing at her sideways. "You're kidding, right? She's Jackie Taylor."

Y/BF/N narrowed her eyes at me with suspicion. "You didn't say no."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Okay then, no, we're not. You done now?"

Thankfully she dropped the subject, but I was still a little nervous at being found out. It wasn't that I didn't trust her, but telling her just meant it was one step closer to getting to Jeff. And Jackie and I were still new – there was less pressure this way.

—

"Lottie Matthews is loaded," Tommy said what everyone was thinking.

The band and I were stood outside Lottie's house, a party which she had invited us to and was paying us to perform at this evening, thanks to Jackie's recommendation.

"C'mon, they'll be waiting," Y/BF/N encouraged us all, snapping us out of our daze of admiration, before leading the way.

We brought our equipment inside, past the few guests that had arrived a little earlier than they were supposed to, and Lottie and Jackie were there to greet us.

"You all look great!" Jackie exclaimed with a smile once she spotted us, before her eyes landed on me and her smile softened into one that was only reserved for me. "Love the coordination."

I rolled my eyes playfully, though felt my cheeks flushing at the attention.

"Thanks again for having us, Lottie," Aaron thanked her for all of us. "Where d'you want us setting up?"

Lottie began to lead the way to the gigantic living room, the others dragging their equipment with them, and I was about to join them when I felt Jackie tugging me back.

"Hello to you too," I said with a stifled chuckle as she pulled me into her, almost knocking heads.

"You look really good," she said quietly, eyes looking me up and down.

"So do you," I returned, squeezing her hand in mine before glancing around then sneaking a quick kiss. "I should go help the band. But I'll see you around, Jackie."

She sighed childishly but nodded, letting me go, and I tried not to laugh as I followed after the others. I'd like to say that she was good at keeping us a secret for the rest of the party, but every encounter we had went pretty much like that.

As more people showed up, the party was in full swing within half an hour, and what a party it was. Lottie's house was practically a mansion, with a games room, cinema room, a huge pool in the garden and more than enough rooms for people to sneak into. Between sets, the band and I promised we'd stay sober, only here for the music (and Jackie), but that didn't mean we couldn't witness some hilarious stunts pulled by other kids stupid enough to drink their body weight in alcohol.

It was quite the affair, and it was made even better when I remembered how much Lottie was paying us to perform. Her parents were filthy rich, so what was probably pocket money to her was going straight into my savings for college.

After yet another exhilarating performance, I was waved over to Jackie who immediately grabbed my hand and pulled me to the empty spot by the dining table to talk. We perched ourselves on the edge of the table, hands a mere few inches away from one another, and it took every ounce of willpower for me to not touch her. I couldn't help it, she just looked so beautiful.

"You guys are playing so well tonight," she complimented sweetly, before tilting her head to look at me with a cheeky glint in her eyes. "You finally gonna tell me who that last song was about?"

I rolled my eyes playfully, remembering the last time she'd asked me that at the fair. Except this time, she was definitely playing dumb to embarrass me. "Something tells me you know, Jackie."

"Yeah, but I have to hear you say it," she continued to tease, finally resting her hand on top of mine.

I gave her a knowing look, smile creeping on my lips. "You know it's about you."

She feigned surprised, hand to her chest. "Really? I never would have guessed! Gosh, Y/N, I'm so touched!"

I shook my head with dismay as she laughed at her own joke. We stayed there for a little longer, her catching me up with some dumb stuff she'd witnessed tonight and also pestering me about a date she wanted me to take her on, and I loved every second of it. Because everybody was stuck in their own world, the closeness between Jackie and I wasn't even suspicious.

Unfortunately, that got interrupted when some guy approached us, drink in hand and definitely a little tipsy as he struggled to stand upright.

"Hey, ladies," he bellowed over the radio playing through the speakers.

Neither Jackie or I said anything as we waited for him to either speak or leave.

"You're the girl who plays the guitar, right?" he slurred his words a little, meeting my eyes. "I never thought I'd like a lady musician, but there's something about the way you–"

"I'm not interested," I told him firmly.

He blinked, not expecting that, before looking to Jackie and trying his luck once more. "How about you? You're a–"

"Don't even think about it," she told him with a judgemental stare.

He rolled his eyes at the rejection before downing the cup in his hand and walking away.

"Y'know, I love that people are finally seeing how hot you are an' all, but I also hate it," Jackie admitted with a half smile, glancing at me.

I breathed out, chuckling at her honesty. "It's a good thing I've got eyes for someone else, isn't it?"

She pressed her lips together, bright eyes flickering between mine distractedly, and then her expression softened. "I really wanna kiss you right now."

I nudged my shoulder with hers gently. "Later. I promise."

She pouted adorably, only making me want to kiss her, but I managed to hold back. And this didn't seem to sit right with her as she jumped off the edge of the table and spun around to face me, holding out her hand.

"What?" I asked, resting my hand in hers.

Once she closed her grasp on it, she dragged me through the bodies of guests before pulling me into a room that I'd never been in before. It looked like some sort of pantry in the kitchen, well-stocked, I couldn't lie. But I barely got chance to ask her what she was doing before she pressed her lips to mine, kissing me hard.

All night I'd wanted to kiss her. but clearly she'd wanted it just as much as she pulled me close, barely letting me breathe as we made out between the dried pasta and sweetcorn cans. The party was merely a distant memory as I tuned out the chatter of the guests and the beat of the speakers, instead succumbing to the taste of Jackie's lips and the scent of her perfume.

We were breathless when we finally pulled apart, her hands encasing my face between them, my breath tickling her lips.

"You really couldn't wait, could you?" I spoke, a hint of amusement in my voice.

She scoffed lightheartedly, shoving me back. "Shut up."

I laughed quietly. "Bit desperate, isn't it? For Jackie Taylor?"

She quirked a brow, finger fixing her smudged lip gloss. "Really? Says the one who wrote a million songs about me?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Touché."

She smirked, before fixing her hair too. "I'm gonna go. You should too if you wanna make your next set."

"Yeah, yeah..."

She winked before leaving me alone in the pantry, and I made sure my own lipstick was fixed before heading out.

The party went on until pretty late into the night, and it was after midnight when Lottie and Jackie began kicking stragglers out. The band called it a night, but I felt bad leaving Lottie and her friends to clean up alone, so I stayed back to help out. By the time we were done, I offered to give Jackie a ride home, mostly because I just wanted to make sure she got back safely.

"Your mum knows you're with me, right?" she asked from the passenger's seat as I was driving.

"Yep," I said between a yawn. "You think she would've trusted me out this late alone?"

Jackie let out a tired chuckle, leaning against the door. "Yeah, she loves me."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Whatever."

"Sleepover at mine," she insisted. "It's already late. I don't want you driving back alone. You might as well."

I glanced at her. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "You're overdue cuddles anyway. It's only fair."

This brought a smile to my face. "It's only fair. Uh-huh."

Even tired, she was adorable, and I couldn't say no. Plus, I was exhausted and it was the weekend, so what was the harm?

Once I arrived at Jackie's, we headed straight to her room and collapsed in her bed together, tired but content as we wrapped ourselves up in one another. The perfect end to a perfect night.

—

I changed the notes on my music sheet, giving my composition another go on the piano. It sounded a lot better now, but I still wasn't happy with it. I was working on my assignment for Music class, having booked out the classroom and piano for today's lunch to hopefully get some inspiration away from my bedroom. It was working, kind of.

As I chewed my lip, tapping the same key over and over thoughtfully, I heard footsteps behind me and glanced over my shoulder.

"Jackie," I said, surprised but smiling at her presence.

"So this is why you ditched me," she said jokingly, before standing by my side and resting a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm working on my assignment," I reminded her with a knowing look.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, a ghost of a smile on her lips before she nudged me over and took a seat on the piano bench beside me.

She began to press some random keys with her finger, making me stifle a laugh.

"Like Beethoven himself," I teased, and she shoved me in the shoulder without looking up.

"You're shit at soccer, so zip it," she reminded me, making me groan.

"You're never letting me live that down, are you?"

Finally, she glanced at me with a quirked brow and an amused glint in her eyes. "What part? The bloody nose? The missing the goal a billion times? Or the breathlessness after running only one lap around the field?"

I pressed my lips together, narrowing my eyes her way. "I hate you."

She laughed, leaning forward to press a kiss to my cheek before returning her attention to the piano. "Yeah, no you don't. Now, teach me how to play something."

I sighed, knowing she wouldn't leave me be if I didn't, so I taught her a few chords, enough to satisfy her urge to be skilled in something she really wasn't. Okay, a little mean, she actually wasn't terrible. But she was impatient and very easily distracted, and I was running short on time.

"Okay, Jackie, I actually need to do my work now," I said apologetically.

She sighed dramatically, giving me a doe-eyed look. "Fiiiiine, if you must."

"If you really wanna learn, I can teach you properly another time," I promised her, tilting my head towards her, mimicking her expression.

"Nah, I just wanted to spend some time with you, but I can see I'm not wanted nor loved," she said, keeping up with her dramatics as she stood up.

"Jackie." I laughed as she lingered, slowly approaching the door.

"Until next time, I suppose," she continued, and I rolled my eyes at her theatrics as she left the classroom.

God, she could be annoying sometimes.

—

It had been a few months since Jackie and I had started dating and I guess I was so enthralled with her that I never really considered how everybody else perceived us, particularly my brother.

I was certain we'd done a good job at keeping us a secret, but then Jeff was becoming suspicious, and I knew we couldn't keep it hidden for much longer.

Using our usual cover story of 'studying', Jackie was over at mine to hang out, though this time staying for dinner at my mum's insistence. Shauna was also over, since she was Jeff's girlfriend an' all, and it didn't make much of a difference since we were all friends, but then dinner actually happened and I felt stupid for thinking it would go smoothly.

"Y'know, I love how close of friends you and Y/N have become," my mum was saying to Jackie as she passed her the garlic bread. "Always inviting her over to yours."

"Just tutoring her for French class," Jackie answered smoothly. "Happy to do it."

"You're terrible at French," Shauna commented with furrowed brows, and Jackie almost faltered as she thought of a response.

"But better than I am," I filled in with an awkward laugh.

Jeff quirked a brow. "And your grade is improving with all this tutoring?"

I met his gaze, sensing his suspicion. "B average."

He hummed, glancing between Jackie and I curiously.

"You should invite Jackie here more," my mum said to me, thankfully interrupting whatever Jeff thought he was piecing together. "I don't want her family thinking we're not a good host."

"Oh, they would never think that," Jackie replied with a laugh. "They love you."

My mum flashed her a grateful smile, eating out of the palm of her hand. I believed we'd gotten away with it, plus I now had more reason to invite her over. But when I looked back opposite me, I saw Jeff and Shauna studying the two of us curiously and I was never good under pressure. I focused on my dinner as my mum rambled on about something or the other, but the couple before me were watching me the whole evening.

Once the meal was over, Jeff went to drop Shauna home as I did the same with Jackie, though I was a little more distracted than she was.

"I love your mum, she's so cute," she was saying as I drove. "And you heard her, right? Gotta stop by more. Her words."

"Yeah, I think you're actually gonna have to start tutoring me French now," I realised.

She pulled a face. "What? Why? I suck at French."

I gave her a sideways glance. "Did you really not see Jeff and Shauna? They don't think we're studying, Jackie."

As if remembering, Jackie snorted. "Yeah, but who cares what they think? There's no proof otherwise."

I sighed. "I know, but I also know my brother. He's gonna be all over us. So, you're gonna have to start tutoring me French when you come over."

She chuckled quietly at this, unbothered. "Oui oui, Monsieur Y/N."

I tried not to laugh. "It's Madame. Monsieur is for guys."

Pursing her lips, she glanced at me. "Fuck."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "God, you're lucky I'm good at French."

