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st4rlvr · 8 days ago

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By the lake || LFX

The summer of 1943 began like every other. Days of heat shimmered over the endless green lawns of our estate, the hum of cicadas filling the air as I sat on the veranda with my mother, dutifully pretending to care about the guest list for our next garden party. It was the summer before my eighteenth birthday, the one my parents insisted would change everything a season of suitors, family alliances, and preparing for the life they had so carefully planned for me. I thought I knew my future. I thought my days would always be as predictable as the breeze through the magnolia trees.

But then Clara convinced me to go to the drive in theater that night.

We snuck out after dinner, giggling like schoolgirls as we crept past my father’s study and out into the warm summer night. Clara had borrowed her brother’s old truck, and the two of us tumbled into it with whispered promises to be back before anyone noticed.

The theater was on the outskirts of town, tucked away in a dusty lot where the wealthier families rarely ventured. I remember the thrill of it the smell of buttered popcorn, the flickering light of the projector, the low murmur of voices as the audience settled in. It was nothing like the stiff parties and curated perfection of my usual world. It felt alive.

That’s where I saw him.

Felix.

He was leaning against a rusted pickup truck, the kind of vehicle that seemed barely held together by sheer determination. His dirty blonde hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and his freckles caught the light of the screen above us. But it was his smile that stopped me in my tracks. Wide, boyish, and utterly disarming. He looked so out of place yet so comfortable, as though he belonged to this world in a way I never could.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Clara nudged me.

“Do you know him?” she whispered, her eyes flicking between me and the boy across the lot.

“No,” I said quickly, though my cheeks flushed. “I was just… looking.”

Clara grinned mischievously. “Well, he’s looking at you too.”

And he was.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the theater faded away. It was just him, standing there with that easy smile and those impossibly warm brown eyes. He raised a hand in a small, almost shy wave, and I felt my heart stumble in my chest.

Clara, always braver than I, took it upon herself to act. She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me across the lot, weaving between cars and groups of strangers until we were standing right in front of him.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Clara, and this is Y/N.”

Felix’s gaze shifted to me, and up close, he was even more breathtaking. The freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose were like constellations, and his voice, when he spoke, was soft and deep yet magnetic.

“Hi,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m Felix.”

And just like that, the course of my summer and maybe my life changed forever.

We talked through the entire movie. Clara excused herself at some point, muttering something about not being a third wheel, but I barely noticed. Felix told me about his family, about how he worked at the docks to help his parents make ends meet, about how he dreamed of traveling one day even though he’d never been more than fifty miles from town.

“I’ve always wanted to see the world,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet longing. “But for now, I guess this little corner of it will have to do.”

I didn’t tell him then, but I envied him. His life, though hard, seemed so real compared to the carefully curated existence I’d been raised in. He lived with purpose, with dreams that were his own, not handed to him by someone else.

By the time the credits rolled, I knew I wanted to see him again. And when he asked his voice hesitant, his cheeks pink with nervousness I said yes without a second thought.

That summer, Felix became my secret. Every stolen moment, every whispered conversation under the stars, felt like a rebellion against the life I was supposed to lead. And though I didn’t know what the future held for us, I knew one thing for certain: I’d never forget the boy with dirty blonde hair, freckles, and a smile that could light up even the darkest night.

The moon hung low in the sky that night, its pale glow shimmering over the lake like silver lace. The air was warm, and the soft hum of crickets filled the silence between us as Felix and I walked along the water’s edge. It was late too late for me to be out but I didn’t care. Being with him felt worth the risk.

Felix had brought me here, his secret spot, a place he said he came to when the world felt too heavy. It was quiet and still, the kind of place where the weight of the world seemed to melt away. He’d spread out an old blanket under a willow tree, and we sat side by side, our shoulders brushing as we looked out over the rippling water.

I glanced over at him, watching as the moonlight danced across his face. His dirty blonde hair was slightly messy, the ends curling from the humidity, and his freckles stood out against his sun-kissed skin. He was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache, a way that felt almost unfair.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked softly, breaking the silence.

Felix turned his head toward me, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face.

“I’m thinking about how lucky I am,” he said finally, his voice low and steady.

I felt my cheeks flush, and I looked away, suddenly nervous under his gaze. “Lucky?”

He nodded, leaning back on his hands as he stared up at the sky. “Yeah. I mean, look at me. I’m just some guy from the wrong side of town, working at the docks to get by. And then there’s you—this incredible, smart, beautiful girl who comes from a world I can’t even imagine.”

“Felix…” I started, but he shook his head, cutting me off gently.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, his voice growing softer. “Every time I’m with you, it feels like… like I’m dreaming. Like I’m living a life I don’t deserve.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he deserved everything good in this world, but the words caught in my throat.

He leaned closer then, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous, but… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The world seemed to stop. The crickets, the soft rustle of the willow branches, even the gentle lap of the water against the shore—all of it faded into nothing. It was just Felix, sitting there with his messy hair and his wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for me to say something.

My breath hitched, and I looked down at my hands, trying to find the words. When I finally looked up, he was still watching me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” I whispered.

The smile that spread across his face was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was pure, unfiltered joy, and in that moment, I knew I’d do anything to keep that smile on his face.

He reached for my hand then, his fingers intertwining with mine as he pulled me closer. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Y/N,” he said softly. “But I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. To make us work.”

I nodded, tears stinging my eyes as I rested my head on his shoulder. In that moment, under the willow tree with the lake stretching out before us, I felt something I’d never felt before.

Hope.

And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough.

The weeks that followed my first night with Felix felt like a dream. We stole moments whenever we could, meeting under the willow by the lake, walking hand in hand along the quiet backroads, and talking about everything and nothing until the stars faded into morning. I didn’t care about the risks. All I knew was that with him, I felt alive.

But dreams don’t last forever.

It was late one evening when it all came crashing down. Felix and I had just returned from the lake. He’d walked me as close to the house as he dared, kissing my hand in the shadows before slipping away into the night. I was still floating on the warmth of his touch, his voice echoing in my mind, when I stepped through the back door of the house.

My father was waiting for me.

He stood in the dim light of the hallway, his arms crossed and his expression as hard as stone. My heart sank the moment I saw him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and cold. “Where have you been?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t need me to answer. He already knew.

“You’ve been sneaking out,” he continued, his tone sharp as a blade. “With that boy.”

“His name is Felix,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.

My father’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what his name is. Do you have any idea how reckless you’ve been? How foolish?”

“He’s not foolish,” I shot back, my voice rising despite the lump in my throat. “He’s kind and smart and—”

“And poor,” my father interrupted, his words cutting through mine like a whip. “He works on the docks, Y/N. He has nothing to offer you. No future, no stability, no place in this family.”

My stomach twisted, and I clenched my fists at my sides. “He’s more than that. He’s a better person than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That may be,” my father said, his voice softening slightly, though his eyes remained cold. “But love isn’t enough, not in the real world. You have a responsibility to this family, to your future. You can’t throw it all away for some boy.”

His words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. My father had always been strict, but I’d never seen him like this—so unyielding, so determined to put an end to something he didn’t even understand.

Tears stung my eyes as I finally found my voice. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through, what he’s capable of. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t even know I needed.”

My father’s jaw tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh. “You’re young, Y/N. You think this is love, but it’s just a passing infatuation. You’ll see that in time.”

“No,” I said firmly, my voice breaking. “You’re wrong.”

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “This ends tonight. You’re not to see him again.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the dim hallway, my heart shattering into pieces.

I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face as his words echoed in my mind. I knew he wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t change his mind. He would do whatever it took to keep Felix and me apart.

But as I sat there, clutching my knees to my chest, I made a silent promise to myself.

This wasn’t over. Not yet.

The days after that night felt like a prison sentence. My father had made good on his threat, confining me to the estate under the guise of “protecting my reputation.” My mother, ever the diplomat, assured me it was only for a short while. “You need time to think, darling,” she had said, as if this was all for my benefit. But I didn’t need time to think. I already knew my heart belonged to Felix, no matter how much my father disapproved.

Weeks passed, each one more unbearable than the last. I spent my days staring out the window, imagining Felix by the lake or at the docks, wondering if he thought I had abandoned him. My father had forbidden any mention of him in the house, and I was too afraid to write to him.

Then Clara came to visit.

She arrived one afternoon, her voice cheerful and bright as she chatted with my mother before finding me in the garden. As soon as we were alone, her expression changed, her playful grin replaced with something softer, more serious.

“I saw him,” she said quietly, her eyes watching me carefully.

I froze, my heart lurching in my chest. “Felix?”

She nodded, sitting down beside me on the stone bench. “He was in town yesterday, near the docks. He looked… different.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Like he’s been worried,” Clara said gently. “He asked about you, Y/N. Said he hadn’t seen you in weeks and wondered if you were all right.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I looked away, biting my lip to keep from crying. “He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him,” I whispered.

Clara reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tightly. “I told him you hadn’t. That your father’s been keeping you here.”

I turned to her, hope sparking in my chest. “What did he say?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “He said he misses you. That he’s been waiting for you by the lake every single night, hoping you’d come back.”

My breath caught, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “I don’t know what to do, Clara. My father won’t let me leave, and if he finds out I’ve been seeing Felix…”

“You can’t stay locked up forever,” Clara said firmly. “You love him, don’t you?”

I nodded, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “More than anything.”

Clara’s lips curved into a small, determined smile. “Then I’ll help you. We’ll find a way.”

Her words were like a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. Felix was still there, still waiting, and I knew I couldn’t let him down.

I didn’t know how we’d manage it, how we’d find a way to be together in a world that seemed determined to keep us apart. But one thing was certain: I wasn’t ready to give up on him. Not now, not ever.

The next morning, my father announced we’d be heading into town to pick up more seed for the garden. It was the first time in weeks he’d allowed me to leave the estate, and while the outing was far from exciting, I jumped at the chance. Anything to escape the suffocating walls of home.

The general store was quiet, with only a few familiar faces browsing the aisles. My father headed straight to the counter to discuss the seed order, leaving me to wander aimlessly. I trailed my fingers along the shelves of canned goods, my mind elsewhere, when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

A flash of blonde.

I turned instinctively toward the window, my breath hitching. There he was. Felix.

He stood just outside the store, leaning casually against the frame of the large display window. His dirty blonde hair glowed in the sunlight, and his freckled face was turned toward the glass, scanning the interior. He hadn’t seen me yet, but the sight of him was enough to send my heart racing.

Before I could think, I was moving, my feet carrying me toward the door. The bells above the door jingled as I pushed it open, stepping out into the warm summer air.

“Felix!” I called, my voice louder than I intended.

He turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening when he saw me. A smile spread across his face, slow and beautiful, the kind of smile that made me forget the rest of the world existed.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice laced with relief and something deeper.

I didn’t stop until I was standing in front of him, so close I could see the faint golden flecks in his brown eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of emotions—relief, joy, and the ache of all the time we’d lost.

“I was hoping I’d see you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been coming into town more often, just in case… well, just in case you were here.”

My heart clenched, and I reached out, my hand brushing against his. “Felix, I’m so sorry. My father—he won’t let me leave the house. He—”

Felix shook his head, cutting me off gently. “You don’t have to explain, Y/N. Clara told me everything. I just needed to know you were all right.”

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

His smile faltered, his eyes softening as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve missed you too,” he said quietly. “More than I can say.”

For a moment, the world around us faded away. It was just Felix and me, standing there in the sunlight, his hand warm against mine. But the spell was broken all too quickly by the sound of my father’s voice calling my name from inside the store.

I flinched, glancing over my shoulder toward the door. Felix’s hand tightened around mine.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in his jaw. “No matter how long it takes, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I nodded, squeezing his hand one last time before stepping back. “I’ll find a way,” I promised.

As I walked back into the store, the bells jingling softly above me, I felt my father’s sharp gaze on me. But I didn’t care. Felix was still here, still waiting, and so was I.

The moment I stepped back into the store, I felt my father’s eyes on me. His face was unreadable, but the tight set of his jaw told me everything I needed to know. He had seen us.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice sharp but low, so no one else in the store could hear.

My heart pounded as I tried to form an answer, but I knew there was no point in lying. “It was Felix,” I said softly.

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping even further. “I thought I made myself clear, Y/N. You are not to see that boy again.”

I straightened my shoulders, summoning what little courage I had left. “You don’t understand, Father. Felix isn’t some troublemaker or a passing fancy. He’s… he’s important to me.”

“Important?” My father’s voice rose slightly, and a few heads turned in our direction. He took a breath, visibly reining in his temper. “You think your feelings matter more than your future? Than this family’s reputation?”

I clenched my fists at my sides, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Why does it always have to be about reputation? About what other people think? Felix is kind, he’s hardworking, and he loves me for who I am, not for what I have. Isn’t that worth something?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re young, Y/N. You don’t understand what it takes to build a life, to secure a future. Love doesn’t put food on the table or maintain a household. That boy—Felix—he has nothing to offer you.”

“You don’t know him!” I snapped, my voice trembling. “You don’t know anything about him or how he makes me feel. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I won’t give him up just because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little plan.”

For a moment, my father just stared at me, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief. Then, his expression hardened, and his voice turned cold.

“If you insist on defying me, there will be consequences,” he said. “I’ve indulged your foolishness long enough, Y/N. This ends now.”

My heart sank, and panic clawed at my chest. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you so much as look at that boy again, I’ll make sure he’s out of your life for good,” he said, his tone icy. “Do you understand me?”

Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. “You can’t do that,” I whispered.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Watch me.”

I stared at him, my chest heaving with anger and fear. This wasn’t just about Felix anymore—it was about control, about my father’s need to dictate every aspect of my life.

But as I looked into his steely eyes, I made a silent vow. He could try to keep us apart, but he would never break the bond Felix and I shared.

“Are we finished here?” I asked, my voice trembling but steady enough to convey defiance.

My father straightened, giving me a long, hard look before turning away. “Get in the car,” he said.

I followed him out of the store, my mind racing with thoughts of Felix and the promises we’d made to each other. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

As I followed my father out of the store, my heart felt heavy, each step dragging me further away from Felix. The bells on the door jingled again as we stepped outside, the warm summer sun beating down on us. My father marched ahead toward the car, his posture stiff with anger.

But I couldn’t move. Something made me stop, my chest tightening with an inexplicable pull. Slowly, I turned back toward the store.

There he was.

Felix stood across the street, leaning against a wooden post, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn trousers. He wasn’t smiling now, his usual playful expression replaced by something deeper—something sad and longing. His dirty blonde hair caught the sunlight, and even from this distance, I could see the faint freckles scattered across his cheeks.

Our eyes met, and it was like the world around us disappeared. My father’s sharp voice, the bustling of the town, even the sound of my own heartbeat—it all faded into the background.

He took a small step forward, his gaze locked on mine as if silently asking me if I was okay. The worry in his eyes sent a wave of warmth and pain rushing through me. I wanted nothing more than to run to him, to tell him everything, to bury my face in his chest and let him hold me.

But I couldn’t. Not with my father only a few feet away.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one small step back toward the store, my hand brushing against the doorframe as if it could anchor me to this moment. Felix must have noticed the hesitation in my step because his expression softened, a flicker of hope breaking through the sadness.

“Y/N!” My father’s voice snapped me out of the trance, cold and sharp as ice.

I flinched, my head whipping around to see him standing by the car, glaring at me. “Get in. Now.”

I glanced back at Felix, my heart aching as I saw him straighten up, his jaw tightening. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes.

I’ll wait for you, they seemed to say. I always will.

Tears stung my eyes as I nodded ever so slightly, a silent promise passing between us. Then, with every ounce of strength I had, I turned and walked to the car, my father’s disapproving stare burning into my back.

As I climbed into the passenger seat, I caught one last glimpse of Felix through the window. He was still standing there, watching as the car pulled away, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he finally disappeared from view.

I rested my head against the window, tears sliding silently down my cheeks. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

It had been over a year since I last saw Felix. A year of unanswered letters, fleeting memories, and a heavy ache that I couldn’t shake. In that time, I had tried to move forward—tried to immerse myself in the world my father had set out for me. But nothing felt right. No matter how many social events I attended, how many conversations I had, my thoughts always returned to Felix—the way he looked at me, the sound of his voice, the way his smile made me feel alive.

One afternoon, as I walked through the town square, lost in thought, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. The voice was unmistakable, but it was different, rougher, like time had changed him in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

I turned the corner, and there he was.

Felix stood by the storefront, his back to me, a guitar slung across his shoulder. His dirty blonde hair had grown a little longer, his face still dotted with freckles, but his posture was more slumped now, his clothes worn, the edges frayed. He wasn’t the same boy I had left by the lake, but the core of him was still there—still as magnetic as ever.

And he was singing.

“I know it’s over,” he crooned softly, his voice low and raw, vibrating with every word. The lyrics were drenched in sorrow, an aching kind of melancholy that seemed to echo through the air. “I know it’s over, and it never really began…”

The sound of his voice wrapped around me like a spell, drawing me in, pulling me closer. I stood frozen for a moment, just watching him, my heart pounding in my chest. How had I not found him sooner? Had he been here all this time, singing his heart out on the street, just waiting for me to come back?

He reached the end of the verse, his voice breaking slightly with emotion, and it felt like the world stopped spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in the music, unaware of my presence. The rawness of his voice, the pain laced within it, made me ache in a way I hadn’t in so long.

The last note lingered in the air, and for a heartbeat, everything was still.

It was then that he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and everything came crashing down. His gaze widened, the flicker of recognition flashing through his expression before he quickly looked away, as though unsure whether he should be relieved or hurt by my presence.

I couldn’t move. I wanted to run to him, to pull him into my arms, but my feet stayed glued to the ground.

After what felt like forever, Felix lowered his guitar, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped his face. “Y/N,” he said, his voice shaky, as if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things. “I… I didn’t think you’d come back.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I didn’t know where you were,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been searching for you, Felix. Every day, wondering… wondering where you went.”

He stared at me, his lips parting slightly, as though he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. “I—” he stopped himself, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t want to keep waiting, Y/N. I thought… I thought maybe you had moved on, that I was just a memory to you.”

I stepped forward, my heart pounding, every part of me aching to be near him again. “Felix, you were never just a memory. I’ve thought about you every day since I left.”

He looked up at me then, his face softening, a faint glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. “Really?”

I nodded, taking another step closer. “I’m so sorry I disappeared. I had to leave, but I never stopped caring about you. Never stopped thinking about the life we could have had.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, his lips curling into a small, bittersweet smile. “I should’ve known you’d come back… but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

We stood there for a long moment, just looking at each other, everything between us unsaid but understood. The years had passed, but it felt like nothing had really changed. The pull between us was still there, as strong as ever, and in that instant, I knew that I hadn’t just come back for the town, for my family, or for anything else.

I had come back for him.

Felix set his guitar down gently on the ground, and without a word, he took a step toward me. “I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I never stopped hoping you’d return.”

And this time, I wasn’t leaving. Not without him.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the past year pressing on my chest. Felix’s words had opened a door I thought I’d locked away for good, but now that I was standing here, face-to-face with him again, everything came rushing back.

“I’ve been looking for a house,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “My parents… they’re moving to a bigger, fancier place soon. They’re leaving the town behind for something even more ‘suitable’ for their status, and I… I can’t go with them, Felix.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re leaving your family?”

I nodded, the truth tasting bitter on my tongue. “I don’t have a choice, really. They want me to go, but I can’t. I’ve been looking for a place on my own, somewhere I can start fresh. A place where I can make my own decisions without their expectations hanging over me.”

Felix stepped closer, his eyes softening with understanding, though there was a flicker of concern in his gaze. “But what about everything you’ve known? Your life, your family…?”

I bit my lip, the uncertainty swirling within me. “I’ve spent my whole life living for them, doing what they wanted. But it’s not my life, Felix. I’ve realized that. I don’t want to keep pretending that it is.”

Felix’s expression softened even more, and I could see the mixture of admiration and sadness in his eyes. He reached out, gently taking my hands in his. “I’m not asking you to leave everything behind, Y/N. But if you need to, if you want to do this… I’m here. I’ll help you.”

A lump formed in my throat as his words hit me harder than I expected. Here he was, offering me everything he had—his support, his love, his understanding—when all I had to give him in return was uncertainty and fear of the future.

“I don’t know where this will lead, Felix,” I said quietly. “But I can’t go back to that life. I can’t be who they want me to be anymore.”

Felix’s thumb traced the back of my hand as he held it, his smile small but steady. “Then let’s figure it out together. I know things aren’t easy, but you don’t have to face them alone.”

I blinked back tears, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The future was still uncertain, still full of questions, but in that moment, with Felix by my side, I knew I was no longer walking it alone.

“So, you’ve been looking for a house?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Maybe we can find one together, huh?”

I smiled softly, the warmth in my chest spreading. “Maybe. But first… I think I need to hear you sing something else. Something that isn’t so heartbreakingly beautiful.”

Felix laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to laugh with him.

