#if my Wretched Hands would stop acting up it would be nice. behave for at least a year. pretend the last job didnt destroy you

[toytulini]

okay next friday we find out if fish proximity can give me the retail worker's constitution

[therewasatale]

go back

On Ao3.

Summary:  Would you go back? Would you leave him?

It was quiet, for once. And you were alone.

Sitting in the doorway of the wide barn, you could still feel the slow throbbing of the huge factory beneath through the ground. As if something gigantic was slowly inhaling and exhaling deep below. If you would have focused more, you might have heard the of tapping knocks, crackles, and rhythmic clicks as the plethora of machines did their thing ceaselessly.

The noise of the place has seeped into your very being. You didn’t really think you’d get used to the place so soon

You pulled your black coat closer to yourself while you watched the storm. The rain fed the puddles with fat drops. The drops fell into the water, creating big bubbles on their surface. It will rain for quite some time.  At least that's what your parents always said. By now, it seemed like a memory from a different life.

The wind rose and you took a deep breath. The sound of approaching footsteps mixed with the monotonous thumping filtering from the factory and the raindrops on the roof.

"Finally found you." Heisenberg stopped, then sat down next to you without question. "God damn it." This wasn't address to anyone, or more like it was addressed to everyone. A huge sigh escaped him and you two sat like that next to each other for a while.

"How was the family-meeting?" You glanced at the man. Even with his glasses on, you knew he rolled his eyes.

"I told you not to call it that." He pulled out a cigar from the depths of his coat and lit it expertly. "Bunch of freaks gathering so they can worship the mother." He almost spitted the last word.

You watched from the corner of your eyes as he slowly blew out a cloud of smoke, your gaze lingered on his lips for a few moments.

"The Dimitrescu daughters said hi..." Heisenberg grimaced and took a deep breath from the cigar. "They annoyed me until I promised I will relay this to you. So there." He pointed theatrically at himself and then bowed his head a little. "Now, no one can say I don't keep my word. God damn, annoying bugs."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and at the same time as a pleasant warmth feeling spread through your chest. So the three of them haven’t forgotten about you, they even think of you time to time. "Thank you, it's very kind of you."

"I know." He grinned slightly. However, his smile didn’t last long when he looked at you. "I still have a hard time believing how long you managed to put up with them." His voice was unusually serious.

"I think they think the same thing about you now."

Heisenberg snorted. "Smartass."

"Thank you." You pushed him softly with your shoulder then you ran your eyes through the landscape behind the pouring rain.

It's been half a year since you got here.

You and Lady Dimitrescu still haven't talked yet, but you thought it was for the best. The Lady could be very convincing, sometimes intimidating and you were afraid you couldn’t have said no if you found yourself facing her again. She could be scary, but the same was true for Lord Heisenberg. You secretly hoped that the difference was that, while Lady Dimitrescu would have been able to hurt you, it would not be true of the man sitting next to you.

As you thought in silence, Heisenberg also found himself sinking in his thoughts. He would never have admitted it, but in a strange way he was able to calm down now. Somehow, everything seemed more peaceful when he was with you, or even just around you. At times like these even his anger subsided. He rolled the pressed cigar slowly between his fingers and tried to lengthen this moment as much as he could. Nevertheless, he was never a patient man.

"You…don't want to go back to them?"

"Hm?" You asked glancing at him.

The man didn't look at you.

"Alcina looked less mad than sad when her kids asked how are you doing. Maybe she would-" he stopped when his gaze met your eyes. He didn't tell the whole truth; he couldn't get himself to do it. How his so called sister stopped him before they returned home.

 'You should give them back.' Lady Dimitrescu raised her voice, which almost trembled with emotion.

'Give them back?' He, on the other hand, wouldn't even tried to hide his annoyance. 'What are ya talking about? (Y/N) perfectly fine with me. Besides, if I remember correctly you were the one, who threw them out.'

His sister rolled her eyes. 'Oh, please. Maybe I've made a mistake. But-'

'No,' Heisenberg snarled. 'It was not just a mistake! You have no fucking idea how much you hurt (Y/N), but I'm not going to let you do it again!'

'They are mine!' Her voice became more filled with darkness with every word 'You don't know anything about them!' As always she stepped closer towering over him, trying to intimidate by her size. 'They are mine! You don't know anything about them!'

However, Heisenberg couldn’t care less, and was getting really riled up too.

'Shut your mouth! They chose to leave you; they don't need a giant SELFISH WHORE LIKE YOU! ' He knew he didn't supposed to be this angry. But he heard your muffled crying just one time too many. His fingers tightened around his hammer. There was more than enough metal around him to use, if its needed. He couldn’t really help with easing your pain, but if he could get rid of the source of your pain, maybe, just maybe, it would help.

The woman's eyes burned with anger, and her blades were ready to cut through anything that got in their way. Lady Dimitrescu leaned closer. 'Maybe they chose to leave, but they will choose to come back. They're not yours. They still belong to me and when they realize this, they will come back to me. I was the one who helped them, who took them in. A weak man-thing like you could never make them happy. And if it's needed then I'm going to take them back from you, you miserable wretch!'

'Go ahead and try, you big piece of useless TRASH!' The hammer moved behind him by itself and rose into the air.

'You two, enough of this non-sense!' Mother Miranda had been waiting silently until now. She couldn’t let two of her most important subjects start a pointless fight and get one of them injured. 'Go to your place. Now! '

There was a sharp wind as black branches burst out of the ground separating Lady Dimitrescu and Lord Heisenberg.

 "No, I don't want to go back." You leaned back on your hands, not even noticing as Heisenberg's shoulders tightening.

You let the smell of tobacco and rain creep into your thoughts. "I was happy there, most of them time."

The man felt his chest grabbed by an icy hand. He took a deep lung full of smoke from his cigarette again.

"Actually I had to, be more cautious there to keep myself safe, but when Lady Dimitrescu took me as her personal maiden. Well." You scratched your head. "Everything was alright for a while." You shuddered, you could still recall the Lady’s touch in your memories and on body vividly to this very day. But it all didn't matter now. "But, you know, after a while I started to think…I was really just a toy that they got bored of, maybe not for the daughters, but for the Lady? Certainly."

You didn’t have the strength to look at Heisenberg. If you had seen some sign of the same thing in his eyes now...If you were just an object, and he maybe started to find you less interesting now…Would he do the same?

"I knew it was going to end like this. It's fine." You lied with a fake smile.

Dense smoke rose from his lips. "So, that's why?" He almost sounded annoyed. "Why are you still here?" So maybe you would go back?

"Hm. Partly…maybe."

"Get to the point, (Y/N)." He muttered under his breath, but he was still listening seriously.

"I love being here, Heisenberg. This place is amazing, I got used to the sounds and the smell and I can do a lot more than in the castle. I don't want to go back because I can be better here, maybe even happier next to you."

Heisenberg felt his heart skip a beat.

"I can be an asshole."

"Yes, you can." Your smile became more earnest.

"So?"

You grabbed his coat with one hand, took the cigarette out of his mouth with the other, then pulled him in a kiss. You could smell the bitter, smoky taste of cigarette on his lips. He snorted in surprise but hugged you closer with one arm. After putting your cigar aside, you caressed his face gently. He kissed you the way she behaved, without holding back or acting nice. Couple of minutes later you had pull away, fully out of breath. Panting and deeply blushing you faced him.

"You are an asshole. But you are also mine." You carefully took off his glasses so you could look into his gray eyes. "Would you hurt me, Heisenberg?"

"No." The lord grinned widely, still, deep in his eyes you could see true warmth hiding there. "Only if you want me to, if you're into this kind of stuff." Pulling you into his lap, he kissed you again."

Around you, the noises of the factory and rain were pushed into the background, and you could only focus on the man's smoky lips and his strong arms, embracing you.

[thenextchapter22]

Angel of the Three Realms

PART FOUR!!

Description: You were an Angel who went to the human world to escape punishment for loving Lucifer only to be brought back into his life, this time in the Devildom where you pretend to be human.

In this chapter: Simeon brings you back the medicine and some not so good news...

Warnings: Unrequited Love, Angst, WIP

Pairing(s): Lucifer/Reader

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Authors Note: It’s been a while again but here is a 2k chapter to make up for it?! Please check out my AO3 for my other works or my Masterlist on my pinned post :)

Part One Part Two Part Three

_+_

“Did Michael give you any problems?”

“He didn’t know I was even there. I was very discreet in my arrival, only one knew I was there.”

“That’s unlike you… but good.”

“Lucifer, why are you so mean to me…”

Simeon’s whine made you grin but you tried not to react too much. You were eavesdropping after all.

It was a private conversation obviously otherwise they would not be whispering. Simeon had come back from fetching whatever it was he needed from the Celestial Realm (you didn’t even think at the time to ask what it was from Barbatos or Lucifer, you were more worried about him stealing. He was an Angel and he was going to steal from the Heavens for you, a pitiful little thing that had broken wings). As soon as he came in it was like your body woke up in time and somehow you knew not to move or speak. Instinct of the Angels or something ridiculous, or maybe just coincidental. Either way you were glad you were conscious to hear this.

Lucifer had been watching over you while you slept and waited for the medicine. As the eldest brother, he was also the one who worried the most and had the most stress, but he hid it well. Not from you, though, and you could tell he was worried about you. If you got a sort of look in your eyes, Lucifer you distract you however he could. Mostly with stupid stories of his brothers but it worked for the most part. He kept you company and sane while you tried not to bite your nails off freaking out about what was going on.

When you actually did bite at them, though, he slapped at your hand and you gaped. “Lucifer—”

His nose turned up. “Do not nibble on your nails, it’s disgusting. Do you know what you’re putting in your mouth?”

You smiled. He was so cute. “Nibble? I never thought it’d hear that word from you.” You nudged him from where he sat beside you, and he was not prepared and wobbled. It was hilarious and you outright laughed.

He narrowed his eyes, playfully. “Behave yourself or I won’t bring you the strawberry sorbet that Barbatos made.”

Anything made by the Demon Butler was incredible, so you pouted and apologized, “Sorry, I’ll be good.”

He huffed. “No you won’t. But I accept your apology.”

You both laughed then, and he took your hand and squeezed it once. The hue on your cheeks was noticeable in the room but thankfully he was paying attention to the book in his lap.

The time you spent with him was always amazing. Be it in silence, reading together, or talking about his work or your schoolwork, or just teasing one another, every word and action or lack thereof, if it was with him… there was nothing more you could ask for. After so long without him, then seeing him but not being able to be who you were without repercussions, this was… nice.

A soft touch to your shoulder had your mind reeling but it was just Lucifer adjusting your blanket. You faced the other way so it wasn’t like they could see your face but you kept your breathing and heartbeat as regular as you could.

“She’s looking better than a few days ago. Her wings are beautiful. Well done.”

“Hm. Yes, but this will help considerably. What do we need to do with it?”

“Mix it into her tea or water. I’ve already crushed it into a powder. The effects should be seen within hours and she should be able to sheath her wings again and her strength with come back.”

A pause for a moment, and a sigh from Simeon. “Lucifer… while Michael gave me no trouble… there is something else I found out.”

Simeon sounded very worried. And you couldn’t help but inhale with worry, too, and it was apparent they both noticed as it was dead silent for a moment. You blew it. The gig was up, time to confess your sin.

“Sorry,” you said, turning your head and opening your eyes. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose… at first...”

Lucifer chuckled. “Of course not.”

Simeon half smiled. “No, little lamb, it’s all right. You need to hear this, too.”