—

Asking Jackie to actually tutor me for French class was easier said than done. Turned out she really did suck at French. I ended up teaching her more than she could teach me a lot of the times, and then there was the issue of how she kept getting distracted by random things because the last thing she wanted to do was homework.

The few times that Jeff 'accidentally' walked in my room, we were actually studying, which only reaffirmed my suspicion that he suspected something more between Jackie and I. After the first few weeks, he stopped checking on us, so I assumed he stopped caring. And I may or may not have let my guard down just a little...

"Okay, I just need to recite this to you," I told Jackie, sat cross legged on my bed, opposite her. "Follow along on the paper and tell me if I miss something."

She hummed, glancing at the paper before looking back to me. I could see she wasn't focused and gave her a knowing look.

"Please, Jackie, my test is next week."

She laughed. "Y/N, you know this paper front to back."

I didn't let up. "Jackie."

She sighed dramatically before straightening up and looking at the paper. "Okay. Go."

I nodded and cleared my throat, before reciting the paper in French. It was a speaking exam, and though I wasn't too worried, it didn't hurt to practice. Of course, as I was speaking, I realised Jackie was only looking at me, eyes on mine, and definitely not the paper in her hand.

"...Jackie!" I scolded her, making her blink. "How do you know I'm saying it right, huh? You're not even reading it!"

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh again, then tilted her head towards me. "I'm sorry. I can't help getting distracted. You're so hot when you're focused."

I sighed, though my cheeks were growing warm. "Jackie. Not the time."

"Well, if now's not the time...," she started teasingly, leaning forward on her hands so she was directly in front of my face. Her eyes flickered between mine flirtatiously as she continued, "Then when is?"

I tried to hold my ground, refusing to let her win just because she was stupidly cute and stupidly kissable right now.

"Y'know what I just realised?" she asked rhetorically, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "Teasing you is pointless. One kiss and you're mine."

"Jackie–"

She silenced me by doing just that, pressing her strawberry-flavoured lips to mine, courtesy of her favourite lipgloss. Unfortunately she was right, and as soon as she kissed me, I melted under her touch, eyes fluttering close. Her hand rested on my neck as she tilted my head up, having the perfect gap to push her tongue into my mouth.

As we made out, studying long forgotten, my senses were overtaken by all things Jackie, so much that I didn't hear anybody come in my bedroom until said person cursed out loud.

Immediately pulling apart from Jackie, I looked to the door to see Jeff standing there with a shocked expression.

"I knew you weren't studying!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger at us. Then it seemed to dawn on him what we were doing instead, and he glared at Jackie. "Seriously?!" With a lower voice, he whisper-shouted, "You're sucking face with my sister?!"

Embarassed, I scolded him. "Jeff!"

"In case you forgot, you cheated on me with my best friend," Jackie retorted, standing up to face him.

"So you make out with my sister?!" he repeated, hysterical.

Jackie scoffed. "You don't get to be mad right now! You literally–"

"That doesn't give you the right to–"

"–and you cheated on me for fucking months–"

"–my little sister isn't your–"

I sat there awkwardly as they bickered over the stupidest things, still flushed with embarrassment.

The sound of my mum calling all of our names, followed by the promise of lunch, silenced Jackie and Jeff long enough for me to stand up off the bed, subtly wiping Jackie's lipgloss from my mouth.

"This... this isn't over," Jeff said, looking between us, before storming out of my room and downstairs.

Jackie clenched her jaw before glancing at me, expression softening. "You okay?"

"Yeah... I think. You?"

She nodded. "Let's go eat."

The two of us trailed in after Jeff, taking a seat beside each other at the dining table where my parents were waiting already. Thankfully, Jackie was still her easygoing, talkative self and made conversation with my parents as we ate. Jeff and I were quiet, occasionally glancing at one another before looking the other way if we accidentally caught each other's gaze. I still couldn't believe he'd caught me making out with Jackie. This wasn't how I wanted to tell him about us.

"...Y/N, Jeff, you two are oddly quiet today," my dad noticed, making everyone look to us.

When Jeff didn't speak, I answered, "I'm just a little tired. Lots of studying."

Jeff choked on his water and I instantly regretted my choice of words. Jackie looked between us before changing the subject with my parents, saving the moment. Thankfully, they didn't try to talk to me again, and Jeff still didn't have much to say.

After a horribly awkward lunch, I left to drop Jackie off home, glad when we were finally away from Jeff's judgy eyes.

"So... you think he'll get over it?" Jackie asked me in the car.

"Probably," I answered. "Eventually."

She nodded slowly, glancing at my house as we drove away, before saying, "Sorry if it's awkward between you both now. It wasn't my intention."

I sighed, a small smile on my face when I glanced at her. "It's okay, Jackie, it's not your fault. Besides. You're kind of worth it, so."

"Oh, really?" she asked, quirking a brow playfully.

"Just a little," I played along, and she laughed.

"That's good to know, yeah," she said, before squeezing my knee gently.

—

I wanted to talk things through with Jeff as soon as possible, but when I returned home after dropping Jackie off, he was in his room and I figured it was best to give him some space. The next morning, he was already out the house when I went downstairs for breakfast, so my only hope was to find him at school.

I wasn't sure if he was actually annoyed at me or not, since he hadn't spoken to me since yesterday and I didn't really see him around much. I put it down to needing some space again, giving him the benefit of the doubt considering he saw his little sister and ex-girlfriend making out.

After school however, I was surprised to find him waiting for me by my car in the lot. He didn't look annoyed or upset, which was a good sign, but I was also planning to wait for Jackie just now, so I hoped this wouldn't go down badly.

"Hey, Jeff," I greeted as I approached him, a little confused.

"So, I've thought about it," he said instantly, hand clutching the strap of his backpack as he paced a little.

"Uh-huh..."

"I just needed to process it all," he continued, stopping his pacing but struggling to stand still.

"Right," I acknowledged, patiently waiting for him to finish.

"You don't need my permission, obviously," he disclaimed quickly, before saying, "but I'm okay with it. You and– you and Jackie."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised at his reaction, or at least witnessing it so soon.

"It was just strange," he admitted, finally relaxing once he'd gotten his words out. "My ex moving on with my sister."

I couldn't resist reminding him, "You literally moved on with her best friend."

He winced slightly, but nodded. "Right."

I chewed the inside of my cheek as we stood there, neither of us saying anything.

"Okay then...," I started, once I realised he was done. "So, we're cool?"

"We're cool," he agreed, before reluctantly asking, "Out of curiosity though... how long? Y'know, you and Jackie?"

"A month? Maybe a little longer?" I answered truthfully.

He nodded, letting that digest, then said, "You seem to get along well. I'm happy for you, Y/N."

I began to smile, despite his awkwardness. "We do."

He smiled too, albeit a little uncomfortably, and mine soon turned into one of amusement.

"Hey," Jackie finally arrived, looking between Jeff and I, though unsure how to react as she was as surprised as I was upon seeing him.

"He's okay with it," I told her, making her eyes widen slightly, taken aback.

"Oh."

"I'm happy for you both," Jeff added, nodding at Jackie.

She recovered from her temporary stupor quite quickly and began to flash Jeff a mildly condescending smile. "Well, that's very mature of you, Jeff. Thanks."

He seemed a little embarrassed, but nodded before glancing at me. "Catch you later, Y/N."

"See you later," I confirmed, watching as he left us to it.

Only when he was out of hearing distance did I look back to Jackie, who was stifling her urge to laugh.

"I guess that's that then," she said what we were both thinking.

"It is," I confirmed with a hidden smile.

Her green-golden eyes met mine with a hint of mischief. "That means there's no need to hide this anymore, right?"

Realising she was right, I nodded. "Guess not."

A grin appeared on her lips, but before I could question it, she yanked me forward by my jacket, pressing her lips to mine in a brief yet passionate kiss that had me floating and forgetting what my name was.

She flashed me another smile before getting into the car, and I was left speechless, before a grin appeared on my own lips. No more hiding anymore.

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marvel-vision · 2 months

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (4/?)

Part summary: Getting to know Leigh Shaw comes with some hardships—literally.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 4.600 | Warnings/Tags: Pining | A/N: Still haven't decided how many parts will there be, but for now, enjoy reader's POV as her interest in Leigh grows :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III

For some reason, you keep saying yes to Leigh Shaw.

Yes to providing your veterinary services for her.

Yes to divulging the private aspects of your relationship with Matt.

Yes to staying in her yoga class.

Yes to running very early in the morning, with a lung-busting pace that leaves you dehydrated and feeling queasy by the end of it.

As if to add insult to injury, Leigh Shaw doubles back to where you're lagging behind, barely hanging on for dear life. She flashes that cheeky grin, says, “Try to keep up,” and takes off again like it's nothing. You're left gasping for air, your heart screaming in agony as you attempt to match her pace, but Leigh's already a blur ahead.

She was right—your endurance is really nowhere to be seen. It's in these moments, as you're pushing past what you thought were your limits, that you start to get why Leigh's both a pain and a push that was kind of missing before in your life.

Leigh eventually vanishes around a corner, and consequently, you lose sight of her. You dig deep, pushing yourself to keep going, refusing to quit out of stubbornness and curiosity of what your body could do. By some miracle, you make it to the finish line, which turns out to be that park you've been to only once before with Matt. He had made it a special day with sandwiches and comics, while you got lost in a book he swore you’d love. You can’t shake off the feeling that this place is significant for Leigh and Matt too.

When you finally stumble in, there's Leigh, chilling on the grass, looking like she's lost in thought, her eyes dark with something you can't quite put your finger on. But then she spots you, and it's like someone flipped a switch. She’s back to the flippant Leigh—easygoing, as if nothing’s amiss.

“Was half expecting to find you passed out somewhere back there,” Leigh smirks up at you.

You can’t help but flop down next to her, letting the sun beat down on your face, feeling every bit of your skin that's exposed soaking up the warmth. Thirst claws at your throat, fierce and unforgiving. Gathering the little energy you have left, you manage to ask, “How long have you been waiting?”

Leigh glances at you, her casual ease belying the brief glimpse of concern you thought you'd seen earlier. “Oh, about five minutes,” she says, her tone light, as if the grueling run was nothing more than a leisurely stroll for her.

You pant out, “Why are you so fast, anyway?”

Leigh bursts into laughter, finding your question absurdly funny. “Fast? Me? That's hardly competitive speed, you're just... completely out of shape.”

You pout, feeling slightly offended but too exhausted to argue. Stretching out beside her, you let out a series of groans and pops, feeling your muscles protest and then slowly relax. “Feels like I'm a hundred years old,” you mutter with a heavy sigh.

Still chuckling, Leigh shakes her head. “I've been running for three years now. It's more of a hobby, really, but I need to stay active for my job at the Beautiful Beast. Or my mom will fire me.”

“Your family owns that place?”

Leigh corrects you quickly, “Not my family, just my mom. And being the owner's daughter doesn't give me a pass to slack off. I can't afford to be terrible at my job.”

Her distinction between “my family” and “my mom” sticks with you. It seems like a clue into her family dynamics. In the short time you've known her, Leigh comes across as straightforward, genuinely helpful, and yes, perhaps a bit quick-tempered, but overall...she's okay.

More than okay, actually. She must be incredible to those she truly cares about. So, what went wrong with her and Matt? How could he betray her like that? It’s even more baffling when you remember Leigh saying they were trying for a baby. That detail still turns your stomach, and you're endlessly grateful you never went down that path with him, despite once wishing things had gone differently.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize how intently you've been staring at Leigh until she calls you out on it. “What is it?” she asks, her voice pulling you back to the present.

Flustered, you find yourself asking the question that's been simmering in your mind, since you first pulled on your sneakers for that 5k this morning. “Why'd you bring me along for your run? Why are you even helping me?”