It didn’t take long for Felix and me to find our way back to the lake. It was like the world had conspired to bring us to this place again—where everything had started, where time felt like it had stood still. The lake shimmered in the fading light of the sunset, its surface painted with shades of orange and pink, the air cool and refreshing. It was as though the world had paused just for us, granting us this moment of peace.

Felix sat on the edge of the old wooden dock, his guitar resting on his knee, looking out over the water as the last remnants of daylight dipped below the horizon. I sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his presence, but not so close that it felt like I was rushing the moment. We had time now. Time to let things unfold at their own pace.

“I used to sing here, you know,” Felix said softly, his eyes distant as if lost in his own thoughts. “Before everything changed. It was just me and this lake. And my guitar. But now… it feels different.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “I know. It’s like everything that’s happened has led us right back here. To this place.”

Felix smiled, a hint of sadness in his expression. “Yeah… I think it’s where I first felt like I could be myself, you know?”

I turned to him, my heart full. “I feel that, too.”

He let out a quiet breath and adjusted his guitar, his fingers resting on the strings. “Well, then… let’s make it our place again. You and me.”

And with that, he began to play, the familiar strumming of his guitar echoing in the stillness. His voice followed soon after, soft but filled with emotion. It was the song that had become his anthem over the past year, the one he’d sung to himself when he felt lost, when he needed to remember who he was.

“Are you lonesome tonight?” he sang, his voice low and rich, the words carrying through the twilight. “Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?”

The song, filled with longing and quiet sorrow, floated through the air like a whisper, wrapping around us both. I closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me, each note and word feeling like it was written just for us.

Felix’s voice cracked slightly as he reached the bridge of the song, the raw emotion behind it too much to contain. “I never knew that I’d be so lonely… until you left.”

The words lingered in the air, and I could feel the weight of them in my chest, in my heart. Felix had always sung from his soul, but tonight, it was like he was singing directly to me, for me. And as the last notes of the song faded, I felt something in my chest loosen—a tight knot of grief, uncertainty, and longing finally unraveling.

I reached out, resting my hand on his arm. “Felix… I never wanted to be apart from you.”

He stopped playing, his gaze turning toward me, the fading sunlight casting soft shadows across his face. He reached for my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly at peace.

“Then we don’t have to be anymore,” he whispered, his voice steady, sure. “Not ever again.”

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, the sky now a deep shade of indigo, and the stars began to twinkle above us. Felix and I sat there for a while, just holding hands, listening to the night around us. And I realized then that, no matter what the future held, I had everything I needed right here—this moment, this lake, and Felix by my side.

A few weeks had passed since that evening by the lake, and Felix and I had slipped into a comfortable rhythm. We had become inseparable, the bond we shared deepening with every passing day. We had both found a sense of peace, of direction, that we hadn’t known before, and now, we were on a mission: to find a house.

The town had changed a little over the years, but it still felt like home. As we strolled down the cobblestone streets, Felix was walking beside me, holding the local newspaper in one hand and flipping through the housing listings with the other. His brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the columns, muttering under his breath about the prices and locations.

“So,” I began, my voice light and excited as I walked alongside him, “I’ve been thinking about what kind of house I want. Something small but cozy, you know? A place that feels like it belongs to me.”

Felix glanced over at me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think that’s what we’re both looking for. Somewhere we can start fresh, make our own space.”

I nodded enthusiastically, my mind racing with ideas. “I want a house with a big front porch, one with a swing where I can sit and drink coffee in the mornings. Maybe a few rose bushes lining the walkway… something that feels like it’s always been mine.”

Felix chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”

“Of course!” I grinned, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “I’ve imagined it for so long. I want it to have a big kitchen, too—somewhere I can bake and cook, and we can sit around the table together. It has to feel like home. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” Felix said, his tone sincere. He glanced back down at the paper, his eyes scanning the listings again. “I like the idea of having a space where we can just be ourselves, where we don’t have to worry about anyone else’s expectations.”

“That’s exactly it,” I agreed. “I don’t want a house that’s just a house. I want it to be ours. A place we can make memories, grow together…”

Felix stopped walking for a moment, pulling my attention away from the paper as I caught his gaze. His eyes were soft, and there was a warmth in them that made my heart flutter.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve never really thought about a house being more than four walls and a roof. But now, with you… I can actually picture it. I can picture us, here, in this town, starting a life together.”

The words hit me like a wave, and I had to take a moment to breathe. There it was—he was talking about a future. A real future. The kind I hadn’t dared to imagine, even after all this time.

Felix cleared his throat, as if suddenly realizing how serious his words had sounded. “But… don’t worry. We’ll find the perfect place, I’m sure of it.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “I don’t need the perfect place. I just need it to be with you.”

He grinned, the same Felix I had fallen in love with all those months ago. “Then we’ll make it perfect, together.”

We continued walking, the rhythm of our steps matching, the sun hanging low in the sky as we passed house after house, each one a possibility. Some were too big, some too small, but with every house we passed, we both knew we were getting closer. It wasn’t just about finding a place to live—it was about finding a place to build our lives together, to lay the foundation for a future that felt like it belonged to us.

As we turned the corner, a little cottage at the edge of town caught my eye. It had a white picket fence, a small garden out front, and a porch swing. The windows were wide, the front door welcoming. It wasn’t perfect, but it was everything I had dreamed of.

“That one,” I said, pointing toward the house with a grin. “That’s the one, Felix. I can already see us there.”

Felix looked at the cottage, then back at me, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “You sure? It’s not even listed.”

“I’m sure,” I said, my heart racing. “It feels like home already.”

He squeezed my hand, his eyes bright with affection. “Then let’s go see if we can make it ours.”

And just like that, the dream we had been building began to take shape, one step at a time.

The day we got the house felt like a dream. It wasn’t just the house itself, but the life that came with it—the one Felix and I were about to create together. The little cottage with the white picket fence, the porch swing, the windows that let in just the right amount of sunlight. It was perfect, in a way I hadn’t imagined. It was ours, and that was all that mattered.

The move was a bit overwhelming, though. Coming from my parents’ grand estate, I didn’t have much to bring with me. Most of the furniture, the fine china, the lavish things I’d grown up with, were all left behind. My parents didn’t see it as a loss, of course. They had their new home, their new life, but I… I wanted to make this place feel like mine, like it was truly ours.

Felix and I spent hours sorting through boxes, laughing at the mismatched things we had—an old lamp I found tucked in the attic of the house, a couch that had seen better days, and the few sentimental items I had brought along: some old books, a picture frame from my childhood. I’d gotten the essentials, but we were still building everything else.

But there was one thing I didn’t mention to Felix. I didn’t tell him how I’d secretly used some of my parents’ funds to make the purchase happen. The house was just under what they could afford to give me, and after everything had fallen apart with my family, I knew it would be easier to buy something without them finding out.

I could’ve felt guilty about it, but in that moment, all I felt was relief. It wasn’t as though I was taking from them—it was my own money, after all. But still, the secret weighed on me. I didn’t want Felix to know. I didn’t want him to feel as though I was using something that should’ve been a gift from my family to us. I wanted us to stand on our own two feet, even if that meant starting small.

As we unpacked the last of the boxes and arranged the furniture, Felix looked around the living room, his eyes lighting up. “It feels like home, Y/N. It really does.” His words were simple, but they hit me in the chest, making everything I’d done worth it.

I smiled softly, trying to push the guilt from my mind. “Yeah, it does. I think it’s because we’re here. Together.”

Felix grinned, his hands reaching for mine. “You know, this place doesn’t need to be perfect. As long as we’re here, that’s all that matters. We’ll make it our own, no matter what.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of those words settle over me, reminding me that what really mattered wasn’t how much we had, but the love we shared. And as we stood there in that little house, I knew—no matter how we got here—it was exactly where we were meant to be.

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 11 months ago

Text

Floorboards and Astroturf

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T•Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake has a surprise for you on a rainy day.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Short and sweet <3 (I hope)

Warnings: fluff, reader being a little grumpy, Jake Jumpscare, Jake calling reader 'amor', typos - my head is really not in the game atm, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 643

You were a little bummed out as you made your way home from work on Friday.

Not because the traffic was bad (it was) or that the bus was late (as normal) and full to the brim (you did manage to find some space towards the back doors), but because it raining.

And was going to continue to do so for the rest of the weekend.

On Wednesday the weather forecast had said the weekend ahead would have clear skies. On Thursday it predicted sunshine.

And now here you were with a full year's worth of rain over two days. Excellent.

Not that weather patterns that changed at the flip of a coin wasn’t unusual. It was just that you’d planned to go on a picnic on Saturday with Steven, Marc, and Jake to Greenwich park. And now that definitely wasn’t going to happen. Unless you want wanted to swim there and back.

So you were in a little bit of a bad mood when you got back to the flat. Shutting the door a little too hard, stamping your feet as you took off your shoes and sighing.

You didn’t expect Jake to be grinning like the Cheshire cat right in front of you when you turned around.

“Fuck!” You visually jump and Jake can’t stop a small chuckle.

“Sorry amor, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Could have fooled me.” You said a little harsher than normal, but Jake didn’t seem to mind.

He holds up his hands and smiles.

“What are you doing there anyway, just… standing there?”

“Waiting for you.”

You give him a look.

“I heard your footsteps in the hall.” He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal, and you decide to let his uncanny ability to differentiate individuals slip for now. “I have a surprise for you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as he steps forward and helps you out of your coat before handing it on the stand.

“Thank you.” You mumble, starting to smile at how purposefully over the top he is acting, putting on a playful performance for you.

He takes you by the hand and leads you further into the flat. Once your field of vision isn’t blocked by Steven’s bookshelf you laugh quietly. A large grin spreads itself over your face, your shoulders relaxing.

Jake smiles wider.

He’s moved the furniture out of the way so that there’s a large space on the floor. There’s a large patch of floorboards that are covered with fake grass and topped with a tartan blanket. He’s also set up the mini projector with his phone, an image of a sunny park projected onto the bedsheet he’s draped over one of the bookshelves.

By the blanket is a selection of food and drink, some that you purposefully bought for the weekend yesterday, and some that he’s obviously made today.

“You like it?” He asks, eyes sparkling even though he knows the answer.

“I love it.” You say softly before you turn and hug him tightly.

“I know you were disappointed about the weather…” he kisses your cheek. “I don’t deserve all the credit, Marc and Steven helped.”

“Not true!” Steven suddenly chimes in.

“Came up with the idea and did it all himself!” Marc adds proudly.

A touch of heat builds in Jake’s cheeks. “Yeah… well, you guys helped.”

You giggle and kiss him lightly. “You’re the sweetest person in the world, Jake Lockley.”

He grins, giving you another little squeeze and puffing his chest out a little. “I’m okay.”

“The best.”

He presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet, but deep and longing. Slowly taking you apart with his tongue. “Does the best person get whatever he wants?” He teases.

“I don’t know…” You pretend to think. “What does he want?”

He nuzzles your cheek. “I think you have a rough idea.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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reveuse-de-minuit-writer · 1 year ago

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Knockout (Toji x Sukuna x AFAB Reader)

Summary:

Reader is invited to an underground fighting ring and manages to catch the attention of the two most dangerous men there. Theirs is a world of brutality and carnage, and all the reader wants is to explore how deep the darkness goes.

CW: 18+, Violence, blood and gore, explicit rough sex, m/m/f, breath play, overstimulation, BDSM elements, edging, face-fucking, double penetration, squirting, alcohol, weed.

Full tags and complete work on AO3 here: x

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CH. 1

Two fighters dance in the makeshift ring. The big one, a veritable mountain of a man with a curling top-knot and vicious scar slashing through his left eye, is the first to break their stalemate.

Instead of rushing his opponent, or doing literally anything that would have made sense in an underground fighting ring, the mountain man begins dancing to the music. His opponent hesitates as they watch him in confusion, before narrowing his eyes in contempt. It’s clear the smaller fighter takes his opponent's interpretive dancing as an insult to his capabilities.

The smaller fighter charges forward, rushing in close to cut off the mountain man’s odd thrusting and grinding as he dances to a beat in his head. As the smaller fighter raises his fist to swing, the mountainous fighter twirls into a powerful roundhouse kick that sends the other man flying across the ring.

The collision is impactful enough that it leaves a crater in the cement where the smaller fighter's body makes contact. He flops against the cement, and his head bounces with a splattering thud.

His body goes still.

The countdown to ten begins, but the only thing that moves is the pool of blood as it grows around the impact zone from the fighter’s head.

Before the countdown even hits zero, the mountainous fighter is doing a victory dance. He wildly thrusts his hips and twirls around with a genuinely surprising grace given his sheer size. The announcer interrupts the fighter’s dance by grabbing around his thick wrist, and hoists his hand high in the air.

“And the winner is AOIII TODOOO!” The announcer declares into the microphone.

The roar of the crowd is deafening in my ears as they cheer at the mountain-man’s victory.

“Well that was quite the spectacle,” I say to my friend Shogo to my right.

He snickers, “Well I can’t say I wasn’t entertained. Twinkle-toes certainly knows how to put on a show.”

“Is he dead?” I ask with a grimace.

Shogo polishes off the last of his drink before exhaling obnoxiously, “Nah, he’s just out cold. Todo doesn’t fight like that. Dude’s a monster, but he’s too soft to straight up fight someone to the death.”

“Ah, that's good then.”

I take a sip of my cold margarita, and it’s the cooling balm I need against the heat of the arena. The space is small but densely packed, and I can feel the humidity clinging atop my body like a second skin.

The music that plays is the winner’s choice, and I can’t stop myself from smirking as idol music pours from the speakers into the underground arena.

To call the space an arena at all is generous. It’s really just a basement warehouse, but it serves its purpose well enough. The seats are a mix of metal folding chairs and benches stolen from abandoned stadiums that somehow managed to avoid demolition. There are shipping containers surrounding the walls which people use to sit and watch the fight. Shogo and I have done the same, sprawling out on top of a picnic blanket to cushion us from the cold, corrugated metal. The ring itself is just an empty expanse of concrete indicated only by the ropes outlining its circumference.

Despite how ramshackle everything looks, two projectors display a live feed of the ring on the wall. They function like the screens in a legitimate arena, and I’ve found myself grateful for them many times already, since the tighter grapples and quick jabs can sometimes be hard to see. The instant replays and fight tracking from the dedicated staff are genuinely very well done for what they have to work with.

Overall, the arena is not much, but it’s also more than good enough.

Considering the cash that’s pulled in from each fight, I had expected more. But this is a place people pay to watch fighters get brutalized, not sip their overpriced drinks from their box seats. There are a couple hundred people watching, but the livestreams online rack up views in the tens of thousands easily. That’s where the real money is.

As my eyes scan the arena, I can't help but notice the contrast between Shogo and I and the rest of the spectators. The two six-packs of canned margaritas we share atop our bright pastel blanket stand out amongst the beer cans and cigarette butts. Shogo’s dedication to maximalist street fashion paints a vivid pink contrast to the black cargo pants and combat boots of the male-dominated crowd.

I��m not much better in my own tight white crop top and black tennis skirt, both of which seem like they would better suit a frat bar than an underground fight club. I brought an oversized leather jacket with me to help me blend in more, but I took it off shortly after the second fight from the sheer heat of the arena. Even without it, humidity clings to my skin like a film.

“Having fun so far?” Shogo turns to me and asks.

I nod my head while taking another sip of my margarita. The alcohol has me pleasantly buzzed. I’m just floating on a happy cloud, as I sit back and wait for the next fight.

“Yeah, a lot of fun. You’re right, this is way better than the pay-per-view,” I answer.

“Right? Like you’d never get to see a guy kick someone so hard they fucked up the concrete. That was crazy,” Shogo says.

I hum in agreement.

“That was pretty gnarly. I didn’t even think it was physically possible to do that. The Todo guy must be like one of the strongest men alive,” I say.

Shogo snorts. He opens up his phone and opens up the arena’s private discord. His feed is a frenzy of jokes and commentary, most of which are memeing on Todo’s eccentric dance moves.

“Nah, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just you wait,” he says.

“Who’s up next?”

“Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito. That’s the fight I wanted you to come here to see,” Shogo says.

I recall how he even sold the experience to me in the first place. I had just started taking up boxing classes, and it exposed me to martial arts and fighting in a light I’d never considered before. I had fallen down into the rabbit hole of a new obsession, watching videos of fights, both professional and amateur, until it took up most of my free time.

I knew Shogo shared the interest. When he offered to take me to see a fight in person, I couldn’t turn him down. He had warned me that this would be different. That it would be more violent, and more ruthless than any legal fight I’d watched. If anything, that warning just made me more intrigued.

So far, the fights were intense, but not any more so than what I can find on YouTube. While Todo possesses a strength unlike anything I’ve ever seen before or thought possible, he didn’t do anything with it that would have broken the rules of a UFC fight.

Still, I find myself wondering just what kind of monstrous power the next two fighters must have, in order to make a mountain like Todo seem like fodder. Shogo doesn’t make claims like that for the sake of it, and my mind races with the intrigue of it all.

“Anything I should keep an eye out for, or know ahead of time about their fight?” I ask Shogo.

“Oh my god yeah, where do I even begin?” He says animatedly.

“Give me a quick rundown from the start. Go,” I snap my fingers into a finger gun, and take an expectant sip of my margarita.

“Okay so basically, Toji is one of the most powerful fighters in the game right now. Like I’m talking top three easy. He’s been fighting professionally for like fifteen years and has been undefeated for all those years except for once. Like I’m talking thousands of wins against one singular loss. Which is an insane feat in of itself, right? The dude is basically a legend around here. Everyone either wants to fight him, or wants to fight like him.

“But Mahito is new to the scene. He just kinda popped up outta nowhere about a year ago, but he’s been making big waves ever since. Like, the dude is certifiably crazy. On some real psycho shit. But he’s also insanely creative when it comes to his fighting style, which makes him unpredictable to fight and fun to watch. While his record isn’t as impressive as Toji’s, he’s still stupid powerful. He’s risen up the rank of fighters faster than anyone has ever seen before. He fought Todo, the guy who just won, about six months ago, and wrecked him so bad that Todo had to take four months off to recover.”

I process all of the information Shogo gives me. The thought of someone not just winning against Todo, but forcing him to take that much time off to recover, is nearly unthinkable to me.

“So basically it’s the veteran versus the newcomer, huh?”

“Yeah exactly,” Shogo affirms, “but that’s not all. About two weeks ago a video got leaked on twitter of Mahito essentially talking mad shit about Toji, calling him washed up, a has been, too predictable, shit like that, you know? Basically said that everything Toji can do has already been seen and done before, and that he can take him no problem.”

“How did Toji take that?”

“Toji doesn’t normally do the petty drama thing. He just shows up, fights, gets paid, and leaves. So after a week went by and he didn’t say anything, everyone assumed he was just gonna ignore it. But then, outta nowhere, a video pops up on twitter like three days ago, and it’s Toji at a shooting range with a picture of Mahito’s face on the target. He said some cold shit like ‘a bad dog is better off dead’ or something like that.”

Shogo’s excitement as he explains the drama is infectious, and I’m already invested. I also appreciate how closely he’s followed everything, since it makes the anticipation for the upcoming fight that much sweeter.

“Well shit. So this fight is going to be intense, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be crazy.”

“Who do you think will win?”

“I put three hundred on Toji, so he better win. He’s got 7:3 odds right now, so I’m not that worried.”

Shogo slurps messily on his drink as he drains it dry. His thumbs idly scroll through the discord, before he tilts his phone towards me.

“Here’s the video if you wanna see it. The guy with the silver hair is Mahito. The rest are all members of his team. The dude with the dark hair, Geto, is his manager. There’s a shit ton of drama involving him too, but I can tell you all that after the video.”

Mahito surprises me. He doesn’t look how I imagined the man who won against Todo would look. He’s lanky, despite his obvious musculature, and has an almost childishness about him. Though the arena is loud, I can just barely hear the sounds of the video. Mahito’s crass remarks are intercut with sadistic giggles, and it makes my stomach turn sour. Scars lacerate his body in a patchwork fashion, making his skin look like it’s been sewn onto him. He looks like he belongs in a Tim Burton movie more than a fighting ring.

But there’s also something decidedly off about Mahito. His cheeks spread wide in a child-like grin as he talks about how he’s going to kill Toji. His mis-matched eyes glitter in excitement as he shares his murderous fantasies of dismembering him and studying the inner workings of his organs. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust.

The video ends abruptly, and Shogo takes his phone back.

“I was debating rooting for him because I love a good underdog story, but after watching that, I think I’m team Toji,” I say.

Shogo snickers, and continues to scroll with his thumb through his feed.

“Yeah, no kidding. The guy has a super punchable face.”

“Maybe that’s why he got into fighting in the first place,” I quip, before my curiosity gets the better of me, “What was the drama with the other guy?”

“Okay so the full backstory begins with Toji and this guy named Gojo. Gojo is, without a doubt, the strongest fighter in the world, no cap. Like legit or otherwise, professional or amateur, it doesn’t matter. If you put him in the ring, he will win every single time. Only one other guy is on his level, Sukuna. He’s not called the King of Fighters for no reason. But he’s not relevant to the story, so put a pin in that for now.