You sat up with a little help, wings being curled behind on the bed, and folded your hands together on your lap. Switching gazes between Lucifer and Simeon standing before you, heart pounding, you felt so young again. The tension in the room was slightly suffocating.

Simeon sighed before he spoke. “I didn’t hear it from Michael but one of my closest friends keeping an eye on the Celestial Realm had information for me. He told me that he noticed Michael had been acting strange ever since I left to come to the Devildom. Which wasn’t odd, he didn’t want to do this at the start. He also found some terrible things out, something Michael did right after you Fell. From what was discovered, Michael came to Earth without our Father’s consent under the cover of an Ancient spell of cloaking used by Angelic spies millennium ago, and he… well, he sought you out.”

You were confused. “Michael came to find me when I… left…?”

Simeon nodded. He looked upset the more he spoke. “Yes.”

That made zero sense. Firstly, how did he know you left, and secondly… “I never… I would have known if Michael came to see me.” And you would have ran as far away as you could go.

Nodding, Simeon continued, “Yes, I know, my dear, but he didn’t come for conversation exactly. He came and went quickly after….” He looked at Lucifer, who was also patiently (not really) waiting. “…after he put a spell on you.”

You were rigid in your spot. Michael was crafty, so it wasn’t something simple, it had to have been very powerful and purposeful spell he cast. It wasn’t something like a prank spell, especially if he used such Ancient Celestial magic to hide himself.

“Simeon, what was the spell for?”

“Michael didn’t want Lucifer or his brothers to figure out you were still alive, why I am unsure. Maybe jealousy? Maybe hatred? It could be many things, but it’s all speculative. This spell… it only affected those on Earth, and in Heaven. So I, too, had been affected. He was the only exempt, along with Father, of course. He was out for weeks replenishing himself back then and no one knew why he wasn’t seen for so long… until now.”

Lucifer glared at Simeon. “Get to the point. Now.”

“Yes. Well, this spell was to block Sight, and alter Memory. Of you. He wanted you erased from our minds, as though you died when you Fell from Heaven. I am so sorry, my dear.”

Time itself stopped and you didn’t breathe for several seconds. You inhaled from your nose and grit your teeth. Lucifer sat at your side and tried to take your hand, seeing your reaction, but you pulled away and shot daggers at him. “No, don’t attempt to comfort me right now, Luci. This is fucked up for even him to do. I’m pissed off!”

“Please, calm down, you’re still healing and—”

“Shut up Simeon!” Your voice echoed in the room, both Angel and Demon glancing at each other and then to you. “He’s going to pay for this, I’ll make sure he suffers.”

You felt your magic struggling to start up but it was growing steady each second. You attempted to stand up, to do what you were not sure. All you knew was anger and it boiled in your veins like a volcano about to pop.

Michael never liked you, but this? What he did to you, and your family, and all of the world? It was horrific. If he could make the Celestial Realm forget you, what else could he do? He couldn’t reach the Devildom, thankfully, but you would find a way to reach him and tear his eyes out and shove them somewhere unpleasant.

But there were two obstacles in your way… Simeon and Lucifer. They each held you down by your shoulders, one hand from each, and kept you still on the bed.

“I understand your anger,” Lucifer said, “and I want to seek revenge just as you do but this is not the time. You need rest and we need to think about this.”

“Fuck. You. I hate him for this. What kind of monster just changes thousands of Angel’s memories? Of me? Me?! I didn’t do anything to him, Lucifer!”

Your body was burning. Lungs, eyes, muscles, all of it. Tense, ready to burst like before with your magic. He could do it again, couldn’t he? Make them forget you? It was so easy the first time, what if he could find a way here and do it again? You’d be alone all over… no home, no friends, and no brothers to tease or school to learn all about demon customs… No Lucifer for the second time.

The ringing in your ears was loud, but one voice rang louder, like a megaphone breaching through a thick wall. “Breathe deeply and relax your muscles. It’s all right. We know you, we are here for you.” Simeon. He gently squeezed your upper arm and you tried to do as he said.

Lucifer was next, his voice even louder, clearer. “I’ll never allow that wretched Angel to be near you. If I see his face I will rip his head off and burn it in Hellfire.” Lucifer’s words oddly brought you comfort more than Simeon’s.

You sniffled, wiped a few straggling tears, and dropped your head onto Lucifer’s chest, clutching his shirt. “Don’t. Just…” Stay.

He caressed the back of your head and let you be. Breathing him in, feeling him and his own magic curling around you like a dark blanket, and Simeon’s energy right beside you like a nightlight along with it. Several calming breathes and a minute later you were okay.

You blinked up at Lucifer, “Sorry. Thanks for that.”

His eyes softened and he brushed a few tangled pieces of hair out of your face. “You’re welcome, little one.”

Simeon had stepped away, messing with the water pitcher. The Angel walked to you with a glass in hand. “Here, while you’re awake you may as well take this.” Simeon handed you the cup, and it looked like it had dirt swimming around inside. “I know it looks unpleasant but it will help you heal quickly so you can finally leave this bed.” He smiled softly.

You downed it quick so you didn’t have to taste it for long. But what you did taste was like pee stained socks. You almost vomited it back. Why did medicine have to taste so nasty? Wasn’t this from the Heavens, and shouldn’t it taste better?

They both chuckled at you, and Simeon gave you clean water to wash it down with. Ice cold and delicious water.

After a moment of settling that stuff in your stomach, you asked in a quiet voice, “But you do remember me? Everything, right?” Just to be sure. You had to be sure.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course we do. I remember chasing your around in your diapers after you stole flowers from the Sacred Gardens. You fell into a patch of Lily’s and your butt was coated in pollen.”

You flushed. “S-simeon!” Why would he bring up such a memory? Your ears were burning you turned so red.

Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, I remember that as well. Do you recall her face? It was yellow with the same pollen.”

Simeon nodded and laughed, “Yes, I do!”

Groaning, you begged, “Please, no more, I don’t want to hear any other embarrassing stories right now.” They laughed but stopped at your behest.

You thought a bit more, and wondered… “But how did your informant remember me? Was he not present in either Realm when the spell was cast?” you asked Simeon.

“I had wondered the same, actually. He was in the Celestial Realm back then. But a few weeks ago he had been searching the private Library for all Top Level Angels on a task handed to him by God, and he found a secret doorway with stacks of books and papers and notes with Michael’s handwriting. Your name was there, so that must have triggered the spell to reverse. He told no one at my command until we find out why Michael did all of this.”

“But I told you all my name… And it was only when my wings showed themselves you all remembered.”

“That is true. But this was most likely from the original spells wordings, and thus it had the ancient magic connected to it. I can only assume however.”

Lucifer had some input as well. “Hm… It’s possible that the same could be said for your wings. It’s also considered ancient magic, you had not once used it around us before so that could be another possibility.”

You rubbed your head. This was too much at once. “Okay, I’m done with tonight. I couldn’t care less why you guys remember me or the circumstances behind all of this. All I know is this: Michael is a scheming asshole and I want him to pay.”

Lucifer sighed. “We know, dove, we feel the same way. Simeon?”

“Yes, I have to agree, Michael has done something that needs punishing, but until we find out more on why, I think it’s best to have you rest. Why don’t you go back to sleep? Hopefully in the morning you will be able to move around by yourself and put away your wings. I know how difficult this all is for you.”

“Thank you Simeon. You have no idea what this means to me, that you did that for me. I can’t ever repay you.”

Simeon smiled. “I just wish for your health and safety, little lamb, that’s all I want. So get some sleep now, and dream good dreams for me. Maybe of when you were young and wild.” He kissed your forehead, and left after bidding Lucifer goodnight.

With the help of Lucifer you were back under the covers. “I hope this is the last night I have to spend sleeping like this. I miss sleeping on my back and stretching my legs out.”

Lucifer smirked. “Yes, I do recall once you had come into my bed and stole it with your flailing limbs. You were no older than a toddler then so I can imagine the space you take up now.”

You chucked a pillow at him and he dodged it elegantly, his hair perfect still. How he did it, you wondered. “Jerk, I don’t have flailing limbs.” But wow, sharing a bed with Lucifer now sounded lovely.

You sighed and closed your eyes, shimmying into the bed and pillows. It was toasty warm. “Goodnight, Luci.”

“Sleep well, dove. In the morning you should be well again.” He smoothed his hand down your upper back and leaned in to kiss the top of your head, and then left to his own room now that he knew you were going to be okay.

Somehow, despite all the bad you had discovered, you found yourself dreaming of old days, of flying circles around the Angels in lower class than you, of jumping on your bed and Lucifer scolding you then making you snacks to make up for his scolding because you were spoiled. And, yes, you dreamt of the time you fell into the flowers and stained yourself yellow with pollen.

Barbatos said it right: “Our dreams are extensions of our conscious minds” and this time, the dream playing behind your eyelids was full of joy instead of pain. Memories, beautiful and exquisite times with your Angelic family. It was lovely recalling those days in your head.

When you woke up, you smiled. You had traded in one family for another, and although this family was full of demonic brothers and a Demon Prince and a few other strange beings (Solomon was the strangest possibly), family was not always blood.

You were ready to face anything the world gave you. Be it Michael or whatever else, to protect them.

As you lay there, your wings sucked into you with an influx of magic, and you barely even noticed. Too caught in your head remembering good times with the Devildom family you made.

[fandumbtraz]

Wanna Play? {Story}

I hate this school. Monoma thinks, studying the others moving around in the hallways. It’s like any other day at UA, slow, boring, and full of annoying people. These people will be the end of me if I keep hanging around. I need a faster pace in my life than this.

Despite his best efforts, someone coming towards him in the opposite way bumps into him. The wretched student, known as Bakugou. He’s the troublemaker from Class 1-A. Of course, he has to be here, he’s always there when trouble arises. This guy’s the worst of the students. He crosses his arms and scowls behind bared teeth.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” he snaps. “Do I have to tell you this?”

“You’re the one that ran into me.”

Bakugou grabs Monoma by the collar of his shirt. A grin forms on his face and chuckles. Bakugou moments later cast Monoma to the floor, him hitting the ground with a thud. Was that needed? I did nothing to you. Why do you do this? Before being able to react, laughter erupts in the hallway.

Monama saw something red on the floor. The fall left him with a bloody nose. He made his way to the bathroom. This is the last straw. I can’t take these fools anymore. He looks into the mirror, groaning. Why doesn’t anyone listen to me? I don’t get it. I’m one of the best people in the entire school. I don’t think anyone gets that.

With napkins in hand, he cleans up. Eyes closing, he shakes his head. How dare he do that to me? Monoma takes a glance at himself, a thought crosses his path. That’s right, I’ve had this plan set up for weeks. Today was my planned date to follow through with it. Prepare yourselves, you’ll be in for a wild ride. He watches the mirror for a moment longer.

He pokes his head into the hall. Perfect, not a soul to be seen. They must be at lunch. Phase one starts now. With my luck, I’m hoping that the teachers are on break elsewhere. With a slow walk, making it to the teacher’s lounge.

Monoma tiptoes into the doorway, looking both ways before taking a step closer. Desks and tables line the room as the ticking of the wall clock breaks the silence. Nobody here, just as I thought it’d be. Screeching to a full stop, he freezes, a yellow-colored sleeping bag on the other side of a distant desk. He sees one person in it, Mr. Aizawa, the teacher of Class 1-A.

Cautiously making his way to one desk, the one besides Mr. Aizawa, he creeps over, keeping silent as he can. Monoma shuffles through the papers spread and scattered across it. At this pace, time is running short on my end. I need to hurry or this plan will fail.