Leigh just gives an offhand shrug, says, “Well, you didn't have to show up, so you're actually helping yourself.”

“Fair enough,” you reply, but can't shake off a bit of disappointment. The truth is, you were hoping she'd say something that suggested she was up for being friends, or at least saw you as more than just another client of hers.

It's weird, really, why you keep wanting to be friends with Leigh Shaw.

Suddenly, Leigh glances at her watch and looks up at you. “Ready to go?” she asks, a bit impatiently.

“If I can still walk after this, sure,” you say, half-joking, half-serious, feeling the effects of the run in every muscle.

Leigh laughs at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that lights up her face. It's a sound that's real and unguarded, making you think that maybe, becoming friends with her isn't such a far-fetched idea after all.

Yoga sessions with Leigh stick to the script you first stumbled into. She's all business, only really tossing you a nod or a word when your form goes sideways. “Shoulders down, back straight,” she corrects you, her voice firm, yet not unkind. Outside of that, you might as well blend into the walls for all the personal attention she gives, just like anyone else there. Everyone gets the same treatment—tough love, dished out in equal measure.

Despite her imposing presence, there's something else, a depth to her that often seems just out of reach. You catch her sometimes, looking out the window with a distant gaze. But then she blinks, shakes it off, and is back, fully attentive and ready to guide the next pose.

“Focus on your breathing,” Leigh's voice snaps you out of your focus on her. “Inhale deeply, and as you exhale, sink deeper into the pose.”

Determined to excel, you pour all your effort into being the student Leigh doesn’t need to worry about. Ironically, your diligence only seems to make you more invisible to her. As you master the poses with less need for correction, Leigh's interactions with you dwindle further.

After class, you toy with the idea of approaching her. Maybe get some feedback, or even suggest grabbing dinner together so you don't have to eat alone. But as you're putting together what to say, you notice Leigh seems in a hurry. She exchanges a few quick words with another instructor who's just arrived, and before you can decide, she's excusing herself and heading out.

The moment to ask her has slipped away, leaving you to pack your yoga mat with a resigned sigh.

Another time, then, you think.

The next day, without another invite from Leigh for a run, you lace up your shoes and follow the same route you and Leigh took together. Just 20 minutes into the run, the solo effort feels more like a chore than the engaging challenge it was with company. You loop the route four times, hoping maybe to cross paths with Leigh purely by coincidence, but she’s nowhere to be found.

The studio had announced last night that Leigh’s yoga classes would be temporarily led by a different teacher, with her expected to return next week. This bit of news leaves you mulling about her absence, kind of hoping you might accidentally run into her to find out more. But as the week goes by without any such encounters, you realize you actually know very little about her daily routines or habits. Despite the nagging curiosity, you refrain from texting her, not wanting to intrude or anything.

Admittedly, your motivation to work out dipped slightly without Leigh being part of it.

When you finally talk yourself into visiting Matt’s grave, you do so just minutes before it could get really dark. You've chosen this time deliberately, betting on the common fear that keeps most people away from cemeteries as night approaches.

Your main concern isn't the general public, though; it's just Leigh. Past experiences have shown that encounters with her can happen unexpectedly and in the most random of places—like that night at the club when she ended up getting sick just a few inches away from you. You're not here out of a longing for Matt. Instead, you aim to properly close this chapter of your life, hoping to do so without running into his widow and giving her the wrong impression.

The air holds a chill that wasn't there when you left home, making you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s quiet, just the sound of your own footsteps crunching softly on the path. Being here as the day turns to night, watching shadows stretch out long and skinny, really gets you thinking about life, death, and everything else in-between. Maybe that's also why people avoid this place—it sort of forces you to face the music, making you curious if all the things you're wrapped up in are actually important or utterly pointless.

As for you, you haven't quite figured out where you stand on that yet. Lately, you've really come into your own in your career, especially now that you’re seeing the profits steadily rising each month. But that sense of achievement fades each evening as you return to your empty apartment. It's just you, night after night, pushing through the grind, pouring everything into your job. Yet, when you try to envision where you'll be in five years from now, the picture isn't clear. Will you be settling down with someone, or just picking up the pieces from another relationship that’s gone awry?

Finding Matt's grave takes a moment, but when you do, your heart clenches. It’s just a simple stone with his name, the years he was here, and a couple of words(you’re guessing it’s Leigh who wrote them) about him.

You kneel down, the grass cool and slightly damp beneath you, and lay the flowers you've brought on his grave. They look kind of bright against the dimming light. Like hope.

“Hey Matt,” you say, stepping into a silence that feels like it's hanging around, just waiting for you to fill it. Talking to a dead person feels ridiculous like they do in the movies, but it's not like anyone's around to hear you.

“You know, I met Leigh,” you begin. “Your wife you conveniently forgot to mention when you were busy asking me out.”

There's a sour edge to your voice, airing grievances to a guy who can't throw back excuses anymore. You can't help but chuckle, though it's more bitter than amused. You let your thoughts more freely now, like the barrier between you and Matt has thinned out with the honesty.

“Leigh is… beautiful, you know? Not in that runway or social media kind of way, but in a manner that's hard to just overlook.”

You could list a dozen more positive things about Leigh to tell Matt, but he already knew all that, didn't he?

“The first time I met her, I felt small, maybe even insecure. And now?” you shake your head, smiling slightly. “...I still do. But mostly, I'm just left thinking…” You pause. The next thought isn't really for Matt, not anymore.

It’s for you.

“I just can't wrap my head around why you'd want to be with me when you had her. I feel like the murder weapon that's trying to seek justice for its victim.” You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Not a great spot to be in, honestly. Makes me feel kind of helpless, you know?"

Sitting back, you take a moment, just looking at the headstone, at the name etched into the granite. The conversation, if you can call it that, feels like it's shifted something inside you. Not closure, exactly, but maybe the first step towards understanding—or at least accepting—that some things just don't make sense.

Standing up, you dust off your knees, taking one last look at the grave. “Anyway, Matt, I hope you've found peace. It looks like we're all searching for a little of that ourselves. Thanks for the book suggestions. Though, you might be a bit disappointed to hear Agatha Christie remains my top favorite.”

As you walk away from Matt's grave, it feels as though you're leaving a piece of yourself behind to rest with him. You decide then, as the cemetery gate closes behind you with a gentle click, that you won't let this page in your book define you. Maybe tomorrow, you'll try a new coffee shop, or take a different route to work. Small changes, but important ones.

Maybe you’ll even try that spin class that scares you so.

“Since when did you start living at the gym?” Suzie teases you from her spot across the desk, that signature playful, all-knowing arch to her eyebrow.

Suzie, who had originally come on board as a receptionist at your vet clinic with little more than enthusiasm and a genuine love for animals to her name, had quickly become much more than just a staff member. Her lack of relevant experience was initially a concern, but her dedication and the way she connected with both the animals and their owners made it clear she was a perfect fit. Over time, she evolved from being just the receptionist to a friend.

A friend who seems to enjoy teasing you, though.

“First off, it’s hardly the gym. It’s this fitness class I’ve been trying out—big distinction,” you clarify, eyes glued on your phone. The last half hour has been a slow crawl towards 5 PM, the magical hour when you can finally shut down and head to Leigh’s class at Beautiful Beast.

“Tomatoes, to-mah-toes,” she quips.

“Not the same thing,” you insist, still not fully engaged in the conversation, your focus on a food article you're reading.

Suzie just waves her hand dismissively. “Semantics. But seriously, you've been really into whatever this is. There's gotta be a guy making those sweat sessions worth it.”

You can't help but laugh, the idea so off base it circles back to being hilarious.

“Trust me, the allure isn't the sweat. It's those endorphins,” you say.

“Yeah, sure,” she drawls, unconvinced. “Come on. Who is it? I know you're not this amped to be all gross and sweaty for nothing.”

“There's no guy, Suzie.” Then, as if the thought just occurred to you, you add, “Or girl. But honestly, there's really no one.”

At that, Suzie's expression shifts from playful teasing to one of pleasant surprise and a touch of mock offense. “Hold up, you might be into girls? And here I was, shooting my shot in the dark this whole time!”

Your ears burn red at her blunt flirtation. “Suzie, come on,” you stammer.

“If I had known that was on the table, I would’ve upped my game ages ago,” she says, her wink sending your face from warm to inferno.

“You’re impossible,” you manage to say as you hurry to collect your things, ready to rush out the door.

“Impossibly into you,” she retorts saucily.

“I’m gonna have to fire you, you know,” you mutter jokingly, glancing at your watch. “Gotta run, bye!”

“Just so we're clear, the offer stands,” she adds, still grinning.

You feel a sense of relief seeing Leigh back in class.

Though the website clearly stated her schedule, you found yourself on edge until you could see Leigh with your own eyes. There's nothing noticeably different about her; Leigh seems just as composed and in control as ever. When she catches you looking, she offers a small, somewhat dismissive smile before turning her attention elsewhere.

You spend the whole session with your energy dialed up, partly because Leigh's presence just does that, and partly because you're already plotting. As soon as she calls time on the session, you're practically springing into action. Your belongings—a water bottle, towel, and the rest—land in a haphazard pile on the floor as you quickly stand up, eager to catch her before she disappears. You make your way toward her, determined not to let her slip away this time.

Leigh's busy packing up her own gear, her back to you as you close the distance. “Hey, Leigh,” you say, and it sounds like you've got this under control, even if your heart's hammering away in your chest. She turns, and there's a flicker of surprise in her expression. You’re hoping it’s the good kind of surprise.

“I'm really glad you're back,” you push on, hoping it doesn't sound as clumsy to her as it does in your head.

She takes a swig from her water bottle, giving you a once-over, and then says, “Thanks. Do you need anything?” There's an expectant look in her eyes, and in that moment, your confidence begins to wane, melting under her gaze. You're on the spot, scrambling for words, any words that don't involve asking her out for dinner, which suddenly seems like an insurmountable task.

“Uh, actually,” you start, your mind racing to find a safe topic, “I was wondering if you had any tips on improving my form?”

Leigh's expression softens, and she nods, setting her water bottle down. “Sure, I can show you a few things. Let's go back to the mats,” she suggests, leading the way. Despite feeling like your tank is on empty and your body crying for hydration, backing down doesn’t feel like an option.

Not when Leigh is already spreading her mat next to yours. She does so with a sort of blasé authority, and you can't help but think how this is Leigh all over—straight to the point, no fuss. You're tired, sure, and a part of you is suggesting that you're about to make a fool of yourself with your shaky legs and probably even shakier form. But then, Leigh starts talking, pointing out where you're going wrong and how to fix it, and suddenly, you're not thinking about dinner anymore. You’re too distracted now by the smell of her perfume mixed with the scent of her sweat.

The next few minutes turn into what feels like a whole new session under Leigh's watchful eyes. She's on you about everything—the angle of your arm, the set of your shoulders, even the way you're distributing your weight on your feet. Leigh's not mean about it, but she doesn't let anything slide. You're just trying to keep up, watching her move with that easy confidence. It's mesmerizing, really, how she can make something so complex look so simple.

By the time you're done, your muscles are burning, your breath is ragged, and you're pretty sure you've sweated out every last drop of water in your body. As you lie there, staring at the ceiling and asking yourself how a ten-minute guidance turned into an even harder session, you mentally kick yourself for not just admitting you wanted company for dinner. It was right there, and you were too scared to be rejected.

But why? Considering everything that's happened and the circumstances, Leigh turning you down seems like the more probable outcome anyway.

And then Leigh does something totally offbeat. She glances at the clock, then back at you, and out of nowhere, she's asking, “Want to grab something to eat?”