“So about ten years ago, Toji challenged Gojo. At the time, Gojo was just a teenager, and had only been on the scene for a year, but he was sweeping everyone he came across, kinda like Mahito. Even still, everyone bet on Toji to win, since at the time he was about five years deep and undefeated. And the first time they fought, Toji did win. He beat Gojo so bad the kid nearly died. But like a week later, Gojo pops up out of nowhere and challenges Toji to a rematch. Everyone thought he was insane, since he hadn’t fully recovered from his injuries yet, but Toji agreed to it. In the rematch Gojo clapped his ass so hard it was devastating. Like Toji got beat so bad he was declared legally dead before they were able to revive him. To this day, it’s still the only time Toji has ever suffered a loss.

“So obviously he didn’t take it well. He lost out on millions in bets, and nearly lost his life. He’s had a grudge against Gojo and anything even remotely related to him ever since.

“The reason why this is all relevant, is because Geto, Mahito’s manager, was best friends with Gojo at the time. So because the two were besties, Toji fucking hates him. Even though the two aren’t friends anymore, it doesn’t matter. Since Mahito is being represented by Geto, and the circumstances are kinda similar, it’s safe to say that Toji was out for blood before the video of Mahito talking shit ever leaked in the first place.”

My head buzzes with this rush of new information. There’s so much lore to process, and it gives me a deeper appreciation for what will certainly be a monumental fight. The tension and electricity in the air suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“Wow, who knew there was so much drama in the fighting community?” I say.

Shogo slurps on his drink and nods.

“Tell me about it.”

“So have Toji and Gojo ever talked about a rematch?” I ask.

“Honestly I don’t know. It’s just kind of low-key understood that a match between Toji and Gojo would just end up in Toji losing again, since Gojo became an absolute monster after that. That fight is where he got the nickname the ‘Strongest Fighter’ from. Also, Gojo doesn’t fight much anymore, since there’s no one on his level good enough to challenge him and keep him interested.”

“What about Sukuna? Didn’t you say they were equals?”

“Yeah. Sukuna and Gojo have been talking about fighting each other forever, but no one knows if or when it’ll actually happen. Sukuna still fights occasionally, if he thinks it’ll be worth his time, but he’s good friends with Toji so it’s unlikely a fight between them will ever happen.”

I sip on my drink and think everything over. I had no idea there could be so much history in the scene like this.

“Next up, Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito! The fight will begin in five minutes!” The announcer calls.

His voice booms around the empty warehouse, and not for the first time I find myself wishing I had brought some earplugs.

Shogo mutters a brief ‘aha’ before tilting his phone towards me.

“Here, this is Toji’s response video that I mentioned earlier,” Shogo says, before handing his phone to me entirely.

I press play. Toji’s back is towards the camera, and the immense sprawl of his muscles which strain through the clingy black t-shirt he wears makes my pulse pound. He might as well not be wearing it at all, for how little it hides. It wraps and contorts around every single well-defined muscle in the man’s torso.

He’s enormous, with impossibly broad shoulders made to look wider by the narrowness of his waist. His sweatpants are baggy and sling low on his slim hips, but they still can’t hide the firm swell of his ass.

His shaggy black hair covers his face from view. His stance is casual. He leans forward into his hip, which draws attention to the dramatic s-curve of his spine. One thick arm relaxes behind his back, with his fingers splayed wide. His hands are enormous, and serve to make the glock he’s holding look like little more than a child’s toy.

The man had a body made for sin. Holy shit. Even without seeing his face, I’d let that man rail me into next Tuesday if he so much as asked.

“What d’you do to a rabid dog?” Toji asks over his shoulder to the camera man.

His voice is low and resonant. Even despite the low volume, the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine.

Six shots fire off in rapid succession, and Toji doesn’t even budge from the recoil. His gun smokes as the clip goes empty. The camera pans from Toji to his target at the end of the range, before zooming in.

A picture of Mahito’s face covers the target’s head. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t seeing the bullet holes carve out a perfectly punctured ’T’ into the picture.

The camera pans back to Toji, who keeps his back to the camera. He raises the gun to his mouth, and blows out the smoke still coiling from the barrel of the gun. I can just barely see the sharp cut of his jaw and the scar that bisects the side of his mouth.

“You put it down,” he smirks. His voice is deep and husky, and the sound makes my skin shiver.

Just as Toji starts to turn towards the camera, the video cuts off.

“Holy shit,” I say.

It’s all I can say. Because my pulse is racing, and my head is spinning, and my face flushes hot when I realize I’m dripping wet.

“What’d you think of that?” Shogo asks, and plucks his phone from my hands.

My fingers tremble slightly now that I no longer have anything to hold onto, so I reach for a new can of my margarita to still them.

“I think he’s so hot it’s stupid,” I say shamelessly.

Shogo laughs hard enough that a few of the other spectators turn towards us in mild interest. My face flushes hotter at the attention, and I gulp down a few sips of my drink.

“I figured you’d be into him. Bad boys with more muscles than sense have always been your type,” Shogo giggles.

I open my mouth to defend myself, but a string of my previous partners comes to mind, and I close it once more. I really can’t argue with that.

“Like you’re one to talk,” I sneer at him instead.

I cross my arms across my chest and pout.

“Yeah, but I also like the good girls, so it all balances out to neutral. You’re just a freak,” Shogo laughs.

My glare at him is venomous, but it just makes him laugh all the more. Eventually he raises his hand in a sign of surrender.

“Simmer down, girl. There’s nothing wrong with bein’ a lil freaky,” he snickers.

I throw an empty margarita can at his head, which he slaps away with a snicker. It falls to the ground beneath the shipping container we sit on.

I think nothing of it, until I hear a loud, angry “What the fuck!” cry out from beneath us.

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with panic. Swallowing past the lump of nerves in my throat, I tentatively crawl forwards to peer over the side of the shipping container.

Right below us is the makeshift VIP section, with couches, bottles, powders, and more strewn about everywhere. There’s about ten people sitting around in total, all watching as a person with a short blonde bob angrily wipes down their shoulder.

The can must not have been as empty as I thought.

Mortification burns through me alongside an immediate pulsing fear.

I’m so never getting invited back.

If there’s any kind of crowd I don’t want to piss off, it’s this one.

“Sorry,” I meekly call out to them down below.

A few heads look up in my direction at the sound of my voice, and my face flushes hot under their scrutiny.

But I can feel the weight of a gaze settle heavy over my skin, prickling it into goosebumps. My eyes sweep over everyone, trying to find the source of it.

“Fuck you, asshole!” The person shouts back.

I ignore them.

One figure in particular, a large man with his hood pulled low, stares upwards at me. Him. I can feel him watching me, and I shiver where I kneel, and my hands grip tight onto the edge of the shipping container below me.

I can just barely make out the sharp cut of his jaw, and the strange tattoos that frame it. He says something to the crowd around him. Everyone else laughs, except for the unfortunate victim of my drink who stomps their foot in frustration. I can see just enough of his jaw to watch the cruel smirk that forms on his lips.

Despite his joke to the crowd, I feel that his eyes never leave me.

The sounds of the arena seem to go quiet as all of my focus narrows down to the stranger below.

My instincts scream at me that I need to run, and I need to hide, because I’ve caught the attention of a predator, and I don’t want to give him the chance to pounce. My blood rushes in my ears, and sweat beads atop my body.

But the weight of his stare holds me captive. I’m helpless to do anything other than watch as his tongue traces along the lush swell of his bottom lip, before he flashes his sharp canines in a menacing grin.

I flush red hot, and a corresponding throb pulses deep in my core.

The arousal I felt watching Toji’s video is a catalyst for my body now getting overtaken with lust. Molten heat liquifies my veins, and the headiness of the alcohol buzzes through me in a lethal combination.

Mortified by my body’s reaction, I crawl quickly back to the blanket next to Shogo, breaking the stalemate between the stranger and I. As I collapse beside him, I shiver at the adrenaline that courses through me. The primal, instinctual part of my brain screams that I’ve just barely managed to escape, and that I’m not safe yet.

Shogo, oblivious to my inner turmoil, just snickers at me as I flop onto my back next to him and bury my face in my hands. Without opening my eyes to look, I lash out and smack him on the arm.

“Nice one,” he snickers.

“Fuck you,” I grumble.

My threat is muffled by my hands over my face, but I don’t care. I’m too busy focusing on breathing like a normal person and commanding my body to calm down from the sudden, roaring height of its arousal.

Any response Shogo says is lost on me as all of the lights in the arena go dark. Loud bass pumps through the speakers, and I can feel it vibrate and rattle in my chest.

Pushing aside my feelings, I allow myself to get caught up in the mania. The crowd around us roars in anticipation, and I join in, cupping my hands around my mouth and shouting into the blackened air. An electric tingle of anticipation starts to brew in my blood. I feel breathless, and I smile into the darkness.

This is so much fun.

The music cuts out. A singular beat of silence, suspended in the darkness, rings out across the arena.

The music blares back in with the full power and sound of the song. The lights turn on, and the ring is illuminated in bright, harsh spotlights. A man towers tall in the center of the ring, with his identity obscured by the black hood pulled low over his head.The crowd goes absolutely feral, but I freeze.

Oh fuck me sideways.

It’s him. The same guy from below who made my pussy drip from the force of his stare alone.

The microphone he holds in his hand looks tiny, and I am surprised to see that his nails are painted black. He just stands there, basking in the attention and suspense of the crowd.

My eyes trail up and down his body. Now that I can see him more clearly, my walls clench fruitlessly around nothing. The black hoodie he wears is strained tight against his broad torso. His dark jeans cling to his muscular thighs like a second skin. He must be another fighter, with a physique like that.

After a beat, he raises a painted hand to his hood. Instead of pulling it back like I assumed he would, his hand continues to rise until it grabs ahold of the fabric on the back of his neck. In a singular fluid motion, he yanks the hoodie off entirely.

“Holy fucking shit!” Shogo yells next to me.

Holy shit indeed.

The man that stands in the center of the ring exudes power and confidence. He looks lethal, with his tight, rippled abdomen, full pecs, and broad shoulders corded with thick, deadly muscles. The tattoos that decorate his skin are thick, black, tribal lines that seem to carve out a path that accentuates the lines of his body. His messy hair is a bright pink, with a dark brown undercut. He smoothes his hair back with a painted hand and a sharp grin.

The tattoos continue to outline his face, curving along the harsh cut of his jaw, slashing across the bridge of his nose, and inking his forehead between his dark brows. His eyes glint with a dark promise, and the smile that broadens the man’s mouth is nothing short of sadistic.

The guys in the arena are obviously not good men. It takes a certain kind of person to want to fight so extremely, and to be so entertained by it. But as I watch this man raise his thick arms high into the air around him, basking in the feral cry of the crowd as it screams for him, it is obvious that he’s different.

He’s even worse.

After a minute of taking it all in, he raises the microphone to his sharp mouth. The dark chuckle that fills the air makes me shiver and my nipples tighten. I feel a throb deep in my core, and I squirm atop the firm ridges of the shipping container below.

At the sound of his dark laughter, and before he even gets the chance to speak, the crowd is roaring again, showering him with even more praise and adoration. The man’s grin grows wider, and his sharp teeth glint malevolently beneath the harsh spotlights.

“Alright, shut up you brats,” he growls into the microphone.

I’ll be damned if the dark sound of his voice doesn’t make me quiver. The crowd dies down, obeying the command of the dark god before them.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He jokes.

The crowd goes wild again, and this time a masculine chant booms in the air.

Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na!

So this is Sukuna.

The King of Fighters himself.

He raises one hand high, effectively calling for silence. Immediately, everyone goes quiet. The man’s command over the room is absolute.

“I was worried that it’s been so long that I might have to introduce myself, but I see now that’s no longer a problem,” Sukuna smirks.

There’s a cold mockery in his tone that betrays just how much he revels in the crowd’s adoration. His dark eyes scan across the crowd as he basks in the wild roars that fall around him.

“I have a surprise for you brats,” he taunts in a sing-song voice.

I can feel the exact moment that his eyes make contact with mine.

I’m flung from my body. The air freezes in my lungs. The sounds of the crowd go quiet except for the ringing in my ears. My vision narrows down to just the outline of his body. That same force keeps me still, and my instincts are once again screaming at me to hide. His gaze is unwavering, and I am exposed before him.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna purrs into the microphone.

Shivers sweep down my spine, and I flash hot. I bite my lip hard, genuinely afraid that if I don’t, I might moan.

Holy shit.

The crowd roars around him, but it's lost on me entirely. I can’t see or hear anything outside of the tension that sizzles between us like a live wire.

“Tut, tut, tut. I asked you a question, brats,” Sukuna snarls, and his eyes darken as they glare at mine.

While I know he says it for the crowd’s benefit, my arousal drips out of me at the sound of his scolding. His piercing eyes flash with a dark promise, and the look he levels towards me is nothing short of commanding.

His threat is clear.

“Let’s try this again,” he purrs, before pulling the microphone in closer to his mouth than before.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna roars.

The sound of his voice is monstrous, and tinged with something entirely animalistic. If I thought the roar of the crowd was loud before, then it is absolutely nothing compared to the fervor of it now.

Those same prey instincts are going haywire in my blood, and I can scarcely breathe for how tight of a grip my adrenaline has over my body.

I lick my suddenly dry lips, and burn in the heat of his stare, as I whisper, “Yes.”

Sukuna’s eyes grow dark with heat and triumph.

My core throbs low, and the persistent ache of emptiness sweeps through me.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he snarls.

His dark eyes finally leave mine, and it’s like I collide back into my body with a visceral force. Sensations flood in from all around me at once, from the sheer volume of the crowd, the stifling heat of the room, and the absolutely drenched state of my underwear.

Immediately, heat flushes my cheeks. I’ve never reacted like this before. Though I don’t smoke anymore, I find myself itching for a cigarette. And another margarita.

“The lovely event organizers and I decided we wanted to make things a bit interesting,” he begins, a sadistic enjoyment sugaring his dark tone, “so to shake things up a bit, whoever wins this next fight, either Toji Fushiguro or Mahito, will get the honor of fighting me in two months.”

“Oh my fucking god!” Shogo cries out.

Based on what Shogo had told me earlier, I now know that this is a big fucking deal. The crowd absolutely loses it.

“So with that out of the way, let’s get this thing fucking started, yeah?” Sukuna says, rallying the cry of the crowd once more. “May the best fighter win.”

With that, Sukuna passes off the microphone to the announcer, and prowls back out of the ring. My eyes are glued to him as he ducks beneath the rope of the VIP section. He stands a clear two heads taller than the crowd of people parading around him and clapping him on the back. Even surrounded by other fighters, he finds a way to make them look small. He takes a seat back on the couch, and reclines back like a king in his throne.

The announcer picks up Sukuna’s hoodie, and tosses it over to him. Sukuna catches it with a one-handed grip, and my eyes dance over every ripple of muscle that flexes and pulls from the simple display of athleticism.

Good fucking god, I need to get a grip.

“Let’s give it up one more time for the King of Fighters himself, Ryomen Sukuna!” The announcer cheers.

The crowd roars again, and my eyes remained fixed on the man as he flashes yet another sharp grin at the never-ending adoration.

He doesn’t demure from the praise, he basks in it.

“This headlining match is sure to be exciting folks. But first, what does every good fight need? The fighters themselves!

“First up, we have a prodigy in the making. Standing at five feet and ten inches tall, and weighing one-hundred-and-forty-five pounds, we have the scrappy underdog from hell itself, MAHITOOOOOO!”

The crowd cheers as Mahito appears from the right-hand side of the ring. He all but skips to the ring itself, and the camera man tracking him stumbles after him.

His team is standing just off to the side of the ring, and I recognize them from the video that Shogo showed to me. Mahito is as energetic as a kid with a sugar rush, as he bounces restlessly on the balls of his feet.

Once more I’m surprised by what Shogo said earlier. Looking down at him, it’s hard to imagine him beating Todo so easily. His body is long and lean, and while muscular, he’s nothing compared to the solid mountain of the other fighter. But clearly his looks are deceiving.

“Next we have the legend himself, undefeated to all but one over the span of his decade-and-a-half long career. Standing at six feet and three inches, and weighing two-hundred-and-eighteen pounds, we have the fighter killer himself, TOJIIII FUSHIIGUUROO!”

Whatever adoration rained down on Mahito, it pales in comparison to the roar of the crowd for Toji. I have half a mind to cover my ears to spare them from taking further damage. It’s clear who is the crowd’s favorite.

Toji Fushiguro stalks towards the ring from the left with a predatory grace. He looks even more monstrous than in the video, and it’s clear that it didn’t do him justice. He wears a white hoodie that’s unzipped down the middle, baring his taut, cut abdomen for all to see. His white athletic shorts strain tight against his thick thighs, and curve along the swell of his ass. The tension in his muscles is coiled tight. With his unwavering focus narrowing down to Mahito across the ring, I can all but taste his lethal hostility in the air.

When he reaches the ring, he pulls off his hoodie with short, aggressive pulls. He is every bit as impressive as his stats make him out to be. The breadth of his shoulders and narrowness of his waist are nothing less than superhuman in their proportions. His arms pull and flex as he balls his hoodie up and tosses it carelessly to the side. There’s a massive scar that carves a jagged arc into his left side, and it spans nearly the entirety his torso. It’s a gruesome scar, and I wonder what gave it to him.

His messy ink-stained hair falls sharply into his eyes, but I can see the animosity burn in them all the same. His sharp jaw is clenched tight with tension, and the veins in his throat pulse visibly. His own team is speaking to him, but I can tell he’s not listening. His glare hasn’t moved once from Mahito, not even as the other fighter begins to prance around his side of the ring, hyping up the crowd even more.

The projectors display closeups of the fighters faces, and the contrast couldn’t be more clear. While Mahito performs, Toji waits. There’s something about the dynamic that makes my blood race. Blown up large against the wall, the burning hatred glinting savagely in Toji’s dark green eyes is blistering.

My instincts scream that Toji is lethal and dangerous and absolutely terrifying. I almost feel sorry for Mahito, for having incurred the wrath of this god amongst men so completely.

My pussy is screaming too, but for a different reason entirely.

The two fighters are called to meet together in the middle of the ring. Seeing them stand opposite one another makes the fight seem simply unfair. Toji glares down at Mahito like a lion staring down an ant. Mahito remains unintimidated, and smiles up at Toji with a wicked gleam in his mis-matched eyes. I try to remind myself that despite appearances, the fight is more evenly matched than it seems.

The hatred that flows between the two sparks and crackles in the air. The tension is thick enough to make my breath catch. Almost absently, I crawl to the edge of the shipping container and sit there instead. I hear Shogo shuffle to copy me, equally as entranced by the anticipatory hostility brewing between the two fighters as I am.

I can’t fucking wait to see it snap.

The announcer claps both men on the shoulder, before stepping back to the edge of the ring.

“No rules, no limits. First fighter to score a knockout wins!” The announcer declares.

The two fighters step back and slip into their fighting stances.

Mahito stands unusually, with one arm ahead of him like he’s reaching out towards Toji, while his other hand balls into a fist low by his hip. His legs are bent low and spread wide, and he looks very much like a coil, ready to spring.

Toji’s stance is also unusual. His legs spread wide, but he doesn’t squat as low as Mahito. His torso curls forward, with his arms wide around him, fists ready for the fight. There’s a confidence in the way that he stands that borders on arrogance, and the sight of it makes me fucking leak.

“Begin!”

The two fighters are a blur of movement as they dash towards one another with tremendous speed. Mahito is the first to swing, but Toji is faster, and counters the swing with one of his own. His fist lands solidly in the center of Mahito’s chest, and the fighter goes flying backwards from the force of his punch. Mahito lands hard into the concrete below, and blood sputters from his mouth, drooling onto his chin.

Mahito is only down for half a second, before he staggers to his feet. A grin splits his cheeks, and the sight of his blood-stained teeth is chilling. He giggles, and bounces on his feet, before springing towards Toji.

Toji lets Mahito dash in close. As soon as Mahito goes to throw a punch, Toji moves in a dizzying blur of speed around the other fighter, pivots quick on his heel, and sends a powerful kick to the back of Mahito’s skull.

Mahito stumbles forward onto his hands and knees, and blood immediately begins to darken his silver hair. Still, Mahito giggles at the impact, and shakes his head back and forth. Blood splatter flies everywhere around them. Toji interrupts by rushing up behind Mahito’s exposed back, wraps a thick arm around his neck, and pulls Mahito back into a tight headlock.

Mahito’s face turns red, as his hands claw and scrape at the thick muscle of Toji’s arm. Toji’s other hand curls into a tight fist and pummels blow after blow into Mahito’s ribs and kidneys.

Blood sprays from Mahito’s mouth, but he keeps grinning, regardless. The pain he’s in must be tremendous, but he takes all of Toji’s blows with a smile.

