#realized after picking up noodle earlier that he’s getting real heavy already and that i probably won’t be able to pick him up much longer

[neondiamond]

.

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [2/-]

summary: after an unsuccessful attempt to escape, Y/N is in for more than she bargained..

warnings: lil bit of smut, swearing, and bdsm undertones

a/n: this is part TWO of this little series! check out part one before reading this!

Your senses slowly began to settle back into you, and you finally realized just what kind of mess you were in..

Right after his bold exit, your exhaustion caught up to you and your eyes became as heavy a dumbbells. But when you awoke for the second time that evening, the situation truly hit you right in the noggin.

You were in a foreign place, that you were incredibly scared to even attempt an escape out of. The foggy memory of the stunning man that had entered the room, was becoming a false reality. Had you dreamt of him? Was he just a twisted piece of your imagination?

Surely not.

It seemed so utterly real that the nameless man had to be an actual human. And even that thought scared the absolute shit out of you. If he were to barge right through the same door, you wouldn't know how to even address him, let alone look at him. So you stayed hidden beneath the large comforter, softly shaking with fear as your eyes began to water. You were starting to miss things you never thought you could miss. Like the pumpkin-apple candle that you'd light from time to time, or your piano you love to play, to wake you up in the mornings and settle you down in the evenings. Hell, you were even beginning to miss your refrigerator that held all your favorite foods and drinks, and your spacious bathroom that you regularly took a soaking bubble bath in.

Oh god, a bathroom. Just at the mere thought, your bladder revolted and signaled it's everlasting need to be freed. But you were too scared. Though, you couldn't last much longer without accidentally pissing yourself, but that'd just make this dreadful day even worse. So with your fears in mind and the shaking of your body reminding you, you pushed back the covers and lifted yourself from the cushiony mattress, your toes curling at the frigid touch of the marble floors. You oddly looked left and right, in search of what could possibly be a hidden camera or worse— a person, but came short with nothing of the sort. You began your tip-toeing steps towards an open door that unmistakably led to the sacred toilet you were literally yearning for, and ever so softly shut the door, for at least a little privacy. It was an expensive looking bathroom with even more expensive looking appliances.

But without further examining you rush to the porcelain bowl and pull down your undergarment, quickly seating yourself and letting all the filtered tension go. A relieved sigh escaped your lips, but your asscheeks sure did feel sore.

Maybe it wasn't a dream..

You let your thoughts roam as you emptied your bladder and tore a piece of toilet paper from its roll and wiped, finishing with the click of the flushing button and directing yourself towards the sink. The women in the mirror caught your eye, though she looked oddly untouched. You thought you'd at least have a bruise or two fluttered across your arms or your face, but it appeared as though you were as good as new and unbothered. Whoever had kidnapped you didn't fully intend harm, but rather some other premeditated plan that you weren't truly sure of.

Though you felt somewhat at ease, your frightened thoughts lingered and you washed your hands quickly and tip-toed back to your aclaimed warm bed that you slightly missed the absence of. You could've gone for round three of sleeping that day, but yet again, to your dismay, the familiar sound of a door opening and closing kept your eyes open, and an unfamiliar scent glided into your nostrils and made your stomach growl profusely.

"Hungry, darling?" The same voice from your dreams questioned the air around you and just as before, you couldn't refrain from laying your eyes on him. He was undoubtably real, except this time he was fully clothed in a tucked white dress shirt and pants, a belt tightly wrapped around his waist. He was even dreamier than before with his hair all done up and his fingers clad with shiny rings that hadn't caught your eyes before. You drew your attention away and slowly nodded, bringing the large blanket up to shield yourself from his eyes. He set the platter down on the nightstand with what looked to be a sweet smile and grabbed a little portable table to set just above your thighs. He neatly settled the prepared food onto it and seated himself at the end of the bed, motioning his hand for you to begin.

You were hesitant to eat anything he could've made at first, but you were more scared of him becoming mad, so you gladly picked up your spoon and began to chew on the nice noodle soup, it's brothy flavor feeling nice on your throat. You almost whimpered at the taste when you finished your very first bite, your eyelids shutting and your head titled back in sensation. "Good?" His deep, softened voice brought you back to reality and your head was nodding before you could detest anything of it. "For how mouthy you were this morning, you sure haven't said much at all." His words struck true as you thought back to the prior events, his seething words and your snooty comments that arises the anger in him.

"Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but you had caught me in a moment of weakness and I will forever regret it. I was taken against my own free will, without the ability to even fight for my freedom, and you think it's fair to treat me like a whore who "deserves to be punished" and was in quite a drowsy state of mind. You're a sick bastard whether you've been told that or not." You seemingly growled at him, but he didn't seem to be angered, let alone offended. With all the stillness and subtleness in the world, he answered;

"Yes, it may have been a moment of weakness, Ms.

Y/L/N, but when was the last time that that pretty pussy of yours was touched, hm? How long has it been since you've came by someone else's hand, or cock perhaps? Darling, I may be a stranger to you, but you're no stranger to me." And with that, he left you stunned (and regrettably horny), all alone in the same room you've been trapped in for who knows how long? Ugh, it was so angering the way he could flip what you say into something far from being similar to anything you were trying to argue.

But he was right..

Yes, it's been a rough couple years in the dating life for you. Though, it never had to do with "supply of men" because here and there, you'd get a little flustered by a handsome man wondering if you'd like to get coffee sometime. But you'd always sweetly decline and carry on with your day. You were a focused, driven person that had their mind set on nothing else but your arising business endeavors. You simply didn't want to begin a relationship because you weren't fully ready to give so much attention to one thing while you were too focused on another.

And being honest, men are very clingy. And mysterious..

His final little statement about "You're no stranger to me" really confused you. Had you met him before? Was he from your hometown? It was truly a mystery. Who's to say he wasn't some sort of stalker whose been following you for the past five years? But that sounds absurd. Why would such a handsome, dreamy, sexy— a'hem, man want to have anything to do with you? Whatever it is, you weren't exactly mad about it. Because just like earlier, when you were hazy and half asleep, you felt the same tingling and flutters right down to your core. He was so smooth with his words, it's hard not to fall to your knees and become his beckon call. Fuck, anytime you laid eyes on him, your body begins to writhe with shudders, creating that pooling sensation where your core throbbed the worst. A large part of you couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow, throw some sly comments at him or even try escaping, anything to catch his attention.

So before drifting asleep, your mind raced with loose plans and tactics for tomorrow, when you’d awake in the same room for presumably the third or fourth time.

-

Go time.

Initially, you had planned to sneak out only to anger him, but now that you were thinking about it, why not at least try to escape the clutches of the room and run away, hopefully home if you could.

You were missing it so much already, though you’ve only been gone for approximately thirty-two hours (maybe). But you were becoming bored with the view of absolutely nothing except gray walls and the one large painting on the wall. It looked like a countryside, a barn with a red roof-top and white siding while trees decorated the entire area around it. It was an odd picture to be put in this room, it didn’t really match the minimalist vibe the entire rest of the proximity put off. But anyway, it felt weird getting out of bed and twisting the handle on the door, and to your satisfaction, it opened with a faint click and you were finally able to be freed of this room.

The even more so frigid air smacked you straight between the eyes the moment you fully opened the door, it made your eyes water slightly. Taking the very first step out of the room, you notice that the walls in the long hallway are a powder color, which brought a weird grin to your face.

Those gray walls just weren’t doing the trick.

You slowly begin to tip-toe to the right of the entryway, looking in every direction possible. You didn’t really know if he lives alone or with others, but you were banking on the possibilities that there were others in the nice, freezing home.

Why the fuck does he keep it so cold?

You continued your slow, padding steps until you came across another door-less room; the kitchen. Thankfully there was no one in the huge kitchen, and your stomach jolted to the smell of just another soup, you just couldn’t recognize it. You almost scavengered for a spoon, but the faint sound of shallow footsteps corrupted your hearing and you b-lined straight to a cabinet, that happened to be a pantry once you were enclosed inside. Before entering, the pairs of footsteps let out a few hoarse chuckles and cackles, ultimately placing them as men. From what you could see in the tiny, barely visible crack, you could for sure make out who was standing directly left to the cabinet you were stuck in; the panty-dropping hottie from earlier.

You were just praying to God that he wouldn’t find you.

You took every breath as carefully and slowly as possible, not moving a muscle as the two men conversed, though it was muffled and incomprehensible. After what seemed like hours, you swore you heard a few goodbyes and a loud door shut. You wanted to sprint out of the damn tight-knit cabinet and run for your dear life, but you slowly opened the door and breathed in a large breath once you were finally free of your slight claustrophobic fears.