It's so unexpected, that for a moment, you're sure you misheard her. But Leigh's waiting for an answer, a slight smile playing on her lips, and suddenly, the fatigue feels a little less overwhelming. You sit up, a slow grin spreading across your face as you realize this is it—your chance, handed to you when you least expected it.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to say, almost tripping over your tongue. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

When Leigh mentioned grabbing something to eat, you expected a sit-down at some cozy restaurant serving healthy food. Instead, she pulls into the drive-thru of a fast-food joint, orders a mountain of fries and a couple of burgers, and parks the car in a secluded spot overlooking the city. It's laid-back, unpolished, and honestly, pretty perfect.

“So, how long have you been in town?” Leigh asks as she hands you a burger, the city lights twinkling below like a scattered deck of glowing cards.

“Just over a year,” you reply, taking a hearty bite of your burger. “Moved here for the business opportunity, but it’s been... you know, slow on the social front.”

Leigh nods, understandingly. “It can be tough, starting fresh somewhere. This place isn't the friendliest to newcomers.”

Your eyebrow lifts, curious whether she's speaking from her own experiences or perhaps someone else's.

“Yeah, most of my socializing happens online these days. My closest friends are scattered across different states,” you say.

Leigh just hums a bit, not really adding anything else. She doesn't go into details about her own friends, so you're left trying to think of something else to talk about. But everything that comes to mind feels too personal, like asking why she wasn't at the Beautiful Beast for a week, how she's dealing with being a widow, or questions about her family.

Small talk isn't really your thing, so the conversation fizzles out from here. Both of you just end up staring out at the city lights in silence. Leigh seems comfortable with it though, so you decide to just go with it and savor the quiet moment too.

After a while, Leigh breaks the silence. “I didn't think I'd be able to love another dog after Rogue,” she shares, not taking her eyes off the cityscape. “Matt and I had to put her down because she was sick. It was brutal. I swore off dogs after that.”

You look over at her and offer a soft, “I'm sorry.”

But there's no trace of sadness on her face. It’s so nonchalant, almost as if she’s just talking about the weather and not a painful memory.

“But then...I saw Visitor,” she goes on, a small smile cracking through. “I just knew he needed me. And, this might sound odd, but I realized I wanted to feel needed. When Matt—” She stumbles over his name, a rare falter, but she's quick to brush it off. “When he died, nobody needed me. And I struggled with that. Because being needed felt like a purpose.”

The idea of needing to be needed isn't something you've ever considered. Truth is, you've never really needed anyone. You've been a solo act for as long as you can remember, handling things on your own, relying solely on your own capabilities. And so, that also meant you couldn't imagine being on the other side of the spectrum—being needed by someone.

However, there's a part of you, unexpectedly, that feels a twinge of jealousy towards Leigh. To truly experience loss, there first has to be something meaningful to lose. You're not sure you've ever let yourself have that kind of bond with anyone. Not yet, anyway. It's a sobering thought, making you think about what you might be missing out on.

Leigh notices you're not saying much and says, “I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry.”

You shake your head slightly, “It's okay. I just... I don't think I've ever been in your shoes.”

Leigh looks a bit puzzled. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the dog thing, or…?”

“The other thing,” you clarify.

Leigh smirks. “Oh, I wish I was like that.”

You quickly realize how arrogant that must have sounded, so you rush to explain, “No, I'm not trying to brag or anything. It's just, I guess I've never really opened myself up to that kind of bond.”

“Not even with Matt?” she asks, and there it is—the topic of Matt you've been tiptoeing around. You're suddenly aware that Matt's shadow is something you'll have to get used to, just as Leigh apparently has, given the unceremonious way she alludes to your almost-affair with her late husband.

“No,” you whisper, looking straight into Leigh's eyes, hoping she’ll believe you. “We never needed each other like that.”

Leigh's eyes linger on yours a moment longer before she looks away. Eager to change the subject, you add, “Must've been rough, giving Visitor back to his real family.”

“Yeah. I mean, I shouldn't be, right? But part of me was actually angry at them for letting him get away like that. He could've been hit by a car or worse, all because they weren't careful. But at the end of the day,” she stops, a sigh escaping her, and that smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes comes back as she looks at you again. “He’s not mine.”

“Visitor really snuck into your heart, didn’t he?”

Leigh nods. “I wasn't expecting to care that much, you know?” Then, she offers a small, reflective chuckle. “Makes you think about the connections we allow ourselves to have, and the ones we avoid, doesn't it?”

You try to gauge whether she's still talking about Visitor while also trying to figure out where you stand—the connections she's chosen or the ones she sidesteps? Before you find the courage to ask, Leigh starts the car and presses down on the clutch, ready to switch gears.

“I need to head back to the studio, so I can only drop you off somewhere on the way,” Leigh says, signaling the end of your time together for now.

You quickly decide that being dropped off at the studio is fine. “The Beautiful Beast works for me,” you reply, hoping to extend the time you have left with her, even if it's just by a few minutes.

The ride is quiet, the earlier ease replaced by a thoughtful silence. You're watching her, the way she's all eyes on the road but clearly lost in her head. Leigh, as you’ve noticed, is someone hard to get to open up, her walls built high and strong. She's this fortress of a person, but tonight felt different, like she accidentally left a window open and you caught a glimpse inside.

It just makes you crave for more.

As the studio comes into view, it feels like you've both made some progress with Leigh and yet, somehow, not made any at all. Stepping out of the car, you’re met by Jules, another staff member at the Beautiful Beast whom you've heard Leigh refer to numerous times, approaches. You barely catch her saying, “Danny is waiting for you inside,” to Leigh. You miss the frown on Jules's face or how Leigh instantly seems on edge.

“Thanks for the ride—and for dinner,” you say, feeling a bit out of place now.

“Don't get used to it,” she says, the corners of her lips twisting into a reluctant smile. “Was nice talking, though. Thanks for not making it weird.”

As she's quickly pulled away by whatever's going on inside, you hover for a second, debating if you should go in for a goodbye hug. But before you know it, Leigh is tossing a quick “Bye” in your direction as she strides towards the studio.

You're left there, floating in the aftermath, wondering about everything and nothing all at once.

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marvel-vision · 2 months

Text

our little secret pt.iv

Summary: Your sins catch up with you.

Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: swearing, heavy religion and religious trauma (Southern Christianity), heavy religious homophobia, slurs, misogyny, guns, threats of violence, talk of death Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (our little secret i) (our little secret ii) (our little secret iii) (our little secret iv) A/N: this has super heavy religious themes, if you're not good with that please don't read, do what's best for y'all 🫶

Lorraine was coming home.

Well, they were all coming home, but you were only truly excited to see Lorraine. It had been nearly three months since you had seen her last. There was little to no contact because they were moving around a lot, but you would get her letters. Simple little things to tell you where they were, what they were doing, how much bigger they were getting in the industry.

Each letter felt more precious than the last. She never said anything explicit - though you couldn’t say the same for the rare letter from Max or Bobby-Lynn - but the message never changed. She missed you. Filming wasn’t the same when she knew she couldn’t go to you immediately after. Sometimes, if you were lucky, she would even complain about RJ.

The letters stayed hidden in a lockbox in Beau’s truck. You had wanted to keep them with you so they were easier to get a hold of, but both he and Huck had reminded you of the dangers of such a thing. What if someone found them? It would put both you and Lorraine in danger.

It wasn’t something that should have been a surprise to you, yet it partially was. You had gotten comfortable with the small group you surrounded yourself with. All but one or two knew of your little secret, and every single one of them was in support. Or at the very least, they were accepting. When you were with them, you almost forgot you weren’t supposed to be with Lorraine; you were supposed to be in your good, Christian, church-ordained relationship with Beau.

Yet, it was easy enough to keep your secret when Lorraine was away so often. You were so very proud of her and all she was achieving. Each time you saw her, you made sure to remind her of such. A kiss for each time you had felt proud of her while she was away, just to ensure she felt proud of herself. It didn’t matter what she did, all that mattered was she was working hard and moving through life successfully.

Beau and Huck had just gotten back from their own trip as well. They were scheduled to get back a few days after Lorraine, but out of some strange sense of responsibility, they had come back early. You wouldn’t complain. After all, you may not have been romantically interested in either of them, but you still loved them. They were family. They were your family. When they were around, life felt less chaotic. You could breathe and relax and feel however you wanted to feel because you knew, no matter what, that they loved you.

Things felt… good. As good as they had in a long while. You often spent your evenings with Roy. After talking with Jackson a few times, you had some idea on how to talk with your brother. He had been hesitant at first, seemingly not even able to comprehend his own thoughts. But slowly, day by day, you managed to get him to talk.

In the dead of night when you should have been asleep in your room, you sat across from Roy in the barn and listened to his rambling stories. I was an electrician, he had said, a pole jockey. You didn’t ask what that meant. Average life of a pole jockey is 7 seconds. For the first time since coming home, he showed you his overabundance of scars.

It was no wonder he felt trapped within his own mind.

“How’s it goin’, Roy?” Beau asked as he walked into the barn with Huck right on his heels. “Brought you some barbecue.”

Roy grumbled an acknowledgement before gingerly taking the Tupperware box from Beau’s outstretched hand. He always seemed to go fairly nonverbal when someone else was around. A small part of you felt proud that he trusted you enough to talk with you. It didn’t outweigh the feeling of knowing he would probably never get better.

“You goin’ to church with us on Sunday?” Huck asked gently.

He took a different approach to interacting with Roy than Beau did. While Beau very much kept his “big boy britches” on (as he had so much fun saying), Huck was more outwardly compassionate. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, or they thought Roy incapable, they were just raised differently. At least it was better than how you were both raised.

At least they showed they cared.

“Our sweet girl is preachin’,” Beau continued.

Roy looked at you and raised an eyebrow comically high. If you hadn’t just been talking about people dying and his nightmares, you would have teased him for it. Maybe you should have, just to invoke a sense of normalcy in it all. You opted to keep your mouth shut.

“It’s just kids’ church,” you said with a shrug. “Nothin’ important.”

“You are shapin’ the young minds of America’s future voters,” Beau said with a finger pointed in your direction. “That’s mighty important.”

You laughed and kicked out at him, managing to barely catch his heel. “You hear that from the television set?”

“Yes ma’am, I did,” he said with that cheesy smile that made all the women in town swoon. “You’re doin’ the Lord’s work.”

“You still don’t have to go,” you said to Roy.

He looked at you with a small smile before looking back down at the food in his hands. Yeah, you knew that would be the answer. So did Beau, but he still tried, bless his heart. You looked at him as he continued talking with Huck and felt something tighten in your chest.

You wished you loved him the way you were supposed to. If you could just feel those butterflies whenever he held your hand, or kissed your cheek, or wrapped his arms around you, everything would be better. You could still love Lorraine, and you could still love Huck, but the guilt wouldn’t be sticking to your very bones, weighing you down until you could feel the very fires of hell licking at your skin.

Maybe you could learn. Perhaps you could learn to feel for him the way you were supposed to. Lorraine felt for RJ - or could at least pretend convincingly - and no one was the wiser. If you could pretend, or learn, then maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. You could get away with loving Lorraine if you could convince everyone that you felt for Beau the way you were supposed to.

While he talked with Huck and Roy, you sat back and really looked at him. He was handsome, you didn’t have to fancy him romantically to see it. Just near every girl in town thought you were lucky as could be; you couldn’t entirely disagree. His laugh, his smile, his kindness, he was everything a girl could want.

And you felt nothing.

It weighed heavy on your soul as the days kept passing you by. Each day brought you closer to seeing Lorraine again, which meant you distanced yourself from Beau. You desperately hoped he understood; you loved him dearly, and there was nothing you wouldn’t do for him. But you just couldn’t love him the way you knew you should.