Mahito drops his body, deadening his weight against Toji’s chokehold. Toji leans down lower to compensate for the sudden increase in weight. Mahito uses this to his advantage, and springs backwards, sending both Toji and Mahito falling hard to the floor. Toji ducks his head inwards to prevent his skull from being shattered in the cement, and pulls Mahito in tight by the hold he has on his neck.

With a sly smile, Mahito reaches into the pocket of his shorts.

My blood runs cold.

In a flash, he pulls out a pocket knife, flips it open, and thrusts it upwards, stabbing into the arm wrapped around his neck.

Toji’s eyes widen, and he reflexively releases his hold just enough for Mahito to squirm free. Toji’s hand grabs ahold of the handle of the knife and pulls it out of his arm, while Mahito flips over and moves to straddle Toji, pinning him to the ground.

Toji just laughs, and dexterously twirls the knife in his hand. Mahito swings down hard at Toji, who manages to duck his head out of the way by a millimeter.

A sickening crack echoes though the arena. I wait for Mahito’s bloodied hand to emerge, destroyed by the impact of his fist on the concrete floor. But Toji rolls the two of them over fast.

My jaw drops.

A fist-sized crater shatters the concrete at the site of the impact.

What the fuck?

Did Mahito just punch a hole into the concrete?

I don’t have the time to process the tremendous power I just saw. Instead, my eyes are glued to Toji straddling a squirming Mahito, with the knife trapped between his teeth. He storms down a rain of powerful blows directly into Mahito’s face. The first punch shatters bone, and blood spurts all over his knuckles. Toji’s smile at the sight is carnal. The second impact is more devastating than the first, and teeth fly from Mahito’s mouth.

It goes on like this. Hit after savage hit. Blood paints Toji’s hands crimson. His inky hair clumps down over his manic eyes. There is no thought behind them except for the predatory gleam of bloodlust. A sharp grin twists his scarred lips around the blade of the knife, and there is not a single doubt for how much Toji is enjoying himself.

Mahito has finally stopped laughing. His head lolls back into the concrete, and his body goes limp. Toji grabs ahold of Mahito’s hair, and yanks his head up, continuing his assault on the unconscious man’s head.

“Time!”

Toji’s fist crashes down into Mahito’s face one last time before he leans back. His large chest heaves from a mixture of exertion and bloodlust. Sweat shines on his skin, and the blood splatter trickles in rivers down the contours of his body. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, and the sweat and blood fly around them.

My thighs clench, and I want to lick it off of his skin.

Toji spits the knife out onto the floor beside him. He leans his head back, and his triumphant smile into the air above is nothing short of beastly.

With Toji’s head leaned back, he doesn’t see as Mahito’s fingers twitch towards the knife beside them. Once his fingers wrap around the handle, he flies forward in a sudden vicious arc that slashes upwards at Toji’s torso.

“Gotcha!” Mahito giggles.

Toji reacts quickly, to the sudden motion of Mahito below him, but still manages to get caught along the top of his right pec. He wraps a thick hand around Mahito’s wrist, stopping the knife from doing any further damage. With his other hand, he fixes a firm grip around mahito’s shoulder, and with a savage twist and brutal cry, he tears his arm back.

Blood spurts like a fountain, painting everything in a sea of red.

In Toji’s hand, he holds the severed remains of Mahito’s arm, torn completely free from his body.

Mahito’s screams echo in the cavernous room. He squirms from beneath the bulk of Toji’s body, flailing his remaining arm against Toji’s thick thighs in an effort to get free.

It reminds me of the dying throes a rabbit caught between the teeth of a lion. It’s a last, desperate attempt at life when he knows it’s coming to an end.

Toji grabs the knife from Mahito’s severed hand, then tosses the limb carelessly to the side. He twirls it around once more, before viciously plunging it down into Mahito’s torso. With a ferocious smile, he licks his lips, then starts carving into Mahito’s chest.

Mahito’s screams cut off abruptly. The absence of it echoes just as loudly.

When he’s done, Toji leans back onto his hips, and appraises his work with a sadistic grin. He raises the knife to his mouth, and his tongue licks along the side of the blade. He smiles at the taste, before plunging it down into Mahito’s head, right between his brows.

Toji rises to his feet. He towers over Mahito’s dead body. Power and aggression pour off of him in waves. His grin is absolutely feral, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. He wears the other man’s blood like war paint.

He picks up Mahito’s head, and with one hand, he dangles his body upwards for all to see.

What remains of Mahito’s torso is mutilated by a crudely carved letter ’T’. The roar of the crowd is animalistic. Men holler and cry out into the air, pounding their fists to their chest and stomping their feet on the ground. Toji holds the body aloft for a few more moments, before throwing it carelessly back to the ground.

He steps back to the center of the ring. The announcer trembles forward. He stares at Toji with wide fearful eyes, before gingerly grabbing ahold of the fighter’s thick wrist. After a moment’s hesitation, he raises Toji’s arm high in the air.

“And the winner is TOJIII FUSHIGUROO!”

My blood rushes in my ears, and my lungs constrict. Any alcohol in my system has all but evaporated, and I’m stone-cold sober. The primal energy storms around me, and my body tingles with the electricity and the adrenaline. My instincts are quiet, and I fear its silence more than I feared when it was screaming at me earlier. My mind is blank, but my body burns.

I just watched a man die.

I just watched Toji Fushiguro kill a man.

And yet. For reasons that defy logic. For reasons that make me want the earth to split open beneath me and swallow me whole.

I am undeniably, irrrefutably, achingly aroused.

I’m trembling from the force of the heat that burns inside of me. Absently, I grab my drink and chug it all down in one go. It dribbles down my chin and into my shirt, but I don’t care. I wipe carelessly at my mouth with the back of my hand and take in deep, greedy gulps of air when it’s done.

Toji’s team wipes him down, cleaning off the other man’s blood. I can’t process it. Mahito’s team walks away, with Geto yawning as he exits the ring. I watch as some of the event staff approach Mahito’s body, pick him up, and carry him out. Two others immediately start wiping down the area, scouring the concrete for every drop of blood.

After a moment or two, it’s like there was never any blood at all.

I watch as Sukuna saunters up to Toji and claps him on the back. The two men standing together look like giants surrounded by ants. I watch idly as they converse, and my heart stutters at the wide, sharp grin on Toji’s scarred lips.

I need to calm down. Now.

My skin prickles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My breathing stops, and my blood sings.

I can feel them looking at me.

I know it like I know my own name.

I drag my unfocused eyes from the fist-sized crater in the ring, over to where the two men stand speaking.

Heat burns in my veins, as my eyes lock on to Sukuna’s.

Adrenaline pumps my blood fast, and all at once my instincts are screaming at me again.

Run. Hide. Escape.

But I’m frozen. I can do nothing more than return his stare. Sukuna nods his chin in my direction while he says something to Toji. The fighter turns to look over his shoulder, and his sharp green eyes seek out mine.

Oh fuck me. Fuck me sideways to hell and back.

The combined weight of their stares makes me tremble. Toji’s eyes light a path of fire as they dip to my legs and trail upwards along my body. His look is like a physical touch along my skin and it makes me shiver. My arousal drips out of me, and I press my thighs together tight. Sweat tickles my spine as it runs down my back. Toji turns back to Sukuna. He says something which makes Sukuna laugh, and my cheeks flush with heat and shame.

They’re laughing at me. I’m certain of it.

What pricks.

My anger breaks me out of my trance, and I jolt back to life atop the shipping container. Shogo has begun packing up our things and stuffing it into his backpack, all while feverishly scrolling through the discord.

I’m sure the live chat was going crazy after watching Toji Fushiguro brutally murder a man.

I spring into action in a dull haze, helping Shogo pack the last of our things, before scaling down the ladder to the ground below. My body moves on autopilot.

“That was fucking insane,” Shogo says.

His thumbs are furiously flying across his keyboard, and I know his attention will be preoccupied for a while.

“Yeah, that was crazy,” I agree.

I’m surprised I can even speak, and that my voice sounds this strong.

“That wasn’t even a fight, that was a massacre,” Shogo continues, his voice filled with awe.

I hum in agreement.

I was wrong before. Very wrong. Toji and Mahito were never evenly matched to begin with.

“I don’t know about you, but I think I need a drink. Actually, scratch that. I know I need a drink. Several. You game?”

I let out a hollow laugh.

“Yeah, lead the way.”

“Yo, Shogo!” A voice calls out.

We both turn towards a man jogging towards us. He has a shaved head and ink covering every visible inch of his dark skin. The piercings in his lip shine as he smiles at my friend.

“Oh shit, Rocco! Good to see you, man. I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Shogo smiles back.

The two embrace, before Shogo turns back towards me.

“This is my best friend y/n,” he introduces.

Rocco nods his head in greeting, and his smile is warm and inviting.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, while extending my hand out for him to shake.

He takes it with a grip as warm as his smile.

“Rocco. It’s a pleasure. Any friend of Shogo’s is a friend of mine,” he says before he turns back to Shogo. “Say, we’re all gonna go over to The Alley Cat. It’s a bar about two doors down that way. You tryin’ to grab drinks?”

Shogo looks at me for approval, and I shrug.

We were planning on getting drinks either way, and it didn’t matter to me who or where we got them from as long as they were strong.

“Yeah, sure, why not. We’re were just talking about it anyway,” Shogo agrees for the both of us.

“Cool. If you wanna give me a second to grab my stuff, we can walk over there together,” Rocco says.

We follow Rocco as he leads us to his things, and I can’t help but watch as the two boys animatedly talk over the details of the fight. I don’t mind stepping back from their conversation, as my brain still feels like it’s only operating at half-speed.

I blame that for the reason why I don’t realize he’s leading us back over to the VIP section until he’s stepping over the ropes.

My heart pounds as the realization sets in, and my eyes frantically scan the crowd inside to look for that signature pink hair.

I try everything in my power to ignore the sting of disappointment I feel when I realize he isn’t there.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #toji x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #toji x sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #1st person #jjk fanfic

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hunnysnoops · 7 months ago

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₊˚｡⋆❆ 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 ❆⋆｡˚₊

Chapter Two: Vanilla Baby

Kenny McCormick x fem reader

Pages after pages I write for me and no one else. Standing tall, no brick in the wall, I take care of myself. Fickle is as fickle does as solitary links. My, oh my, it's hard because she says just what she thinks

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: Family dinner diverts a bit from what you’re used to.

Warnings: crude language and humour / EDNOS alluded

MASTERLIST

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You reluctantly step out of the car into the crisp winter evening, your breath visible in the cold air. The restaurant in front of you is grand, its large windows glowing warmly against the dark night. You pull your coat tighter around you, wishing you could just stay in the comfort of your room with your dog and a nice playlist. But Todd had been pushing both you and your mother to come to the restaurant he frequented with his buddies from work.

As you walk through the heavy wooden doors, you're immediately greeted by a wave of warmth and the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. The noise swallows you, making you feel even smaller and more out of place. Your mom gives you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and leaves her hand to rest there.

Todd was already rambling, deep into a story about his day at work. "So, there I was, in the middle of this big presentation, and wouldn't you know it, the projector decided to quit on me!" he says, chuckling. "Had to wing it with just a whiteboard and a marker. Felt like I was back in school, you know? But hey, I think I nailed it!"

"I'm sure you did," Your mother smiles in return. The restaurant is beautiful, with chandeliers sparkling above and elegant decorations adding to the festive atmosphere. But all you can think about is how overwhelming it all feels, the lights dimmed to the point it could've been a nightclub.

Todd is still talking, his voice rising above the din of the restaurant. "And then, Jim, y'know, Nancy's husband- oh man, that guy's a character, he-" Todd cracks up in a laugh before even finishing his story "He said-" He tries to speak between his muffled giggles "He said 'did you hear about the guy who dipped his balls in glitter?' and I'm like 'no, what the heck, that's weird,' and then Jim says 'pretty nuts, right?'"

You weren't sure how your mom ever came about liking Todd, she was standoffish, albeit not as quiet as you. She always wrinkled her nose in distaste at loud and obnoxious people, and then she married one and was happier than she had ever been.

A hostess with a sleek black dress and a bright smile approaches, Todd breaks apart from you and your mother for a moment to speak to her, he's still stifling giggles as he does so. The hostess your group to a table near the center of the dining room. You cringe internally at the spot, feeling far too exposed for your liking.

You sit down and try to focus on the menu, though the unfamiliar dishes and elaborate descriptions only add to your stiffness. The menu is printed on heavy, cream-coloured paper, the kind that speaks of luxury and refinement. As you scan the options, your eyes widen at the prices. Everything is so expensive. The entrees are listed with descriptions that go on for several lines, each word seeming to add another dollar to the price.

"Jeez, enough about me," Todd finally caps off yet another story, turning his attention to you "How was your day, kiddo?"

"Good," you reply, glancing down at the menu.

"How was skating?" He asks and then lowers his voice, a little smile on his face while he raises a brow "How's Craig?"

"Oh, Craigs gay," Your mom gives him a little swat on the arm.

"Really? That's awesome," Todd does a little fist pump under the table "He's way nicer than that guy you were dating. What's his name? Y'know the one with the horse teeth."

"Spencer," Your mom fills in the blank and you feel the heat rise to your face, sinking deeper into your chair, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Yeah, Spencer. What an asshole." Todd mutters as he surveys the drink menu. "He was very ratty."

"Wouldn't be surprised if he was in that kitchen under a chef's hat."

Todd huffs a loud boisterous laugh, slapping his knee and wiping tears away from his eyes. With a shaky breath, he steadies himself and looks up at you through his brows "You're driving tonight."

"What?" Your heart picks up. Driving never came easy to you, it made you nervous. You had to go through driving school twice and take your N test three times before you were finally given a license, you thought that they let you pass out of pity.

"I'm drinking, your mom's drinking. Everyone's drinking except you,"

You don't say anything, eyes going wide as you look to your mom for confirmation.

"Yup, I'm getting wasted," She says, looking down at the wine selection "That's why we brought you."

"Not quite," Todd holds out a finger "Speak for yourself, I brought you for some quality family time and some thick juicy cuts of steak."

"Honey, you should get the tomahawk," Your mom murmurs leaning into Todd on their side of the table and pointing at her menu. "What are you getting?" Your mom asks to which you shrug.

"Did you paint your nails?" Todd looks up from his menu, you nod in return. He reaches across the table and grabs your hand, holding it up and inspecting your nail art skills, "Wow, pretty, right?"

"Very," Your mom smiles at the pair of you.

"Should I get this colour?" He asks your mom, comparing your hand to his own. He turns his attention to the waiter who now hovers by the table, Todd holds your hand up "What do you think?"

"Great colour," Kenny says with a smile, his voice smooth and professional, but with a hint of friendliness. Your face drops at the sight of him, eyes going wide like your roadkill caught in headlights. He's wearing a white button-up rolled up to his elbows, a black apron tied around his waist, and you can see the tattoo on his forearm that you never even knew existed. At first, you thought it to be a butterfly but on a second glance, you can see it's a moth with stars on the wings where spots should be. "Good to see you again, Todd."

"Likewise, Ken," He smiles, slinging an arm over your mom's shoulder "This is my gorgeous wife and my beautiful daughter, well step-daughter, same difference. They're pretty quiet but it's okay, I talk enough for the three of us." That statement was surely ringing true as he grinned brightly at Kenny. His voice is loud, and confident, and carries across the room, contrasting sharply with the quieter murmur of the surrounding conversations.

"You must have beat men off with a stick," Kenny grins at Todd, casting a brief glance at you.

"You'd think, right?" He laughs "She doesn't leave the house long enough for the boys to even see her!" Silently, you curse him. Your mom pinches her nose bridge, gently tapping Todd on the thigh as a signal to reel it in. "Anyways," Todd clears his throat "This is Kenny, best guy around."

It was moments like these you wished you wished that Todd wasn't so extroverted. While you thought it was sweet he and your mom balanced each other out and he always had good intentions, his mouth moved faster than his thoughts and he was never able to stop himself from talking at a mile a minute. "Thank you, thank you," Kenny tilts his head in the slightest "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Red wine please, malbec, if you don't have that then the merlot," Your mom gives him a thin-lipped smile.

"We do indeed have Malbec," Kenny jots it down onto his notepad and looks to Todd "Let me guess, soma?"

Just when you think it isn't possible for Todd to smile anymore, he does "What did I tell you?" His gaze flicks between you and your mom "Best guy around, he knows me."

"I try," Then, Kenny turns to you, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. "And for you?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

You look down at the menu, your mind racing. "Um, water, please," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny nods, scribbling it down. "Alright, I'll get those right out for you."

When Kenny retreats back to the server station by the bar to fill in your orders your mom nudges Todd "Can you calm down a bit? you're embarrassing her."

"Me?" Todd asks, looking at you with a hand pressed flat over his heart. Todd chuckles. "Kenny doesn't care! he's a good kid. Plays hockey, works hard. And he's cute, right?" Clearly, you had underestimated how close Todd was to the staff here. You would've thought he had known Kenny for years but in reality, he was just an overly friendly regular.

You bury your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear. "Please, stop."

"Someone's blushing," Todd leans over and pokes your shoulder. "You got a crush?" You quickly shake your head, no. Todd waves you off "You go to the same rink, y'know?" He sits up like a brilliant idea just brushed his mind "You should be friends with him!"

Just as a deer might freeze at the slightest rustle of leaves, you tense at the unexpected words as the conversation turns toward you. Your eyes, wide and panicked, dart around nervously, searching for an escape route or a safe place to retreat and silently pleading that he doesn't push the conversation further.

"Honey, you know she doesn't make friends easily, she can't just become buddies with the waiter," Your mom says. It seemed like every word that came from their mouths was worse than the last. If you were loud enough you might scream from frustration.

"I know but it doesn't hurt to try," He says "How did the brownies go at school? Did everyone like them?"

"Todd, she's almost an adult, not a child." Your mom answers for you "Brownies don't make friendships in high school."

"Why not?" He asks "Everyone loves brownies, if someone gave me a brownie, we would be friends right away. Make twenty brownies and you have twenty new friends."

"She has Craig, and I'm happy with that. Just be glad she isn't crawling the streets with junkies and shooting up heroin."

"Okay," Todd raises his hands in defence "I'm glad."

Kenny comes back to the table, placing your drinks down in front of each of you. Your mom wastes no time in reaching for her glass and taking a sip. "So, how's figure skating going?" he asks casually, surprising you as he places your father's beer down.

Your heart skips a beat. "Fine," You mumble. Your parents look at you expectantly "Uh, how's hockey?"

"Pretty good," he says with a smile. "Got a tournament coming up so there's extra practice on the table."

Your mom and Todd exchange amused glances, clearly noticing the exchange. Todd grins. "Ah, so you two know each other from the rink, huh? Small world."

"Yeah," Kenny says, still looking at you. "She gave me some pointers the other day, she's really good."

"Why didn't I hear about this?" Your mom asks with a smile though there's something brewing in her eyes that tells you that you'll be discussing this later. You answer her with a brief shrug.

"Are we ready to order dinner?" Kenny breaks the unspoken tension between you and your mom.

"I'll have the grilled salmon with lemon butter sauce," she says, handing her menu back to Kenny. "And could I get a side of roasted vegetables with that, please?"

"Absolutely," Kenny replies, jotting down the order. "And for you, sir?" he asks, turning to Todd.

Todd grins, clearly enjoying the interaction. "I think I'll go for the tomahawk steak, medium rare," he says. "With a side of garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach."

"Great choice," Kenny says, his pen moving swiftly across the notepad. "And for you?" He looks at you, his smile softening as he meets your eyes.

Frantically, you scan the menu again, searching for the cheapest thing. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just the garden salad, please."

"Any protein in that?" He asks "We've got chicken, salmon, kidney beans, goat cheese, edamame, tofu, prosciutto, mozzarella, tuna, shrimp."

"No, thank-

"Yes," Todd cuts you off "You need to eat more, you're an athlete. Do you remember what I told you about lean proteins?" He says "Can you throw some chicken in there?"

Kenny looks to you for confirmation "Do you want chicken in your salad."

"Sure," You press your lips into a thin line and hand him your menu.

"That's my girl," Todd nods, taking a swig of his beer. Todd decides to take his teasing to a new level. "You know, Kenny," he starts, leaning back in his chair with a grin and motions for Kenny to come closer. Kenny leans down slightly to hear Todd "My daughter thinks you are SO cute."

You freeze, eyes shooting to avoid making contact with anyone at the table face carefully blank and growing hot. Kenny looks momentarily surprised, but then a wide, amused grin spreads across his face. "Is that so?" he asks, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he looks at you.

Your mom chuckles, trying to smooth things over but clearly enjoying the moment. "Todd, that's enough."

You sink lower in your seat, wishing you had faked an illness and were curled up under your duvet. Kenny, however, seems to be enjoying every second of your embarrassment. He leans slightly closer, his grin never faltering. "Well, I'm flattered," he says softly. "I'll go get your orders in," he says, though his eyes linger on you a moment longer. "But I'll be around if you need anything else."