“Better run, sweetheart.” His deep, distasteful voice scared the wits out of you, which made your instincts ignite the moment he took a step closer to you. Before you knew it, your feet were pacing back and forth in long strides as your arms pumped up and down, though your blanked mind came to a loss on the directions out of the house.

This was it.

There was no way you’d make it out of here. He was obviously much faster and actually knew the layout of his own house, while you, on the other hand, had no damn clue where the front door is. So your heart sank deep in your chest when you felt his warm, muscular arms wrap around the entirety of your waist before you hand could even grasp an unknown handle that you were violently reaching for.

“Think you’re fucking smart, princess?” He whispers in your ear, carrying you away, presumably to your prior settings while you helplessly let him. You didn’t even thrash against him, or even attempt a kick to his groin.

You just.. let him.

“Fuckin’ lucky I don’t tie you up and spank your ass until it’s numb again.” He murmurs to himself, dropping you off on the same bed you’ve been sleeping and awakening in whilst he shuts and locks the door too. Just his little comment to himself made your mouth water and your pussy clench. It was hard enough being in such a close proximity with him.

Once testing the door to see if it was locked properly, he turned back to look at you with a cold, lustful stare that had you aching all over yet again. For someone that you don’t even know their formal name, you sure did have the ‘hots’ for him. In a flash, his shirt was off and his pants were unbuckled, the heat arising in your cheeks as he strode over to you in his nakedness. “Knees. Now.” He points to the floor below him, watching with demanding eyes. You, of course, reacted before thinking. You were on your knees in seconds and had your hands wrapped around his increasingly large girth. You really hadn’t looked at it before, you were honestly terrified to. But now that it was right in front of you and your fist was slowly pumping it, you craved it.

“Since you haven’t been very nice to Daddy, you’re gonna have to give him a little sweet treat..” He caressed the top of your head, looking down upon the sight of you stroking him made his cock jump slightly. With your own eyes in him, you ran your tongue along the protruding, red vein of his cock, suctioning off his tip like it was a straw. He threw his head back with a pleasured sigh as your warm and thick muscle made his erection grow. With a few internal encouragements in your head, you let your mouth intake more, slowly edging its way to his public bone. What you hardly couldn’t fit, you let your fingers glide over. His sharp intakes of breaths and groans had your own self a mess, and you almost wanted to creep your own two ‘flimsy’ fingers down there and relieve it.

You let your hands travel to his constricting balls, fondling them with the slightest of touches. He squinted his eyes and held himself back from coming right then, but it was too late. For his thick, hot ribbons of cum released all the way down your throat and to your chin.

He didn’t last long..

It unusually tasted sweet, compared to others who seemed to be sour and gummy. Though he was done and physically drained, you continued slow motions, only quickening them by the second. Overstimulating has and will always be one of your favorite kinks. To see someone shaking and aching from their own sensitivity made you all the more horny and sexually-frustrated. But the overstrung man put an end to the real quick, pulling you to your feet and shoving you back onto the cushiony bed where your comfy gown rose and his intense stare darkened.

“Don’t you make one fucking sound..”

(masterlist)

[nommy-thoughts]

Danger Noodles Chapter 3 The Part With the Vore

Wordcount: 2 K

Summary: Giant nagas, unlike micro nagas, have gastric brooding. In other words, Protective Baby Noms are a thing!

Note: This story follows two timelines, one with vore and one without. This chapter belongs to the vore timeline and is almost entirely different from the non-vore version.

Cowritten with @that-prey-lounge​!