Wiping his sweaty forehead as he searches looking up at the clock. Only a half-hour to find this thing. Finding what he needs, he grabs a pen out of his back pocket. He finds a loose slip of paper and copies what he found. With a gaze at the sleeping figure, a grin forms on his face. His quirk will be handy. Might as well take this chance before it’s gone.

Walking around the desk, he places his hand into the sleeping bag onto Mr. Aizawa’s shoulder. The warmth from it felt against the soft fibers of his clothing. Looking up at the clock on the wall again. He watches as the hands are ticking away. Too bad I can’t use my quirk without touching who I want to copy. That would make things so much easier without that.

Grumbling, Mr. Aizawa adjusts his position. Flinching Monoma drops the pen. He pulls his hand away and holds a scrap of paper to his chest. Monoma backpedaled to the door. Around the corner, he presses himself against the wall, out of sight. That was a close one. At least he didn’t catch me.

He looks at Mr. Aizawa. What a lazy teacher he is. I wonder how that class gets by with someone like that. Monoma makes his way out of the room. Looking around he pulls the slip of paper out of his pocket. The scrawls litter the page. He nods knowing this is all that he’ll need to get his plan to completion. Not making it far, Monoma takes a deep breath. He looks back to the staff lounge after hearing a groan to see Mr. Aizawa is now sitting up. At least this didn’t happen while I was inside.

Monoma goes to the row of lockers around the corner. Opening his locker he shuffles in an old brown sack. I’m surprised nobody found out about these. Wouldn’t end well on my part if that happened. Pulling the bag out he carefully scopes the hall. Getting up he makes it to the corners of the hallways of the main floor. With a handful of square devices, he sticks them up with adhesive strips. Nobody can stop me now, once these go off everyone has little chance of survival.

In a short time he lays things out. Monoma looks towards one nearby him and grabs a remote from the bag. I’ll have to move fast, I don't want to be caught. Nodding, he skips around in place. They’ll be so proud of me, I know they will. Luckily for me these are electric powered.

Wasting no time, he makes his way to the cafeteria. Students litter the area as chatter fills the air, it gets louder as he gets closer. Both Class 1-A and 1-B mingled with each other alongside others. Monoma scans the area in search of any teachers floating around. He made it over to the lunch line. He noticed a shiny item, a kitchen knife sitting on the counter. A grin formed, he snuck it into his pocket and continued. This may come in handy if there are casualties.

Monoma makes his way over to one of the tables. The sight of the other class sent him into internal but hateful emotions. He heads to a seat with Kendo, two other students. Shoto and Kaminari from Class 1-A. I know what’s needed but I need to move fast. Standing beside Shoto, a smile comes to his face. Whispers bounce from the table go silent as Monoma makes it to the table.

“My, don’t the three of you look wonderful today? I’m lucky to be friends with you all.”

Looking up, Kendo narrowed her eyes as she turned to face him. “Don’t be a kiss-up, you know what’ll happen.

“Fine, I won’t do anything funny.”

“Good, I don’t want to have to resort to hitting you.”

He sits between Shoto and Kaminari. This is what I’ve been waiting for. Chuckling he looks at Shoto giving him a couple pats on the back. Shoto froze and looked at Monoma.

Shoto coughs, “We’re trying to eat.”

“Oh, sorry about that, I didn’t know your mouth was full.”

“Monoma, ease up,” Kendo says in a dry voice.

“Why you gotta be such a party pooper? Don’t you want me to make some friends?”

A groan comes from Kendo, “Behave yourself, but don’t you like Class 1-A students?”

“I will, I will. You don’t have to worry about me.”

It’s my time to shine. A chuckle came as he turned and took a few steps away. Walking behind Kaminari, placing his hands on his shoulders. The feeling of static radiating off him. It felt energized. Monoma looks down, Kaminari looks up to meet his gaze. Kaminari’s golden eyes became confused and raised an eyebrow.

“What’re you doing? Don’t you know your boundaries?”

“Dear me, I’m sorry for getting so close but I couldn’t help but notice your hair. It looks nice today.”

Kaminari moves Monoma’s hand, “Still weird, I don’t want you touching me.”

“Okay, if that’s what you wish.”

“Please don’t touch me again.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself next time. But won’t you look at the time I must go?”

Man how I hate to be told what to do.

“Where do you think you’re going? You know you have to stay in this area.”

“I have to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.”

Turning on his heel he turns toward the hall. Kendo rises from her seat.

“I don’t like how you’re acting. What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to relieve myself, is that so bad?”

Monoma gives a bow to the group. A smirk crosses his face followed by a chuckle. Down the hallway, he passes the restrooms. Stopping, he stands before a couple of doors. One with a yellow triangle on it.

Heading into the room next to the triangle he punches the code from the scrap of paper. Humming, he opens the door after it beeps, a green light appears on the keypad. Pulling the door open he steps inside. Monoma makes his way over to the computer on the far side of the room. Taking out the remote he connects it to the computer, beginning the transfer of information.

While waiting for installment he looks at his watch and the time on it. His hatred for the rest of the school rose inside him. Monoma wants them gone. The remote chimes and he leaves the room. He heads to the other door. Quickly he punches in the code. It opens with a click. He takes the handle and steps inside leaving the door open. Inhaling a breath he gets to work.

A bead of sweat drips down his forehead. He activates the quirk borrowed from Kaminari. To his advantage, Monoma uses it to short circuit the power of the building. The sprinklers fizzle and go out. Muttered voices can be heard from the lunchroom. Seconds pass as footsteps are heard outside the room.

“Monoma, what’re you doing?”

Over his shoulder the grin remains on his face, he chuckles. Go figure that she’d be the one to find me. Kendo is always up in my grill. Rising to his feet he turns to face the girl.

“Looks like you want to play?”

“I knew something was up. You took off before any of us could say anything. Plus you acted differently than your normal”

“Oh dear, it seems I’ve been caught. But we can’t have any witnesses.”

“What do you mean by we?”

“You’ll never know, and I’ll make sure of it.”

Reaching into his pocket he pulls out the knife. Cackling, he walks up to Kendo. Monoma stands blocking the doorway. She takes a step back.

“Woah, what has gotten into you? You’ve changed.”

“If you want to know what’s going on, come at me.”

Kendo raises her hands as they grow in size. Within seconds Monoma’s hair raises. Her eyes go wide as her hands shrink to normal size. Growling, she gets into a fighting pose stepping backward. Monoma closes the door to the electrical room behind him.

“You monster! How did you do that? Did you copy class 1-A’s teacher’s quirk?”

“Indeed I did, and you’re useless now.”

Without second thoughts Monoma charges forward, driving the knife into her side. Yelping, she looks toward the lunchroom.

“You won’t get away with this, and you know that.”

“I’ll succeed, and you’ll be the one to fail.”

The ooze from her side makes contact with the floor. Holding her hip Kendo grits her teeth. The pain wasn’t letting up. Chuckling Monoma walks closer.

“Say goodbye, it’s the only chance you’ll get.”

Narrowing their eyes at each other they hear the clatter of footsteps coming their way. Looking over Kendo sees three people approaching. A small smirk crosses her face. The three being none other than Shoto, Bakugou, and Izuku.

“You won’t get away with this, people are coming.”

Before she can react, Monoma slashes her chest with the knife before slamming the tip of the blade in. Screaming, she collapses to the floor, a red puddle forming below her.

“Nobody will forgive you for what you’ve done.”

The blood loss catches up with her. Gasping for air and coughing the life she once knew was gone in seconds. Cackling, he pulls the knife from her chest.

“Silly girl thought she’d win.”

Monoma looks over, seeing the three people stop. They spot the bloodied blade in his hand. A grin crosses his face.

“Nice of you to join this knife party eh?”

Bakugou stood next to Midoriya, teeth-gritting against each other. Bakugou raised his hands, sparks flew around them. Midoriya prepared his fists.

“Hold it right there!” Shoto shouts between gritted teeth.

“Come and catch me, if you can.”

“You bastard!” Bakugou shouts.

Grinning Monoma takes a couple of leaps away from the door. He shakes his head. A jackpot before me, what a wonderful thing to have. Butterflies flew around inside of him.

“What a shame it is to say goodbye to you all.”

“Huh?” Midoriya says with a head tilt.

Before any of them could respond, the door to the electrical room burst open slamming into the three of them. They crumble to the ground as it smashes them between the metal door and the wall. Laying motionless for a moment, Izuku attempts to stand but crashes to the floor again. Fire spreading wild. An electrical fire is the best way for this.

“Why are you doing this? Didn’t you want to be a hero?”

“That’s what you think but I never intended to be one. I’ve always been bad from the start”

Under the door lay Bakugou and Shoto paralyzed. Monoma walks to Midoriya pinning to the wall, putting the knife up to his throat. The grin on his face goes crooked and shakes his head.

“Stand down or this will be going to your throat.”

“I will not stand down, this isn’t right.”

“Suit yourself.”

No warning comes as Monoma slashes the knife across Midoriya’s throat. His body drops with a thud.

“Tsk, you guys won’t help your friend. How selfish.”

Holding his arms out, Monoma uses Kaminari’s quirk. Electricity fills the area as it strikes Shoto and Bakugou. Screams of pain and terror ring through the air. Shoto looks with wide eyes unable to move as the electricity engulfs both himself and Bakugou, rendering them useless.

“Wonderful, these guys have been taken care of. That’s one mess I won’t be cleaning.”

With phase two in mind, he lets the fire in the electric room spread down the hallway next to one of his detonator bombs. Monoma looks at his wristwatch, just in time but he needs to get out and fast. Time is ticking and the countdown is on. He leaps over the bodies of them and bolts into the lunchroom.

Marveling at the burning bodies a smokey scent wafts in the air. Inhaling deeply, he nods in approval of the deed he’s done. Not wasting time he bolts into the lunchroom skidding to a stop in the middle of it pretending to be out of breath.

“Quick! Kendo is down and security has been breached! We need to get out of here!”

Heads turned in his direction as gasps rattle the air around them. Everyone runs toward the location of the electrical room. With a sly grin, he looks over the room and spots one person standing there with anger. It’s Mr. Aizawa with his scarf in hand and ready for a fight.

“Looks like you want to play too.”

Before Mr. Aizawa could move Monoma reacts with a burst of lightning in his direction. With a sprint, he jumps out of the way. Monoma charges down the hall, bursting out the front doors. Taking the control remote, he turns the power back on. Other teachers begin to swarm and catch up but screech to a stop as Monoma hits the button turning on the security system.

“Good match old man, but you’re not fast enough.”

“Let us out! You can’t keep us in here forever!”

“Right, but that won’t be happening.”

A moment of silence falls over for a moment before banging and yelling continues along with coughing. Furious screams come from the other side of the door.

“What a wonder that I was able to pull this off.”

Monoma runs his fingers through his hair and dusts his clothing hearing banging. He stops to watch for a moment.

“This will be an unforgettable moment.”

As Monoma keeps walking out of the property he wipes his hands, stopping at the entrance to the school at the spread of fire across the surface. Nodding he crosses his arms. Who knew committing crimes could be that easy.

“This is what you deserve.”

Looking at his watch he gives a wider grin and counts back from three. The school littered with his small explosives went off and the school blew up before him. Scattered remains scatter the green lawn. Skipping in one spot he looks over his shoulder to see a familiar person beside him.

“Good, you’re here. We’ll need to get rid of that knife you’re holding. They’re going to try to prove it’s you and it links you to your crimes.”

Monoma nods looking at the stained knife. It did the job well but he knows if he doesn’t get rid of it he won’t manage to keep this up for long. In his hand, he swishes the blade around before tossing it into the nearby bushes.