"Why did you say that?" You exasperate, keeping your voice hushed "You were the only one who called him cute and you're a fifty-year-old man."

"You need to face these things head-on sometimes," Todd says, his tone light-hearted though you felt heavier than you had ever been "You can't just put your headphones in and run off to hide somewhere-

"I'm going to the bathroom," you say abruptly, pushing yourself from the chair and begin navigating your way through the tables. As the initial embarrassment from Todd's comment hits you like a wave, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The friendly chatter around you fades into the background, and your heart starts to race.

"Oh," Todd raises his eyebrows in slight surprise "I stand corrected."

You catch Kenny's eyes while fleeing the scene, he looks at you and opens his mouth to speak but for once you beat him to it "Imsosososososorrypleaseignoremyparentshesmakingthingsupthanks." You say so fast that he doesn't even process the words and in the blink of an eye you're gone.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you and lean against the cool tile wall, taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself. The soft hum of the restaurant is muffled here, giving you a brief respite from the chaos of your thoughts. You start to pace back and forth, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Why did Todd have to say that? You run your hands through your hair, feeling the frustration and embarrassment bubbling up.

You replay the moment in your mind, cringing at the memory of Todd's teasing and Kenny's amused grin. Pacing around the small bathroom, you try to calm your racing thoughts. You focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, willing your heart to slow down. Despite your best efforts, the blush remains stubbornly on your cheeks.

It's not that you don't like Kenny. In fact, the opposite is true, and that's what makes it all the more overwhelming. His clear advances in days prior- it's all too much to handle at once.

You stop pacing and lean against the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks are still flushed, your eyes wide and uncertain. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping it will help cool you down both physically and emotionally.

Had you been on your own, you wouldn't be worked up. That's how you liked it. Everything was easier when you were able to cut out what you didn't want but Todd's boisterous laughter was ringing through your head like a fork shoved into a blender.

Everything was embarrassing; Todd's rushed and unthoughtful comments, your mom's reminders to quiet down, and your reaction to all of it were only making it worse. You compose yourself the way you would a song or a speech, trying to remember who you were away from all of this humiliation.

You had been hiding in the bathroom far longer than you would've liked, to the point your mom was texting you to see if you were okay. You look back up at yourself in the mirror, giving a little thumbs up before pushing the door open and navigating back to your table.

As you return to the table, you find Kenny already there, the food has been dropped off and he's chatting easily with your mom and Todd. He's standing with a confident, relaxed posture, his smile bright and engaging. It's clear that your parents are thoroughly charmed by him.

"-and that's how I managed to get the puck into the net at the last second," Kenny is saying, finishing up a story. "It was a wild game."

Your mom laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That sounds amazing, Kenny. You must be a great hockey player."

Kenny chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck modestly. "I try my best."

Todd nods appreciatively. "That's the spirit. Teamwork makes all the difference. So, how do you balance hockey with school and work? That must be a lot to handle."

Kenny shrugs with a smile. "It keeps me busy, but I like it that way. Plus, it teaches me discipline and time management. And honestly, I enjoy all of it."As you take your seat, Kenny's eyes flicker to you, and he gives you a subtle, knowing smile. "Welcome back," he says warmly.

Todd, not missing a beat, leans forward with a grin. "You know, Kenny here was just telling us about his plans after high school. Sounds like he's got a bright future ahead."

"Oh?" you say, trying to sound casual "What are your plans?"

Kenny's smile widens as he looks at you. "I'm hoping to get a hockey scholarship. I've been talking to a few colleges, and things are looking promising."

Your mom claps her hands together, delighted. "That's incredible, you must be so excited."

"I am," Kenny admits, his gaze steady on yours. "But it's also a bit nerve-wracking. There's a lot of pressure, you know?" Kenny then shifts the conversation smoothly, including your parents again. "But enough about me. How about you all? Do you have any holiday plans?"

Todd laughs. "Just the usual family gatherings. Lots of food, lots of noise. You know how it is."

"Sounds like fun," Kenny says genuinely. "Family time is the best, especially during the holidays."

"Do you have a big family?"

"I do but I don't see them much, my older brother moved out and my sister lives in another city."

"That's too bad," Todd frowns exaggeratedly "Well, I hope you visit them."

"Yeah, as much as I can," He says, glancing around the restaurant "I really should check on my other tables but I will be around if you need anything at all."

You tune out of the conversation entirely, picking at your salad while Todd asks you questions before he answers them himself. "Why do you think it's called New Zealand? Was there an old Zealand or just Zealand?" He laughs "I'm just being silly."

The anxiety from earlier lingers at the edges of your mind, making it hard to fully enjoy the evening that you weren't fond of from the beginning. Your parents are engrossed in their conversation, Todd animatedly discussing a recent project at work while your mom listens attentively. You stay quiet, letting their voices wash over you as you try to push through the discomfort.

As you spear a leaf of crisp lettuce with your fork, your appetite feels as elusive as a whisper in the wind. Each bite is a struggle, the vegetables seeming to lose their crispness and flavour as soon as they touch your tongue. Your appetite had been curved by everything around you.

You try to force yourself to eat, pushing the fork through the salad. But each bite feels like a chore, the act of chewing becoming laborious and unenjoyable. Swallowing becomes a challenge, the food seeming to stick in your throat despite your efforts to wash it down with sips of water between each bite.

Your mom casts you a long glance, her eyebrows drawn in and lips downturned as she watches you place your fork down and push the remainder of your meal away, she bookmarks this little moment and decides to table it for another time.

Todd absolutely ravages his steak, tearing into the meat like a wild animal devouring what it could without knowing when it would eat again. You fought the urge to gag, instead turning your attention to your mom who elegantly sliced off bits of her salmon.

Just as you think the meal is winding down, Todd claps his hands together with a grin. "Alright, what do you say we order some dessert for the table? Can't leave this place without trying something sweet!"

Todd signals Kenny over, who arrives promptly with that ever-present smile. "Sounds like you're ready for dessert."

You immediately shake your head "No-

"You need to eat more," Todd says "Eat, eat, eat," He tries to create a little chant which your mom thankfully doesn't join in on. After silence falls over the table at his failed attempt to start a rally he clears his throat "Two chocolate lava cames and one tiramisu for the wife. This one bakes all the freaking time so she's a bit of a dessert connoisseur," He points at you and tilts his head.

A few minutes later, he returns with the desserts. The rich and enticing chocolate lava cake appears to have a molten centre just waiting to be found. The tiramisu is exquisitely layered, featuring creamy mascarpone and delicate ladyfingers dipped in espresso.

Kenny places the desserts on the table, but when he sets down the chocolate lava cake in front of you, you notice something extra. Right next to your dessert, on the edge of the plate, is a dollop of whipped cream shaped into a smiley face. You couldn't keep a straight face, your lips curved just the slightest though it doesn't go unnoticed by Kenny.

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mcormick headcanons #kenny mccormick headcanons #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny sp #kenny mcormick x reader #sp kenny #sp fanfiction #south park hcs #south park headcanons #south park fanfiction

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paigesbasketball · 2 days ago

Text

Echos of The Fallen

Chapter 2: A game of shadows Shadow the hedgehog x reader Warnings: None!

September 29th - 10:00 AM - G.U.N. Headquarters

The walls of the briefing room seemed to close in around Shadow as he paced restlessly. The rhythmic sound of his boots on the cold floor was interrupted only by the flickering hum of the projector coming to life. The screen illuminated with the image of the woman from last night—the mysterious infiltrator—her face half-obscured in the surveillance footage, but unmistakably calculating in her movements.

“This is the only clear footage we recovered before someone wiped the system clean,” a technician reported, nervously adjusting his glasses as he stared at his screen. “She entered under a fabricated identity—‘Danny’s wife’—and vanished into the shadows.”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed in frustration. He could feel the pressure building in his chest. “She made sure to be seen, just enough to cause a distraction,” he muttered, his voice low and intense.

Sonic, casually leaning against the table with his arms folded, gave a smirk. “Guess she played you, huh?” His grin widened, obviously enjoying the rare moment of seeing Shadow out of his element.

Shadow’s gaze shot daggers at him. “Enough jokes, Sonic,” he growled. His tone carried a warning.

The door to the briefing room opened, and the G.U.N. Commander entered, a man known for his stoic demeanor and rigid control over operations. He tossed a thick file onto the table, its contents spilling slightly over the edges.

“You wanted answers, Shadow?” The Commander’s voice was authoritative. “Here’s your next assignment.”

Shadow flipped open the file, scanning its contents. There, in bold black letters, was the name he dreaded to see: Cipher.

“She's connected to Cipher?” Shadow’s voice was cold, an edge of disbelief lingering in his words. His fingers ran across the file, flipping through pages that were filled with diagrams, surveillance photos, and cryptic reports.

“Possibly. Cipher’s been building a network—recruiting individuals with specific skills for an operation of unknown scope. We believe this woman is either working for him or with him. Either way, she's a significant threat,” the Commander explained, his tone stern. “Your mission is to uncover her identity, determine what she knows, and figure out how deep she is in.”

Shadow leaned back slightly in his chair, considering the implications. “And if she’s not working for him?”

“Then she knows something critical. And we need her.”

Sonic, sensing the weight of the situation, leaned forward. “So what’s the plan, Shadow? How do we track her down?”

Shadow closed the file with a sharp snap, his expression unreadable. “Simple. We track her down.”

The Commander paused, his sharp gaze falling on Shadow. “One more thing. This operation is off the books. No reports, no records. If this leaks, there will be more trouble than just Cipher.”

The room went silent. Shadow nodded once, his resolve hardening.

Meanwhile, somewhere far from G.U.N. Headquarters, an entirely different scene was unfolding...

September 29th - 9:33PM - The Warehouse - Unknown Location

The warehouse was dark, its only illumination the faint glow from a lone hanging bulb that swayed slightly in the damp air. A distant drip of water echoed through the silence. Carson Palo sat slumped in a chair, unconscious, a thin line of blood trailing from his temple. His arms were bound tightly, and his chest rose and fell slowly, unaware of the danger that loomed around him.

Scar, ever the quiet observer, leaned against a brick wall, arms crossed, eyes locked onto Carson as she waited for instructions. Her sharp eyes tracked every movement in the room, every sound, calculating the next step. Zero, meanwhile, sat comfortably on a nearby table, typing away furiously at his laptop, eyes fixed on the screen as he monitored their surroundings.

“Security systems are offline,” Zero reported without looking up. “No heat signatures nearby. We’re clear for now.”

I stood in front of Carson, my fingers drumming on the edge of the table. I hadn’t taken my eyes off him since we brought him in. It was time to wake him up. The information he held was too important to wait any longer.

Viper, always the one to get her hands dirty, stepped forward. She took a bottle of water from the nearby shelf and splashed it over Carson’s face. His eyes snapped open immediately, panic flickering in his gaze as he tried to process his surroundings.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I said, crouching down in front of him. “Hope you got some rest, because we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Carson gasped, his breath shallow and frantic. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, I’m not interested in torture,” I answered, my tone calm, almost indifferent. “It’s too messy. But I do want information. You see, I know G.U.N. is working on something big. Something... high-value. And I know they don’t want the world to know about it.”

Carson’s eyes flickered, betraying his attempt to hide his fear. I leaned in closer. “Tell me about it, Carson.”

He clenched his jaw, looking away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, but the tremble in his voice betrayed him.

I smirked, sensing victory. “You flinched. That means you do.”

The pressure of the situation began to crush him. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he realized he couldn’t hide the truth any longer. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could speak.

“You have two choices, Carson,” I said, my voice cold. “You tell me what I need to know, and we let you walk out of here. Or... you don’t. And then, I hand you over to Scar.”

Scar grinned, cracking her knuckles as she stepped forward. Her gaze never left Carson’s face, enjoying the fear in his eyes. “I really hope you pick option two.”

Carson swallowed hard, his voice shaking as he gave in. “Fine. Fine! G.U.N. is developing something... something dangerous. It’s some kind of advanced tech. A weapon, I think, but I don’t know exactly what it does. They’re keeping it locked down tight.”

I raised an eyebrow, pressing further. “Who’s leading the project?”

Carson hesitated, then his eyes flickered. “I... I don’t know. But they’re dangerous. More dangerous than you think.”

I clenched my fist, frustration boiling under my skin. “Names, Carson. Give me names.”

He sighed in resignation. “One name. That’s all I’ve got.”

I leaned in, eyes narrowing, waiting for the revelation.

“…Commander Sammuels.”

My heart skipped a beat, the weight of the name settling in. No. This couldn’t be right.

Scar’s face laced with confusion before speaking "there's a commander Leroy?—”

Before she could finish, a loud bang echoed through the warehouse, followed by a tremor that shook the floor. The lights flickered, and a deafening explosion rattled the building, debris crashing down from the ceiling.

“Move!” I barked into my earpiece. “Get out now!”

Gunfire erupted outside, and red and blue lights flashed through the gaps in the boarded-up windows. The sound of boots pounding against the concrete made my stomach drop. We were running out of time.

Scar looked at me, eyes narrowed. “We’re caught.”

Carson’s face lit up, his moment of hope shining through as he believed rescue had come. I turned, my expression stone-cold. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

Without another word, I nodded to Scar, and in a heartbeat, the sound of a single shot pierced the air. Carson slumped forward, lifeless, his final breath slipping away before he could say another word.

Scar smirked, tucking her gun away as she casually wiped her hands. “Leaving a message?”

I pulled a folded note from my pocket, carefully slipping it into Carson’s jacket. The ink was dark, the letters bold and clear. For Leroy. See you soon.

With sirens wailing and G.U.N. forces closing in, I exhaled, tension coursing through me. “Time to go.”

I pressed a finger to my earpiece. “Zero, Diversion 6. Send two to the right and three to the left.”

A voice crackled back immediately. “Copy that.”

Outside, the roar of engines shattered the silence as five black cars—hacked and remotely controlled by Zero—sped off in different directions. The chaos was immediate. G.U.N. agents scrambled, chasing after the decoys, their confusion working in our favor.

We slipped out the back entrance, vanishing into the shadows just as planned.

September 29th - 10:00PM - Abandoned Parking Lot

Shadow’s POV

We were closing in. G.U.N. had dispatched their agents to pursue the vehicles, their efforts futile in the face of the diversion. As I followed one of the fleeing cars, my pulse quickened. Something felt wrong. The car came to an abrupt stop in an empty parking lot, and my instincts screamed at me to be cautious.

I approached the vehicle slowly, weapon drawn. Every step was measured, every sound amplified in my heightened state of awareness. Something wasn’t right.

My fingers brushed against the door handle, but I froze when I saw a faint, familiar flashing icon on the window—Zero’s hacker signature.

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath, taking a step back.

The faint beeping sound from inside the car only confirmed my worst fear.

It’s a bomb.

Without thinking, I sprinted away from the car, diving behind cover just as the vehicle erupted in a deafening explosion. Heat and force radiated from the blast, and I could feel the shockwave ripple through the air as debris flew past me.

Smoke billowed in the aftermath, and the blaring sirens of approaching G.U.N. reinforcements filled the air. My chest tightened with the weight of the situation.

She was gone.

But she wouldn’t be for long. I wouldn’t let her slip through my fingers again.

September 29th - 10:06PM - Random Rooftop

I stood at the edge of a rooftop, looking down at the explosion below. The bright flames lit up the night sky, sending chunks of debris flying in all directions. The car was no more than a twisted heap of metal, burning fiercely as the sirens screamed in the distance.

Better than fireworks, I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips as I watched the chaos unfold.

I could hear Scar behind me, her footsteps quiet on the rooftop before she stopped just a few paces away. The stillness stretched between us for a moment before she spoke up, her voice a little softer than usual.

“You know, Avia,” she began, her tone knowing, “for what it’s worth, call it a hunch, but I see how you look at him.”

I froze, my hand gripping the edge of the building. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt my chest tighten. I slowly turned to look at her, unable to mask the shock that flashed in my eyes. “Wait, the agent?” I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. “You’re not serious. I met him once.”

Scar paused for a second, her eyes narrowing as she looked me over, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “So, you don’t think he’s cute? Or even handsome?” she prodded, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I rolled my eyes, refusing to entertain this line of thought. “He works for G.U.N. There is nothing attractive or special about him,” I snapped, trying to shut down the conversation.

But Scar wasn’t done. She leaned back against the wall of the rooftop, crossing her arms with a thoughtful expression. “Then why are you looking at him right now? You’ve never looked at our explosions like that,” she said, her voice sharp, almost teasing.

I didn’t answer her. I refused to. The question caught me off guard, and a small pang of embarrassment crept up my spine. I had no answer. I wasn’t looking at Shadow like that, was I? I couldn’t be. I didn’t care for relationships—never had, never would. Dating, hookups… none of it ever appealed to me.

As uncomfortable as the thought made me, I had to admit something to myself—I had never felt the need to change my stance on that, not even with him.

I glanced at Scar again, trying to hide the shift in my expression. “Listen, even though I’m a virgin at my grown-ass age...?” I said, almost as if to justify my refusal to go down that path. “I’ve never felt the need to change that.”

Scar’s gaze softened, but only slightly, as she gave a knowing look. “Well, it’s not like I’m pressuring you, it just also wouldn't hurt to see you romantically happy” she said, shrugging with her usual nonchalance. “maybe i you got dick you would be less uptight sometimes” She says jokingly.

I exhaled sharply and roll my eyes, my heart still pounding a little faster than normal. “I’m not staring at him, Scar,” I muttered under my breath, refusing to meet her eye. “Let’s just get moving.”

And with that, I turned away, focusing on the mission ahead and not the weird, unexpected stirrings inside me. There was too much at stake to get distracted by anything else—least of all a G.U.N. agent. Especially not Shadow.

#sonic 3 #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog #shadow

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a-noodle-named-daemon · 3 months ago

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Deep cleaned daemon’s terrarium and attempted to set up his heating upgraded.

I say attempted because I fucked up and used two faulty converters, and burned the UVB and the halogen 😭 and I can’t afford to order new ones so I’ll have to wait till summer most likely.

But at least I did save the DPH projector, and that is still an upgrade from the CHE he was on. It’ll be just fine for winter heating and now his basking temps are reaching what they’re supposed to 😊

Last pic is him finally being let out of the travel box and being very happy to explore the enclosure. (I took like 4 hours to get it done, oof)

#ball python #lesser pastel ball python #reptiblr #snake #snake blog #pet snake #python regius #reptile

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jule1122 · 1 month ago

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Malex Fic - Maybe you'll come back as someone that you like

My @rnm-secret-santa gift for @dayscrazed. Canon divergent S1 fic that tries to figure out what would happen if Alex and Michael never got together in high school. Instead they hook after the reunion - Michael's a high school teacher back for the summer and Alex joined Deep Sky after he was injured in the Air Force. They both have secrets to keep, but fall in love. Alien drama with Noah and sibling bonding with Isobel. I hope this makes your holidays a little brighter!

Title from the gorgeous song "Life's Gonna Kill You (If You Let It) by Man-Made Sunshine

Maybe you'll come back as someone that you like on AO3

Summary:

“I used to steal your guitar in high school,” he tells Alex. “I know.” Michael raises his brow but doesn’t say anything so Alex continues. “You always returned it and tuned it better than I could so I didn’t see a reason to make a big deal out of it.” Michael laughs and shakes his head, “I was trying to get your attention.” When Michael and Alex hook up after their 10 year reunion, it was supposed to be a one night stand. They are both back in Roswell with secrets to protect. Falling in love wasn't part of the plan.

Alex sips his drink and does one more visual sweep of the room before caving and pulling out his phone. “Where are you?” he asks as soon as Liz picks up.

“Alex? Oh my god, is the reunion today?” Liz sounds surprised to hear from him.

“Liz,” Alex groans.

“I am so sorry. I meant to come, I really did,” Liz apologizes frantically. “It’s just the samples came in and the preliminary report is due next week. I haven’t even left the lab in like three days. I completely forgot.”

“I hate you,” Alex tells her, but there’s no heat behind it. It's his fault for not insisting the drive back together. He knows how easily Liz gets caught up in her work.

“You love me and you know it,” Liz laughs. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better,” Alex threatens before hanging up.

Now what? Alex only agreed to come to the reunion because Liz begged him to go with her. The drinks are watered down, and the next person who thanks him for his service might not make it out alive. Alex decides to cut his losses and leave, but he stops on his way out when he notices an open room off the main hallway. Something is off with his prosthetic, and he should fix it before he starts the drive back to the cabin.

The room is bathed in blue light from a projector rotating through a slide show of high school pictures. Alex ignores them, and props his foot up on an empty chair and rolls up his pant leg. It doesn’t take time to find the problem and make an adjustment. Alex pushes his foot against the chair and sighs in relief when nothing pinches or rubs uncomfortably. He’s about to roll his pant leg back down when he hears footsteps behind him.

“Nostalgia’s a bitch.”