[Danger Noodles Masterpost]

~~~~~

Roman awoke, heart pounding in his chest. Remus was also awake, he could feel the tense grab on his bicep.

“Wolves.”

“They won’t come in here.”

“They might come for the butchered carcass. We didn’t eat it and it smells of blood. The bears haven’t just put the pressure on us.”

Roman bit his lip, glancing down at the three humans snuggled up in their nest of coils. “We can’t let our humans get eaten. Not by anybody. They’re so small and defenseless.”

Remus nodded. “Like babies,” he agreed.

Roman suddenly perked up. “Like babies! Remus, we can protect them like Mom used to protect us!” He looked at the humans again, mentally comparing them to the infants he and Remus had once been. Adult humans were bigger, and the twins weren’t yet fully grown. Roman frowned in realization. “I don’t think we can fit more than one apiece.”

Remus considered it. “Virgil seems most capable of protecting himself.”

The twins shared a look, and Roman picked up Patton in his hands. The little human squirmed slightly, but Roman managed to shush him and lull him back to sleep.

Remus untangled Logan from Virgil and softly rubbed the human’s hair until he was fully asleep again.

“Down the hatch, for protection.” Remus looked over at Roman, who nodded.

Roman opened up, unhinging his jaw. He flexed a muscle in his throat, opening up the right passageway and sealing off the wrong one. It absolutely wouldn’t do to get this wrong. Gently, he eased Patton’s legs down his gullet.

Remus followed his example, easing Logan down the right passageway so he’d be safe in Remus’s pouch.

The twins clicked their jaw shut in near unison, hands supporting their middles as the humans slipped down into them. Unlike their dinners from earlier, the humans stopped at the base of their human-like torsos. Rather than a stomach, they were inside the special brooding pouch every naga had to carry their young in until they were strong enough to handle themselves in the outside world. The twins had never used theirs before, but this felt very right.

Slowly, the twins sank back into their nest, curling up belly-to-belly so that their gently swollen middles touched. Roman pulled Virgil over, draping him across their bellies, and without needing even a word to communicate the idea, the twins wrapped each other and the humans in a protective hug, then coiled their tails all round so that the three little ones were protected in the very center of the ball. Their arms kept the heavy mass of scales suspended over Virgil so he couldn’t be crushed by accident.

“Remember curling up together in Momma’s pouch?” Remus said softly, already drifting off again.

“Mm-hm,” Roman murmured. “That was good. Never felt safer. I couldn’t tell where my tail ended and yours began, most of the time.”

Neither naga considered, as they fell back asleep, that humans didn’t have childhood experience with being protected inside their parents, and wouldn’t immediately realize that that was what this was.

The twins were awoken by the sound of screaming.

The rising sun softly filled the usually dark cave with gentle morning light. Virgil filled it with panicked screams, frantically squirming between them. The two nagas moved apart.

Virgil scrambled away from them and over to the three humans’ bags. After a moment’s fumbling, he yanked his long knife free, brandishing it in the direction of the two nagas, who were clutching their softly bulging bellies.

“What is it?” Roman softly rubbed his middle, feeling Patton wake up inside. “Where’s the danger?”

Virgil spluttered and pointed his knife at the naga. “Spit them up! Right now!”

“Huh?”

“You’re both monsters! You murdered my friends!”

Remus blinked, and then looked at Roman. “Humans don’t have pouches. Roman, humans don’t have pouches.”

“He thinks we killed them.” Roman covered his mouth in horror.

“Of course I think you killed them!” Virgil snarled, clearly enraged. “What happened to Patton being ‘too cute to eat,’ huh? Couldn’t you have at least spared him?” His voice was tight, on the verge of tears. “Couldn’t you have eaten me instead?”

“We did spare them.” Roman put his hands on his abdomen. “They’re safe—”

“Try that with someone else.” The knife pointed at them trembled. “Spit them out, or I’m going to gut you!”

Remus glanced at Roman, making a small hand gesture. Roman nodded, and they pounced.

Roman pinned Virgil on his back. Remus disarmed him and tossed the knife away.

“Listen to us, your friends are safe. We’ve just tucked them away in our pouches.” Roman felt Patton squirm a little more.

“Why should I trust you? You ate my friends!”

Remus scoffed. “It was barely eating. We just put them in our mouths and swallowed. They are not in a stomach, and they’re fine.”

Logan was moving too from the noises surrounding him and the quick movement. Patton was the first to speak, however. “Roman? Is that you?”

Virgil cried out, and Roman felt Patton squirm a little more vigorously.

“Virgil! Where are you? R-Roman! What happened?”

“Wolves got too close for comfort in the night. Remus and I swallowed a couple of you up to keep you safe.” Roman gently patted his belly. “We, uh, forgot humans don’t have baby pouches to do this kinda thing with.”

“Ah,” Logan said, oddly calm, his voice muffled by the layers of Remus’s flesh between them. “That would explain the unusual surroundings.”

“Logan!” Virgil shouted. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Logan said. “This is definitely not a stomach. It’s quite dry, and there’s only one opening, up at the top.” He was quiet for a moment. “Did you say this is a baby pouch?”

“Yeah.” Roman gently rubbed his belly with the heel of his hand. “Naga parents keep their babies in here for the first couple years. Most of my earliest memories of my Momma are her pouch.”

“Fascinating.” Logan sounded like he was itching for his notebook. “That would explain why your food slid past your bellies right to your tails yesterday. I was under the impression that all nagas had two stomachs, but apparently not.”

Roman blinked. “Who told you that?”

Patton perked up. “Oh! Our mouser naga, Dee-Dee!”

“Can— can you let them out?” Virgil interrupted. “This is unnerving.”

Remus nodded and Roman slithered back, letting Virgil up. After a second, the twins started to make a noise not unlike a cat with a hairball, and then Patton and Logan both tumbled to the floor. Luckily, the nagas had been bent over, so it wasn’t a long drop. They picked themselves up.

“Impressive,” Logan said, dusting himself off. “Not a single tear on my clothes, despite your sharp, backward-pointed teeth.”

Virgil grabbed his friends, squeezing them in a tight hug.

After a second, Remus tapped Patton on the shoulder. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but, uhm, Dee-Dee? A mouser naga?”

Patton nodded. “I’m allergic to cats,” he said, like that explained everything. Roman supposed that to a human, it might’ve.

“What is a mouser naga?” he asked.

“They’re nagas, like you guys, but really little.” Patton estimated about two or so feet with his hands. “Dee-Dee is only about this big. He’s just a little fella, and he used to be even smaller, but he’s been growing. I bought him a while ago because we had a real bad mouse problem, but he’s part of the family now.”

The twins blinked owlishly at each other. “We didn’t know those things existed.”

“What did you think I was referring to when I mentioned smaller nagas last night?” Logan asked.

Roman shrugged. “Juveniles?”

Remus estimated the size with his own hands and shook his head. “I don’t think we were ever that small before.”

Logan shrugged. “Humans have been basing assumptions of your species off the observation of the micro naga, since it’s dangerous to study you directly. Obviously that resulted in some errors.”

Roman tsked loudly, shaking his head. “Looks like Remus and I might need to let you poke at us more, if you don’t even know about the baby pouch.”

Logan practically lit up. “Would you really?” he asked eagerly.

“Of course, if it’ll help your understanding.”

Virgil sighed quietly. “And the nerd is going to bounce off the walls.”

Logan nodded, grinning broadly. “This is splendid!” he said. “I can get my equipment, and conduct a proper study. I may be the first person to ever have this opportunity.”

Remus scooped Patton up, hugging him softly. “All because this little dumpling won us over.”

Logan paused. “That’s right. Patton, I owe you. Thank you.”

Virgil softly touched Logan on the arm. “I don’t want to be That Guy, but we really have to go. We were supposed to be home yesterday, and we’ve got things to do.”

Roman pouted. “Do you have to?” he asked. “Don’t humans like eating food in the mornings before they do things?”

“We do,” Patton agreed. He gave Virgil a pleading look. “I’m hungry, Vee.”

Virgil sighed. “All we have is room-temperature venison, and our snacks, which we can eat on the go.”

Remus chewed his lip, resisting the urge to just coil around the three of them and never let go. “We’ll escort you to the edge of our territory.”

Logan nodded stiffly. “Sounds reasonable, considering someone got us lost.” He side-eyed Virgil, who at least had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

“So are you not gonna eat the rest of the cook deer?” Remus asked, edging over toward it.

“I’m thinking no,” Virgil said.

Remus grinned and swept the meat up into his hands. Roman hissed slightly as it vanished into Remus’s stomach.

“You glutton!”

“You snooze, you lose.” Remus shrugged, licking his lips.

“You didn’t even savor it!”

As the twins devolved into arguing, the three humans collected their gear, making sure everything was in place.

Virgil retrieved his knife from where it had been flung. Inspecting it, he frowned. It had a ding on the blade from striking against a rock. That would take some effort to smooth out. He was about to head back to the others when he noticed something that gave him pause. Behind one of the larger rocks was a pile of bones of all sorts. Some of them were definitely inhuman— for example, a curved rib bone nearly as long as Virgil was tall— and he couldn’t spot any obviously human bones in the pile, but even so, a chill ran down his spine.

’That was nearly us.’ Virgil swallowed nervously as he returned to the others. ‘Thank goodness Patton can melt even the iciest of hearts.’

They were on their way out of the woods soon, and the twins’ playful banter almost made Virgil forget about the bones. Almost.

It didn’t take long before the nagas complained that humans walked too slowly. That was all the warning they got before they were scooped up into huge arms. Roman lifted Logan, while Remus picked Virgil and Patton up together, squishing them into each other in his hands for a few moments.

“Remus,” Roman scolded lightly. Holding Logan against his chest with one hand, he used the other to help his brother reposition. Remus ended up with a human in each arm, half leaning on his chest.

“Comfy?”

Virgil squirmed a bit, more uncomfortable with the situation than with his position. “It’s fine.”

Traveling like that, they covered ground much more quickly. Soon, they reached the edge of the twins’ territory. Although they stopped, the nagas looked very hesitant to set their new friends down. Patton patted Remus’s arm. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll come back to visit.”

“Promise me?”

Patton nodded. “I promise.”

Logan brushed himself off. “Of course we’ll return eventually. I’ve been promised cooperation in clearing up biological misconceptions.”

Virgil tightly hugged himself while everyone said their goodbyes. When it came his turn, he gently patted Roman on the forearm. “Thanks… for not eating us.”

“You’re welcome.” Roman softly ruffled his hair. “Take care of yourselves.”

The three humans continued forward, with more than a few backwards glances at their large new friends.

~~~~~

Chapter 4: Home Again

[slashscowboyboots]

Reptiles & Rogues: Loaded Like a Freight Train (Part 1)

Have I finished my High School GNR fics? HELL NO!  Did I start another series? YOU BET YOUR ASS!  Is it as long as a book? SHIT YEAH WHY NOT?

Tag list: @malibubarbievince​ @ace-is-back-and-he-told-you-so​ @fanofnightz​ @sunshinesuska​ @sodalitefully​

Warnings: Public intoxication, the occasional cuss word, brief allusion to whiskey dick, wanting to grope a stranger’s fine ass (it’s about GNR people, they ain’t the church choir-see the above gif)

Notes: This is the first installment of a series, and the character Susan is based on the wonderful @sunshinesuska​ (if you aren’t following her or her writing blog @izzysdenimjacket​ you are really missing out, what a talent)

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

He was gorgeous.

And as he swayed all over the stage, you realized he was hammered.  Immaculately graceful and stunning, but he was completely FUBAR.

It was the first time you’d ever seen your friend Slash’s band Guns N’Roses play.  You’d met him when he stopped by the reptile rescue center where you worked, a beacon of tranquility on a busy city block.  With his impressive mane of curls and top hat, Slash definitely stood out amongst the normal gawkers and the classes of schoolchildren who came by to line up and hold Ralph the 8 foot red-tailed boa out to his full length.

The charming guitarist showed up frequently, leaving the newspaper stand 2 doors down where he where he worked (mostly gabbing on the phone) to come in and coo and smile at every animal in the place, large or small, knowing more about reptiles than any book or herpetologist.

He’d taken such a shine to the ancient tegu lizard Fats that he’d begged you to let him take him home for a weekend, and the fact that was against Dr. Mark’s policies (the veterinarian owned the facility and therefore made the rules) completely broke your heart.  You knew the geriatric and corpulent old tegu returned Slash’s affection, and would probably enjoy a couple of days having a devoted dad who treated him so tenderly.

You’d even visited Slash’s place and met Clyde, and it just blew you away that this scruffy looking guy owned a for-real anaconda.  AN ANACONDA.  You’d never seen one before; they didn’t get rescued because they were so irascible people didn’t keep them as pets, but here was Slash, holding up a placid green and yellow noodle like it was normal to do this kind of thing every day.

Slash was a deeply cherished friend, nothing more (he had a raging crush on a lab tech named Susan he’d met when he took his Grandma Ola in for bloodwork, and your didn’t meet too many guys with your head down shoveling reptile shit), a welcome human voice amid the silent creatures, and when he’d asked you to come out and see his band play, you couldn’t tell him no.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re LOUD.”

Well, it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard of the Germs.

So had you headed down the Strip, X t-shirt and black ripped jeans on.  You’d even made somewhat of an effort with your hair, teasing your curls out and lacquering them in place.

Alright, dude, here I am.

And you had witnessed the most amazing band you’d ever seen tear through their set in a state of shock.  That sweet, soft spoken buddy of yours was bare chested and sweaty, his head thrown back, effortlessly making his Les Paul cry the most beautiful tears.  But as much as you loved watching Slash play, someone else onstage had your full attention.