“The job has been done.”

“That’s impressive work for a newbie.”

“Yeah, that was amazing.”

“We need to go before authorities arrive.”

“Right, you lead the way.”

Dabi and Monoma sprint to a black van and take off, leaving dust and the burning school in their wake. That worked better than expected. But this is the way of a villain. This is the most enjoyable thing besides being with heroes.

[thepaperpanda]

Uncle Venom || Eddie Brock x Reader

|| Part II ||

Summary: Reader turns out to be pregnant. A huge change is nearing for both her and Eddie. What Venom will say about it?

Warnings: none

Words: 2666

Authors: Cass & Rouge

You felt like you had the most terrible hangover all the time. You were nauseous and liable to vomit at the slightest provocation. You couldn't even fill up your car with petrol without the fumes making you wretch and heave. And it lasted all damn day. How could anything so natural feel so bad? It was worse than gastric flu, at least with the flu you knew it would be over in a few days. This could go on for another seven months.

"Goddamn," you cursed as soon as you crossed the threshold of Eddie's flat, holding shopping bags in both of your hands. You put them on the floor and closed the door behind you.

The most stressing thing was still ahead - you had to inform Eddie.

Eddie was doing something in the kitchen with Venom looking over his shoulder. "Pal, I swear. If you won't stop drolling on the cake butter, you’ll eat it raw," man muttered before looking over his shoulder to spot you. "Y/N, finally, I was getting worried!," Eddie said and walked to you despite Venom's whining.

"No, no, don't leave that tasty cake, Eddie, you fucker!," Venom whined sadly but his face lit up as soon as he spotted you. "Y/N, my saviour has come!"

You smiled gently and stroked Venom's head. "Hello, boys. Eddie," you looked at your boyfriend. "Listen, after dinner we have to talk, okay?"

Eddie wrapped his arm around you and hugged you gently before taking the bag from you, he watched Venom eagerly dived into it to look after something for him. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Eddie looked at you with a worried gaze. "Is everything allright, sweetheart?"

"Later. I'm hungry," you smiled his question away and poked Venom's head. "Pal, I bought you your favourite chocolate bars with nuts."

Venom made huge, puppy eyes and licked his face with his long tongue. "Y/N is a queen, see that, Eddie? Take an example from her, she treats me like a real family member."

Eddie looked at Venom even more annoyed. "Just because you are nice to her. You are a dick for me so I treat you equally and you eat the cake raw,”he said and his attention returned to you. "Y/N, you are sure it can wait? You made me really worried now."

"I am," you growled at him, waving your hands angrily. "Unpack this bags and I'll put the cake into the oven, Jesus. I asked you to do it and it's fucking too much for you? Oh, great! Have you seen how our kitchen looks like?! Has any tornado came through it?," You yelled helplessly as soon as you spotted the mess in the kitchen.

Venom and Eddie both looked at you in shock because of your sudden outburst. "This... can't be normal," Eddie muttered looking at Venom until he realized that symbiot is just looking at the cake form with his tongue stuck out. "You don't even listen to me, parasite!,” He growled at Venom.

Venom stiffened and straighten his form, towering over man, looking down at Eddie. "Don't call me parasite, you pussy. You ain't any better. You just pissed Y/N off. I told you to clean!"

You raised hand to silent them both. "I go lay down, my head is spinning around. I need a moment of silence, I need to gather my thoughts. You two, clean the kitchen, unpack the bags and prepare dinner. And no, Eddie, I won't be eating Chinese food again," you gave him a look before you left to the bedroom.

"You little!," Eddie was ready to grab Venom in the attempt of chocking him but he immediately reacted to your hand. He listened to you, nodding his head. When you disappeared in the bedroom, Eddie looked at Venom. "You lick off the leftovers and I wash the plates, deal?"

Venom frowned his forehead. "Do we really look like a vaccum cleaner?," He snorted but after this he started to licking food from the counter with his tongue. "Mmm, delicious."

"Now you look like a vacuum cleaner, V,” Eddie said, shaking his head.

Eddie started to work hard to clean the whole kitchen and to wash all the dishes. Later he took upon himself to prepare your favorite meal.

When the meal was ready, Eddie prepared the table at walked to you. He knocked on the door. "Y/N? Sweetheart? Dinner is ready and it's not the Chinese food."

You came to the kitchen after few minutes, yawning, with your hair pinned in a bun. "Wow, I wasn't expecting something like this," you clapped hands and took cutlery in your hands.

Meal tasted delicious and you couldn't get over the rice Eddie has prepared, it was perfect.

Eddie and Venom ate with you, Eddie shyly looked at you. "I hope you like it... I though it will be better than Chinese food," he said quietly, giving Venom big piece of chicken meat.

Venom tried his best to stop himself from eating like a monster. He formed a hand and grabbed piece of meat, taking little bites of it, looking shyly at you.

You thanked Eddie and went to brush your teeth.

When finally you got back, you asked Brock to the living room. You took a place on the couch, crossing legs and looking at him, you let out a deep sigh of concern. "Listen, Eddie. Soon our lives is going to change."

When you were gone Eddie went to quickly clean the dishes again before he went to living room as you asked. Eddie looked at you completely puzzled. "Our lives are going to change. Are you leaving me?," He asked shocked.

You rolled your eyes. "If you'll still be behaving like a pussy, I'll consider such a possibility," he grunted.

Venom couldn't help but giggled loudly, until he spotted angry glance of his host.

Eddie frowned. "You know! After today I wouldn't mind it! I have enough of Venom calling me names and treating me like a piece of trash. I don't need to listen such a things fromthe woman I love,”he growled getting up from his seat, pointing on you. "So stop acting like you would be on your fucking period."

"I'm fucking pregnant!," You yelled at him, also getting up.

Venom blinked and hid behind Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie blinked just as Venom did. "Wait... Wait, you are what?!"

“Fucking pregnant!," You growled. "What means you'll be a father."

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!," Eddie yelled and suddenly picked you up only to spin you around. "This is the best news ever, Y/N!"

"Eddie, stop spinning around, we'll vomit," Venom warned.

"Shut up, next time eat less," Eddie said setting you back on the floor only to hug you tightly. "Do you realize you made me the happiest man with parasite in the entire world?!"

You smiled at him softly and stroked his cheek briefly. "I happen to know."

He hugged you tightly, placing his hand on your belly. "My God, look at it, Venom. There is a new life growing,” Eddie said proudly but quickly he started to panic. "But we need so many stuff."

But Venom didn't look happy at all. He observed you for awhile with interest but soon he turned his head away.

"V? What's wrong?," Eddie asked looking confiused.

Venom didn't respond to man's question, he disconnected himself from Eddie and crawled aside, sitting in front of the window.

Eddie looked at Venom and back at you, then he walked to the window. "Hey, what's wrong, pal? Talk to us."

Venom formed head and looked at Eddie, then turned around to face you.

"What's wrong with you, V?," You asked as you sat in the floor next to the symbiote.

Eddie joined you soon and nodded his head. "Exactly, buddy. You can talk to us, you know that."

"Eddie?," Venom looked at his host. "Is Y/N going to die if the new life is in her?"

"No, of course not. The baby will grow inside her belly and then it will come out. They both will be happy and alive, and healthy," Eddie explained and looked at you. "I feel like we would be talking with our firstborn."

Venom looked at man sadly.

You also glared at your boyfriend angrily, frowning.You offered hand to symbiote. "He is our firstborn of some kind," you said quietly.

Venom looked at you, his white eyes widened, symbiote instinctively nuzzled to your hand.

"Sure he is, now come back here, buddy. You don't need to be worried about anything, both of us will be here... well, three of us, soon," Eddie corrected himself with a short laugh.

"Yeah, funny, Edward," symbiote snapped. "When this little alien will be born, you'll kick me out because you won't be needing me anymore. I'll end up in some dirty drain, all alone... Hungry...," Symbiote started shaking all over its form.

Eddie rolled his eyes and picked Venom up, he set him on his shoulder and started to scratch his head. "Such a stupid thing will never, ever happen, V. You are part of our little family and child will never change it. We will always keep you happy and well-fed."

"Yea! We won't be Y/N's favourite parasite anymore! You'll be focused on your child!," Symbiote was whimpering.

You got up and walked to Eddie, stroking Venom's head as well. "V, how do you think, will we be able to prepare everything on our own? Without such a great planner like you?," You asked.

"Y/N is right. No one makes plans as good as you and child requires a lot of planning, buddy,” Eddie said shrugging. "There is really no need to whimper."

"Okay, okay," Venom agreed. But suddenly he frowned again. "Eddie, may I ask you something?"

"Yes, always,”man nodded.

"Are children tasty?"

Eddie blinked. "No, they aren't! You can't eat them!"

"But if they're chubby and pink, they have to be tasty!"

Eddie just facepalmed and looked at you. "Will you help me with that?"

"V, children are little sentient beings that cannot be eaten," you explained with firm face.

Symbiote nodded at your words, accepting them fully. "Of course, Y/N, whatever you say."

"Sure, you listen to her,” Eddie rolled his eyes. "This isn't fair."

"We listen to the only person with balls here," Venom stack his huge tongue out and licked Eddie's face. "But we love you still."

"I love you too, V,” Eddie shook his head, petting Venom's head.

___few months later___ With each contraction came a pain that dominated yours entire being. In those moments, for those seconds that stretched into infinity, there was nothing else. You could hear screaming from other rooms, yet you made no sound at all. When the pain passed it was only for a minute or so and you breathed with closed eyes, unwilling to re-engage with life outside of your own body. The room might as well have been empty for all the awareness you had, and when they did talk, touch, gain your attention you found it so hard. To reply you had to find yourself from the deepest recess of your own mind and drag yourself forward, to use your voice, open your eyes. The midwife was telling you that is was time, time to push. With a guttural grunt you did so and was told to stop, one was enough. You felt the baby crowning, the hot stretching of flesh and held your breath. Without any further effort the baby slid into the hands of the midwife. There was elation, a girl at last, and in seconds she was there, little being rooting for a mother and it all was accompanied by loud cry.

Eddie was walking in a circle on the hallway, nervously biting on his finger. "V... I will go crazy. THIS IS CRAZY! What if she will die!? I WON'T BE ALBE TO RAISE A CHILD ALONE!,” Eddie whimpered stepping into a total panic state.

"Months ago you were assuring us that Y/N is not going to die and now you mention death?," Venom snarled.

"I am just panicking! It takes so long and I miss her!," Eddie said, flopping on the chair. "I want to already see her and the baby."

"We want it too!," Venom nodded his head.

Midwife came out of the labour room. "Mr Brock?," She said loudly holding papers in hands.

Eddie immediately jumped off his seat and walked to the woman. "Yes, yes! That's me! Is she allright?! Is baby allright?! Are they both healthy?! May I see them?!"

"Your girlfriend feels exhausted but she's stable. And I'm happy to tell you that you're the father of a beautiful, little girl," woman said with a smile. "Now we will take miss Y/N at the gynecology ward, there you'll be able to visit her, don't forget she went through a lot and she needs rest," she reminded Eddie before going back to her work.

Eddie looked at Venom with a smile. "Did you hear that!? Our ladies made it!"

"So we have Y/N and little Y/N as well?," Symbiote whispered into man's ear, hiding beneath his hoodie.

Eddie nodded. "You can say that. You see, human kids are a combination of both parents. So there is part of me and part of her in this bbab," he explained as he walked to get to the right ward. "The child will also get her own name. Will you help us with that?"

"Can't we name the kid Venomella? It would suit," symbiote suggested. Venom considered Eddie's words. "So you want to tell us the kid will be, in some way, such a pussy like you?"