Alex turns and sees Michael Guerin standing in the doorway. He knows him as well as he knew anyone in high school, maybe a little better since their social circles occasionally overlapped. Michael was friends with Max Evans who has an obvious crush on Liz. They hung out a few times, but weren’t close. “I don’t know. Other than a fully functional leg,” Alex taps his prosthetic because he refuses to be ashamed of it, “there’s nothing I miss about high school.”

Michael gives his leg a quick glance, but doesn’t linger on it. “So why are you here? It can’t be for the free drinks because they suck.”

Alex laughs, “I was supposed to meet Liz Ortecho here, but she bailed. You?”

“Isobel organized the whole thing and threatened me with pain of death if I didn’t show up.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, and Alex straightens up, ready to leave before things get awkward when Michael speaks again.

“I used to steal your guitar in high school,” he tells Alex.

“I know.” Michael raises his brow but doesn’t say anything so Alex continues. “You always returned it and tuned it better than I could so I didn’t see a reason to make a big deal out of it.”

Michael laughs and shakes his head, “I was trying to get your attention.”

“Really?” Alex asks. It never occurred to him that Michael could have an ulterior motive for taking the guitar.

Michael shrugs, and Alex looks him over. He’s grown into his features since high school - long legs and broad shoulders. His tight jeans and light cream colored sweater look good on him. It might be too warm for the sweater, but Alex can’t really justify his own leather jacket so he decides not to judge. It’s Michael’s hair he can’t look away from - curly and wild, brushing the back of his neck - Alex wants to get his hands into it. Alex hasn’t been with anyone since things with Forrest fizzled out and for the first time in a while, he wants. “You have my attention now.”

“Do I?” Michael smirks and rocks back on his heels. “You want to get out of here?”

“Desperately,” Alex laughs. They walk out to the parking lot together, pausing when it becomes time to go to their own vehicles. “Do you still live in Roswell?” he asks Michael.

“Fuck, no,” Michael says, his face falling. “I’m staying with Max Evans.”

Alex thinks quickly and realizes there is no reason he can’t take Michael to the cabin. “I’ve got a place if you don’t mind a bit of a drive. You can follow me.”

Michael’s headlights remain steady behind Alex’s the whole time so he knows Michael hasn’t changed his mind. He lets him in the cabin and watches the face Michael makes when he takes in the decor - all heavy furniture and dark would. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of place,” he finally remarks.

“It’s not,” Alex agrees. “It’s Jim Valenti’s old cabin. He left it to me when he died. I’m only here for a short term assignment so I haven’t bothered redecorating.”

Michael nods, “Just tell me there won’t be any dead animals staring at us in the bedroom.”

“The only eyes on you will be mine,” Alex promises, holding out his hand. Michael reaches back out and Alex leads him to the bedroom.

He immediately pulls Michael in for a kiss. It’s heated from the start, Michael instantly opening his mouth for Alex. When he gets his hands in Michel’s hair, it’s just as soft as he imagined - curling perfectly around his fingers. Michael moans and tilts his head back when Alex tugs at his curls, and Alex turns his attention to Michael’s neck, sucking a mark just above his collarbone.

“I want to get my mouth all over you,” Alex tells him.

“Yeah?” Michael looks at him, eyes already heavy with desire, lips slick and shining.

Alex nods and nudges Michael onto the bed. He strips Michael’s sweater off him quickly, and is moving toward his belt buckle when Michael laughs and starts to help him.

“All you had to do was ask,” Michael teases. “Alex, please take your clothes off. See how easy that was.”

Alex takes off everything but his underwear, Michael’s already seen his prosthetic so there’s no reason to hesitate. Once Michael is naked, Alex lays down next to him. He kisses him again, letting his hands roam over Michael’s body, learning the feel of him. Michael’s more muscular than Alex expected, skim smooth and taut over his body. It doesn’t take long before his mouth follows the path his hands had taken.

Michael is beautifully responsive - moaning when Alex sucks on his nipples and grasping at Alex’s hair and shoulders when he licks and bites at the skin near Michael’s hips. Alex licks his lips when he finally gets to Michael’s cock. Michael is already hard and leaking, and Alex can’t wait to taste him. He nudges Michael’s cock with his nose, breathing in his scent, but he stops at the last second, barely remembering to ask, “Do I need a condom?”

“No, I’m clean, tested and everything.” Michael assures him.

“Good,” Alex hates the taste of latex. With nothing to delay him, he takes Michael’s cock into his mouth. Michael hips twitch, not enough to choke Alex, but enough to push his cock in deeper. Alex moans around him and licks at the shaft, pulling back until just the head is in his mouth. He sucks at it then traces around it with his tongue. When Michael gets restless, shifting on the bed and asking for more, Alex works his way back down.

As much as he wants to take his time, he’s hard himself and wants to get Michael off before he comes in his own underwear like a teenager. He slides his hands under Michael’s ass and encourages him to move. Michael takes the hint, thrusting carefully into Alex’s mouth. It’s not long before Michael taps his shoulder, “Close,” he moans.

Alex nods but doesn’t pull back. Instead he sucks harder, swallowing happily when Michael’s come floods his mouth. He waits until Michael is still to release him from his mouth, resting his head on Michael’s thigh.

“Jesus,” Michael pants. “You’re good at that.”

“Lots of practice,” Alex laughs. He stretches out and moves high enough up the bed to kiss Michael. He winces when his cock brushes against Michael’s hip.

Michael must notice, because he pulls back. “Let me,” he gestures, reaching for Alex’s cock. He waits for Alex to nod before pulling his underwear off, maneuvering it carefully around Alex’s prosthetic.

“Lube?” Michael asks, moving away briefly when Alex points to the nightstand.

Alex sighs in relief when Michael wraps his hand around him. He closes his eyes and moves to the rhythm Michael sets, thrusting up when Michael pulls back.

Michael’s other hand drifts to Alex’s ass, and Alex opens his eyes to see Michael biting his lip.

“Can I?” Michael asks.

“Yeah,” Alex grants permission, spreading his legs to make it easier. He shudders at the first brush of Michael’s finger over his hole. He doesn’t do much more than that, stroking around his rim without pushing more than the tip of his finger inside. Another time Alex would ask him to finger him, stretch him open while he jerks him off, but Alex is already on edge, and he just wants to come. All it takes is the press of a second finger, and Alex is spilling over Michael’s hand.

By the time he catches his breath and opens his eyes, Michael is standing next to the bed, awkwardly gathering his clothes. “I’m just gonna go.”

“Sure,” Alex shrugs. He’s a little disappointed, but they both got what they came for. “Bathrooms off to the left if you want to get cleaned up.”

“Thanks,” Michael gives him a quick wave and leaves the room.

Alex waits until he hears the front door close to get up himself. He’s still tired from his orgasm, and all he wants to do is get his prosthetic off and take a shower.

The next morning, Alex begins reviewing the files for his assignment. Reunion aside, he’s not in Roswell to socialize. Since Deep Sky recruited him after his injury, his primary assignment has been decoding the alien artifacts and devices Deep Sky has acquitted over the years. He’s only been told the bare bones of his family’s involvement with aliens and his own personal investigations have been stonewalled. Director Ramos insisting on not allowing him to work on an assignment with personal ties.

But all that had changed with the discovery of an alien serial killer in Roswell. Deep Sky needed to find the killer and neutralize the threat before Jesse Manes did. Roswell is a tight knit community, and a stranger coming into town would draw too much attention. With the reunion as the perfect excuse to bring Alex back, he was assigned the case. Alex intends to leverage it for information on exactly what his father is up to. No matter what Director Ramos plans, Alex will be the one to bring his father down.

Alex spends the day meticulously studying the files on each of the ten murder victims. He needs to find something to establish a pattern, but so far he hasn’t found anything. Due to how the alien kills the victims, establishing an exact time of death is impossible, and since the victims are vagrants, prostitutes and drug addicts with little or no family ties, there is no reliable information on when they were last seen alive.

Alex has given up for the day and is putting away his laundry when he spots the hat. Michael’s cowboy hat is sitting in the corner of the bedroom where it must have landed when Alex pushed it off his head. The hat is black, and the bedroom doesn’t have the best lighting so he’s not surprised neither of them noticed it before Michael left. He snaps a quick picture and looks for Michael’s name in his contacts, grateful they had exchanged numbers before leaving the reunion as a precaution in case they got separated on the way to the cabin.

“Forget something,” he tests Michael along with the picture.

There’s no response, but about an hour later, someone knocks on the cabin door. Alex isn't surprised to find Michael on the other side. It’s not like anyone else knows where he is. “Hey,” he greets Michael, waving him inside.

“Sorry for just showing up, but I was out driving when I got your text and the signal’s not the best out here.” Michael explains.

“No problem,” Alex shrugs. The hat is clearly visible on the coffee table, but neither of them move toward it. “Are you hungry? I could heat something up.”

Michael shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

“Is there something you do want?” Alex moves closer to Michael, not quite touching him.

“You could fuck me,” Michael says boldly, closing the remaining distance between them.

Alex kisses him roughly, grabbing his shirt and pulling Michael along as he walks backward toward the bedroom, only stopping when he backs into the wall, startling a laugh out of Michael.

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes. “Still getting used to the layout.”

“It’s fine,” Michael kisses him again, quick and bruising before taking Alex’s hand and leading this time. “Just come on.”

Alex sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Michael into his lap. They keep kissing, rough and eager, pulling back occasionally to catch their breath. Alex works Michael’s shirt out of his pants, sliding his hands underneath and urging him out of it.

“I want to get you hard,” Michael pants while Alex thumbs at his nipples.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees breathlessly. Michael gets up and strips out of his pants while Alex works on getting his own clothes off. He won’t need much help getting hard, cock twitching as soon Michael gets down on his knees.

Michael strokes Alex’s thighs, pushing his legs apart and settling between them. Michael takes him in his mouth, sucking gently, hands still rubbing his thighs, just brushing against his balls. Alex braces himself with one hand, dropping the other on Michael’s head. He finds himself playing with Michael’s hair again, combing his fingers through it and wrapping the curls around his fingers.

When he’s had enough of Michael’s teasing, he gives his hair a sharp tug, and Michael releases him with a drawn out moan. “You like that,” Alex teases.

“Not hard to figure out,” Michael counters. Michael takes the lube and a condom from the drawer while Alex settles against the headboard. He pulls at Michael until he’s straddling his lap, grabbing the lube before Michel can open it.

“Let me,” he tells Michael, coating his fingers with the lube. Michael starts to move away, but Alex shakes his head. “Want to ride me?”

“Hell, yeah,” Michael rises up on his knees and leans forward, bracing himself on Alex’s chest.

It’s not the best angle, but Alex doesn’t mind. He likes that he can still kiss Michael like this. Alex reaches behind him and circles his hole with his finger. He waits for Michael to push back against him before he presses inside. Michael opens beautifully, meeting every thrust of his fingers, it doesn’t take long before he adds a second then a third finger.

Michael’s movements become more frantic and his cock drags along Alex’s, causing both of them to shudder. Michael pulls away from Alex’s mouth, “Come on, you said you’d fuck me.”

Alex nods, pulling his fingers free. He barely gets the condom on before Michael is sinking onto his cock. As soon as he settles, Alex holds his hips steady and thrusts up as far as he can.

“Yeah,” Michael moans, throwing his head back. “Just like that.”

Michael’s tight and warm around him, and Alex wants it to last forever, but he’s already close. He tries to slow things down, but Michael pinches his nipple and whines, “Come on, harder,” when Alex relaxes the pace.

Alex gives in, fucking Michael as hard as he can from this angle. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open and watch as Michael starts to stroke his own cock. He tightens around Alex, and Alex holds on as long as he can, but finds his own release as soon as Michael’s come hits his chest.

“Thanks,” Michael says breathlessly as he slides off Alex, both of them wincing slightly at the separation.

“Any time,” Alex laughs, meaning it more than he should.

Michael stands up, “I’m just gonna,” he gestures toward the bathroom.

Alex waits until he leaves and takes care of the condom. After a few minutes, he makes his own way to the bathroom, passing Michael in the hallway. “Hey,” he stops Michael with a hand on his arm. “You can stay if you want.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, just nods and keeps walking, but he’s in the bed when Alex comes back to the bedroom. He’s on his phone, but he sets it aside when he notices Alex. “Just letting Max know I won’t be back tonight.”

“It’s not a problem is it?” Alex isn’t sure why he’s asking. He knows Michael isn’t involved with Max, but he feels like he should check.

“Nah, he doesn’t care, just likes to know I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth,” Michael says easily.

“Ok,” Alex sits on the bed and taps his prosthetic, “I’m going to take this off now.” He doesn’t ask, it’s not like leaving it on is an option, but he wants Michael to know what he’s doing. Michael watches, eyes curious but not judgemental, as Alex removes it and takes care of the liner.

Alex turns out the light and gets into bed. It’s awkward, and he remembers why he never spent the night with Forrest. Then Michael sighs dramatically and moves closer, still not quite touching, but closing the distance between them. Alex rolls onto his side, throwing his arm around Michael’s waist, and slowly relaxes until he falls asleep.

When Alex wakes up he’s alone, he’s not surprised, but he is disappointed. He waits a few minutes for the feeling to fade before he gets out of bed. Alex grabs his crutches, shorts and Tshirt and heads to the bathroom. He takes a quick shower, letting the hot water wake him the rest of the way up. Once he’s dressed, he heads to the living room to start on the files again, but detours to the kitchen when he smells coffee.

Michael’s standing at the stove, jeans on but barefoot and shirtless. “Hey,” Michael turns and smiles when he hears Alex come in. “I was just about to wake you. Omelettes will be ready in a minute. Coffee’s done, but I didn’t know how you liked it.”

“Hot,” Alex jokes as he fixes his coffee. He sets it on the table, and gets some forks and napkins before sitting down. Michael already has plates waiting, and he fills them, setting them on the table before getting his own coffee and joining Alex.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Michael points to the omelettes. “I couldn’t fall back to sleep and thought I’d make myself useful.”

“You didn’t have to,” Alex reassures him, “but I appreciate it. I’m not much of a cook.”

“I noticed you didn’t have much stocked, but I thought maybe you were just settling in?”

“Not sure how long I’ll be here,” Alex admits with a shrug. “I’m only here for a job, and the faster it’s done the better, but it might be more complicated than I hoped.”

“What do you do?” Michael asks. “I assume you’re out the service.”

“Yeah, I took a medical discharge after this,” Alex taps his prosthetic. “I’ve been in cyber security ever since. I have a local client who’s experiencing some pretty serious breaches so I need to figure out what’s going on,” Alex lies easily, following the cover story Deep Sky gave him. “What about you? How long are you staying in Roswell?”

“I’m here for the summer,” Michael tells him. “I teach science at a high school outside Albuquerque. Since I was coming for the reunion, I decided to stay awhile.”

“You do that every summer?”

“No,” Michael laughs. “This will be the first time I’ve been back for more than a weekend.”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been back at all,” Alex admits. “But I’m based out of Albuquerque so maybe we would have crossed paths eventually.”

“Maybe.” Before he can say anything else, Michael’s phone alerts. His eyes go wide when he reads what’s on the screen. “I’ve got to go. Shit, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to leave.”

He stands up and immediately heads to the door. “Wait,” Alex yells to stop him. “Michael, you need to get dressed.”

“Jesus, sorry,” Michael apologizes again.

Alex follows him to the living room, where he throws on the clothes he’d left folded neatly on the back of the couch. “Keys,” Alex reminds him.

Michael pats his jean’s pocket and pulls them out. “Sorry about leaving you with a mess, but I can’t stay.”

“It’s alright, just be safe,” Alex tells him. Michael leans forward, and for a moment Alex thinks he’s going to kiss him, but then he turns and leaves. Alex stands in the doorway while he drives away, wondering just what has Michael panicking, and if it’s something he needs to know about.

Michael calls Max as soon as he gets on the road. “What do you mean Isobel’s missing?” he demands.

“Noah called this morning looking for her. I guess she never came home last night. I covered the best I could, but I don’t know where she is,” Max sounds as stressed as Michael feels.

“We have to find her.” Michael didn’t tell Max where he spent the night, and he’d rather not get into it, but he can’t exactly hide that he’s not in town. “I’ll head out to the caves and check the pods. I’m not that far from there. You check around town.”

Isobel isn’t in the caves or anywhere Michael can see her. He’s not sure where to go next when Max calls him. “I found her,” he tells Michael.

“Where? Is she ok?” Michael demands.

“She’s fine, just confused. I found her in a clearing past the junkyard you worked at in high school.”

“What was she doing there?” Michael can’t think of any reason for Isobel to be there.

“No idea. I’m taking her back to my house if you want to meet us.”

Max meets Michael on the porch, dressed in his Sheriff’s uniform. “I have to get to work. Can you stay with her?” he asks.

“Of course,” Michael agrees. “How is she?”

“Upset. She doesn’t remember anything about last night. She was just sitting in the grass in the same clothes she wore yesterday. I made her take a shower, and she’s sleeping now. I just don't want to leave her alone.”

“I got her,” Michael reassures him. “I’ll call if we need anything.”

“Thanks,” Max hugs him gratefully before leaving.

Michael enters the house quietly. Isobel is asleep on the couch, she’s frowning even in her sleep, and Michael just wants to fix everything for her. He settles for adjusting her blanket and settling in the armchair across from the couch. He plays on his phone for a bit, opens an email from his principal about curriculum updates, but he can’t concentrate - too busy looking at Isobel every few minutes to see if she’s awake. Michael ends up flipping through the books on Max’s coffee table, desperate for a distraction.

“I didn’t think ‘War and Peace’ was your thing,” Isobel says, startling Michael.

“It’s not,” Michael makes a face and sets the book down. “You’re awake,” he adds as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Unfortunately,” Isobel sits up, pushing off the blanket and rubbing her face with her hands. “Michael, what’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, joining her on the couch and wrapping his arm around her. “But we’ll figure it out, and it will be ok.”

“Will it?” Isobel asks, sadly. “Because last time this happened, I killed three people. I can’t let that happen again.”

“It won’t,” Michael says, horrified at her distress. “Max and I won’t let that happen again. I promise.”

“How? Are you going to follow me around every minute of the day?”

“We will if we have to,” Michael promises.

“You don’t even know where I was last night. I don’t know where I was. I could already have killed someone, and how would I even know?” Isobel asks, her eyes filled with tears.

“Iz, I don’t know, but will figure it out,” Michael hates feeling helpless, but all he can do is hold her while she cries.

Once Isobel finishes crying, Michael makes her a cup of tea. They sit in silence for a while - Michael unwilling to offer more empty promises and reassurances. They don’t know what’s happening to her, and they don’t know how to fix it. Eventually Isobel sets her cup down, and looks at Michael, determination on her face, “Alright, talk to me about something else. Anything else.”

“I hooked up with Alex Manes,” he tells her without meaning to.

“Ohh, your high school crush, nice,” Isobel high fives him.

“I think it was a mistake,” Michael shakes his head.

“Why? Is he bad in bed?” Isobel asks, making a face.

“No, that is definitely not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“I think I like him,” Michael admits. “And it can’t mean anything, but I think I want it to.”

“Then let it,” Isobel tells him, taking his hand. “You don’t have to be alone.”

“I can’t do it, Iz. I don’t know how you stand it - loving someone and lying to them all the time.” Both Michael and Max thought marrying Noah was a mistake. But he made Isobel happy, and that’s all they ever wanted for her. Michael knew he wasn’t meant for that kind of happiness.

“I’m not lying to him. I’m not!” Isobel insists when Michael makes a face at her. “He’s never actually asked me if I was an alien. I know I’m keeping something from him, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about him.”

“You don’t think he’s going to figure it out?” Michael asks, not convinced she can hide this forever.

“I don’t use my powers like you do,” she reminds him. “He’ll never know.”

“What about kids? It would be hard to hide a baby with powers,” Michael reminds her.

“I told Noah I couldn’t have children. Don’t,” she stops Michael before he can protest. “We don’t know if I can, if we can have babies with humans, and I don’t want to be an experiment. We were just starting to talk about adoption when this happened,” Isobel gestures to her head.

“It seems like a big risk to me,” Michael tells her.

“He’s worth it,” Isobel shrugs and smiles. “But enough about me. When are you going to see Alex again?”

“I don’t know that I am. I shouldn’t,” Michael admits.

“Yes, you should. Look, it doesn’t have to be serious. You’re only here for the summer so have a fling. Enjoy yourself. Alex is hot, you said he’s good in bed so spend a few months getting laid.”

“Ok, that is officially too much talking about my sex life. I’m going to make you some lunch,” Michael stands up and puts an end to the conversation.

Isobel leaves a few hours later, insisting she needs to be home before Noah gets back from work. Michael doesn’t want to let her go, but they can’t keep her prisoner. Max calls after work and tells Michael he’s going to hang around Isobel’s for a while to make sure she doesn’t wander off. At loose ends and with Isobel’s voice still in his head, he decides to reach out to Alex.