He was pale, tall and thin, with long black hair, skintight black t-shirt and jeans, beating the everloving hell out of a defenseless white guitar.  He wove over and shouted something intelligible into the microphone, then wobbled his way to the other side of the stage.  The most beautiful creature you’d ever seen, and, just your luck, he was snake-turds drunk.

After the show, the band milled around the bar.  Slash introduced you to them all, and you discovered Hot Stuff went by the nom de punk Izzy Stradlin (how charming).  He’d indifferently nodded at you and went back to slurping greedily out of a red solo cup.

Slash was soon detained by an appreciative female fan.  He grinned at you in wonderment, exclaiming, “Holy shit, Y/N, you’re like my lucky charm.  Susan’s here and she wants to talk to me.”  You looked over at her, radiant with her own beautiful curls and top hat, and gently wished him good luck.

With your adrenaline wearing off and everyone preoccupied with drinking and hooking up, you decided to head home.  Although you had a day off tomorrow (to get your hairs did), the Sunset Strip was never your scene.

You made it back over to Slash to say goodbye.  Susan was seated in his lap, her head buried against his neck

“Bye, Slash.  Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem.  Hey, since your like the only sober person here, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Okay?”

“Can you make sure Izzy gets home?”

IZZY?  The really hot guy?

“Yeah, he’s a mess tonight, and I trust you not take advantage of him.”

Oh rilly?

Slash smirked, like he’d just read your mind.

You sighed.  “Where does he live?” but Slash was already joined at the lips with his pretty new girlfriend.

Where even is Izzy? you thought as you scanned the bar.  Your stomach lurched when you thought about peeling him off of some trashy thing and trying to wrestle his drunk ass into your car.

Let’s hope he goes quietly.

To your immense relief, he wasn’t eating some chick’s face (or anything else), just parked on a chair outside of the men’s room, his head thrown back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Uh, Izzy?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Y/N.  I met you earlier. I’m Slash’s friend.”

His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“I’m here to take you home.”

A filthy smirk slithered across his face.  “You’re about an hour too late for that, honey.”

“No!” you snapped, "Slash asked me to make sure you got home all right.”

He didn’t speak, but slowly stood up without argument, wildly unsteady on his feet.  Instinct had you throwing your arms around his slender waist, and his hands held onto your shoulders as you guided him to your car.

Once the two of you were inside, you asked him, “Where do you live?” but he had passed out with his head against the passenger side window.

After you buckled him in, you glanced down at his skintight jeans.  While the thought of feeling in his back pockets for a wallet containing a driver’s license definitely held some appeal, groping a drunken stranger’s ass  was something you just weren’t willing to do.  Not tonight, even if the ass in question was pretty admirable.  

Not that you’d been staring.  Just looking out for a defenseless individual.

So, were you going to drive around till an abode shouted, “Here’s Izzy’s place!” or he sobered up, whichever came first?  Or were you going to take him home with you?  One glance over at his perfect profile and one out-loud groan later, you had your answer.

Getting Izzy out of your car wasn’t difficult (gravity had helped).  Getting him up the steps to your apartment was a challenge, though, and unlocking the door with him in your arms and leaning on you had been quite the feat.

You shoved him inside to keep from dropping him (to be so damn skinny he sure was heavy), and the two of you finally made it to your couch.

He was completely conked out, no help at all, so you picked up his feet and laid him longways, fetching a pillow to place under his head.  Asleep in the dim light, you thought he looked like a fallen angel, then got a good whiff of the cheap booze he’d been guzzling and immediately reconsidered.  Then you noticed again how tightly his clothes were fitting him and realized you really needed to wash your face and get to bed.  NOW.

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (30/?)

AO3 link: HERE

OP theme: HERE

“Ah, Kusunoki-san!”

I turned my attention away from my computer and looked up to see Atsushi and Kyouka arriving at our shared work area. I’d finished cleaning myself up a little and had changed into the spare clothing I’d kept in my locker and was now poring over emails before I went out for the day.

“Good morning!” Atsushi called, smiling brightly.

He dropped his bag on his desk as Kyouka quietly bobbed her head in a tiny bow behind him. I grinned and waved, my eyes on them but my mind still on Kunikida’s smile.

“Good morning Atsushi-kun, Kyouka-chan!”

I gestured to the plastic bag on my desk.

“Want some bread? The manager gave me extra, so I’ve got a few too many...”

Atsushi’s golden eyes went wide.

“Really? Can we?” he exclaimed as Kyouka immediately zipped over to my side and reached into the bag.

“Uh-huh! There’s tea and coffee too. Help yourselves.”

“Thanks!!”

As Kyouka went back to her desk, already munching on a freshly opened strawberry roll, Atsushi took his time and hung around, picking through the bag for tea.

“You look like you’re in a good mood this morning!” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Did something good happen earlier?”

“Ah, sort of?”

I fidgeted a little in my seat, my face growing warmer as I thought about the training session with Kunikida this morning.

“Yeah? Do tell.”

Without warning, a bandaged hand dropped down from above and plunged into the bag of treats I’d brought for the office.

“Oh! You’ve got ramen in here!” Dazai exclaimed, looking excited. “And it’s crab flavored, too! Don’t mind if I do.”

“Hey!”

I reached up to snatch it back but I was a second too slow.

“That’s my lunch—”

“Hmm? Instant ramen? But I thought Kunikiiiiida-kun wanted you to eat more vegetables,” Dazai said, tossing the cup of noodles up and down in the air.

“What’s it to you? Give that back!” I snapped, snatching the cup of noodles from him mid-toss.

But as I returned my attention to my computer, I felt a weight settling in near my elbow and looked back up to see Dazai actually sitting on my desk.

“You never answered my question,” he said.

His expression was suddenly gleeful, curious. He clapped his half-bandaged hands together and wiggled around in front of me like an excited schoolgirl.

“What did you and Kunikida-kun do this morning for your first time together? Did he go at it one-hundred percent? Did he pin you to the ground?”

“Dazai-san!!”

I flushed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a piece of bread fall out of Kyouka’s mouth. Atsushi was suddenly choking on his tea.

“What kind of question is—”

“What are you doing sitting on Kusunoki’s desk, Dazai?”

I snapped my head around so fast I nearly got whiplash. The tall blonde detective had appeared just in time and for some reason, Dazai suddenly looked more gleeful than ever.

“Hey, Kunikiiiida-kun!”

Dazai hopped off my desk at once, a grin so wide it could only be described as manic stretching across his face. He skipped around my chair and threw one bandaged arm around Kunikida’s shoulders, forcing the taller man to duck down to his level.

“Perfect timing! I have a question I need to ask you!”

Kunikida sighed, looking irritated but resigned.

“What is it, Dazai-san.”

Dazai’s dark eyes glinted with mischief.

“Did you like the way she fought?”

Kunikida stared.

“Huh—?”

Something clattered to the ground and as one, Dazai, Kunikida, Atsushi and I turned to Kyouka, who’d knocked over her empty bottle of juice and was now pulling her kodachi out of her kimono.

“I can’t believe,” she said hollowly, the light fading from her ice-blue eyes, “that I thought Kunikida-san was an honest, upstanding person...”

Blood lust radiated off every inch of her tiny frame. The blade of her kodachi gleamed vividly in the light.

“But it looks like a man is just a man after all. Let me teach him a lesson for you, Kusunoki-san.”

“Wait! Kyouka-chan!” I cried, throwing myself between them as Kyouka advanced on Kunikida (who was hastily ripping a page out of his notebook) with her weapon drawn.

“This was a misunderstanding! Kunikida-san was teaching me self-defense. It was just a training session, that’s all, I swear!”

The tiny assassin hesitated, her weapon faltering in her hand.

“Really? But Dazai-san said—”

“Don’t listen to him!” I groaned as Atsushi nodded fervently and Kunikida slowly put his notebook away. “He was just trying to cause trouble so that...”

I trailed off and glanced at my desk, where the bag of ramen and snacks had suddenly disappeared along with any trace of the bandaged maniac.

“So that he could steal the rest of the food,” Atsushi sighed, slapping his palm against his face.

Seething, I hurled my notebook at the ground.

“Dazai-saaaaaan!!”

***

In the end, I never managed to hunt down Dazai or my lunch...

I sighed and hiked my bag a little higher over my shoulder, trying not to think about the horrifyingly suggestive questions Dazai had asked me and Kunikida and the way Kyouka had reacted.

Dazai, that asshole... all that just so he could steal my ramen.

I briefly thought about putting my lunch tab on him before coming to the conclusion that if I did, I’d only be adding to poor Shimeko’s worries. According to her, Dazai hadn’t paid back his tab at the Uzumaki Cafe for nearly eight months now...

Pausing to check the map on my phone, I glanced up and examined my surroundings.

Nomura said the university’s history department should be located somewhere around here, but...