"One more word and I will leave you here alone," Eddie warned. "And about this name, we will ask Y/N what she thinks about it."

After few minutes Eddie got to right ward. He slowly walked into your room and smiled, looking at you.

You were laying on the bed, eyes closed, steady breathing. And on your chest was laying little baby wrapped in a blanket, your arm was holding the bundle tightly.

"Is it her?," Venom asked forming his full head.

Eddie nodded. "Yes, it's her," he whispered before kissing your forehead. Grabbing a chair, Eddie sat down next to your bed. "Say hi to new member of the family, V."

Venom tilted his head and peeked into the blanket. There was a tiny, pink body, shivering at the slightest touch. "Hi, we're Venom and we'll protect you," Venom said.

You opened your eyes and looked at Eddie. "Hi, love."

"Hey there, sweetheart. How do you feel?," Eddie asked, keeping eye on Venom. "Venom came up with a name for our baby girl but I don't know if you will like it."

"Mmmm?," You asked sleepily.

"What would you say to Venomella?," Eddie asked with a smile.

“Sorry, Venom but this sucks," you let out a brief giggle. "We'll figure it out when we all will be back home."

Eddie laughed. "You see? I was right Venom, so? Do you like your little sister?," Brock asked before kissing your cheek. "I need to say, I am proud of you."

You smiled at him and closed eyes. "I'm tired," you whispered.

Venom sniffed onto little kid you were holding in your arms.

"I know but you can rest now, you really need it," Eddie said then looked at Venom. "Why do you sniff her?"

"Her scent is reassuring," symbiote said and disconnected with Eddie only to wrap his form around the sleeping girl. "We protect."

Eddie looked at you. "You okay with that? I can leave him with you and go grab you something to drink or eat."

But you didn't reply. You fell asleep pretty quickly due to exhaust.

Your baby girl was also slepping.

Venom closed his eyes as well yet he opened one for a second.

"Go get her flowers and chocolates, women like it," he adviced. "We'll protect our girls. We all are Venom.”

Pandies🐼: @imidarogerson​ @grossograsso​ @thewildgardensstuff​ @leven-and-ashley​ @la-verdura​ @bearded-steve-rogers​ @sebbystan-plantlover​ @atuckyismylife​ @krispyjellyfishzombie​ @personality-within​ @haseki-huricihan​  @choppedgardenwhispers​ @vroobelek​ @lattimelka​ @chris-beamz​ @hidden-secrets69​ @purepearls​ @volcanoxxx​ @kastrup-sofie​ @mikkal-akasaki​ @withoutashadowofhope​ @radbluebirdeagle​ @marvel-fan-site​ @smutloversblog​ @buquete​ @super-psycho-love69​ @tanglesss​ @peter-sommer​ @baysidewest​ @vegemania​ @philip-stan​ @chodiusmmm​ @subwaystunnel​ @tykorclint @dagger-dragger @kurant @nothing-can-least-forever @oxfordkipem​ @deliciousbouquet90 @tuptuptup @hellenna80 @karina-marina9 @latimeriaaa @bratko @wurld89 @scott-evans @kiss-me-rouge @ovonel-espaniol @dancing-tacco @ratugadhi @white-tiger-shangrila  @axn69 @eternal-life-awaits @mrs-laura-harmon @artsy-inside @gleeeeees  @darkllaama @jatut @agawux @fuzzy-tigrrr @jrjohnsson2 @maaargoshaaa @dontgetmewrongman @einexx @nwmtagsb @anini71 @secretlygrantaire @kyloren-supreme-ben @infinity-stones-seeker @thehappyspider @wings4life @huxyluxy @dontbeafraidchild @misafiryanki @electronicpatrolcollective @thisismysecrethappyplace @aulika @hidden-secrets69 @a-happy-wolf @creative-seahorse @biologyforliving

[keichanz]

Koi no Yokan | 6

AO3

Madam Kirina snorted and quipped, “If you didn’t have a choice, girl, then why did you stay?”

The blue-eyed girl stiffened and shut up after that, looking away with a guilty flush.

The older woman grunted and finally released her, placing her hands on her wide hips. For a moment she simply studied her newest employee with a shrewd eye, finally admitting to herself that it had been a wise decision to accept the sale. While a little more petite then most of her girls, she was definitely pretty with starling blue eyes, a fair complexion that contrasted nicely with dark hair, and lovely curves where it counted. Madam Kirina was positive she’d grow to be very popular with the men, after she’d gained some experience of course, and after today she’d finally be able to stop declining that wretched Oni-what’s-his-name and his countless offers for this rare gem.

Yes, this girl would become quite the asset to her brothel, the Madam was sure. And it was no time like the present to make her put that face and body of hers to work. She wasn’t about to let them go to waste when she could be turning a considerate profit, after all.

“No more excuses,” she said firmly, emerald gaze stern. “It is time you earn your keep here and stop wasting my precious resources when you could be helping. It’s not fair to me or the other girls, and I’ll not allow you to hide behind Sen or in the kitchens this time. We have a surplus of clients tonight and I need everyone entertaining while I provide the refreshments. Am I clear?”

The young woman looked about ready to cry and Inuyasha felt a strange twinge in his chest at the sight.

“But—but Madam, I don’t know how—” she tried to explain, nervously twisting the fabric of her gauzy dress in her hands.

“Then learn,” Madam Kirina barked, unsympathetic. “You will receive no special treatment from me or anyone else just because you are inexperienced. And I warn you, girl, if I hear one complaint from any of these men about your poor performance, I will not hesitate to give you over to Onigumo when next he visits and let him do with you as he will. Now, am I clear, girl?”

The threat had the woman’s head jerking up as a gasp escaped her lips, blue eyes wide with apparent alarm. Deep and genuine fear flashed across her pale features for an instant, but the lack of compassion, of sympathy on the older woman’s stone-faced expression had her head bowing in defeat. Remembering the very clear warning that had been in those green eyes, the dark-haired woman swallowed the ball in her throat before jerking her head in a stiff nod, dropping her gaze to her bare feet.

Madam Kirina didn’t spare her another glance before brushing past her and disappearing beyond the curtains once more, leaving the newest member of the business to fend for herself.

From his place still lounging against the wall, half-empty sakezuki balanced on his knee and staying quiet to not draw attention to himself, the hanyou prince watched the petite woman as she did her best to “entertain” the guests.

Even if his gaze wandered to check if Miroku was behaving himself as he should be or if any of his soldiers were being a nuisance to the other girls, his eyes always traveled back to the blue-eyed woman as if of their own accord. It was easy to pick her out amongst the other women; while the rest were draped in deep reds, oranges, and greens, she was the only one donned in yellow. Like gentle sunshine, her dress was gauzy and flowed behind her when she moved, drawing attention to her shapely hips and slim legs. It scarcely covered her, not leaving much to the imagination, and Inuyasha suspected she was well aware of that fact whenever one of his men tugged on the garment with a sly grin or brushed fingers against bared skin.

She was very obviously uncomfortable with all the attention, and probably just from being around men at all. She was skittish. Clumsy. Nervous, and her face held a perpetual blush. Sharp honey eyes caught the way her hands shook as she poured sake, saw the forced smile on her face as she faked a laugh, noted how tense she was sitting among them. Her movements were stilted, an obvious strain in her voice when one of the soldiers tried to engage her in conversation.

Above all else, however, Inuyasha could smell the strong stench of fear and it made his gut clench uncomfortably. It rolled off of her in waves, nearly palpable, and she acted as if she were about to be assaulted at any second. And if he were to be frank, it wasn’t that farfetched. Brothels were deplorable places of ill repute, scandalous, unclean, and there have been reports of the nefarious sort other than the obvious happening within the establishments. If his parents caught wind that he’d stepped inside one he’d get hell, especially when there was a perfectly good inn right across the way.

Inuyasha suddenly scowled and tipped back his sake.

Fucking Miroku, he inwardly groused, pinning his second in command with a heated glower.

The man in question was oblivious, clearly inebriated and demanding all of the woman Sen’s time and attention to himself.

And perhaps that was another reason why the perverted idiot wasn’t exactly his favorite person right now. Several times now Sen had tried to escape Miroku’s needy arms to save her friend but more often than not, the man would always reel her back in, demanding more food or sake or conversation. Other times it was Madam Kirina who stilled her with a single warning look and even a seasoned escort knew better than to disobey the lady of the house, so Sen was forced to back down to endure Miroku’s insistent pawing.

Every time Sen would send her friend a genuine apologetic look while mouthing “I’m sorry” and she would receive a trembling smile in response and a silent “It’s okay.”

Inuyasha snorted quietly. It was not okay, but he couldn’t very well do shit about it, so he remained where he was, sipping his sake and thinking maybe it was time to retire for the night. He doubted the Madam had any available rooms to rent, and he wasn’t about to take up any of the girls on their offers. Besides, the majority of them had already retreated upstairs with one of his men – or two – so there weren’t many options left, other than the Madam herself which was a solid fuck no, the blue-eyed beauty, which was also a solid no, and the floor.

Floor it is, Inuyasha decided and polished off his sake before unceremoniously flopping back onto the floor with a grunt. At least it was cushioned and he had his choice of plush pillows. He dragged the closest one over to him, a red overstuffed monstrosity with gold frills and some kind of weird pattern stitched onto it that made him suspect it was more for decoration than for actual use, but fuck it, he didn’t particularly care at moment. It was a pillow, he was tired, he was using it. End of.

Shoving the thing beneath his head, the hanyou wriggled around a bit to get comfortable, a rather difficult feat to do when laden with heavy armor, but he couldn’t very tell take it off so he ignored it as best as he could. Satisfied after adjusting Tetsusaiga so it wasn’t jammed into his ribs, Inuyasha sighed, closed his eyes, and slept.

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Chapter Index

[yamisnuffles]

Dig Down

Part 9 of Too Much of a Good Thing

Hell comes to congratulate Crowley on the Spanish Inquisition. When Crowley's curiosity gets the better of him, he ends of shaken to the core.

Read on Ao3

-

“You, my friend, are a terrible model.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow at Leonardo. “What? How can anyone be a terrible model? All I have to do is sit about. Maybe you’re just a terrible artist.”

“Maybe so.” Leonardo laughed and set his sketch aside. “But I would hardly call what you do sitting.”

Crowley had one foot tucked underneath him and the other thrown over the arm of the chair. He was reasonably certain he hadn’t started in this position. He’d done his best to channel Aziraphale, back straight and hands folded neatly on his lap, when first Leonardo had started his drawing. He flung both of his legs out and used the momentum to stand. His floor length braid swung pendulously behind him.

“Can’t help it,” he said with an easy shrug. “Sitting around that long is unnatural.”

Leonardo gave him an appraising look. “What’s unnatural is the way you walk.”

Crowley stilled instantly. “What’s wrong with the way I walk?”

“I didn’t say it was wrong. Really, it’s quite pleasant to watch but it does make me long to see the muscle and bone beneath. There is certainly something intriguing going on there.”

Aziraphale had commented a few times on the way he walked. Then again, Aziraphale had also commented on his hands, his nose, his hair, his eye, his freckles, his knees, his teeth, and everything else about him. To hear it from another, he worried he didn’t look as convincingly human as he hoped. It made him conscious of every step to a degree that very nearly caused him to trip. He saved himself by leaning against the table where Leonardo’s sketch had been cast aside.

He plucked the red chalk drawing up between long, spindly, ostensibly human fingers and examined it with eyes he knew were not a color found amongst mortal men. The face was cleverly rendered but everything from the shoulders down was decidedly more gestural.