“Sorry for running out on you this morning. Buy you a drink to make it up to you?” he texts.

It’s almost ten minutes before Alex replies, “Love to but not up to the drive tonight. Rain check?”

Michael’s disappointed, but he understands. Alex’s cabin isn’t that close to town, and it’s a bit of a drive just for a drink with a guy you slept with a few times. He could still hit up the Wild Pony or Saturn’s Rings, but he’s not in the mood to be surrounded by strangers. And Michael doesn’t want to spend the night sitting around Max’s house, worrying about Isobel. So he sends another text, “Have you had dinner yet?”

This time Alex answers right away, “No.”

Michael smiles, “Go to Crashdown order.”

His phone alerts right away with another text.

Alex is happy to hear from Michael, but sighs when he reads the offer for a drink. After Michael left, he’d spent the day researching, not bothering to put his prosthetic on. As much as he wants to see Michael, the thought of putting on now and driving into Roswell is not appealing. He debates with himself for a while, but eventually declines the offer - hoping Michael will read his interest in a rain check as genuine.

Michael’s offer of dinner is even more of a surprise, and one Alex eagerly accepts. He straightens up while waiting for Michael - making sure everything related to Deep Sky is securely locked up. He’s just finished wiping down the counter, when Michael knocks.

“Come in,” he yells. He takes the bag from Michael when he enters the kitchen, kissing him softly. “Thanks for this.”

“We should probably eat soon,” Michael tells him. “I put the milkshakes in a cooler, and the food is still warm, but it won’t stay that way for mich longer.”

“Is that your way of letting me know you won’t put out before dinner?” Alex teases. “I’m kidding,” Alex holds up his hands and laughs at the expression on Michael’s face.

“You can’t reheat fries, Alex. It would be a crime to let these get cold,” Michael says, barely keeping a straight face.

“You have a point,” Alex concedes “Come on.”

It doesn’t take long to get everything set up so they can eat. Alex moans after taking his first few bites, “Nobody makes enchiladas like Arturo.”

“I’ve always stuck with the classic,” Michael tells him, indicating his plate with a bacon jalapeno burger and what must be a double order of fries.

“Here,” Alex cuts off a chunk of enchiladas and slides it onto Michael’s plate. “I’ll trade you for some fries.”

“Help yourself,” Michael turns the side of his plate with the fires toward Alex. “You’re right,” he says after trying the enchiladas. “These are amazing.”

“Told you,” Alex says smugly.

They both go back to eating, not saying much until they are cleaning up. “Oh, I almost forgot. Arturo said to tell you hello, and you’d better come by in person before leaving.”

“You told him you were coming here?” Alex asks, surprised because he knows Michael didn’t tell Max where he was staying last night.

“No, he figured it out. Told me he took the Banana Foster’s Ranch milkshake off the menu years ago because you were the only one who ever ordered it. Said you were lucky he had the ingredients for other menu items and could still make it for you,” Michael tells him with a smile.

Alex freezes. “And it’s ok that he knows?” Alex isn’t sure what it was about him that had people questioning his sexuality long before he got his first piercing or even thought about wearing eyeliner to school, but it’s not like that for everyone. He wouldn’t want to be responsible for accidentally outing Michael.

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” Michael asks, clearly confused.

“If he knows you're with me, he’ll assume,” Alex gestures between them. “I don’t know if you're out or if it could be a problem with your job.”

“Oh, not it’s fine.” Michael waits while Alex puts the last dish away then walks into the living room. He sits down on the couch and motions for Alex to join him. “It’s sweet that you’re concerned, but Roswell’s not my home anymore. Max and Isobel already know, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks. As far as my job, I work in a fairly liberal district. I’ve never made any big announcement, but I don’t hide the fact that I’m bisexual.”

“I’m glad,” Alex says relieved. Deciding a change of subject is in order, he asks Michael about his career. “So teaching? As smart you are, I thought you’d end up like Liz Ortecho - multiple doctorates in some fields no one else ever heard of.”

“That was the plan,” Michael admits with a laugh.

“What happened?”

“I was on track with my engineering degree, and I started doing some tutoring on the side. Fell in love with it and realized I liked teaching science more than I liked being a scientist.”

“And you don’t regret it?” Alex asks.

Michael shakes his head, “Best decision I ever made. What about you? I know your family is all about the military, but I was pretty surprised when you enlisted.”

“So was I,” Alex admits with a laugh. “That was never the plan. I was going to be the one to break tradition, to get out.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I never had a real plan. I wanted to make music, but I was realistic enough to know that was a long shot. Things got real intense with my dad senior year. I felt like I couldn’t win with him. As much as I wanted to get away from him, I also wanted to prove him wrong. I thought that if I joined the Air Force and did better than him, he would have to admit he was wrong about me, that I wasn’t weak or useless. Stupid,” Alex shakes his head.

“I don’t think it was stupid,” Michael puts his hand on Alex’s knee. “Families can fuck you up as much as not having one does. You did the best you could.”

“Maybe,” Alex places his hand over Michaels, interlocking their fingers.

“Did it help?” Michael asks, “with your dad?”

“Fuck, no,” Alex laughs harshly. “We haven’t spoken since I was hurt, and he reminded me of what a disappointment I am. I think he would have preferred I was killed so he could have pretended I was a hero.”

Michael studies him for a moment, and Alex regrets being so honest. But then Michael stands up with letting go of Alex’s hand. “I for one am very glad you are still alive.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, not really a question, as he stands up as well.

“Yeah,” Michael repeats. “And since dinner is over, you should let me show you just how happy.”

Even though it’s Alex’s house, Michael is the one to lead the way to the bedroom. Alex is more than happy to follow.

Michael stays the night and the next, on the third day he brings over his duffel bag from Max’s. They don’t talk about it. The closest they come is a brief discussion of past relationships.

“Nothing to report,” Michael says cheerfully. “No one’s ever stuck around for more than a night or two. Until now, I guess.”

Alex isn’t surprised, but he pretends to be. “Seriously? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned you’ve become desperate.”

“Good question. I’ll let you know when I decide. What about you Manes?”

Alex stiffens without meaning to. No one’s called him that since he left the Air Force, and he hoped he would never hear it again. He shakes his head, “Alex please.”

“Sorry,” Michael doesn’t push for more of an explanation. “So Alex, have you left a string of broken hearts in your wake?”

“Hardly,” Alex laughs. “You know what it was like here. I never said I was gay, but everyone seemed to know. But it was not like there was anything I could do about it.” Michael starts to protest, but Alex cuts him off. “I didn’t know you were an option. When I joined the Air Force, I just wanted to fit it so I put anything personal aside. I did date someone at work for a while last year.”

“Was it serious,” Michael asks.

“Not really, but I wanted it to be,” Alex admits. “I met Forrest at a work function, and he was ex military like me, but he’s very comfortable in his sexuality, in who he is. I envied that and also found it very attractive. He hit on me right away, and I was so flattered, it was easy to go along. It felt good, going on dates with a cute guy who liked me, I’d never had that before.” Alex smiles at the memories.

“What happened?”

Michael rubs his leg. It’s a gesture of comfort Alex doesn’t need, but he likes it when Michael touches him so he leans into it. “I think I liked the idea of Forrest more than I liked Forrest. It fizzled out when we realized we wanted different things. Forrest likes to push, to challenge people, to force a different world than the one we grew up in. I admire that about him. But I didn’t want to make a statement. The more comfortable I got with my sexuality, the more I realized I wanted the things that always seemed out of reach - marriage, a family.”

“I want that too, the whole picket fence. A dad band,” Michael confesses.

“A dad band?” Alex laughs.

“It didn’t steal your guitar just to get your attention. Music has always been the best way to quiet my head,” Michael tells him.

“We should play together sometime.” Alex can picture it, making music with Michael. He can picture a lot with Michael he’s not ready to admit to. He leans back and pulls Michael on top of him. “But not tonight.”

“No,” Michael agrees before he kisses Alex. “Not tonight.”

“Tell me what you like about teaching,” Alex asks Michael one night after dinner. Michael had shown up with groceries and made lasagna. They’d fucked on the couch while it cooked. It was perfect and natural like everything with Michael is.

Alex has spent his whole life alone, but Michael fits with him in ways he never imagined. They aren’t together all the time - Michael leaves during the day so Alex can work in peace. He spends time with Max and Isobel or visits some of the communities outside Roswell, but he comes back every night. Michael accepts his disability in a way Alex hadn’t expected. He doesn’t ignore, just treats it like every other part of their lives. He hands Alex his crutches as easily as he hands him a cup of coffee. Michael took one look at Alex’s shower chair, shook his head, and reinforced it so it could hold both their weight when they showered together. Michael is brilliant and funny and kind, and even though he knows it’s destined to end in disaster, Alex is falling in love.

“How long do you have?” Michael jokes.

“All night,” Alex is completely serious. He’ll listen to Michael talk all night if that’s what he wants.

“Science is one of those love it or hate subjects you know. Or that’s how people talk about it so kids are convinced they are good at it or have no hope of passing. The kids who come in excited are a blast. They are ready for every experiment and new theory. But I really love showing the kids who come in afraid or already defeated how accessible science can be. You just have to find a way in that works for them, and when they start to get it or at least stop fighting it, it’s the best feeling in the world.”

“I wish I had more teachers like you,” Alex says, smiling at Michael’s enthusiasm. “What do you normally teach?”

“I’ve taught a little bit of everything. I like chemistry better than biology.”

“You just like blowing things up,” Alex interrupts.

“Who doesn’t like blowing things up?” Michael agrees. “This past year I had freshman for Earth science which is pretty cool and intro to biology. Then I had seniors for advanced chemistry and physics. Weird mix, but it was a fun year.��

Michael tells him more about his classes, and Alex listens, falling even more in love.

Almost a week into staying with Alex, Michael runs out again after getting a text. They are in bed, trading stories about celebrity crushes when Michael’s phone goes off with a rapid series of texts.

His face drains of color as he reads them. “Fuck, I have to go,” he says as he scrambles out of bed and throws on some clothes.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Alex offers.

“No, Michael says sharply. “Sorry,” he apologies, running his hands through his hair. “It’s just something I need to take care of.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Alex tells him gently. He wants to push for answers, but he knows this isn’t the time.

“Thanks,” Michael hesitates before leaning in and kissing Alex goodbye. “Don’t wait up.”

Alex tries to settle and go to sleep, but he can’t stop thinking. He doesn’t know what is going on with Michael, but he has a bad feeling it could be related to his assignment. He knows Michael isn’t responsible for the murders, and he doesn’t believe he would cover them up, but if he’s in contact with the killer, he could be in danger without knowing it.

Realizing he’s not getting anywhere running through worst case scenarios in his head, Alex gets up and decides to go back over the files. There has to be something he’s missing, some connection between the victims that can lead him to the killer. Until the murders began, Deep Sky had no idea there were any aliens in Roswell besides Michael, Max and Isobel, and they have all been eliminated as suspects.

Studying the files doesn’t yield any new information nor does reviewing the records he hacked from the Sheriff’s Department. The killer chose his victims well - no friends or family to push the investigation forward or demand justice. The official reports contain little information beyond the victim’s name and where and when the body was found.

None of the sites where the bodies were recovered have nearby security cameras Alex can access so that’s another dead end. He can’t go around town asking questions without raising suspicion or alerting Jesse to his investigation. Deep Sky believes Jesse is aware of the murders, but has made no more progress than they have in identifying the killer. Alex needs to keep it that way.

The sun is just starting to come up when he hears Michael’s truck approaching the cabin. He quickly logs out of all his files and shuts down the computer. He’s laying on the couch by the time Michael comes in, a random cooking show playing on the television.

“Hey,” Michael frowns when he spots Alex. “I told you not to wait up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Alex shrugs. “Thought I’d get some pointers,” he gestures to the television.

Michael snorts. But he sits down when Alex lifts his legs, resting his hand on Alex’s ankle once they settle. “Sorry to keep you up.”

“Michael, are you alright?” Alex asks.

Michael doesn’t answer, just sighs and tilts his head back, resting it on the couch. Alex shifts until he’s sitting up, giving himself a better view of Michael. “Please,” he prompts. He wants to help Michael if he can, but he also needs to know there is something going on that he should get involved in.

“Our senior year, Isobel, Isobel Evans,” he clarifies, “starting having migraines bad enough she would black out. Freaked the hell out of Max, but they stopped just before graduation. Now they’ve started up again and she’s gone missing a few times.”

“That must be scary,” Alex places his hand over Michael’s. There’s something in the timing that he can’t quite place, but he knows is important, but he puts that aside for the moment. It’s more important to be there for Michael.

“The last few times, Max has found her out in a field. She doesn’t remember leaving her house or how she got there. I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself,” Michael admits.

“I’m sorry. What do her doctors say?” Alex hates asking a question he knows the answer to, but it would be more suspicious if he didn’t ask.

“They, umm,” Michael stumbles over his response. “They haven’t been able to figure out what’s causing them.”

“Is that why you decided to stay for the summer?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot for Max to handle on his own.”

“What about Isobel’s husband?” Alex doesn’t know much about him, but he knows Isobel is married.

Michael shakes his head. “Isobel doesn’t want him to know. We’ve been covering for her, but I keep telling her, he’s going to find out.”

That probably means Isobel’s husband doesn’t know she’s an alien. If he knew about the migraines, he might insist she see a doctor, something Alex is sure she wants to avoid. “Well, she’s lucky to have you,” he says instead of asking more questions.

“Not many people know this, but Max and Isobel are my family.” Michael leans into Alex, pressing closer when Alex wraps his arm around him. “We were found together before they were adopted. I’d do anything for them.”

Alex kisses the top of his head and takes a deep breath. There isn’t much he wouldn’t do for Michael, but this isn’t the time to tell him that. “Let’s go back to bed,” he says instead. “You’ve had a long night. Let me take care of you.”

Michael calls Alex the next day, a surprise because while they text occasionally, they never call each other. Alex suppresses his instinct to ask Michael if anything is wrong, “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks instead.

“Isobel wants us to come to dinner tonight,” Michael tells him.

“Do you want to go?” Alex is happy to defer to Michael’s preference.

Michael hesitates. “I’d like you to get to know Isobel, and Max,” he finally says.

“I’d like that too,” Alex says, a little surprised at how much he means it. “Just so you know, this meeting the family thing is a one way street. I have no intention of talking to mine again.”

“Your father always seemed pretty intense so I’m happy to avoid that situation,” Michael laughs.

“You have no idea,” Alex tells him. He plans to keep it that way.

“I’ll be home, back,” Michael corrects himself, “in about an hour. We can leave around six.”

Alex smiles at Michael’s slip, but doesn’t call him out on it. He’s starting to think of this as Michael’s home too, but he needs to finish his investigation and let Michael in on what he knows before they can really move forward. “See you then.”

“So what do I need to know?” Alex asks on the way over.

“Max is super over protective, more of Isobel than me, but he might be a little standoffish. Isobel loves to tease me. She’ll probably make at least one bad joke about my sex life.”

“So she’s the one to get the embarrassing stories from,” Alex laughs.

“Absolutely not,” Michael objects. “I know what I told you yesterday, but we really don’t talk about being family in front of other people. We just say we are friends.”

“Ok,” Alex takes the hand Michael isn’t using to steer and squeezes it. That’s something he’ll want to know more about another time. “What about Isobel’s husband? What’s he like?”

“Noah?” Michael shrugs. “He’s nice. He’s a lawyer. He moved to Roswell after I left so I don’t know him real well. But he adores Isobel and that’s all that matters.”

Isobel’s house is exactly what Alex expected from an event planner married to a lawyer - showy and way too big for two people. But she greets Alex warmly and leads them to the back patio for dinner which is a much more relaxed environment than the formal dining room they passed on the way out.

Noah Bracken’s manning the grill but he steps aside to introduce himself to Alex then hugs Michael which is more familiar than Alex would have anticipated based on how Michael talked about him.

“Where’s Max?” Michael asks when Isobel is getting their drinks.

“Oh, he had to cancel.” Isobel and Noah share a look before she continues. “They found a body in the Wild Pony’s parking lot.”

“Jesus,” Michael swears under his breath. “Was it anyone you know?”

“No, Max said it was a vagrant. Someone he’s picked up for loitering a few times. Probably an overdose,” Isobel adds.

Alex tries to keep his face neutral, to seem curious,but not too interested. “Was anyone else hurt?”

This time it’s Noah who answers. “Thankfully, no. It looks like the body might have been dumped there overnight when no one was around. I’m just hoping it doesn’t scare anyone off from Ranchero night. The next one is later this week.”

“Maria’s still doing those?” Alex asks. He hasn’t thought about Ranchero night in years, but he remembers how proud Mimi had been when she was able to offer free meals and a night of laughter and music to anyone who needed it.

“Yes, she’s even expanded in recent years - adding medical services and legal advice. She gets a great turnout,” Noah tells him.

“Don’t let my husband be too modest,” Isobel turns and beams at Noah. “He started offering the legal advice and wrote up the contract for the medical services.”

“Isobel exaggerates. My whole firm is involved in helping the community. But enough about me. Isobel, why don’t you tell them about the hospital fundraiser you’re planning.”

Alex can’t help but notice how quickly Noah shies away from attention. He does it all through dinner, deftly redirecting the conversation any time it starts to focus on him. Like Michael said, he’s nice, pleasant even, but in the most generic and forgettable way.

“So Alex,” Isobel turns to him once dinner is over and they are enjoying a glass of wine, “what are your intentions toward Michael?”

“Isobel, please,” Michael groans.

“No intentions,” Alex tells her with a smile. “I’m just enjoying getting to know him.”

“Well, Michael’s always been a bit of a playboy, but he’s getting too old to play the field.”

“Iz, stop, seriously,” Michael pleads.

“What?” Isobel bats her eyelashes innocently. “I’m not scaring you off, am I, Alex?”

“Not at all,” Alex shakes his head and laughs. “Please continue.”

“I hate you,” Michael mutters, kicking Alex under the table.

“Michael’s like a burnt marshmallow. I’m serious!” Isobel protests when Alex bursts out laughing and Michael hides his face in his hands. “He’s all rough on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside.”

“Ok enough wine for you,” Noah moves to take her glass away, but she holds it tightly.

“He’s so good with kids. You should see him with his students,” Isobel tells Alex earnestly. “They all adore him, even the grumpy, too cool to smile ones. Michael’s meant to have a family.”

“We’re going to go now,” Michael stands up and tugs on Alex’s hand until he gets up as well. “Before you really do scare Alex away. Noah, thanks for dinner, steaks were delicious.”

“Nice meeting you,” Alex shakes Noah’s hand as Michael tries to pull him away. “Isobel, call me anytime you want to talk about Michael.”

“Not happening,” Michael shakes his head.

“Love you, too,” Isobel shouts as they are leaving.

“Dinner was nice,” Alex says when they are on the way back.

Michael snorts, “Easy for you to say. I am never letting you and Isobel talk again.”

“Just try and stop us,” Alex kisses Michael on the cheek. “It’s nice that she cares so much.” Isobel talking about Michael having a family only confirmed what Alex already knew. Michael wanted a future with someone - a dad band, he remembers Michael telling him. More and more, Alex found himself hoping he could be that someone.

Michael grumbles, but doesn’t really say anything. Alex is content with the silence. It gives him time to think. While it’s not confirmed, he’s sure the body they found will turn out to be another alien murder, making his investigation both more complicated and more urgent. He needs to look into Ranchero night since there is a high likelihood the victims would have attended.

He is still mulling it over when they get back to the cabin, but there is nothing he can do until morning. Once they’ve locked up for the night, Alex pulls Michael in for a kiss that quickly turns heated.

“I thought you didn’t have any intentions toward me,” Michael teases when Alex tugs at Michael’s belt.

“None that I wanted to share with your sister,” Alex retorts, turning and walking back to the bedroom, confident Michael will follow.

It doesn’t take long for Alex to get his answers. He calls Maria and confirms all the victims had attended Ranchero night at least once. The murders don’t line up with Ranchero night - that would have been a pattern too obvious to miss. But Alex can only assume they are using Ranchero night as a hunting ground. Of course there is no surveillance footage, but Maria is able to send him a list of volunteers.

“Fuck,” Alex swears when he reads through the text. His worst suspicions are confirmed. Alex opens another tab on his laptop and starts researching.

When Michael gets back to the cabin that evening, Alex is pacing the floor.

“We need to talk,” he says as soon as he sees Michael.

Michael’s stomach drops. He thought things were going good with Alex, doesn’t know what he did to screw that up. But it doesn’t really matter in the end. Maybe it’s better this way before he ends up like Isobel, trying to manage a relationship built in lies. “It’s alright,” he tells Alex, even though it’s the farthest thing from alright. “I’m just going to go.”

“No,” Alex looks confused, then understanding dawns. “That’s not what I meant. I just need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Michael moves away from the door, into the cabin.

“Sit, please,” Alex guides him to the couch. He doesn’t speak again until Michael is sitting, but he doesn’t join him, just resumes his pacing. “I’m going to ask you something and it’s very important that you tell me the truth even though you won’t want to.”