I spun in a circle, looking around at the tree-lined streets and sighed.

Thanks to all the heavy greenery, it was hard to see the buildings, much less the tiny lettering embossed next to the entrances. If the map was correct, I needed to take a left here and head deeper into the campus if I wanted to reach the main library.

Shrugging, I stuck my phone back into my pocket and went left.

Right now, I knew pretty much nothing about the mysterious “Kei.” I didn’t know when he’d died, whether he’d actually killed himself, or if “Kei” even was his real name. If I wanted to get that police report, to check if Nomura had a good reason to be suspicious, then I’d need to learn Kei’s full name. And the only real lead I had so far was Kei’s connection to Professor Shin Matsuyama...

So I came here, to Nomura’s university, hoping I could find some more information on Professor Matsuyama at the history department’s library. I’d spent a couple hours doing some digging online but the professor was either highly secretive or not very well-known. If his research was on the obscure side, then there would be no way of accessing it outside the university. Moreover...

I opened my notebook, where I’d stashed some printouts before I’d gone out.

Apparently Professor Matsuyama had been a student here at the university before deciding to teach at the history department. If Nomura’s memory was correct, the professor looked to be around our age in the photograph he kept in his office. And if that was true...

I stopped before the nearest building on my right, a squat, white-tiled structure marked, “World History Department,” by a tarnished copper plaque.

...Then it was quite possible that Kei had been a student here as well.

I checked the map again and made a face.

Great. Low signal. Must be the trees...

I pressed refresh on my maps icon and waited. But even though the seconds dragged on and on, the three dots in the middle of my screen refused to fade away. I sighed and slipped my phone back into my pocket.

Guess I’ll have to ask for directions...

Unfortunately, no sooner had I picked up my feet and turned to the left than I walked right into someone mid-stride. Or rather, someone walked right into me.

“Ack—!”

I was on the ground before I even knew what hit me, my bag scuffing heavily against the ground and my butt bruising painfully beneath me. I heard the rapid clicking of thick, chunky heels hitting the pavement as the person who’d bumped into me came rushing over.

“Oh my goodness!” a woman exclaimed, her voice sounding strangely nasal and muffled. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

She knelt down at my side, folding her long, cream-colored dress beneath her legs, her light, airy clothing rustling softly as she moved.

“Are you alright?”

A pale, delicate-looking hand stretched out towards me and I looked up to see an elegant, well-dressed woman in her late thirties kneeling beside me in the dirt. She was fairly tall and slender, with long, wavy hair the color of desert sand and long lashes that curled beautifully over large, expressive dark-brown eyes. There was a strange red mark over her nose and a very thick book under her arm. As I took her hand and allowed her to pull me to my feet, I realized her voice had sounded muffled earlier because she’d been reading her book as she walked and had hit herself in the face with it when she bumped into me. However, even with the red mark over her nose, she was still very pretty.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.

I took a moment to keep my Ability suppressed before rising to my feet.

“Thanks.”

The woman’s dark brows knitted together as she studied my face.

“Are you sure?” she asked, searching me for any sign of injury. “There’s a clinic on campus for injured students if you need any sort of treatment.”

“I’m sure,” I insisted, brushing off my clothes. “Really. I’m fine.”

“What a relief,” the woman sighed, her hand flying to her chest. “To think I could’ve hurt a student—and during exam week, no less!”

She sighed heavily, hanging her head.

“All because I had my nose in yet another book.”

“It must be a really nice book,” I said, smiling slightly.

“Oh, it is!” she gushed, flipping it over so that I could see the cover.

“...D. Keene?”

I squinted at it.

I’d never heard of this author before...

“He studies Japanese literature,” the woman said, “specifically modern Japanese literature. It’s a paperback version of one of the required reading books for the history students.”

She laughed a little as she tucked it back under her arm.

“I know it’s not the sort of book people find so fascinating that they can’t put it down but, well...”

She made a sort-of shrugging motion, her smile turning shy.

“I’m still really happy my husband is letting me borrow it for so long. Most people aren’t allowed to take university library books off campus but...”

Her eyes sparkled and I was once again struck by just how pretty she was.

“I suppose they make exceptions when you’re married to one of the faculty members.”

I studied her.

The wife of a faculty member... with special access to the history department library... It couldn’t be...

Could it?

“Which... professor are you married to?” I asked.

The elegant woman beamed at me.

“Professor Matsuyama Shin,” she said. “He teaches modern Japanese history here.”

She bobbed her head in a quick bow and I rushed to do the same.

“My name is Matsuyama Natsuki. Are you one of his students, perhaps?”

I shook my head.

“I’m actually not,” I admitted, surprising Natsuki. “But my friend, Nomura-kun, is and—”

Natsuki’s eyes widened.

“You’re one of Nomura-kun’s friends?” she asked, bringing her fingers to her lips.

I was taken aback.

“You know him?”

“Of course I know him,” Natsuki said, covering up a small laugh. “In fact, he’s very close to my husband. To be honest with you, he’s almost like a son to us. Such a kind, well-mannered boy...”

She studied me, her smile softening.

“I’m glad to see he’s making friends his own age. He comes over to the house so often that I was starting to worry he didn’t have any...”

“I see...” I said, suddenly feeling awkward.

Friends... huh?

Something about her words nagged at me, making me feel like I was forgetting something—something important in regards to Professor Matsuyama...

“...He keeps staring at this picture in his office and talking to it... When I asked him who was in this picture, he answered, ‘Natsuki and Kei...’”

I gasped.

That’s right...!

If Natsuki and Kei were both in the picture with the professor, then that meant Natsuki might know Kei. Maybe I could ask Natsuki for Kei’s full name so I could go and get that police report I needed.

But there was just one small problem with that...

I chewed my lip.

Thanks to Dazai’s meddling, I’d missed a tiny, but important detail on the first page of the case briefing. Due to the sensitive nature of the case, Nomura had requested that I try not to let any of the professor’s close friends or family know exactly what I was investigating. Made sense considering I was looking into a potential murder...

I studied the kind, friendly woman standing in front of me.

And now that I’d met Natsuki, I completely understood why. If I let the wrong thing slip, the results would be disastrous. If Nomura’s suspicions proved wrong, then I could potentially be wrecking Natsuki’s marriage for no reason. And if he was right...

I shuddered slightly.

I didn’t even want to think about what I’d have to do if he was right...

“Are you okay?” Natsuki asked, her pale brows furrowing together. “Are you cold? I could let you into a building to wait for Nomura-kun, if you’re here to meet with him.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine!” I said quickly, trying to put the smile back on my face. “Just... thinking about things...”

Natsuki blinked at me.

“Things...?”

I wasn’t going to have an opportunity like this again. I needed to ask her about Kei... but how was I going to do that without raising suspicion?

Okay, think... What would your mentors do here?

What would Kunikida do?

“Y-yeah, you know, exams, projects...” I trailed off.

Kunikida would probably go for the direct approach. He’d just ask her point blank if she knew someone by the name of “Kei,” and then prepare some way to deal with the consequences if things went south.

I crossed my arms and looked down.

No, that wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t come up with a contingency plan as fast as Kunikida could and I really wanted to spare Natsuki as much as possible.

Which meant I’d have to lie to her.

Lie... so that I could protect her...

At once, the memory came flooding back.

“I checked in with Yamazaki-san a few days ago...”

Dazai’s smile was gentle, his chocolate-brown eyes warm.

“She’s doing well... and she said to tell you ‘hi...’”

And just like that, I was back in the conference room again, sitting in a warm, well-lit room with papers scattered all around me and Dazai’s hand slowly drifting towards mine.

My arms unfurled from around my body. My hand twitched upwards; I was already reaching back. But when I lifted my head and glanced back up at the tree-lined path, it was Natsuki, and not Dazai, who was standing there before me.

I put my hand back down.

Dazai-san... Was this why he lied to me that day in the conference room...? To try to spare me the pain that he knew the truth would inevitably bring...?

My hand closed into a fist. I found myself biting the inside of my cheek.

Is this what I would have to do...?

Natsuki chuckled. She didn’t seem to have noticed a thing.

“Ah, I see,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes, you must have a lot on your mind right now. It’s always a busy time for students, isn’t it? No matter what the season or what you’re studying...”

I nodded, a small smile creeping back onto my face as the gears began to turn.

“That’s very true,” I said, the smile on my face stretching wide. “You’d think I wouldn’t be so stressed, being just a simple art student.”

Think like Dazai. Do what he would do...

I took my phone out and flipped through my gallery. I came to the pictures of Minato Mirai and flipped the phone around so I could show them off.

Mix the truth with lies. Layer them so that it’s harder to tell where one starts and the other begins... Make it so that you can’t tell the difference between them yourself...