You sighed and put your thoughts aside when a truck pulled up to the barn. It wasn’t one you had seen before, at least not one you could remember. But it pulled up beside Beau’s truck as if they had done it a million times before. Not even Jimmy pulled up so well, and he lived there.

“You invite somebody?” You asked whoever was listening.

“You say that like we got friends,” Huck said with a chuckle and a swig from his beer bottle. He didn’t even look.

“Then somebody invited themself,” you said.

The lights of the truck were still on, seeming brighter as the sun continued to dip beneath the horizon. It would have silhouetted the still-budding cotton field if not for the blinding lights. Not many people made it a habit of coming out to the barn; they went to the house with daddy and not much else. There really wasn’t much sense in coming out this way.

Roy’s knee pressed against your thigh before you heard something scrape across the concrete floor. Hesitantly, you stopped looking at the truck and turned to look at him. His eyes were glued to the truck, and his hand was wrapped carefully around the handle of a pistol. A pistol that you hadn’t known he still had access to.

“I got it,” you said softly as you reached out to place your hand on top of his. He stiffened beneath you, but nodded once and let go of the gun.

You would need to figure out what to do about that another day.

The driver’s side door opened without a creak - something unusual in your bunch - and someone stepped out. You stood up and took a few steps toward the truck in an attempt to see who it was. With the truck’s lights still on, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t even properly see their silhouette. When the lights turned off, you were stuck blinking erratically; the beam of light wouldn’t fade quickly enough.

“You lost?” You called out. The words carried across the now-silent driveway. “Town’s the other way.”

“I’m where I wanna be.”

Every atom of your being sparked at the voice. If you had been thinking logically, you would have remembered Roy was sitting on a box behind you. There were witnesses to your actions. But you weren’t thinking logically. You could never think logically if she was around.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation before you practically sprinted toward the truck. Your arms knew where to go; they secured themselves around Lorraine’s shoulders as if that was where they belonged. In return, her arms wrapped around your waist, and her breath hit your neck, and her giggles reached your ears, and you were home.

She was your home.

“Got back a few nights early,” she said. Her arms squeezed tighter around your waist. “Thought I’d come surprise you.”

“It’s a good surprise,” you said softly.

You would have been content to stand there for the rest of eternity. With her head resting between your collar and jaw and her arms holding you like a lifeline, you didn’t have a single complaint. Why would you even want to leave? She was your home. She was what made your heart beat so fast you started to question if it would even hold up to the abuse.

“Look who’s back.” Beau’s voice came from behind you like the mighty voice of God himself; calling you out for the very sin of feeling love.

Lorraine pulled away to give everyone a hug, and you watched her do so. No one cared about your… affections for Lorraine; if Roy noticed, he certainly didn’t say anything. He even reached out to squeeze her hand, which was much more than he did for most.

Did he know? When Lorraine pulled up a box right beside yours and let her thigh rest only a hair’s breadth away from yours, did he see? It hadn’t ever occurred to you that Roy might know more than he let on. He was traumatised, not blind. How much did he see that you weren’t aware of?

Would he hate you? Had daddy gotten to him before you had even been born, teaching him that your very existence was a blight on the earth? Your stomach twisted into knots at the possibility. Jimmy was younger, he was more open minded, but Roy? The very thought of him condemning you to hell even after everything he had seen made your chest squeeze and tighten.

“You get yourself a new truck?” Huck asked as he held out a newly opened beer for Lorraine to take. “Looks mighty clean.”

“It’s daddy’s,” she said as she grabbed the bottle by the neck with her good hand.

“What happened to the truck I was fixin’ up?” You asked.

“He gave up on it,” she said with a shrug. “Said she was done for.”

“She was not done for,” you grumbled.

The toe of Lorraine’s shoe pushed gently against your heel; a teasing gesture she had adopted when other people were around. Just something small to let you know she acknowledged what you were saying. A habit you almost wished didn’t exist. The very existence of it meant you both were well aware of the ramifications of any sort of potentially scandalous words or activities. It was humiliating.

Your thoughts wouldn’t stop when everyone started talking and catching up. Lorraine was being particularly open. Nearly every time she came back from a trip, she stayed distant for a few days. The entire town knew you were all best friends, but you both tried to keep nothing but professional. It was fake. It was painful.

What about this break made her throw away that distance? Your chest warmed at the possibility that something had happened with RJ; perhaps everything wasn’t so awful. It wasn’t likely, but you let yourself relish in the feeling even if just for a moment. God could spare you a single moment of peace.

“We all gettin’ together Friday night?” Beau asked. “The usual?”

“Sounds good to me,” Lorraine said. She turned to look at you with a sparkle in her eye. “Think you can handle it?”

Roy’s knee pressed against your thigh at the same time Lorraine’s thigh did the same. Something about the potential judgment from your brother and the warmth from the woman you were forced to love in secret pulled at your insides. Tugging them in different directions, stretching you thin until you wanted to fade away into oblivion.

A moment of peace.

“I’m your huckleberry,” you said with a shrug.

Lorraine’s smile eased the tension in your chest. For the moment.

—---

The worn-down barn had been rearranged since the last time you had visited. The bar took over the better half of the left wall, and the makeshift stage had been reinforced at the back. Your usual table, which was originally found near the front of the barn, was now located closer to the back end of the bar; you could see directly out to the pitch black fields.

That was where your crew found themselves that Friday night; sitting at the table with more than a few empty drinks scattered around. It wasn’t like the Mexican restaurant down the road. There weren’t waitresses and people working there to clean. It was your responsibility to take your empty glasses back so they could be cleaned and reused. And on that night, it was your turn to be the waitress.

“Hey sugar,” Beau called to you when you were grabbing the empty cups to take back. “Get us another round?”

“You’re gonna have me lookin’ like an alcoholic,” you said with a pointed look.

You ignored Lorraine’s angelic giggle.

You also didn’t say no.

“What can I get for ya, Preacher?” Stevie - Stephen on Sundays - asked. “Your boys are throwin’ ‘em back.”

“So’s Rainey,” you said with a slight shake of your head. It didn’t erase your smile. “How’s about somethin’ watered down.”

“You truly are doin’ the Lord’s work,” he said with a smirk that most girls around town fell for. “A small bit of whiskey and some sweet iced tea.”

You mouthed a silent thank you as he got to work on the drinks and you turned to look back out at the scene. It was no surprise to see Beau and Lorraine already up and dancing. They couldn’t get you to dance to save your life, but you knew how much Lorraine loved it. She could have fun and laugh and smile without a care in the world. Did it help that she only danced when she was drunk? Yes, but that didn’t really matter.

The sight of her smiling has that vice grip closing around your heart again. It was cold and made you feel like you were drowning on dry land. Something about it didn’t sit right with you. Love was supposed to be something warm, something you could crawl back home to. It wasn’t supposed to hurt so bad, was it? Surely there was more to love than the hurt that you couldn’t even tell anyone about.

God was looking down on you. You could feel it. He was looking down at you, waiting to smite you where you stood. If he could hear your thoughts, could feel the way your body reacted to just hearing Lorraine’s voice, he would command Satan himself to drag you down to hell. You would feel the fiery pits of hell before you could ever show anyone how much you loved her.

But a part of you didn’t care. You would face whatever was thrown at you just to see her smile again. To feel her fingers brush against your hand when you passed her a bible at church because she had forgotten one again. You would have stood in front of God himself and rejected the heavenly gates if it meant you could hear her voice each morning you awoke beside her.

Blasphemy.

You knew it was.

You’re condemning your God for something that will never come to fruition.

You knew that too.

“Here ya go,” Stevie said, pulling you out of your downward spiral into a controlled madness. “Should help ‘em sober up a bit.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said with another polite smile as you grabbed the glasses he held out to you.

Lorraine and Beau were still dancing when you placed the drinks on the table and drug yourself into your seat. It was one of those tall seats that you almost had to climb into if you were a little shorter. Beau always teased you for it, but you at least got to tease Lorraine in return. She was shorter than you, after all.

“Please tell me these don’t have alcohol in ‘em,” Huck said even as he pulled the glass closer to him. “I can’t keep up with those two.”

“Little bit of whiskey,” you said, “mostly iced tea.”

He nodded once. “I can work with that.”

“Think they’ll dance all night?” You asked, turning your head to look at your boyfriend and the love of your life. That ball in your throat reappeared. You pretended not to notice it.

“They’re already stumblin’,” he said with a shake of his head. “I reckon they’ll come back in a bit.”

You nodded absentmindedly and continued to watch the pair. This very scene was a repeat of when she had gotten back a few months ago. The scenes played out in your head perfectly as you imagined the sound of Lorraine’s laughter to go with her dancing. It didn’t cover the sounds of her moans or the feel of her on top of you, but you were allowed an indecent thought every now and then.

If you were going to hell, you may as well enjoy the moment.

God, your mind was a mess. Maybe you needed to get away from town for a few days.

Lorraine’s voice reached you before she did. If you had been blinded, you would have been able to pick her voice out within a moment. Hers was the voice that guided you through your days, instilling a confidence and comfort that nothing else truly could. It rivaled God himself, and you understood how the prophets could be so comforted when listening to Him.

“You didn’t get yourself a drink,” Lorraine commented when she sat down beside you with the same grace as a newborn lamb.

“I’ll just share yours,” you said.

Her toothy smile sent a jolt to your very core.

“You’re dancin’ with me next, darlin’,” Beau said. He attempted to point at you, but just ended up making a mess and spilling half his drink.

“Ask me again when you’re sober, cowboy,” you teased.

“You goin’ to church with us on Sunday, Rainey?” Huck asked.

“Don’t talk about church,” Beau whined. “We’re tryin’ to have some fun.”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” she answered anyway. “So will the rest of the crew.”

That was new information.

“They’re here?” You asked.

“They said they missed y’all,” she said with a smile that was far more sober, almost even bashful.

“You sure they won’t burst into flames when they step foot inside?” Beau asked. You did your best not to laugh when Huck slapped his arm. Lorraine laughed aloud anyway.

You all talked about everything. You talked about nothing. You talked about plans that meant nothing and everything all at the same time. A vacation, perhaps out west, to see the ocean. Perhaps another one to Tennessee, where Huck knew a family that made moonshine in their shed. Or up to those big ole cities like New York, where rumour had it you could get yourself some crab that you didn’t catch out on the Gulf.

Lorraine’s thigh was flush against yours. It was just warm enough outside to warrant shorts, and even though you were wearing your sundress, you could feel her bare skin against yours. The very thought was indecent to its core. There were so many people around that had no idea of the indiscrete touch, yet it was enough to shake you to your very soul.

“I wanna watch you dance,” Lorraine whispered in your ear. It’s possible it wasn’t a whisper at all, but with the band and talking all around, no one else would have heard.

“I didn’t think you liked watchin’,” you said with a straight face that completely contradicted your teasing thoughts.

“I like watching’ if it’s you,” she said with a mirrored expression.

Damn her and those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

“Come on, lover boy,” you called out to Beau even as Lorraine brushed her knuckles against your thigh underneath the table. “You get one dance.”

“I’ll take it,” he said quickly.

He downed what little was left in his glass before hopping down from the stool. Your feet had barely touched the dirt floor when Beau grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. He was far past tipsy, though you wouldn’t quite say he was drunk. He was, however, well on his way.

“Just a nice lil two-step,” he warned you.

“Don’t drop me,” you warned.

He smiled the dopey, crooked smile that Huck loved so much. “Darlin’, I wouldn’t dare.”

As much as you hated dancing, it wasn’t half bad with Beau. He was one of the best in town, there was no denying the fact. There was something about his two-step that made it different, a little more special. He could have led the blind with how confident he was. Each step, each twist, each dip, you just simply had to follow. Not once would he ever leave you to falter.