“Alex, I wasn’t lying when I told you I was clean,” Michael tries to joke, to break the tension, but it falls flat.

Alex starts to say something, but then snaps his mouth shut and does a circuit of the room. He comes back to stand in front of Michael, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“What’s going on?” Michael asks. He has no idea what could have Alex so uncertain. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“God, I don’t even know how to ask this,” Alex runs his hand through his hair. “Please don’t lie to me. Do you know that Noah is an alien?”

“Are you insane?” All Michael can do is laugh. Noah is the most human person he knows. “You’re seriously asking me if Noah, Isobel’s husband, is an alien. I think being in Roswell is messing with your head.”

“It’s not a joke. I need you to tell me if you knew.”

“Noah’s not an alien,” Michael’s starting to get frustrated. Alex is way off base, but he can’t let him continue on this path because it might lead him to the truth about Michael. “I would,” Michael starts, then cuts himself off. He can’t explain to Alex why he can be certain. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not interested.”

He starts to get up, but Alex’s next words pin him in place. “You would know, that’s what you were going to say. You would know because you’re an alien. You, Max and Isobel.”

“No.” It’s all Michael can say. He’s glad he didn’t get up because he’s not sure he could stand right now. He’s lightheaded and his hands are shaking. “No. You’re wrong. You can’t say that.”

“Michael.”

Alex crouches down in front of him. Michael wants to tell him to get up, remind that staying in that position will hurt with his prosthetic. But he can’t think about Alex now. Not when the whole fabric of his life is being ripped apart.

“Michael,” Alex says again, waiting until Michael focuses back on him before speaking. “I know about the three of you. I’ve known for years. I know it’s a shock, but you’re safe with me.”

“You’re wrong. You can’t just say things like that. I don’t know what’s going on with you, Alex but you need to stop.” Michael doesn’t know what to do. He wants to run, to get to Max and Isobel and warn them. But he can’t leave until he convinces Alex that he is wrong. He just doesn’t know how to do that.

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you. I wanted to ease into it, or hopefully wait until you were ready to tell me. But we’re out of time. I asked you not to lie to me. I’m being honest with you. I know you and Max and Isobel are aliens. I know you were found in the desert together exactly fifty years after the crash in Roswell. I’ve seen the pods you spent those fifty years inside. I know, Michael. You need to understand that.”

The bottom drops out of Michael’s world. No one can know, that was the truth he, Max, and Isobel lived by. Their secret had to be protected at all cost - from everyone, Max and Isobel’s parents, Isobel’s husband. But Alex knows, Michael can’t deny it. “How,” Michael almost sobs.

Alex stands, wincing slightly. “Can I sit?” he asks, gesturing to the couch. When Michael nods, he sit down, taking Michael’s hands in his. “I know this is a lot to take in. The short version is I don’t work in cyber security. I work for an organization called Deep Sky. They’ve been studying aliens for decades, years before the 1947 crash. I study alien artifacts - items that have been found or turned over to Deep Sky - trying to figure what they do, looking for patterns. A few months ago I was given a new assignment.”

Michael sucks in a sharp breath. “Is that what this is?” He pulls his hands away and points between the two of them. “Am I your assignment?”

“No,” Alex looks horrified at that thought. “Seeing you at the reunion, getting to know you, falling in love with you, none of that was planned. I haven’t told anyone at Deep Sky about our relationship. I wanted to keep you away from all this, but now I have no choice.”

“What are you doing here, Alex,” Michael asks, not sure he really wants the answer.

“Over the last few years there have been a series of murders in Roswell. The victims have been prostitutes, drug addicts and homeless people so none of them have been investigated thoroughly. Their bodies also had a glowing handprint on them.”

Michael reels back. What if this is why Isobel’s blackouts started? She asked Michael if she killed anyone, and he had been so sure the answer was no, but now? “Isobel,” he says without meaning to, immediately wishing he could take it back.

“No, it’s not Isobel,” Alex reassures him. “By the time I was given the investigation, you, Max and Isobel had already been cleared. That meant there was another alien in Roswell Deep Sky doesn’t know about. I was sent here to find out who it is so we can stop them.”

“You think Noah is the killer? Alex, I still think that’s crazy.”

“Noah volunteers at the Wild Pony’s Ranchero Night. That’s where he finds his victims. There is no record of Noah Bracken anywhere before he showed up in Roswell. He doesn’t exist. He works at a law firm, but has never tried a case or filed a brief. His whole life is a facade. The only reason he can maintain it is by using his powers to keep people from asking questions or even planting false memories. I am not sure of exactly what he can do or how he does it, but it’s the only theory that makes sense,” Alex lays out his case.

“Maybe he’s in witness protection,” Michael tries to come up with a logical explanation for Alex’s discoveries. “He couldn’t use powers on Isobel. She would know.”

“He doesn’t have to. I think Noah targeted Isobel, married her, because he knows she’s an alien. She won’t ask too many questions because she can’t answer them herself. He knew if she was worried about protecting her own secret, she wouldn’t notice what he was keeping from her.”

It makes a twisted kind of sense. Michael always wondered how Isobel kept her secret, wondered why Noah never asked more questions, especially recently when Isobel’s blackouts caused her to disappear. But if Alex is telling the truth - about Noah being an alien and the rest of it, Isobel has been living with a killer. “You’re sure?” Michael has to ask.

“I am,” Alex nods. “You really didn’t know?”

“No fucking clue,” Michael scrubs his face with his hands. He doesn’t even know where to start. “So you know about aliens. You work for an organization that knows about aliens. You figured out my sister’s husband is an alien before any of us did. And he’s a serial killer.”

“I know it’s a lot,” Alex starts.

“And you’re falling in love with me,” Michael adds because he hasn’t forgotten that detail. It might not be as big of revelation in the grand scheme of things, but it matters.

“And I love you,” Alex repeats solemnly.

Michael doesn’t know what he feels. Part of him wants to run, to go to Max’s and pretend this conversation never happened. He’s been avoiding thinking about his feelings for Alex for the same reason he’s never been in a relationship before - fear of being discovered. But Alex already knows what he is, and he’s looking at Michael the same way he did when they woke up this morning, the same way he did yesterday and the day before. “I,” Michael starts, unable to finish.

“Don’t,” Alex places his hand on Michael’s knee. “You need time to process all of this. Then you can decide how you feel. Just don’t shut me out.”

Michael shakes his head. “Do you need anything from me?”

“If you didn’t know about Noah,” Alex begins, pausing to look at Michael for confirmation.

“I didn’t.”

“Then no. He’ll be picked up discreetly in a few days, but until then there’s nothing to do. As long as he believes his identity is still a secret no one is in danger,” Alex explains.

It seems too easy. Just wait it out, and Noah will be gone. How are they going to explain it to Isobel? Michael pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s too much to think about right now. “Can we just set it aside for tonight? I can’t deal with all this right now.”

“Of course,” Alex agrees easily, squeezing Michael’s hand. “You should eat. Come on, I’ll heat something up for dinner.”

Dinner, that’s why Michael came home - to have dinner with Alex and maybe fuck before bed. Not to have his whole world turned upside down. They both pick at their food, and Michael goes back to the living room while Alex cleans up. He doesn’t turn on the television or even look at his phone, just sits there. Alex is gentle with him the rest of the evening, guiding him through their nighttime routine. It would piss Michael off if there wasn’t some part of him that needed it, needed to be led through the motions of life while he tried to figure out what to do.

Michael waits until they are in bed - a respectable distance apart instead of pressed together like normal - to broach the subject again. “What did you believe them?

“What” Alex asks, not expecting the question.

“Someone comes to recruit you out of the Air Force and tells you their company focus is aliens, why do you take the job? Why didn’t you laugh in their face and go get some easy government job? Why did you believe them?” Michael asks again because that’s another thing he can’t understand. How did Alex get involved in this in the first place.

“Because I already knew. Not about the three of you, but about aliens in general,” Alex tells him.

“How?”

“I told you my father was abusive, but he was also secretive and paranoid. Right before my mother left, I heard them fighting. She was yelling at him about spending all their money to fund his obsession. I didn’t know what she meant, and when I got older I thought maybe he had a mistress. But then I found my grandfather’s journal. He wrote about being at the 1947 crash and how he found his purpose in protecting humans from the invaders. He helped to capture any survivors and imprison them. My father always talked about the Manes legacy and protecting his father’s vision. I think that’s what he meant.”

“We weren’t the only survivors?” Michael always hoped there were more aliens like them, but he could never be sure.

“No, but I don’t know if anyone else is left. It was over seventy years ago. But once this investigation is over, I should have the clearance to access the classified files on my family and find out what my father is up to so I can stop him.”

And it hits Michael that of all the people to fall in love with, he picked the guy who’s father and grandfather might have killed whatever family he had. It’s so absurd he has to laugh. “Your grandfather must be rolling over in his grave.”

“Probably.” Alex laughs with him.

Michael lets it go at that. He turns off the light and tries to sleep. When Alex reaches out for him, he doesn’t tune away.

When Michael wakes up, Alex is watching him.

“How are you doing?” Alex asks him.

“Better,” Michael spent most of the night thinking. His first priority has to be making sure Isobel is safe. Once Noah is no longer a threat, he’ll have to tell Max and Isobel the truth about Alex. “I don’t know how to act around you,” he admits.

“Nothing has to change,” Alex tells him with a frown. “But you don’t have to lie about anything. You can use your powers if you want to or talk to me about what it was like when you figured out you were an alien. But that’s not why I am with you so if you don’t want to talk about it again, we don’t have to.”

“It’s that easy, huh.”

“It can be. Maybe not easy,” Alex admits. “I know it will take time for you to trust me, to believe your secret is safe with me, but we can get there.”

“It's not just my secret.” It’s one thing to trust Alex with his own safety, but Max and Isobel should have a choice too.

“I know, and once this is over, we can talk to them together. This can be a good thing, not being alone.”

“Maybe,” Michael shrugs. He can’t think that far ahead. “I should get up.”

“I think you should stay here today.”

“Can’t,” Michael sits up and stretches. “Max is off today, and I’m supposed to help him with some stuff at the house. He’ll be suspicious if I cancel.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why,” Michael frowns at Alex. “I thought you said it was safe.”

“And it is,” Alex insists, “as long as Noah doesn’t suspect anything. Can you really spend the whole day with Max and not tell him? And what if you run into Noah? Could you act normally around him? He might know with you saying anything, we don’t know how powerful he is.”

Michael’s frown deepens. Alex isn't wrong to be concerned. There are a lot of things that could go wrong, but he can’t spend the day cooped up in the cabin. “I won’t run into Noah. And Max and I don’t really talk that much about our feelings. It’s just for a day. I’ll be fine.”

“Michael,” Alex puts a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “It’s not a chance you should take. My father knows about the murders, but not who did it. If he somehow gets tipped off and gets to Noah first, he could find out about all of you.”

“I haven’t seen your father once since I’ve been in Roswell.” My shrugs off Alex’s hand. “Are you forcing me to stay here?”

“Of course not,” Alex doesn’t hesitate.

“Then I’m going. I’ll be careful, I promise.” He stands up before Alex can say anything else. “I’ll see you later.” Michael kisses Alex on the check and hurries to the bathroom.

Michael wasn’t lying about spending the day with Max, but he didn’t tell Alex that he was meeting Isobel for breakfast first. He won’t tell her the truth, but he can’t do nothing. He has to protect her.

“You should have brought Alex,” Isobel pretends to pout when Michael sits down alone. “I have so many great stories to tell him.”

“I think you should stay with Max for a few days,” Michael says instead of responding to her.

“Why would I do that?” Isobel makes a face at him.

“I think he’s lonely. I was supposed to spend the summer with him and I’m spending most of my time with Alex.” It’s not a great excuse, but Michael hopes she’ll buy it.

“Please, Max has lived alone for years. He doesn’t care that you’re shacking up with your hot boyfriend,” Isobel rolls her eyes. “I’m not leaving my lovely house when he doesn’t even have decent internet out there.”

“Ok, look, I”m not supposed to know about this, but Alex is investigating Noah’s law firm. Insider trading or something like that,” Michael figures it’s closer to the truth.

“I knew the managing partners were shifty,” Isobel exclaims. “But what does that have to do with me staying with Max. Noah’s not involved in any of that.”

Michael hates how confident she sounds in Noah’s innocence. The truth about him is going to devastate her. “I know, but something’s going down in the next few days, and I think it would be better if you weren’t caught up in all of it.”

Isobel’s gaze softens. “I know you worried about me, and it’s sweet. But I’m not that fragile.”

“Iz, please,” Michael pleads.

“I’ll think about it,” Isobel compromises.

Michael knows he can’t push harder without making her suspicious so that has to be enough. “And you can’t tell Noah. If he finds out ahead of time, it will look like he was in on it.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Isobel replies, a hint of bitterness twisting her expression. “If there is one thing I am good at, it’s keeping secrets from my husband.”

Their food comes before Michael can think of a response. He lets Isobel change the subject as they start to eat.

His day with Max goes as expected. He teases Michael a little about Alex based on Isobel’s recounting of their dinner, but he doesn’t press for details. The long list of chores Max has been putting off keeps them busy enough that Michael can avoid blurting out that Alex knows their biggest secret. Still he’s relieved when they wrap up for the day. Michael showers at Max’s and changes into the last set of clothes he has left there.

Michael decides he’s going to tell Alex if they don’t deal with Noah tomorrow, he’s telling Isobel and Max the truth. He can’t take another day of lying. When he approaches the cabin, he sees Isobel’s car in the driveway. He can’t think of any reason Isobel would have gone to see Alex without telling him unless she wanted to confront him about Noah.

“Shit,” Michael mutters as he gets out of the truck. He promised Alex he wouldn’t say anything, and while he technically kept that promise, he knows Alex will be pissed. Michael just hopes Isobel didn’t tip Noah off.

He’s mentally practicing his explanation and apology when he sees the driver’s door of Isobel’s car is open and the engine is still running. Michael’s concern quickly changes to fear and sprints up the porch stairs.

“Alex! Isobel!” he yells as he throws open the door.

No one responds, but he sees Alex backed up against the wall, hands out in front of him.

Isobel advances on him, “You should have stayed out of this. What I do doesn’t concern you or your kind.”

“Isobel!” Michael shouts again. Isobel ignores him, but Alex catches his eye and shakes his head. Then he nods toward the door.

Michael shakes his head back at Alex. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but there is no way he’s leaving. Even if he called for help, it would take too long for anyone to respond. He’d never hurt Isobel, but he has to find a way to protect Alex.

“You aren’t the Manes I imagined killing,” Isobel taunts Alex. “But you won’t be the last, so I might as well start with you.”

Michael moves closer and sees Isobel’s expression is completely blank. The voice is hers, but it doesn’t sound right either - flat and mechanical. He remembers what Isobel told them after they found her with Rosa’s body. She couldn’t remember anything, said it was like she lost contact with her body and when she came back, Rosa’s body was in front of her.

Something clicks in Michael’s brain, and this time he yells, “Noah!”

Isobel turns toward him and he shudders under her emotionless gaze.

“You were always too smart for your own good. Imagine how powerful you would be if you actually put that mind of yours to use. I almost regret having to kill you as well.”

Isobel takes a step toward him, but before she can come any closer, Alex pulls a syringe out of his pocket and jams it into her shoulder. Isobel’s eyes widen, and Michael sees them fill with confusion before she collapses.

“Isobel!” Michael lunges forward and manages to break her fall, easing her onto the ground. He pulls her into his lap, relieved to see she is breathing.

He turns his attention to Alex. “Are you alright?” Michael asks. “What did you do to her?” Alex sits heavily on the end of the couch and Michael looks between him and Isobel not sure where to focus his attention.

“I’m fine,” Alex waves Michael off when he starts to get up. “The shot temporarily suppresses her powers, ending Noah’s control over her. It will wear off in a few hours. I’ve got to make some calls. We need to get Noah into custody now. Call Max, warn him. Have him come out here, Isobel will need him.”

The next few hours pass in a blur. Alex spends most of them on the phone in the bedroom. He steps out long enough to tell them when Noah is taken into custody, but quickly disappears again. Michael has his hands full with Max who arrives panicked, and once he knows Isobel will be alright, he switches to interrogation mode - demanding answers Michael doesn’t have.

“I don’t know, Max,” Michael shouts, frustrated, after the fifth time Max asks him exactly how Alex found out about aliens. “He just told me last night, and I was more concerned with Noah being a serial killer. It has to do with his family and the people he works with. The details can wait until this shit with Noah is taken care of.”

Max eventually concedes that he’ll have to be satisfied with Michael’s bare bones explanation until Isobel has time to process what happened with Noah. Isobel remembers nothing after she stopped at home to tell Noah she was staying with Max for the weekend. Telling her the truth about what he saw is one of the hardest things Michael has ever done. Isobel is understandably horrified, and Michael brings Alex out long enough to reassure Isobel that he isn’t hurt and that he doesn’t blame her for what happened.

“I love you,” Michael hugs Isobel tightly when she and Max are ready to leave.

“I’m so sorry,” Isobel begins.

“No, no,” Michael stops her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just wish we had figured it out sooner before Noah hurt you. We’re going to take care of you, ok.”

Isobel nods, returning Michael’s embrace before stepping back.

Max hugs Michael as well. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was scared and frustrated that Noah could do this right under my nose, but I should have listened to you instead of yelling.”

“I get it,” Michael tells him. “We’ll talk more later.” Michael looks back over at Isobel. “You’re good right? I’ll be by in the morning.”

“Yeah, I got her,” Max says quietly. “I’ll make sure she gets some sleep, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once they leave, Michael collapses onto the couch, the stress of the last few days catching up to him.

It’s after midnight before Alex wraps up his last phone call. He’ll have several reports to file in the morning as well as beginning the logistical aspects of his transfer, but for now all he wants to do is sleep. When he walks out into the living room, he’s surprised to find Michael asleep on the couch.

Michael’s curled up in the corner of the couch, head at an awkward angle that makes Alex wince. He sits down next to him and gently shakes his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says when Michael opens his eyes. “I thought you left with Max and Isobel.”

Michael shakes his head before sitting up and stretching. “No,” he mumbles around a yawn. “They need some time alone. I’m going to see them in the morning before they leave.”

“So Isobel accepted the offer?” Alex confirms. Deep Sky had offered treatment to Isobel - specialized doctors and therapists who could help determine exactly what Noah did to her and make sure there was no lasting damage as well as helping her deal with the emotional trauma.

“Yeah, Max is going to take a leave of absence, stay at my place so he can be nearby.”

“That’s good.” When Michael yawns again, Alex stands up and holds out his hand. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go to bed.”

He convinces Michael to take a shower while goes through his own night time routine. Even though it’s late, after the day he’s had, Alex knows he can’t afford to skip his stretches. He still finishes before Michael, waiting in the bed when Michael comes back from the bathroom. Alex expects he’ll want to go right to sleep, but Michael turns on the bedside lamp before turning off the main lights.

When he gets in the bed, Michael sits up facing Alex. “I love you, you know,” he tells him, taking Alex’s hand. “I thought I did before, but tonight, realizing how close I came to losing you, I knew.”

“I love you, too,” Alex minds him, his heart aching. As happy as he is to know Michael returns his feelings, he hates the circumstances surrounding their relationship. “I’m sorry it had to happen like this. You deserve better than all the secrets and”

“Murders,” Michael finishes for him.

“You definitely deserve better than the murders,” Alex laughs.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not scared,” Michael admits. “We always thought we were alone - me, Max, and Isobel - and the most important thing we could do was keep our secret. And now everything’s changed. It’s not just you, other people know about us, have known about us. And we don’t know if Noah is the only other alien or if there are more. But I’d rather figure it all out with you than alone.”

“I’d like that,” Alex says, a little choked up at how much it means to him to have Michael trust him like this.

“So what’s next?” Michael asks.

“Now that Noah is in custody, I’ve been assigned to Roswell. Once I’m briefed on what my father’s up to, I’m going to figure out how to bring him down,” Alex tells him.

“Roswell, huh,” Michael shakes his head.

Alex hesitates just a moment before sharing this next part, “Roswell is looking for a new high school science teacher.”

“Seriously,” Michael side eyes him.

Alex shrugs, refusing to apologize for arranging it. “This town is full of secrets, Michael. When I find out what they are, I think the answers will belong to you - you, Max, and Isobel. I don’t know how long it will take for me to find them, but I think you want to be part of it when I do.”

“You’re right,” Michael leans into Alex’s chest, yawning once again.

“Alright, time to sleep.” Alex reaches over to turn off the light, but stops. “You want to go house hunting tomorrow?”

“House hunting?” Michael asks.

“This place,” Alex gestures to encompass the cabin, “was always meant to be temporary. It’s time to find something more permanent.”

Alex’s heart settles when Michael smiles and kisses him softly, “Sounds good to me.”

#dayscrazed #rnmsecretsanta24 #malex fic #rnm fic #my fic

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