“I actually came out here,” I said slowly, “to take some reference pictures of the scenery. Nomura-kun said this part of campus was really nice at this time of year so I thought I’d come check it out.”

“Oh, I see!” Natsuki gasped, leaning in to take a closer look at the photos. “You’re very talented, aren’t you? Um...”

“Kusunoki,” I said, inclining my head in a slight bow.

I felt my smile soften on its own.

“My name is Kusunoki Kyou. Thank you, Matsuyama-san.”

“Just telling the truth,” Natsuki said warmly, straightening back up. “If you want to take some more pictures, you should probably head a little deeper into campus, get closer to the library. There’s a wide field out that way and a small student garden beyond that as well.”

“That sounds great,” I agreed. “But the thing is, I’m not just looking for scenery today... I’m looking for models too.”

Natsuki’s deep brown eyes went wide.

“Models?” she repeated, her hand automatically going to her hair.

I watched as she began smoothing down the wildest of her curls.

“Yeah.”

I nodded and pulled out my phone, scrolling through the apps as if I were looking to open an email or memo.

“I was asked to draw a group portrait of three adults between the ages of thirty and fifty,” I said. “The teacher specifically told us not to ask other students to sit for us because they want us to get used to drawing people all ages and body types.”

I fidgeted a little, trying not to cringe as I thought about how Dazai might ask her to sit for a drawing. He’d probably flirt with her in some grandiose, over-the-top way and then ask her to commit double suicide with him, that maniac...

No, I had a better idea...

“If you don’t mind my saying so,” I mumbled, looking away. “You seem very nice and... I feel comfortable asking you this since you also know Nomura-kun.”

I glanced back up.

“Would you mind letting me draw you and your husband?”

“Not at all!” Natsuki exclaimed, looking flattered. “But I thought you needed three people?”

I nodded again.

“Yes, I do. Do you or your husband happen to have a friend who wouldn’t mind coming over to the campus park for an hour or two? Someone around your age?”

“Ah...”

At this, Natsuki grew quiet. She lowered her eyes.

“About that...”

A shadow crossed her beautiful face and she smiled.

“It’s funny that you should make such a request, Kusunoki-san,” she said, her smile growing wistful. “I actually know just the man to ask.”

I balked.

“Y-you do?”

“Yes.”

Her dark brown eyes flitted back up towards mine.

“But sadly...”

Her lips twitched, as if she was holding something back, something that looked an awful lot like tears. I felt my stomach clenching tightly as I saw the look on her face.

“I cannot ask him to meet with you. You see...”

She closed her eyes and sighed.

“He is no longer with us.”

“I... I see...”

Oh no...

Guilt flooded through my body. I felt the knot in my stomach tightening as Natsuki heaved a breathless sigh and stared up at the leaves that were beginning to rustle overhead. Her eyes seemed to shine with tears...

“I’m so sorry, Matsuyama-san,” I stammered, fidgeting in my bag for my handkerchief. “I shouldn’t have asked—! I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay,” Natsuki said graciously, her gaze still firmly fixed on the swaying branches above us. “You couldn’t have known.”

Her eyes met mine at last.

“How could you have? When we’ve only just met?”

Yes, how indeed? I thought with another stab of guilt as I pulled the handkerchief out at last.

But I offered it to her, Natsuki waved it away, her smile more gracious than ever.

“I’m alright, thank you,” she said, looking touched. “It’s very sweet of you to be so concerned about a complete stranger like me, Kusunoki-san. Your friends must be very fortunate indeed.”

This time, it was my turn to look away.

Friends...

I’d cut off contact with everyone I knew when I’d become a shut-in all those months ago. Now, the only people I was close with were my coworkers at the ADA. But did they think of me as a friend as well...?

“I... I guess so,” I mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.

Natsuki chuckled, prompting me to look back up.

“You seem easy to talk to, Kusunoki-san,” Natsuki said, tucking her hair back behind her ears as the wind began to pick up once again. “Like a good listener... Perhaps I could tell you about him one day...”

My mouth was as dry as cotton. I could hear my heart beating loudly in my ears.

I felt my lips slowly forming the words.

“Tell me about... who?”

Natsuki smiled.

“Kei.”

The wind began to howl. I clutched my jacket to my body as it tore through the tree-lined path. Leaves and dust and gravel scattered everywhere and I opened my eyes just in time to see a deluge of leaves descend from the heavens in a shower of glittering gold and green. Natsuki looked back at me through the storm.

“Our dearly departed friend Masaoka Kei...”

[mittensmcedgelord]

Cobalt

Another day. The same day. It's hard to tell.

A follow up to "Good Morning, Again". Awareness is setting in and questions are coming to the surface. Who am I? How many of me have there been? And how the hell do you even eat udon?

( Alternate Title: The Noodle Incident )

Previous: https://mittensmcedgelord.tumblr.com/post/161414852605/good-morning-again

“Good morning, Morgan. Today is Monday, March 15th.” The alarm clock starts its routine, but doesn’t finish before it hits the kitchen counter with enough force to break the case. I didn’t lay a finger on it. The implications should worry me more than they do.

 The illusion crackles as I sit up. The TranScribe tells me it’s closer to midnight than 7 AM. Something somewhere glitches. My room, empty of everything but a few pieces meant to make the simulation feel real, comes into view. I wonder if I’ve seen it like this before. I pick up the broken alarm clock and turn it over in my hands. It’s an easy fix. Ten minutes, maybe. I can figure out why it went off at midnight while I’m putting it back together, too.

 Except that isn’t what I do. I put the clock on the counter, get dressed, and head to the cafeteria. I realize halfway down the grav shaft that I haven’t bothered to shave or brush my hair and laugh. I’ve never needed to shave. I never will. I catch my reflection in the glass, red eyes and stubble and hair in all directions. This is either rock bottom or the apex of my efforts. Either way, it’s exactly right for getting instant udon at midnight.

I’ve never actually had instant noodles. I’ve eaten it before in the simulation. It’s one of my—well, Morgan’s—favorite guilty pleasures. So, it seemed like an important thing to try. Lucky me, the cafeteria is nearly empty at this hour. One or two people who look less awake than I do are sitting at a table near the coffee pot, completely absorbed in paperwork. The cook doesn’t even seem surprised that I’m asking for instant udon, which either says a lot about Morgan or about the crew in general. What greets me is a nest of long, tendril-like noodles writhing in unnaturally colored broth, which I now have to eat with a pair of tapered wooden utensils that seem wildly unsuited to the task at hand. Nonetheless, I am not daunted. I am determined to consume this meal. This is, as my memories serve, one of the most quintessential Morgan Yu meals that I can find. I even have a can of Kafe Karsk to go with it, just to ensure authenticity.

 A few minutes pass as I stare down the plastic bowl, willing it to divulge its secrets. None are forthcoming. Before I completely give up and take the armload of rations to my room, I see Sho sit down with a tray of unagi rolls. I grab my food and sit down across from her before she realizes I’ve even moved.

 “What the fuck?” She drops the chopsticks onto the table and starts to stand. Her hand moves to her hip for a minute before she sits back down. She looks like she wants to punch me. Wouldn’t be the first time if the reports are any indication. “You shouldn’t do that. There’s a shoot on sight order for anything Typhon-like.”

 “I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happens.”

 “Phantom shifting just happens. Sure. You are really creepy. You know that, right?” She picks up a roll with the chopsticks and pops it in her mouth. I move closer to inspect only for her to shift a seat over. “Seriously, between that weird stretching thing you did between chairs and this, I’m pretty sure you’re not convincing anyone that you’re actually human.”

 “I was trying to see how you used the chopsticks to eat. I would have installed a mod for it if I could have.” I poke at a piece of dehydrated eel floating in the broth. “Trust me, I searched the entire company directory of recorded skills. There’s nothing there.”

 “Of course there’s not a neuromod for eating noodles, Mim. I don’t think anyone’s ever needed it. And before you ask I am not going to help you make one. Just do what everyone else does. Swear at the cheap useless chopsticks and slurp it out of the bowl.”

 “Mim?”

 “Yeah. I mean, we need something to call you. So, Mimic Morgan. Mim for short. It’s even on your official classified files.”

 “Why not just ‘Morgan’?”

 “Because you’re not Morgan, not to the people who know better. I know Alex programmed you to think you are, but you aren’t.” She snaps the chopsticks together and points them at me. “And before you ask, that’s a good thing. I can guess what you’ve been told, but contrary to what Alex and Igwe say, the station wasn’t exactly falling over itself worshipping Morgan’s brilliance and charm.”