You gave him more than one dance; after all, how could you stop when you had seen the look on Lorraine’s face as she watched? What would it feel like to dance with her, you wondered. Would she prefer to lead, or follow? How would her hand feel resting on your hip for something as simple as a dance? Would it send the same jolt of passion through you as everything else she did?

Once the music started to die down, you could feel the blisters starting to form on your heels. You couldn’t recall the last time you had danced in boots, and your feet were reminding you of such a thing. With a small grimace, you realised you would have to take care of them once you got home. The last thing you wanted were untreated blisters.

“I’m done,” you told Beau. You weren’t looking at his face; you were too focused on your feet. “I think I’m gonna regret this come mornin’.”

His grip on your waist tightened. “How’s about one more?”

“I ain’t losin’ my feet for a dance,” you said with a light laugh. You went to turn towards the table, but he pulled you back.

“Just one more,” he insisted. “Then I’ll let you escape.”

You tried to pull away again. “I reckon I really just need to sit dow-”

-Beau’s lips were pressed against yours before you had time to acknowledge the fact. He was pulling you tight, and your hands pushed lightly against his chest. His lips were chapped; they were nowhere near as soft as Lorraine’s. That was the only thing you could think about as the kiss seemed to drag on.

Until it clicked that you were kissing Beau.

No, he was kissing you.

You finally managed to push him just far enough away for you to look at him. He was looking down at you with startlingly sober eyes. That wasn’t like him at all. In all your years of knowing him, he had never sobered up so quickly in his life. He wasn’t a lightweight, but once he was gone? He was gone.

“What the hell was that for?” You asked softly enough for no one around you to hear.

He didn’t answer.

“Beau,” you insisted.

His eyes flickered above your head before meeting yours once again. What was he looking at? You shouldn’t look. The internal voice that so often resembled your guilt sounded more desperate. Desperate like the look on Beau’s face. It was right, you shouldn’t look.

You turned around anyway.

You didn’t immediately see anything out of sorts. Stevie was starting to pack up at the bar, indicative of either shift change or the barn being out of alcohol for the night. At the table, Huck was facing the bar and throwing back a shot that you didn’t recall him getting. Hadn’t he said he was done drinking? He wasn’t really one to go back once he was done.

Until you locked eyes with Lorraine. Who was standing right outside the barn in front of a kneeling RJ. Who’s left hand was clasped between both of his. Who looked painfully sober while he slid a ring onto her finger. Who looked at you with the same look you got from Jimmy and Huck and Roy when she was with RJ.

You weren’t supposed to look.

Each beat of your heart hurt.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” you said around the lump in your throat.

Beau’s arms held you tighter to his chest. “I’ll take you home.” His heartbeats hurt too.

“No thank you,” you said before finally turning back around to face him. You tried not to think too much about the look on his face. “Stay here with Huck and celebrate.”

“Baby-”

“-It’s alright,” you interrupted with a smile that convinced no one. “Stevie’s goin’ my way anyway.”

Every inch of your body was both numb and engulfed in pain all at once. You stood on your toes - ignoring the sting of raw blisters on your heel - and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. He had a bit of stubble; it was scratchy against your lips and made a nice momentary distraction. It wasn’t enough.

He only tried to hold you close for just a moment more. It was nothing more than a half-hearted attempt, and the instant you pulled away, he let you. With each step, you focused on your heels. On walking carefully so the rough leather of your boots wouldn’t tear them to shreds. A practiced walk that any true Southerner had mastered by the time they were old enough to dress themselves.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you approached the table. It was itchy and you wanted to scratch it until you ceased to exist. But you didn’t, you kept your hands clasped politely in front of you until you grabbed your hat off the table.

“I’m headin’ on home,” you said to whoever was sitting at the table.

You knew who was at the table.

“You okay-”

“-Just feelin’ a bit sick ‘s all,” you interrupted Huck with a dismissive wave and a fake smile. No one was convinced. “Guess I can’t hold my liquor.”

“Need us to drive you home?” RJ asked. His voice alone set your nerves alight and a new pain radiating across your skin.

“I’ve got a ride,” you said. The next word forced its way out of your mouth. “Congratulations.”

She was looking at you, and you knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. After all, why would you want to see the confirmation on her face? Did she not know what that would do to you? Your heart was barely getting by as it was, you didn’t need to add her pity to the mix.

You patted Huck on the shoulder before turning away, placing your hat back on your head in the process. It still smelled like Lorraine from when she had worn it earlier in the night. The act had made your fingers tingle with hidden excitement. No one had guessed the hidden meaning behind it; it was lovely.

Now it didn’t matter.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Stevie asked. Oh. You were at the bar. “You’re lookin’ a little green.”

“Just feelin’ a bit tired,” you said. “You headin’ my way?”

He tipped his hat. “Sure am.” A shit-eating grin took over his face. “Want a shot and smoke for the road?”

You should’ve said no. Stevie was someone you trusted greatly, and it was clear he wasn’t planning on taking the shot with you. Well, it wasn’t clear, but he only set one shot glass on the bar, so you assumed as much. But it wasn’t about his potential drinking and driving, it was the way it would look. It wasn’t proper for you to be leaving the bar with a man who wasn’t your boyfriend.

Your hands shook. Then again, it wasn’t quite proper for RJ to show up on your night out and propose to the woman you loved, either.

“I’d love one,” you told Stevie with a smile.

“Atta girl,” he said as he poured the whiskey into the glass. Bottom shelf; more than suitable for the job. “The smokes are in the truck.”

The hair on your arms stood up again. You tried not to think about it as you threw the shot back. The sting of alcohol hit your stomach like a semi hitting a brick wall. Nothing was appealing about it, and yet you weren’t disappointed. The sting was better than the pressure getting heavier and heavier on your chest.

“Alright, you ready?” Stevie asked when you slid the glass back toward him.

“Yessir,” you said with a smile that you hoped was more convincing than the last few.

It seemed it was.

The whole group was staring at you, you could feel it. Looking at you in pity, like a stray dog no one wanted. Everyone would feed it, would love it, would treat it well until the moment it came time to go inside. Then it would be left on the streets to fend for itself. With any luck, it would survive until the next encounter, but no one would take the risk of bringing it inside.

“Here you go,” Stevie mumbled as he held the cigarette pack out to you. It was so worn you couldn’t even tell the brand. You didn’t care.

He held the lighter up, and you leaned forward to get the spark. When you inhaled, the scalding ash burned every inch of your throat. It coated your lungs and took the pressure off your chest, if only to relocate it. The truck started driving off before you could exhale that first cloud of smoke. That was okay. You quickly inhaled again.

The burn showed you what hell felt like.

—---

The sun had risen long ago, and you were still in bed. The dusty yellow curtains were drawn, allowing only the thinnest sliver of light to penetrate your room. Whenever you dared to face the world for a few seconds, you could see the dust motes floating in the air, almost like spring snowflakes.

Momma had talked to Mrs. Day on the phone that morning. You hadn’t been present, but you could hear her through the walls. Her excitement at the news made you sick. You simply held your head out of your window and let yourself be sick before crawling back into bed. The blankets did nothing to block out the world, but you could at least pretend to hide away for a few hours.

You tried not to let yourself think about Lorraine; no easy feat considering she held your heart and soul in the palm of her hand. No, if you thought about it for too long, you felt you might turn into Roy. Stuck in your own head, unable to go about the intricacies of life without the trauma constantly looming over your head. You were more than content to lay in your bed and just rot away.

Hell could go ahead and take you. Surely it was no worse than what you were already experiencing.

“Come on, lazy bones,” momma said as she finally made the bold move to open your bedroom door. “Gramma’s here to help with the garden.”

She didn’t wait for you, but you knew the expectation. When momma asked you to do something, you usually had about 15 minutes before she started to pitch a fit. If you wanted to avoid a guilt trip, you would at least be up and in the process of heading outside by the time she started to get irritable.

You made sure to take up every minute you had. The slightly windy weather was perfect for a pair of jeans, so you made sure to take your time picking them out. The worn pair of garden boots sat in the corner; your heels stung just looking at them. It wouldn’t hurt to work barefoot for the day. After all, God brought you into the world without boots, you could experience another day without boots.

Momma and Gramma were already kneeling in the garden by the time you finally managed to make your appearance. Your hat hung low on your brow to block out the high afternoon sun. It was already hot on your arms, but you could work with it. A bit of sun wouldn’t kill you.

No one said a word as you grabbed the trowel and kneeled next to a still forming row of… well, you weren't sure what it would be this year. Last year it had been carrots, but they hadn’t lasted long. Perhaps this year you would make a bold suggestion of black eyed peas again. You knew you could get it right if you had another chance.

“What’s got you so down today, honey?” Gramma asked after what felt like far too long in the sun.

It had only been about five minutes.

“Does it have to do with Rainey gettin’ engaged?” Momma asked. The question made you sick to your stomach again.

“Yeah, kinda,” you said with a shrug even as you refused to look up at either of them.

“Oh honey,” Gramma said softly, “don’t be upset.” You couldn’t help it. “Beau will propose before you know it.”

Oh. Right.

You didn’t want Beau to propose. You couldn’t imagine anything worse than putting Huck through what you were feeling at that moment. Knowing that his heart would break every time he looked at you, no matter how happy he would be for you. He would have to sit on the sidelines, pretending to be joyous about watching his lover marry someone else.

Would he question God the way you did? Because you couldn’t comprehend why you were getting punished for the very fate of falling for someone you shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like you had planned on falling in love with Lorraine; did He really think you would do this on purpose? After seeing how painful life could be, why would you willingly choose such a life? To not feel a single thing for the man you were “supposed” to be with.

Surely it couldn’t have only been you. Surely you weren’t the only one who didn’t feel a certain way for Beau. Momma felt things for daddy, didn’t she? She had to, there was no other explanation. People didn’t just marry someone they didn’t love, did they?

Did they?

“What does love feel like?” You asked aloud to neither one of them in particular.

“What do you mean?” Momma asked.

You set the trowel down and leaned back on your heels. It stung. “When you look at Daddy, do you ever get, I don’t know, butterflies or somethin’?”

You finally looked up and saw both Momma and Gramma look away in thought. You needed them to confirm it. Needed them to tell you that yes, they felt something for Daddy and Pappy. They felt butterflies, and their palms got sweaty, and they wanted to do everything for them because they loved them. They needed to say it.

“Don’t think I ever have,” Momma finally said.

“Never?” You asked indignantly.

“Not that I recall,” she confirmed.

“How about you, Gramma?” You asked.

She needed to answer differently.

“Not for your Pappy,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I’ve felt somethin’ for someone else before.”

“Mom,” Momma scolded.

“Oh please,” Gramma said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “we’re all grown now.” She turned to look at you. “A man I grew up with.” You kept your eyes locked with hers. “Every time we were together, I’d get this giddy feelin’ in my chest.”

“Did you love him?” You asked.

“I believe I did,” she said with a nod. “He was certainly the one I wanted to spend my forever with.”

The pressure in your chest returned. “Why didn’t you?”

“He wasn’t the one I needed to love,” she said with a shrug before going back to digging up a few weeds.

“How d’you know?” You asked. The sweat made it harder to hold the trowel in your hand.

“God told me,” Gramma said as if it was the most logical answer in the world. “I was s’posed to love him, but I needed to love your Pappy.”

The pressure in your chest turned sharp.

“And you?” You asked Momma. “God told you to love Daddy?”

She nodded instantly. “He certainly did, and I thank Him every day for it.”

“But you don’t feel nothin’ special for him?” You asked. You wanted her to deny it.

“I feel what I’m s’posed to feel,” she confirmed.

You looked back down at the dirt. The tiny little splinters of the trowel handle dug into your fingers as you gripped it tighter. If you looked close enough, you could see a worm or two digging through the rich soil. Would it be easier to be that worm? To not have to worry about who to love, or if God would punish you for desiring someone else?