“Mind if I take this?”

Leonardo dismissed the image with a wave. “Go right ahead. I can hardly use it for anything, though perhaps you can repay me by sitting for a portrait. Your face makes for a good study, even if the rest of you refuses to behave. You’d make an interesting angel, I think.” When Crowley sputtered incoherently in response, Leonardo laughed again. “A piece I was commissioned for,” he explained. “Or, part of one, anyway. For now, I have other work to do and I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your angel.”

Crowley felt his cheeks burn. Rather than try for a reply he knew would only come out as a garbled mess, he carefully rolled up the drawing and bobbed his head in thanks. “Well, whenever you want to get that portrait done, you know where to find me,” he said as he hastily made his exit from the studio. He could only take so much embarrassment in one day and he was sure Aziraphale had stored some up for him back at their villa.

Once he was out of the busy streets of Milan, he snapped his fingers. A note appeared, tucked into the drawing. A gift from our mutual friend, it read, to help you anticipate my return home. A grin and another snap sent it ahead.  He could have gone with it but he enjoyed walking the Italian countryside. It put him in mind of breathless, startled confessions of love and kisses under the stars that added a spring to his step. He couldn’t bring himself to worry if that walk was passably human or not. He was all but skipping down the sun baked road when the smell of something putrid wafted through the summer air. He skidded to a halt just in time to avoid tripping over Hastur as he rose up through the hard packed dirt.

Crowley scowled. He should have miracled himself home and saved himself the trouble. He could very well still leave but if Hastur was bothering him, it was for a reason. It always was. It was also always something miserable that he didn’t want Aziraphale dragged into. He’d had a few hundred year’s peace after their initial meeting and, while Hastur hadn’t come around with any more job offers, he usually bore information. Wretched, gut wriggling stuff that Crowley was probably better off not knowing but could never seem to resist.

He had enough time to collect himself, to cross his arms and pretend at calm. Annoyance. He knew he could fight if he needed but he really preferred not to. Luckily it had been some time since a demon had forced him to it. Chances were today would be no different. All the same, he’d keep himself wound and ready, should it come to it.

Hastur emerged fully with a sneer already on his face. Crowley resisted the urge to push him right back down into the earth and instead asked, “What do you want? You’re sort of ruining my attempt to enjoy the fresh air.”

The corners of Hastur’s mouth widened slow and sloppily as the filth he reeked of until it formed a too wide smile. “Just came to congratulate you, Crowley. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

Crowley merely blinked. He couldn’t think of anything of note that he’d done in the past couple of centuries. Really, he’d been remarkably good, even by his own sometimes nebulous standards. He’d helped inspire a saint or two, been a patron of the arts, and had handed out the occasional blessing. Mostly he whiled away the time with Aziraphale, wherever they found themselves living as Aziraphale did jobs for Heaven. He’d even taken on a few of Aziraphale’s jobs, first as a way to let Aziraphale chase his own pursuits and then simply because he’d wanted to. Aside from helping a fellow angel skip work, he’d practically been a model angel.

“Hit your head on the way up from Hell, did you? I haven’t done anything.”

“Don’t be so modest. Weaponizing questions, really. Everyone Downstairs is impressed with this one. I’m almost jealous.”

Crowley felt a prickling down his spine. Something about this put his teeth on edge. Other than the obvious, that it was Hastur speaking to him, he didn’t know what it was about this that made him so uneasy. He wanted urgently to be home with Aziraphale. It wasn’t just the usual desire to be with his husband but something deeper than his bones. Deep as his very essence. This was the sort of warning urge that had sent him deep into the stars, once upon a time, a warning that things would shift irreparably if he did not act.

He shook the stiffness from his limbs. No need to be tense. No need to run. It was just Hastur and whatever he was babbling about. He hadn’t done anything- he really hadn’t- and nothing the demon said would change that. He took a step to walk around the demon. “If you’re done…”

Hastur angled himself to stop Crowley. He would have grabbed him if Crowley hadn’t already been on the defensive and ready to slip away. “Tell me how you did it? How’d you talk the humans into this Inquisition in Spain?”

- - - -

Crowley wasn’t sure what day it was. He wasn’t sure where he was but the near empty bottle in his hand implied a tavern or something of the sort. Usually drinks were poured into cups, though, so there was a chance he’d grabbed a bottle and taken it somewhere. That, or someone had let him simply drink from the bottle. Either way, probably not any sort of fine establishment. He wasn’t sure if he felt good or bad, either, but that was by design— don’t feel anything, don’t think. Seemed to be working fantastically judging by the fact that he could neither see, sit, nor think straight.

“There you are.”

That voice was familiar. Made something warm settle into the sloshing sea of alcohol in his system. “Here I am,” he agreed.

“Perhaps you should stop drinking a moment and look at me.”

Crowley sank down to embrace the bottle. The glass was cool against the side of his face. It felt nice. “Nah. Think I’ll just stay like this,” he said. Or, tried to say, judging by the slurred garble that slipped out of his mouth. 

There was a long sigh. “Crowley.”

The bottle was carefully pried from his grip. He tried to resist, muttered a few choice curses, but was easily left slumped against his own folded arms. A gentle hand landed on his right elbow and when he turned to look at it, a face came into view. It took a moment for him to focus well enough to bring any of the features clarity but it could have stayed a bright, blessed blur and he would have known that face anywhere.

He picked up his head and beamed. “Ziraphale, s’good to see you.”

“I’m surprised you can see anything, judging by the state of you. Why don’t we get you home?”

Crowley shook his head. He abruptly stopped when the whole world seemed to shake with it. “Nope. Too drunk. Would probably discorpra- discapor- die if I tried a miracle.”

“Well then, why don’t you sober up?”

Aziraphale’s voice was low, sharp, and even. It was the sort of voice that in any other situation would have had Crowley worried but he’d done too good a job of getting rid of silly things like worries at least half a dozen bottles ago. Maybe more. He’d lost track after the first five or fifteen.

“Told you,” he said, resting his chin in the palm of one hand, “no miracles. B’sides, I don’t wanna.”

Aziraphale stared at him. “You don’t want to?”

“Nope.”

Crowley popped the ‘p’ and then repeated the sound until he fell into a fit of giggles.

“Then allow me—”

Everything was too murky for Crowley to remember why exactly the idea of sobering up sent his heart pounding and his stomach plummeting but he instantly snatched Aziraphale’s wrist to stop it from happening.

“No.”

“If you really feel so strongly about it, I won’t. Can you at least tell me why?”

Crowley opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. Every time he reached toward the source of that feeling, something fractured and threatened to fall away completely.

He heard another long sigh. An arm wrapped around his back and another under his legs. Suddenly he was being carried. The lift into the air made him dizzy. He buried his face in Aziraphale’s chest. His shirt smelled nice. Like… flowers or something. Something pretty and nice. Like Aziraphale.

“You smell nice.”

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale replied flatly. “Do you have a room?”

“Dunno.”

“You don’t— where have you been staying all this time?”

“Dunno. Has it been a long time?”

Yet another sigh. Crowley felt like he should start taking count.

“It’s been over a week since I expected you back.” They started moving and Crowley had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop feeling dizzy. “Well then, if you don’t have a room and you won’t let me sober you up, what do you say to me bringing us both back home?”

Home. For much of his existence that had been a moving target with Aziraphale as a constant center. It didn’t need to be a physical place, the heart of it would always exist someplace beyond, but at the moment it was. More importantly, it was somewhere away from here. Whether he could articulate why he didn’t want to be here any longer, he knew how happy he was at the thought of leaving, particularly in Aziraphale’s arms.

Crowley hummed appreciatively and pressed in as close as he was able. There would always be a part of him that worried he would forget this form if he shifted back into his serpentine one but he missed the simplicity of it. He could never feel quite so much as a snake and he could instead rest easier, coiled around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Maybe he still would, when he sobered. He knew that Aziraphale would love him no matter his shape. It might not be better but it would be easier and, at the moment, that sounded very tempting.

There was a feeling of compression and then expansion as a miracle sent them both home. Instantly Crowley was inundated by the rich smell of oak from Aziraphale’s heavy wooden desk with a whiff on top of ink and parchment. He remembered the sound of wind rustling through the olive trees and the scratch of a quill as Aziraphale passed the nights writing while Crowley slept. Or tried to, anyhow. Oftentimes he would lay with one eye open and watch Aziraphale work by candlelight.

He thought of those nights as Aziraphale laid him on a bed that was far more comfortable than it had any right to be. Aziraphale took a seat on the edge of the mattress. Apparently neither of them was willing to break the silence that had fallen between them. Instead, Aziraphale quietly ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. Or tried, as he got caught in hair that had managed to tangle despite being braided.

“When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Aziraphale asked as he drew his hand back to himself. “Or bathed? Or did anything to care for yourself?”

“You said I’ve been gone over a week? Then, uh, yeah. Probably something like that. S’not like we need to bathe or anything. Not like humans do.”

“You do if you’re going to soak yourself in alcohol and drunken humans.”

Crowley groaned and buried his face in a pillow. As it happened, an angel’s metabolism didn’t allow for passing out drunk, or that had been his experience over the last however many days of attempting to reach blissful oblivion. Maybe he could sleep, though. That might be alright.

He forgot why he’d been avoiding sleep until it overcame him. He’d gotten complacent since his marriage to Aziraphale. Even in the worst of times, life with his Principality had been a waking dream and the sleeping world had shaped itself accordingly. But the world wasn’t painted in only soft shades of cream and powdery blue, sometimes it was the harsh, steely grey of cruel human ingenuity or the slick scarlet shine of blood. The blood wouldn’t wash from his hands no matter how ferociously he scrubbed. It gathered under his nails, stained his skin, and blemished the band of gold around his finger.

Then there were the screams. They were never ending. If he pressed his palms tight as he could over his ears, they still rattled through his bones. He suspected he would continue hearing them even if he banished his ears altogether with a miracle. He just wanted them to stop. He screamed for them to stop. He begged and pleaded like he had for little else in his long existence. 

Silence returned with two words. “Wake up.”

Crowley’s eyes snapped open. He breathed in gulps through a raw and ragged throat. He looked impulsively at his hands but they were clean. The screams had been his own, the blood imagined, and yet he couldn’t seem to free himself of the sensation of either. He rubbed senselessly at his forearms until a pair of arms encircled him like a vice and forced him to stop.

“It’s alright, dearest. You’re alright.”

“It’s alright? I’m alright?” he repeated, each statement transforming into a question in the mouth of a non-believer.

“Yes. I’m here. You’re safe.”

This time there was no doubt. There never would be, not in Aziraphale. He relaxed into Aziraphale’s arms.  “Yes.”

“How about a bath?” A snap and the scent of lavender filled the suddenly humid air. “I’ll take care of it. All you’ll have to do is relax.”

Crowley let out a hollow puff of laughter. “Is that all?”

Aziraphale gripped him by the shoulders and sat him up so that they were face to face. There were tears obscuring his storm grey eyes. “Then you don’t need to do even that. Simply let me take care of you as best I can, alright?”

Crowley nodded when his throat tightened too much to make a reply. He loathed seeing Aziraphale cry.

Aziraphale helped him to his feet and out of his clothes. Each article of clothing was removed with more care than it deserved, stiff and smelling as it all did of a week’s worth of drinking in whatever establishment would have him. If he thought too closely on that he was liable to consider once more what had driven him to drink in the first place and, for Aziraphale’s sake, he was determined to at least try to relax.