 She leans closer and almost knocks over my soup. I sit rigidly in place, trying to pretend I’m not thinking about shifting into a more innocuous object. She’s looking for something, somewhere that I’ve cracked open and the darkness is seeping through. I’m not sure if she sees it or not, but she leans back. “Do you actually think of yourself as him?”

 “Yes.” My answer is too immediate, too emphatic. She snorts. “Why wouldn’t I? I know I’m not the same person, but how does that make me any less Morgan than he was after so many neuromod removals?”

 “Because I’ve seen the recordings of your simulation. The real Morgan wouldn’t have done half the stuff you did.”

 “How do you know?”

 “Because he didn’t.” She slams her hands on the table and my noodles spill. I start sopping up the broth with the bundle of napkins the cook gave me. She doesn’t seem to notice. “Because he didn’t do one single thing you did, especially not destroy the station to buy Earth some time. If he did, maybe we wouldn’t be here still studying Typhons on Humanity’s Last Resort.”

 “What did happen?” I reach into the bowl with my fingers this time, pull out a piece of dehydrated eel, and eat it. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the texture food is supposed to have. It’s possible that I’m wrong, but the way Sho is laughing says I’m probably not. I’m starting to think that instant noodles, as a whole, might actually be an elaborate joke that I’m not in on yet. “You said Morgan didn’t do the same things I did in the sim. No one’s felt the need to fill me in on what actually happened yet.”

 “This isn't a great time for this.” ”Why?” My voice crackles. I see Sho’s face contort at the sound. I take a breath, put my hands on the table in front of me, and try to relax my posture. I try to look as non-threatening as possible. She heard a Typhon; I don’t want her to see one. “Sorry. It’s just that it would mean a lot to me to know. We're the only people in the cafeteria at this hour, so you don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing. And I don’t think you’d accept an invite to my dorm to tell me about it in private.”

“Okay. Fine.” She sits back and crosses her arms. Her mouth is pulled into a tight line. Pain is written across her face. I get an image of Abigail in the freezer. Of the escaped volunteer and his brain decorating the walls of the malfunctioning escape pod. She doesn’t make eye contact. “So, what happened on Talos 1. It was close to the simulation you were in. I nearly died, but you knew that. I got through a hatch before I actually did die. Barely. I ran into a weaver and some cystoids on the way in. My suit was so damaged it read my vitals as deceased. But I had to get back. I had to make sure the bastard that killed her paid. There was never a volunteer named Ingram to be saved. The fabricator in deep storage never got up and running to make any turrets. We had to make do. Only six of us survived. You've met five of them, either in proxy or in person.”

“Alex, Mikhaila, Igwe, Elazar, and you. Who was number six?”

“Morgan.” She waits, watching my expression. The name was acid coming out of her mouth. There was no love lost there, in spite of the familiarity she’d shown me so far. “He survived. For a while. Turns out after all those tests he was almost as much Typhon as human. When he triggered the null wave generator it wiped out all the Typhon on the ship instantly, big one included, but with him it worked slower. It wasn't pretty, let's leave it at that. I didn't like Morgan, but he deserved better. Sure as hell didn’t deserve constant reincarnation as different Typhon.”

“Where do I come in?”

“After the world went to hell.” She pushes the last couple rolls aside. Any hunger I felt is gone too, replaced by something cold and heavy. Sho opens a can of Duck beer as she continues. It seems to do something for the hesitance she had earlier. “We didn't know a shuttle with a mimic on it already landed earthside. We tried to keep ourselves quarantined until we realized it wouldn't do any good. We fought. We ran. We mobilized. And once we were out here playing sentinel by the original breach, Alex started forming a plan. He used Morgan's memories of the outbreak as a base. Said that disaster response was the best way to judge actions. Project Cobalt started. ‘A human Typhon hybrid to bridge our species.’ It was Morgan’s idea, even back before the containment breech, but we’d never been desperate enough to try it before now.”

“How many were there before me?”

“Too many. We were going to scrap it soon. The mirror neurons weren't activating, not without a lot of intervention. And then you came along. You used all the Typhon mods you could find. You helped everyone you met. You tried to save us all. In a way, you were too human to be a real human. Alex said one of the variables was changed, but they changed every test. So, who knows. Maybe we just got lucky.”

“What was changed for my test?”

“Beats me.” She sighs and throws her hands out in front of her. The universal sign of ‘I’m done with this conversation’. The night shift is getting off pretty soon and the morning shift is getting ready to go on. Sho gives her now warm unagi rolls an annoyed look and pushes them to me. “There were a lot of variables. All classified. You’d have better luck asking Dr. Igwe.”

 “Thank you.”

 “Nothing a quick trip through the station’s history wouldn’t tell you.” She knows that isn’t the truth, but she shrugs it off like nothing anyway. I start to say something and swallow my words. There’s a shield around Sho’s mind like the kind a psychoscope generates, only this one’s not solid. It’s a mile of empty, unforgiving, airless space. She didn’t die outside the station like she did in the sim, but something did. Someone did. The woman talking to me is as much Danielle Sho as I am Morgan Yu. Finally, she breaks eye contact and grabs the half full beer can. “Last word of advice? Try to keep the Typhon powers low key. I’m not sure how many people actually believe the bullshit official story behind Morgan’s miraculous reappearance.”

 Somewhere a chime sounds and the graveyard shift starts. She heads off to her station, beer still in hand, and doesn’t look back. That leaves me with her advice, her leftovers, and my now cold udon. Not to mention the host of new questions.

 Alex never told me how Morgan died. Or when. I never really thought about how everyone accepted that I was here. The ones who don’t know about Project Cobalt just think I’m the second Yu sibling, a little worse for wear but not dead or inhuman. Sho knew. The survivors of Talos 1 know. I guess the better question is how no one else does.

 The TranScribe beeps at me and shakes me out of my daze. The clock rolled back. The scheduled messages for 7 AM have are queued. The date is March 15th, 2032.

 I hit the calendar button for the first time since I got it and tell it to synch with the station’s clock. I don’t know what date it finally registers. It’s forgotten in one of the pockets on my uniform by the time the update is done.

  The udon is cold. It tastes like how eating instant noodles and a can of coffee alone at 1 AM feels. It isn’t good, but it’s familiar.

[theassassinscrook-blog]

Best Friends, No Matter What

(A Winn Schott fanfiction, acknowledging the beautiful friendship between Kara Danvers and Winn Schott)

Winn sat alone in his apartment, eyes focused blankly on the empty wall across the room from him. The daylight shining in from the windows was long gone, and the clock read '2:47AM'. His mind still raged with memories of his father, both recent and from the distant past. He had spent his entire life trying to separate himself from his father, but now he knew. Nothing he did could ever erase the truth. 

He was Winslow Schott Jr., son of Winslow Schott Sr., also known as the notorious Toyman. Now everyone knew. James, Miss Grant...Kara.

Kara.

Winn closed his eyes as he thought about her, half in pain and half in longing. Ever since he had met her, he had considered the two of them a match made in heaven. They were both undeniably kind, a little on the geeky side, and most importantly cared about others and believed in doing the right thing. 

He was in love with her, he couldn't deny it. Kara Danvers, his weakness. So many things about her made him love her. Her genuine, beautiful smile...those dark-framed glasses that she was would always push up her nose when she was concentrating...and most of all her secret identity that she first revealed to only him.

Supergirl.

Winn had kissed her earlier, as she consoled him about his father. She had been so beautiful in that light, and he just couldn't resist the temptation any longer, even knowing that she was madly in love with James Olsen. But that look that she’d had after pulling away two seconds after their lips met...Winn couldn’t wipe it out of his memory.

It had been almost...disgusted.

Winn’s tortured thoughts were interrupted as his body was unexplainably attacked by a harsh coughing fit that lasted several minutes. When it finally ceased, he was doubled over as his abdomen flared with pain and his throat burned intensely. Winn straightened up slowly before having to immediately stretch out on the couch as an agonizing headache ignited from his forehead.

He lay helplessly for a time, delirium beginning to take over his mind. He was extremely hot, and then moments later he would be unspeakably freezing. A cold sweat filtered through his body, and he shivered, teeth chattering. Winn yanked his old wool blanket that hung on the back of the sofa and threw it carelessly over his body, curling into a fetal position.

His brain ached with exhaustion and his eyelids drooped, but despite his strong desire for sleep, it just wouldn’t come. Still, he could do nothing except lie there. 

Lie there yearning for the woman who would never love him back.

“James, have you seen Winn anywhere today?” Kara asked, poking her head into the man’s office. Her cheeks flared with heat as his eyes met hers, even though most of her focus was on her best friend’s absence. She was worried about him, to say the least, especially after what had happened between them.