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Momma said, and you felt her hand rest on your shoulder. “Beau seems to be both the one you’re s’posed to love, and the one you need to love.” You felt sick. “You’re mighty lucky for it to turn out that way.”

“Yeah,” you said with a small smile before digging into the soil again.

Even though Momma and Gramma got back to work, you dug mindlessly with your bare hands, the trowel all but forgotten. Perhaps you had given your Momma too much credit. After all of this, she had ended up with someone that she didn’t love. Gramma had missed out on someone she loved because it wasn’t proper. Three generations of women who were stuck.

Was it a punishment? Surely God wouldn’t punish three generations of women for having feelings for someone. Someone that wasn’t ordained as the “right one” for them. No one could be quite that cruel, could they? What happened to love being something pure, a true gift that was to be held dearly?

Maybe your Momma had fallen victim to the same sin as you. Destined to love someone you weren’t meant to be with. The thought made you sick to your stomach. You were your mother’s daughter. And you were all suffering for the sin of love.

—--

Somehow, some way, you had managed to avoid any sort of small talk with people before church had started. You had stood at the doors to tell everyone good morning, giving Beau and Huck quick hugs before ushering them in. Daddy was already in the chapel talking with everyone, and you were more than happy to practically push the Days in without sparing them a second glance.

You ignored the coiling in your stomach when Lorraine gave you that pity-filled smile.

“You clean up nice.”

For the first time in two days, you allowed yourself to smile for a moment. Maxine was the first to give you a hug, then Bobby-Lynne, followed up by Jackson and Wayne. Truth be told, you had missed them too. There was something comforting about knowing that they accepted you, all of you, and wouldn’t shame you for a single thing.

Except for being a preacher. They still teased you for that one.

“And Beau was convinced you’d catch fire when you stepped in,” you said with a small smile.

“Not yet,” Bobby-Lynne said in her most confident tone. It was a good look for her.

“Everyone’s already inside,” you said with a gesture of your head, “go sit where you’d like.”

“We’ll behave,” Wayne said as he tipped his hat at you.

“Please do,” you called out to their backs.

Only a few more people were left before church started and you could finally close the doors. The kid’s church was in the small connected building on the side of the church. It wasn’t anything fancy, but the whole town had pitched in one year to build it. Something about having their own building made the kids more excited to go to church than anything else. And quite frankly, no one cared what the children enjoyed about it as long as they were excited to go.

“Alright y’all, let’s get started,” you said as you closed the doors behind you.

Daddy had made it clear you would never be the head preacher at church; that right was reserved for when Jimmy got back from seminary. You had tried not to act hurt when he had broken the news to you. The original plan had been for you to go to seminary because Jimmy wanted to go to an actual college. But it seemed none of you would get what you want, and you were all having to live with the cards you were being dealt.

Leading kids’ church was something you enjoyed, so you wouldn’t complain too much. After all, kids were far more open to learning than adults were. They wanted to hear whatever they wanted to hear and nothing else. You couldn’t count the number of times you had preached to the adults and they had come up to you afterwards to debate the meaning of a scripture. The joke was on them, though; you had taken enough seminary to know some of the original translations, not just the watered down version they preferred.

It was a wonderful lesson for the day; love thy neighbour. Something most people seemed to have trouble with at one point or another. Hell, even you had issues with it. There was more than once you had wished trouble up on a neighbour. Particularly when they attempted to belittle you when you were trying to live your day-to-day life. You wouldn’t take it back, but you accepted it had been a fault of yours.

“Alright y’all,” you said when the clock on the wall hit 12:30pm. “Let’s pray for our neighbours before we go.”

“Except those faggots, right?”

“Excuse me?” You said as quickly as the words had reached your ears.

Mr. Dylan’s son - Scott - tilted his head in confusion. You had known it was him; he was usually the one who spoke out the most. And his views were… well, they were perfect copies of his daddy’s views, and that wasn’t something you accepted. Especially not when they came out sounding the way it just had.

“I ain’t prayin’ for those faggots up north,” he repeated.

“Don’t say that word,” you said. “Why would you even say that?”

He sighed and looked at you like you were stupid. “Daddy says those fa-” he paused at the look you gave him, “-homosexuals are dyin’ cause they’re sinners.”

That coil in your stomach from earlier had turned into hot lead. A part of your mind told you to keep your mouth shut; you were in the middle of a church in the middle of a very Baptist town. It was dangerous to say anything that could be considered problematic or un-Christian.

But those people were dying and no one cared. They were suffering for loving someone society told them they shouldn’t. No one was trying to help them, they were just being condemned for something they couldn’t help. All the guilt of the world was being thrown onto them for nothing more than the sake of putting the attention on someone else.

Like you, they were being punished for the sin of loving the wrong person.

You could feel a heat growing in your chest. “They’re God’s children too, and they deserve prayers and love just the same as you and me.”

“That ain’t what my daddy says,” Scott defended.

You couldn’t recall another time you had been itching to beat a child.

“Your daddy is divorced,” you said, “and that’s just as much a sin as anything else. We still pray for him, don’t we?”

Scott thought for a moment. “Yes ma’am.”

“Then we pray for everyone, understand?” You said.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

“Good,” you exhaled. The heat in your chest wouldn’t go away. “Now bow your heads and let’s pray.”

The prayer was half-assed at best. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Scott had said. The absolute nerve of Mr. Dylan to tell his son such a thing. You could only be so upset with Scott. He was a kid, and kid’s would mimic whatever their parents said. It was natural, and you wouldn’t fault him for it.

But you could certainly fault Mr. Dylan.

The kids all ran out of the church to go meet up with their parents in the parking lot. The sun was starting to shine down on everyone, and you could feel the asphalt burning through the soles of your shoes. They were a horrible pair, but they were the only ones you had that didn’t rub the blisters on the back of your heels. A small price to pay for the sake of not having nasty scars on your feet.

Across the parking lot, you could see the whole crew leaning against their cars. They were all talking and laughing, most likely catching up. You desperately wanted to go over and talk with them. You wanted to be part of their family again, to feel the comfort in acceptance.

But RJ’s arm stayed wrapped around Lorraine’s waist, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to go through that just yet.

You turned your body to go back into the church; you hadn’t grabbed any of your stuff, and Daddy usually wanted help cleaning up before heading out to lunch. If you could help him then maybe God would forgive you for the day. Surely he wouldn’t hate you if you were in His house-

-a loud smack hovered below the ringing in your ears before you felt the sharp sting.

Your eyes teared up almost instantly, before you could even bring your hands up to press against the tender flesh of your right cheek. That heat in your chest from earlier had frozen, leaving you motionless even as the threat loomed above you. Even though you couldn’t make out the words, you could vaguely hear the low rumble of a voice over the ongoing ringing.

When you finally managed to blink away a few tears, you looked up. First you saw someone’s back; they were so close you could smell them. Beau. In front of him was Mr. Dylan, standing tall and furious. He looked like one of the avenging angels. Was he coming to kill you? To end your miserable life and escort you down to hell himself?

“We may not be in the church, but this is still holy ground,” Beau said. He sounded angry. He was never angry.

“Then you best take her out back and beat some sense into her,” Mr. Dylan said just as angrily. Perhaps more. “If she defends those faggots again, I’ll beat her myself.”

“You’ll keep your hands to yourself,” Beau said. At least you thought he did. The ringing still hadn’t gone away. “And you’ll take yourself on home. Now.”

You finally locked eyes with Mr. Dylan, and you wished you hadn’t. He was furious. You couldn’t recall a time you had seen such raw hate in someone’s eyes. What could have caused him to have such a visceral reaction to someone’s differing opinions on life? Was that not one of the better parts of life? Being able to disagree and live in harmony?

“I’m watchin’ you,” he said as he pointed a finger in your direction. But just as Beau had commanded, he turned around and left.

“Are you okay?” Beau asked almost immediately.

“I’m fine,” you said slowly, ignoring the slight copper taste in your mouth. “I just wanna go home.”

“I’ll tell your daddy,” he said. “Go get in my truck.”

You didn’t really listen to what he was saying; the ringing had mostly gone away, but things still sounded a little dull. But you knew you could make it to his truck. Your steps were uncertain at first, and you felt like you were drunk. With the way the world tilted ever so slightly beneath you, you were sure you looked drunk too.

You passed the crew without a glance. If they were looking at you, you didn’t notice. The only thing you could focus on was stepping up into Beau’s truck and the warm metallic blood on your lips. Had it come from Mr. Dylan’s ring? Or had you bitten your lip when your head snapped back? You weren’t sure; you didn’t think it mattered.

The window felt cool on your cheek. It was a welcome feeling, easing the stinging sensation ever so slightly. What you wouldn’t give to have a cold steak on it. Maybe a cold washcloth if you could swing it. But as your eyes started to close and the noises stayed at a low thrum, you figured the window was more than good enough.

You were asleep before Beau came back to the truck.

—---

The barn was empty on Tuesday afternoons. Those were the days you used to find yourself hanging in the rafters with Lorraine. Sneaking away before you had found better ways to be together. Your fingers ran over the rough wooden beams that you had sat on time and time again. Even though it ached, you smiled at the memory. You were thankful you didn’t have to pick splinters out of your ass anymore.

“Beau said you were here.”

You could hear the creaky wooden ladder before you saw Lorraine pulling herself up onto the rafter. It had been just long enough for instinct to kick in, and you looked at her left hand. That ever-present pressure in your chest eased a little when you noticed she wasn’t wearing the ring.

You should have been ashamed of being relieved.

You weren’t.

“How’s your cheek?” She asked. Her hand lifted and hovered over your cheek before she thought better of it and let it fall back to her side.

“Fine,” you said with a shrug. You both knew it was a lie. The bruise had turned an ugly dark that circled your eye and highlighted the split of your lip.

“I don’t love him,” she said without hesitation.

“I know,” you said with a nod as you sat down on the barely-standing hay bale.

Lorraine sat down beside you and let her head rest on your shoulder. You desperately wished she wouldn’t. Her touch still sent a fire down your spine. The feel of your heart beating in sync with yours was enough to drive you to near-insanity. You craved her touch far too much for her to be so gentle with you.

“Can we please talk when I get back?” She said softly. “We have to.”

You didn’t want to talk. Honestly, that was probably the very last thing you wanted. No part of you wanted to hear about her having to marry RJ and pretend to be happy about it. Yeah, you knew it was going to happen. Some part of you had always known it would happen eventually. You were hopeful, but you weren’t stupid.

What you really wanted was for her to hold your hand. To pull you in for a kiss without fear of getting lynched. You had just gotten beat outside of a church, but you wanted to be able to feel love without fear of reprise. And you couldn’t even have something as simple as that, because you wouldn’t dare put her in such a position.

Lorraine lifted her head when you still hadn’t said anything. Her eyes held that pity that you hated. They always seemed to hold that pity when she looked at you. You dared to lift your hand to cup her cheek. The scars were healing up nicely, and you could barely tell the difference when your thumb rubbed lightly against her cheek.

You shouldn’t have done it. The crew was in the driveway, waiting for her to come down so they could get going. You didn’t care. You leaned forward and kissed her lightly, ignoring the sharp pain in your cheek. Her lips were warm and soft; they always were. She tasted of home.

As you sat there, kissing the woman you loved with the desperation of a man on his deathbed, you believed you would be happy if those were your last moments. If God had come down in that moment to take you, you would have been content. The last thing you would have experienced was a moment of love and the taste of Lorraine on your lips.

“I love you,” you mumbled against her lips.

You hoped she understood the many other things you were trying to convey with those three words. I love you. You’re my home. I have betrayed my God and my family for you, and I would do it again. The world hates me and wants me dead, but I would give up everything for you. Only you.