He set his eyes on their bath. It was a lovely thing made of delicate white marble. Carved on the outside were scenes of angels dancing and drinking and generally having a lot more fun than real ones did. Bathing came and went in vogue with humans, but Aziraphale had developed a special fondness for it in Rome and so they’d kept a private bath wherever they settled since. Such, he supposed, was the luxury of not worrying whether the locals had plumbing anymore or not. One quick miracle and they had a full tub with steam that rolled in easy clouds off the surface.

“Come now,” Azirphale said as he took one of Crowley’s hands, “let’s see if this helps you any.”

Crowley let Aziraphale lead him to the bathtub and then climbed in without letting go of Aziraphale’s hand until he’d lowered himself most of the way down. Aziraphale carefully undid the braided hair that trailed after Crowley like a train. Once done, he gathered it up into a careful coil and deposited it in the water with Crowley. The water rose to the edge but didn’t spill over. It was just enough for Crowley and not a drop more.

Crowley let out a long, trembling breath as the hot water worked its wonders on him. He wasn’t quite as fond of bathing as Aziraphale but he did very much enjoy the act of being bathed. It was a bit like sleeping, without the danger of nightmares. Instead it was the very best sort of dream, shaped by the one he loved the most. Strong, calloused hands worked at the tense muscles in his shoulders and scented water poured over his head from a glittering copper vessel. The ritual of it was a comfort bordering on the sacred.

Aziraphale rubbed a small dab of scented oil on Crowley’s temples. “I got Leonardo’s sketch,” he said.

“I should hope so,” Crowley replied, “or I would have to worry my miracles are starting to go awry.”

Aziraphale nudged Crowley into a seated position so that he could better comb out water loosened tangles. “It was quite lovely. I do hope that you told him that and that you thanked him for his patience. I could tell you were as restless as ever at your sitting.”

“Er—” Had he thanked Leonardo? He couldn’t remember. “Oh! He asked me to come back for a proper portrait. Said I’d make a good angel.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “At least someone thinks so.” The comb hit a snag and was replaced for a moment by careful fingers. “I don’t know how you managed this.”

“Dunno.”

“You do have a talent for finding trouble.”

When one segment was finished, Aziraphale moved to the next and the next in meticulous fashion. Crowley’s eyes fell closed as he sank into the comfortable rhythm of it. He felt like a bit of flotsam tossing gently in the waves without a care in the world. 

“I suppose this hair is what put Leonardo in mind of angels,” Aziraphale continued. “I don’t think you’ve had it this long since Eden.”

Crowley opened his eyes again as he pulled himself from his quiet reverie. “I mean, I was a snake for quite a while after that, so hair was sort of off the metaphorical table.”

“Indeed. But… it’s nice. I like it quite a bit when it’s this long. Of course you know how I love it no matter the length—” Crowley ignored the burn in his cheeks and Aziraphale continued to comb. “—but it’s nice to remember simpler times.”

“For the, what, handful of minutes we had them?”

“Even so.”

Simpler times. Crowley hardly remembered them. Yes, he’d forever recall his first sight of the delightfully soft Principality, high on the eastern wall of Eden, when he’d been nothing more than an out of place Seraph with perhaps a few too many questions on his lips. But any memory of that time was overshadowed by what came after. And then what came after that. And after that. And on and on and on despite all the good mixed in.

Crowley pulled his knees up and hugged them close. “Hey, so, uh, with my rude awakening earlier, I think I’ve sobered up enough to, er…” He ran his tongue over his teeth and pressed extra hard on his left incisor, which had always run a bit sharper. He didn’t want to talk about it but it was a dark and hungry secret that he worried would devour him from the inside out if he didn’t. “I remember everything, if you wanna hear about it.”

Aziraphale stilled for a moment and then continued combing Crowley’s hair. “Only if you want. You can take whatever time you need.”

“No, I should— I want to now. Maybe then I can start to forget without an ocean of alcohol to help me along.”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut but when he did, he could see that faces of humans contorted beyond recognition by unfathomable pain. It was no wonder Hell was impressed. The humans were up here serving up the sort of punishments even demons might not have dreamed of. He looked instead at his hands beneath the surface of the water and reminded himself that they were not stained in blood. He tried to remind himself also that they were clean of any guilt in this, but he was less successful on that count.

“So,” he continued when Aziraphale didn’t make any response, “ran into Hastur on the way home.”

“What did that wretched demon do this time? If he’s the one that caused all this, I’ll… I’ll… well, let me think on it but it will be suitably ghastly, I assure you.”

“No, it’s not— he didn’t do anything. Well, guess he did but not like that. Not that I’m against the idea of you laying down some holy wrath on him, if you’re so inclined. But I’m—” Water splashed as he gestured broadly at himself. “Because, well, how much have you heard about the Spanish Inquisition?” He only waited half a heartbeat before charging on. “Hell thinks I cooked it up, since it’s all being done in Her name and with the whole, you know, inquisitive nature of it. Aziraphale, it’s awful.” He emptied his lungs into that word and still it didn’t seem to be enough. “Monstrous. Wretched. Abominable. Really, really… bad. I’d say hellish but apparently they hadn’t even thought up half the things these humans have. Got the impression they’re taking notes.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded so small behind him. “Oh, Crowley. Why did you go look?”

“Had to, didn’t I? If everyone thinks I did it, I should at least know what I’m getting my name on.”

Aziraphale’s hands fell away from Crowley’s hair as he rushed around to the side of the bath. “But you didn’t have anything to do with it! You know you didn’t, my dear, so why torment yourself over what a pitiable bunch of damned creatures think?”

“Well, it’s not like they’re completely out of bounds thinking I’d gone and corrupted the humans again, are they?”

“It’s not— Crowley, how many times are we going to have to have this argument? You can’t take all of humanity’s sins on your shoulders.”

“I can try.”

“You certainly can and I know that you do, but I wish you wouldn’t. The humans will do whatever they will do, for good or ill. You know that. Not even the Almighty can stop that.”

“Why the blazes not?”

Aziraphale froze except for a sudden fluttering of his lashes. “What?”

“Why can’t She put a stop to this? They’re committing atrocities in Her name. She’s fucking well put a foot down in the past, drowning a whole load of people and—”

“Stop!” The walls of the villa shook at the command and for a moment Aziraphale seemed much larger. He shrank back down as he grabbed either side of Crowley’s face. “Stop, please. Not another word like that.”

Aziraphale crushed their lips together in a fierce kiss. He kept kissing until Crowley no longer had the mind or breath to argue further.

“Please,” Aziraphale said once more. “Not this. If there’s one thing in the entirety of existence you don’t question, let it be this. For me.”

Crowley could feel the drip of tears onto bath wet skin as their foreheads pressed together. He wanted for all the world to agree to that. Even being able to lie about it felt like it would be a weight off his shoulders. His life— their lives— would be so much easier if he could. If he could just trust in whatever damned plan there was, he might not have spent the last week drunk out of his mind.

He pulled back enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes and frowned at what he saw. “I made you cry again.” He bent forward and kissed the tear tracks off round, ruddy cheeks. “I’m sorry, angel. I won’t say anything like that again. Not to you.”

Aziraphale’s brows lowered over watery eyes. “Not to anyone.”

“Right. Not to anyone.” Crowley sank into the bath and deeper into himself with a hunch of his shoulders. “I promise I’ll try not to even think on it, not ever again. I just want to be with you and to be happy with that.”

Aziraphale laced their left hands together so that their rings pressed together. “You have me and you always will.”

[fox-guardian]

Brat

((Whoops this is kinda long oof))

"Mr. Hyde". It just seemed a tad too formal for the little man that was currently spinning in Mr. Utterson's office chair, so he and Dr. Lanyon mostly called him simply "Hyde", or when he was being naughty, (which was often) "Edward". Other names they gave him included "boy", "young man", "dear boy" if they were feeling nice, and "Little Eddie" if they were feeling mean (Lanyon used that one more often than Utterson). These names often acted as punishments in and of themselves as Hyde despised them, and after a bit of pouting he would usually behave at least a little bit better.

A few names they would never use intentionally were "child" or "brat" accompanied with adjectives such as "insolent", "ungrateful", "spoiled" and other similar things. They would only end up using these in moments when Hyde's behaviour would become absolutely unbearable, and cause them to lose their composure. Calling him by these names usually resulted in a tantrum, and that was never fun.

Back to the office chair Hyde was currently spinning in, it was the only spinning chair in the house and Mr. Utterson happened to like it quite a bit. It was comfortable, convenient, and looked quite nice in his cozy little office space. He became increasingly annoyed as Hyde spun faster and faster in the chair, making it wobble and creak.

"Edward, please stop spinning in that chair, you're going to break it," said Mr. Utterson, sternly.

"No I won't," replied Hyde, grinning, his voice dripping with smug mischief as he continued spinning, throwing his cloak about to make it flow around him.

"Edward," repeated Mr. Utterson with an authoritative pause, "I told you to stop."

"And I don't want to," he said, giggling as he pushed off the desk again to gain momentum. The chair swayed.

Dr. Lanyon was standing by and decided he didn't appreciate Hyde's disobedience either, "Edward, he told you to stop spinning, now stop."

"Hmmmm, no~", he started laughing as he spun faster, proud of his defiance. No one could put an end to his fun.

Mr. Utterson furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, "Young man, we told you to stop, now stop."

He stopped spinning, making solid eye contact with Utterson for a moment. "Make me," he challenged, and went back to spinning, throwing his head back and laughing as he did so.

Mr. Utterson took a deep breath to compose himself. Today was already a bad day for him, as he didn't get much sleep the night before due to one of his beloved cats having made a mess on the floor in his parlour room around midnight. He tried to keep calm and collected as he approached Hyde and reached out, catching his cloak and stopping his wretched spinning.

"Hey!" Hyde practically shouted, turning around to face Utterson standing behind him. He had to steady himself a bit as he was now a tad dizzy.

"You told me to make you stop and I did, now get out of the chair and come downstairs." He was very certain in his words, the terms non-negotiable. Well, a reasonable person would think so, at least.

"No! I want to keep spinning! It's fun," Hyde turned his seat back and forth a bit, as if demonstrating how much fun he'd been having.

Dr. Lanyon butted in impatiently, "Yes, yes, I'm sure it was loads of fun, boy. It's just that we've no time nor patience for you to be breaking Mr. Utterson's things."

Hyde protested, looking almost offended, "I'm not going to break it! I'm being careful!"

"And we don't care. Now come downstairs, Mr. Utterson seems to have a task for you to do." The two gentlemen formed a metaphorical brick wall of command that couldn't be broken. They were going to be stubborn in their wishes whether Hyde liked it or not. He was going to leave that chair and go downstairs whether he liked it or not.

Well, he didn't like it. And he would not take this sitting down. Except for the fact that he was, in fact, still sitting in that chair and planned to remain that way.

He crossed his arms in defiance, "No."

"Edward..." Mr. Utterson said.

"No, I will not 'get up and go downstairs,'" he made dramatic quotation gestures as he said this.

"This is not a debate nor a favor you can decline, young man," Mr. Utterson replied, "You will get out of that chair like a good boy or we can go back and forth just like this all day long."

"Then I guess I'll just have to get comfy," Hyde mocked, settling in the chair. He then spun it around once until it came to a stop in front of Utterson again.

He looked incredibly peeved, "If you do that one more time I just might-"

He dared, spinning it again while maintaining smug eye contact for as long as possible.

Mr. Utterson had been having a bad day. Mr. Utterson already did not like Hyde, not many people did. Mr. Utterson was already upset with Hyde's existence for several reasons. Mr. Utterson was already irritable from lack of sleep. He was tired, annoyed, missed his friend Jekyll terribly, and this smug little man just had to go and make it even worse.