“Don’t think so.” James replied, his brow furrowing in concern. “You think he’s okay? Considering everything that went down recently?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Kara replied, once again digging out her cell phone and dialing Winn’s number again. She pressed the phone to her ear and made her way back into the hall. Miss Grant would notice her absence sooner or later. 

“Eyy, this is Winn. Leave a message.”

“Winn. This is my fifth message, where the hell are you? Miss Grant is not going to be happy if she realizes you’re missing. Call me back.”

“Keera, my office!”

Kara overheard Miss Grant’s call for assistance and she sighed, shoving her phone back into her pocket and scurrying as fast as she could to her boss’s office.

“Yes, Miss Grant?”

“Where is your little friend? I’m having trouble with my computer and I need him.” Miss Grant told her loftily, eyes not even leaving the screen as she spoke.  

“Well…” Kara began awkwardly. “I don’t know?”

That was enough to get Cat’s attention. “Then find him.” She said, staring down Kara and speaking as if it were the easiest task in the world. 

“I…uh, haven’t seen him at work today…and I’ve been kind of worried about him lately with everything about Toyman…” And our kiss. Kara thought, wincing internally at the memory as she pictured the crushed look in her friend’s eyes.

Miss Grant sighed, as if the situation was a great inconvenience, and raised her eyebrows at her personal assistant. “Very well, then, Keera, you may check up on Toyman Jr., but be back before my lunch break.”

“Yes, Miss Grant.” Kara said breathlessly, already halfway out the door.

“Winn? Winn.” Kara pounded harder on his apartment door. She’d been standing there for five minutes and he still hadn’t answered the door. She waited a second more, listening, but heard nothing from within. And then she instructed her eyes to burn, to see through to the other side. And what she saw caused a pit to form in her stomach.

Immediately, she jumped into action. Kara grabbed ahold of the door handle and pulled as hard as she could, hoping she could force it open with her brute strength. But in her panic, she pulled too hard and the entire door was ripped away from its hinges.

She barely stopped to assess the damage, rushing to her friend, who lay dead asleep and unhealthily pale on the couch with a wool blanket hanging off his unmoving body. “Oh, no…” Kara whispered, kneeling beside him. “Winn.” He didn’t stir, and she rested a hand on his shoulder, noting with relief that his chest still moved up and down in the steady rhythm of sleep. “Hey.” She shook him gently, trying to coax him to consciousness. “Winn, wake up.” His eyelids fluttered slightly, but didn’t open.

Kara then noticed the sheen of sweat that coated his face, and she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Oh, Winn…you’re burning up.” She murmured to her sleeping friend. “Okay…” Kara said to herself, abandoning her effort to wake him and instead taking action to care for him. She took a pillow and gently lifted his head, which rested only against the uncomfortable arm of the sofa, and propped him up a bit against the pillow. Kara grabbed hold of the blanket that was nearly falling off him and once more settled it across his legs and over his chest, tucking it at the sides so it stayed in place.

Even these two simple actions caused him to relax it seemed, and Kara smiled sadly down at him for a few precious seconds. After settling a damp, cool cloth against Winn’s flaming forehead, Kara pulled a chair up beside him and fished out her phone, dialing James’s number and settling back.

The other man picked up immediately. “Kara? Where are you? Cat’s been asking for you.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kara grumbled, trying to keep her voice low. “Listen…she sent me out to find Winn, and he’s not doing so hot. He’s got a fever, and I’m worried it could be the flu. Could you do me a favor and tell Cat I’m calling in for the day? I can deal with the consequences tomorrow. 

“Of course. Let him know that I tell him to feel better, okay?"

“Thank you, James.” Kara said, smiling slightly before ending the call and focusing on Winn again. I think condolences from James is the last thing he'd want to hear. Already she could see color returning to his face, but he showed no signs of waking anytime soon. Kara was glad for that. If he was sick, he needed all the rest he could get.

And she would be there for him when he woke up.

 It was a couple hours before Winn began to surface to consciousness. He had slipped into an even deeper sleep after Kara had made sure he was cared for and comfortable, and she had been convinced that he would sleep all day.  

So when his eyes slowly opened, glazed with fever and exhaustion, Kara could help but huff out in surprise. But she immediately lowered her voice to speak to him as his eyes focused on her 

“Hey, Winn…” Kara murmured softly, gently pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. It was still sweltering and his body seemed to be radiating heat. 

“Wha’s happenin’...? Kara?” Winn mumbled. “Is this a dream? Are you real?” 

Kara laughed lightly. “Quite real, I assure you.” She tenderly brushed his sweat-soaked strands from his forehead and rested her fingers in his hair. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy…” He replied quietly, his voice almost inaudible. His eyes were half-open, but still focused on her. He coughed laboriously and sniffed, wincing as if his head ached terribly.

“Can you stay awake for a few minutes?” Kara asked. He gave a small nod and Kara stood. “You have any chicken noodle soup?”

“Want chicken wild rice…” Winn muttered, eyes closed all the way now. Kara let him doze off again as she made her way into the kitchen. It only took a couple minutes for her to pour the soup and heat it up with her heat vision. In seconds, it was steaming. 

Winn was half asleep as she fed him the soup. He only powered through about six spoonfuls before he turned his head away in disgust. “No more?” Kara guessed, regarding the furrowing of his brows, amused. He shook his head, already settling back down into the pillows. “Get some sleep.”

She didn't have to say it twice. In just seconds, he was passed out.

Her crystal blue eyes stared into his, filled with love for him and only him. His hands cradled her face and her fingers caressed the nape of his neck. Winn tucked a lock of her golden hair behind her ear and she narrowed her eyes, smiling shyly. 

“I love you, Kara Danvers.” Winn murmured, pulling her close to him. Her grin widened and she surprised him with a long, passionate kiss that caused his heart to flutter. 

“And I you, Winn Schott.” Kara nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and rested against him. “I want to wake up with you every day for rest of my life.” She whispered, one hand caressing the hair on top of his head.

“Ditto.” Winn replied, causing her to giggle.

The warmth of her touch and the comfort of her presence lulled Winn and he soon found his eyelids getting heavy. Kara's chest moved up and down against him in the rhythm of sleep.

Winn relaxed even more and rested his cheek against the crown of Kara’s head and closed his eyes, drifting to sleep with his arms around the woman he loved.

The moment Winn fell asleep in the dream world, he was jolted to the pain of reality. His head pounded as if someone was ramming a hammer against his skull and his stomach churned uncomfortably. He winced, shifting, which directed Kara’s attention to him.

“Winn? I gotta go, James. He’s awake. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” The shy smile on her face was enough to stab Winn in the heart. She had had that same smile for him and only him in his dream. “Hey…” Kara greeted him quietly, taking his hand in hers. “How do you feel?”

Winn stared down at their interlocked fingers and tears began to inexplicably well in his eyes. Kara noticed and shock was evident on her face. “Winn? What’s wrong? Hey…” She kneeled down beside him and took his face with her free hand. A tear slipped down his cheek and Kara wiped it away with her thumb. “Shh...it’s okay. Just tell me what's wrong. 

“I…” Winn began, voice raspy. He stopped speaking and just closed his eyes as more tears escaped his eyes. He silently cried and Kara sat with him, stroking his cheek tenderly.

“Do you want to go to your bed?” Kara asked quietly, after a time had passed and his tears had dried. All he could do was nod. “Okay. C’mere.” She laced an arm around his shoulders and helped him sit up. That was when he took her back in his arms, as he had in his dream, and just cherished the feeling once again. Kara yelped in surprise, but willingly accepted his embrace, tightly squeezing him back. She pulled away and smiled. “You gonna be okay?”

Winn nodded, feeling almost worse after the tears had stopped. He knew, after he recovered and overpowered his emotions, he wouldn’t be able to even look at Kara the same again. Maybe someday, but not any day soon. For now, though, he treasured her presence 

Kara supported him to his bedroom and helped him lie down. Winn couldn’t hardly think as he settled back against his pillows. A coughing fit overcame him and he lay powerless after it subsided, too exhausted to do much else. She sat on the edge of the mattress beside him and took his hand once again. He looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, and she seemed to finally see what was wrong.

“It was about the other night, wasn’t it?” Kara murmured. Winn blinked in response. She looked down, obvious pain in her eyes. Pain caused by the fact that no matter how hard she wanted to, she couldn’t give him what he wanted. “Listen…” She trailed off, interlocking her fingers with his and squeezing his hand. “I may not love you the way you want me to, but, Winn, I promise you that I will always love you, no matter what.”

“Me too.” Winn mumbled after a beat, his voice sleepy and a groggy smile on his face. “Friends? 

“Best friends.” Kara corrected as his eyes closed all the way. “No matter what.”

Winn drifted to sleep knowing that his best friend would always be there for him, and that alone made him happy.