“I love you too,” she said just as softly before leaning forward into another kiss. Something softer. Somehow holding more desperation than the last.

It was all over far too soon. It was bound to be over too soon. Lorraine had a life outside the four walls of the barn, and you were being called back to the church. When she pulled away, you chased her lips for a moment more. One more kiss, one more touch, one more instance of the comfort and turmoil and peace that she instilled within your soul.

“I promise I’ll be back,” she said. “Please be here when I get back.”

You nodded. “I’ll always be waiting for you.”

Her answer was one more kiss, filled with everything she didn’t have time to say. It could have lasted for the rest of your life and it still would have been too short. When she pulled away, everything felt cold. But you were brave. You watched Lorraine head back to the ladder and pause. The tears in her eyes matched your own. As much as you hated to see her cry, it left a feeling in your chest that she hated leaving just as much as you did.

“I love you,” she said. Perhaps a bit too loud. You didn’t care.

“I love you,” you repeated.

She bit her lip and continued her way down the ladder. You let the tears fall freely as you listened to her boots on the gravel making their way to the van. It started up quickly and they were gone almost as soon as the van door closed. The barn didn’t feel so familiar when she was gone. No, it felt empty, foreign.

Sinful.

You waited until the moon was high in the sky before coming down from the rafters. It wasn’t wise to be out so late, but you had nowhere else to go. Beau and Huck had left the night before to help with an emergency, and home held no comfort. All you would have done was rot away in your bedroom, and even that didn’t sound desirable.

Instead, you found yourself walking to the church. It would take a solid thirty minutes, but that was alright. After all, what else would you be doing? You were certainly in no mood to sleep. You wanted to stay awake so you could remember the feel of Lorraine’s lips on yours for as long as possible.

She was right, you would need to talk. Even if it was a talk to cut everything off completely, you both needed to be on the same page. Neither one of you had to be happy about it, but the inevitable was coming to fruition. At some point, one of you was bound to get married. And not to each other.

Perhaps you could all still live near each other. It wouldn’t be the same, and you would still have to hide away, but it would be better than nothing. All you wanted was to stay close to Lorraine by any means necessary. If that meant you could only stay close to her as a friend, you would do it. It would drive stakes into your heart day after day, but it was better than losing her forever.

Your feet were aching by the time you reached the church. Like the true Southern child you were, you had gone barefoot for the night. Your body was used to it, but that didn’t mean the long walk on dirt and gravel wouldn’t leave its mark. Not a single part of you cared about the dust as you opened the church doors and walked into the chapel.

The candles up front were the first things you lit. They weren’t numerous, but they were enough to light the small part of the pulpit that you kneeled in front of you. The carpet was rough against your knees; you must suffer to worship God, your Daddy had said at one point. Nothing about your beliefs were easy, and that was the point.

You rested your hands on your thighs as you looked up at the cross hanging behind the pulpit. It was a simple wooden cross, stained white. If you looked at it hard enough, you could see every one of your sins staining the cross. A horrific red against the startling white.

You wanted answers. You wanted to know why you were being punished. Had you not been good? Had you not been dutiful in your passion for Him? You had done everything you had been told. You had preached, you had read His word, you had followed His rules to the letter. Most people struggled to follow the most basic of rules, and they certainly weren’t being punished.

Tears welled up in your eyes not from sadness, but from anger. He had created you. He had known everything about you and had created you anyway. And now you were being punished for that very same existence? No, you had been good, you had behaved. You were a good girl. What would it take to prove that you were good?

The church doors clicked.

You hastily wiped the tears from your eyes and stood up. No one was supposed to be at the church, it was late. Whether it was a person or an animal, no one was supposed to be around. Should you defend yourself? Daddy usually had a gun at the church, but he had started taking it home lately to prevent accidents.

“Needed some extra prayers?” Mr. Dylan asked. His voice gave him away before you even turned around.

He was in his usual work clothes, but his pistol rested loosely in his hand. Part of you hoped he had brought it for protection from the coyotes and wild boars that liked to roam during the nights. You weren’t entirely stupid enough to believe your own hope.

“How’s ‘bout I pray with you,” he said as he walked closer.

You didn’t want him to. You wanted him to go on home, and you would go on home as well. Neither one of you needed to be in the church so late at night, you both needed to be home. Your families were waiting for you, weren’t they? It wasn’t proper for you to be in the church alone with a divorced man.

“Mr. Dylan-”

“-go on,” he insisted as he used the pistol to gesture to where you had been only moments before. “Kneel and pray.”

You did as instructed. “What would you like me to pray about?”

“Ask God for forgiveness,” he said. You couldn’t see him from where you were kneeling. “For the both of us.”

The carpet still stung on your knees.

“Forgiveness for what?” You asked. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears you weren’t sure if you would even hear him.

“See if He’ll forgive you for that hellish demon you’ve been afflicted by,” he said.

You kept your mouth shut. You couldn’t recall what he meant. Yes, you had defended homosexuals on Sunday, but surely that wasn’t worth threatening you over, was it? He was a bit rash in his decisions, but he wasn’t ignorant. He wouldn’t risk jail just for this.

“And for you?” You asked.

“See if He’ll forgive me for doin’ His work.”

You heard a familiar sound from the pistol. Your hands shook. Your mind was screaming at you to turn around, to face him. He wasn’t the bravest man, there was no way he would kill you if you were looking him in the eye. And yet, your heart told you to close your eyes and pray.

“Somethin’ ‘bout you never sat right with me,” he continued. “Never figured you for one ‘a them queers.”

You had heard of this happening. Really, you shouldn’t have been surprised. But you were. You were scared. There was no beating around the bush, you were flat-out scared. He was holding a gun to your head. Wasn’t that something Daddy had always talked about in church? If someone held a gun to your head and said he’d shoot you if you were Christian, would you admit it? You had thought it was just some silly question he used to get people to think about his lesson.

You had never imagined he would be right.

“I shoulda done somethin’ ‘bout you years ago.” He just couldn’t quit talking. He’s nervous. “I ain’t gonna let you ruin these kids.”

He cocked the gun again; he must have uncocked it at some point. He just needed to get it over with already, what was he even waiting for?

The shaking in your hands stilled. Perhaps it would be for the best. The suffering would end. What would it be like not to hurt? Surely Lorraine would be alright, she had RJ and the crew. Beau and Huck would keep her safe. They always did. You wouldn’t have to feel that pressure in your chest and you could still watch over her anyway, couldn’t you? Probably better than you were now.

Something cold pressed against the back of your head.

“Say one last prayer.”

You risked tilting your head up to look at the cross one more time. Maybe it was time you died for your sins. After all, you hadn’t lived with the guilt for years without thinking this would happen eventually. How long had you truly thought you could get away with such a secret? No, this was bound to happen.

Lorraine had been smart enough to get out of town. She had gotten herself a beau that would be suitable for the purpose and had left. No one had any time to question her, and as much as you hated it, she had been right. Maybe she could be safe after all of this. Maybe she wouldn’t have to be so afraid.

She would forgive you. Lorraine had never been one to hold a grudge against you. Against others, sure, but not you. You were glad you had told her you loved her earlier. It eased the guilt. She knew you loved her; she knew you would have died for her. You were just upholding your end of the bargain.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let the guilt start to fade away. You had spent so long afraid of what God would do to you for your sins. Seemed He didn’t really care all that much; it was man who cared. No one was going to come save you. You let your mind wander to Lorraine as the barrel pressed harder against the back of your head.

I don’t want God’s forgiveness. I want Lorraine’s.

The metallic sound made you flinch, but you didn’t hear the shot. Your body froze completely. Had you missed it? Were you already dead? It didn’t even hurt, maybe it was quick. That was the best anyone could hope for, right? For it to be quick and painless.

You cracked your eyes open and looked around. It was still your church. The cross still loomed over you like some holy judge and executioner. Were you in purgatory? Well now, that would just be worse than hell, you believed. An entire afterlife full of nothing? You would rather burn in the fiery pits.

“I suggest you step away from my sister.”

“Roy?” You asked immediately even though you knew you should have kept quiet.

You turned around quickly, ignoring the carpet burns on your knees. It was him. Roy was standing near the back of the chapel, rifle held in steady hands. You didn’t know he still had one. It was aimed directly at Mr. Dylan who, for the first time, looked surprised.

“You’d best put that gun down, boy,” Mr. Dylan said. “This don’t involve you.”

“It does if you threaten my sister,” he said again. He wasn’t looking at you but gestured his head. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“Stay where you are,” Mr. Dylan said. He froze when Roy readjusted the rifle.

You kept your eyes on Mr. Dylan as you slowly pushed yourself up to your feet. His grip on the pistol tightened, but he otherwise stayed still. Each step you took was slow, calculated. It felt like you were walking before God to the gates for judgment. Your every move was scrutinised and all it would take was one wrong step.

But he never did anything. He just watched you until you were standing firmly behind Roy. The shakiness that accompanied his every move was gone, replaced with something you didn’t recognise. It was reminiscent of the old Roy, the one who had never gone to war. The only difference was the dull look in his eyes.

“Go get in the truck,” Roy said softly.

“What?” You looked at him. “I ain’t leavin’-”

“-Now.”

There was a harsh tone to his words. Authoritative. He sounded just like Daddy when he was preaching. It left no room for argument; his word was law. There was too much comfort in the way he held the rifle. If you left him, would he kill Mr. Dylan? Would he kill a man in the middle of the church?

He had nearly done the same to you.

Perhaps that was a good point.

“Okay,” you said aloud since he wasn’t looking at you.

You backed away slowly, keeping your eyes glued to the both of them. The last thing you wanted was to turn around and have something happen. It would have been shameful to go out that way. But no one else moved; they just stared at each other until you were out of the church and could run to Roy’s truck.

The silence was almost painful. You could hear the crickets outside creating a symphony with the locusts. If you strained your ears, you could hear a few frogs. But you weren’t listening to the wildlife; you were listening for the gunshot you were afraid was imminent.

Each second ticked by so slowly you felt you had aged another few years. What was taking him so long? He needed to leave Mr. Dylan alone so you could both go home. You could all get some sleep and pretend none of this had ever happened. You wouldn’t tell anyone if he didn’t, you just wanted it all to be over so you could see Lorraine again.

It felt like your heart had nestled in your throat by the time Roy walked outside. He wasn’t even looking back at the church. The rifle was casually slung over his shoulder, and for a moment, you could imagine him in the war. But then he got in the truck and tossed the rifle in the backseat.

He didn’t even put on his seatbelt before driving off.

“What happened?” You asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Roy,” you said again.

He missed the road to your house.

“That’s our turn,” you said aloud.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter.

“Roy, what the hell is goin’ on?” You asked again.

“We stay here, they’ll kill you.” The blood in your veins froze. “I know some guys out East.”

You leaned back in the seat and looked out the window. It was dark outside, but the stars were bright. Orion’s Belt was there, just as always. Night after night, he appeared to give you consistency and comfort. You didn’t entirely feel it.

“What about Lorraine?” You asked. There was no point in hiding it anymore; Roy wasn’t stupid.

Roy sighed. “She’s got Beau and Huck.”

His words didn’t put the pressure back in your chest. No, it was something worse now. It wasn't pressure, it was a knife. A knife that had missed your heart completely, keeping you alive as it twisted deeper, touching your very soul with its fiery edges.

Lorraine wouldn’t know what happened to you. She wouldn’t know where to find you. What if something happened and she needed you? What if you needed her? That wasn’t supposed to be the last kiss you gave her. You weren’t supposed to leave without even telling her goodbye. How were you expected to keep going when you knew you couldn’t see her again?

A hot tear fell down your bruised cheek. God had a cruel sense of humour.

You would have rather died. At least it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

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