"You iNSOLENT, SPOILED BRAT!"

It was strained, loud, and full of seething hatred. Not a tone people were used to hearing come from the mouth of the dull yet very lovable Mr. Utterson. He turned away, immediately knowing his mistake, running his hands over his face in frustration as he mumbled about the day he's had. As he attempted to regain his composure, a growl was heard, and it raised into a soul-grating roar.

"I am NOT A BRAT!!"

This was immediately followed by the sound of a cane spinning through the air and the wood of the office's door being split by said cane's handle getting stuck in it like a hatchet, less than a meter from Dr. Lanyon's shoulder.

Hyde then leapt to his feet and flipped Utterson's desk, sending everything that was on it onto the floor.

"I HAVE TOLD YOU HOW I HATE BEING CALLED THAT YOU KNOW I HATE IT AND YET YOU STILL USE IT LIKE YOU JUST WANT ME TO HAVE A FIT!!" He shouted at Mr. Utterson, who was only just now turning around to face him.

He brought himself together enough to speak to Hyde in a mostly calm tone, "Edward, I didn't mean to say that. I've had a very lo-"

"I AM NOT A SPOILED BRAT!!" He grabbed a heavy bookend from a nearby bookshelf and flung it into the wall, denting it.

Utterson took a deep breath, "Edward, please, I'm trying to apologi-"

CRASH

Another bookend flew through the window, accompanied by Hyde's strained, raspy screaming, which has now become largely incoherent ramblings and angry noises.

Lanyon walked up to the tiny man, "Alright, calm down you little.... something." He wrapped his arms around Hyde, trapping his arms to his sides, and lifted him up with all his might (He was ridiculously heavy for someone so small).

Hyde kicked and screamed, "LET ME GO! I'M NOT A BRAT! I'M NOT A BRAT! I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOOOOOOOT!!"

He eventually grew tired and calmed down, no longer kicking nor screaming. Lanyon gently set him down, his arms and back tired from holding him up so long, and let him slump to the floor in a sad heap.

Utterson kneeled down in front of him, now having collected himself properly, "I'm sorry Edward. I didn't mean to say that. I've had a very long day and you had driven me to my wits end..." he sighed, "but I shouldn't have called you that. It crossed a line, and for that, I'm sorry."

Hyde looked up from under his ragged mess of curls, "...Fine."

It was not really "fine." Utterson knew this, Lanyon knew this, everyone in the room knew exactly what Hyde needed to accept his apology.

Utterson sighed and opened his arms, "...Come here, boy."

Hyde's eyes lit up, and he even smiled a bit. He practically jumped into Utterson's arms, pressing his face into his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his neck. Utterson closed his arms around Hyde's body with little enthusiasm, but it was enough. Hyde let out a long sigh before finally letting go and standing up.

"Apology accepted," he said, seemingly already in a much better mood, "Meetcha downstairs!" He then rushed out of the room, and from the sound of it, slid halfway down the stair railing before tumbling down the rest of it.

Utterson and Lanyon looked at each other with mutual annoyance, and started putting the desk back into place.

((I've been in a writing mood lately, just exploring stuff we may not see in the canon comic, at least not for a while. I hope this wasn't too all over the place.))

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, a Creature (Frankenstein) x F!Reader smutfic [18+]

Chapter 2 -> 

Summary: When you slip and fall in the river, an 8-foot tall monster unexpectedly rushes out the woods to rescue you. 

(AU based on the novel, diverging from canon in Chapter 16. Yes, the reader-insert is the descriptionless girl from Chapter 16)

2,300 words

“I continued to wind among the paths of the wood, until I came to its boundary, which was skirted by a deep and rapid river, into which many of the trees bent their branches, now budding with the fresh spring. Here I paused, not exactly knowing what path to pursue, when I heard the sound of voices, that induced me to conceal myself under the shade of a cypress. I was scarcely hid when a young girl came running towards the spot where I was concealed, laughing, as if she ran from someone in sport. She continued her course along the precipitous sides of the river, when suddenly her foot slipped, and she fell into the rapid stream. I rushed from my hiding-place and with extreme labour, from the force of the current, saved her and dragged her to shore. She was senseless, and I endeavoured by every means in my power to restore animation, when I was suddenly interrupted by the approach of a rustic, who was probably the person from whom she had playfully fled. On seeing me, he darted towards me, and tearing the girl from my arms, hastened towards the deeper parts of the wood. I followed speedily, I hardly knew why; but when the man saw me draw near, he aimed a gun, which he carried, at my body and fired. I sank to the ground, and my injurer, with increased swiftness, escaped into the wood.”

- Frankenstein, by Mary Shelly

After hours of wandering blindly through the dark forest, you see the glow of a campfire. Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. This must be him.

Gathering your courage, you enter the clearing where a hunched creature with sallow, scarred skin, yellow eyes, and a tangled mane of black hair, dressed in a ragged cloak, sits by the fire. He jumps up, snarling like a wild beast, and you wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake. The size of his body is greater than any creature you’ve ever seen—taller than the draft horse that works your fields. But the sudden action makes him wince and double over, clutching his shoulder in pain, and he seems as pitiable and human as you first suspected when his strong arms pulled you from the icy rapids. 

“I’m so glad I found you,” you start, forcing a chipper tone. “I worried you might have been long gone by now. I mean, you can’t be from around here, and given your reception, you mustn’t be planning to stay, and—oh, I’m rambling!”

“You are the girl from the river,” he says, voice hoarse and unsteady from lack of use.

“Yes!”

“Why have you come?”

“I wanted to thank you for rescuing me. The river is deadly in the spring with all the snow melt off the mountains. And to apologize for the man who shot you. He’s a fool.”

“Are you not afraid? None who have looked upon this cursed visage have not turned away in scorn. Perhaps you are the fool, to have wandered alone into the woods in search of a wretched demon—have you no fear that I that I might kill you?”

“Well…” you tug nervously at the hem of your dress. “I admit it was a shock to see you coming out of the woods this morning. Actually,” you take a few steps toward him, squinting at the jagged lines crossing his face and hollow eyes; taking in the surreal enormity of his form, which makes you feel like a child standing before him. “Actually, I’m still a bit freaked out. But you’re not a demon. I mean… you saved my life even knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated. Why would you kill me after that? You’re obviously a good person.”

His tensed shoulders fall. Then his entire body sinks to his knees at your feet.

“How—how can you speak such kind words?” he whispers feverishly. “Why now, when the last cinder of my hope was extinguished? Dare you fan it back to life, when finally I was ready to steel myself against the cruelty of this world—to resolve my thoughts to hatred and vengeance? How can this stranger show mercy to an abomination, untouched by kindness, abandoned by its creator and scorned by all? THIS CANNOT BE.”

“Hey… it’s OK.” You try to comfort the raging, sobbing creature with a hand on his shoulder (which, even as he kneels, comes nearly to your chest). He flinches at the touch, gasping. Wet eyes meet yours in surprise. “Has no one ever been nice to you before? Surely you have a friend; a parent, at least?”

“None. My father abandoned me the moment I received life, and not one has ever shown mercy—none who has seen this abhorred face.”

Your heart aches for your monstrous rescuer. “Well, I see you,” you say, brushing his long hair aside to cup his cheek.

He meets your gaze, tilting his head incredulously. Your face heats, and you become acutely aware of the intimate placement of your hand on the face of a strange man.

“Here, I brought bandages and healing tinctures, for your wound.” You take off your pack, and gather the supplies while he follows everything you do with quiet curiosity. “May I see it?”

He pulls off his tattered cloak to reveal the bullet wound, exposing more scarred—almost mismatched—skin, taut over sinewy muscle. You try not to look horrified when there is much less blood than you would expect from a bullet wound, and the blood is dark. Unnatural. Instead, you speak gently to him as you clean the area, smoothing on an oily, antiseptic-smelling cream.

At first, every time you dip into the jar to apply more ointment, he instinctively recoils from your hand—his skin twitching beneath it as you rub small circles. By the time you begin wrapping the bandage, he is leaning forward with anticipation, letting out small, contented moans at your touch.

When you are finished, he reaches tentatively for your arm, his long, graceful fingers curling around it. Your wrist is dwarfed by the size of his massive hand, but he is gentle. He looks into your eyes bashfully, asking for permission—is this OK? He doesn’t want to stop touching. Neither do you. Something about this mysterious stranger excites you in a way you’ve never felt before, sending sparks prickling beneath your skin. You scoot closer and trace your fingers down his arm until you are holding his hand. He mimics this, taking your other hand in his. You pull him into an embrace, resting your head on his broad, muscular chest. He smells like hay and oak leaves.

“What shall become of you now?” he mutters. His grip tightens around you. “How am I to return to my life of solitude? Despair will consume me once you have gone.”

“You’re crushing me—” You try to pull away but are unable to move.

“No. Now that I know what it is to bathe in the radiance of human affection, I cannot let it go. You cannot be allowed to leave me.”

“You’re hurting me, stop!”

He releases you at once and as a grateful breath fills your lungs, you catch the blur of motion of a huge, dark form flying away from the firelight. 

A trembling voice emerges from the shadows: “I am sorry. You must go now. It was enough to be shown pity, even once; the memory shall sustain me through the days to come. Now you must go, before I grow more fond and cannot bear to part with you…”

You follow the voice, and find him cowering away from you. He looks so pathetic hunkered on the ground, though even with his head buried in his knees, he’s nearly as tall as you are standing. He is a contradiction: gentle, but full of violent emotion. Needy, desperately lonely, but pushing you away. Horrifying, yet beautiful. He is like no one you have met before in your dull little farm village, and the pounding of your heart fills your ears, chanting: he is the change you’ve been longing for; don’t let him go. 

Grabbing his arm, you turn him toward you, and press your lips hard against his. His entire body freezes.

“Stop acting this way,” you scold as your lips part his. “Look, I get that you don’t have much experience in how people behave with each other, but you can’t just squeeze someone to death to make them stay. But if you can manage not to do that… you don’t have to run away, either. You don’t have to worry about me leaving you, because I don’t want to. I’ll stay. Take me with you?”

“What?” Shock and wonder reflect in his glowing yellow eyes. “N-no, I could not possibly condemn you to this life. To tie your fate to mine would be—”

“My decision. You know what? My life was boring until today. Everyone is always making decisions for me, dictating my entire future, and I don’t want it. I never fit into the boxes they chose for me. But this choice is mine. You can be my escape. I’ll run away with you—let me make my own choices, and you’ll never be alone… deal?”

“Yes.”

You kiss him again. This time, his strong arms pull you against him as he kisses you back, long, passionate, and full of need. You agreed to stay with him. It is all he ever wanted and never thought he could possibly have—someone to be his. He has never been touched by someone who didn’t mean to hurt him, and he is desperate for more of your soft, delicate warmth. Your taste. You open your mouth, and his tongue explores you hungrily. He trails consuming kisses down your neck, sucking and licking at the skin of your collarbone. Each kiss draws a soft moan from your lips.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you open your legs and rub against the growing hardness straining the front of his tattered clothes. 

“What… what is this feeling?” he pants into your ear.

“Oh right, you’ve never… Let me show you.”

You undo his pants, freeing his swollen erection. It’s large—longer and thicker than you have ever seen (not that you had much experience), and dark like his blood. A raised scar runs the length of the underside of his throbbing shaft, but the old wound does not seem to hinder it. 

Kneeling, you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head. He lets out a helpless whimper and his cock twitches against your tongue. It is heavy and forces your jaw open wide, but with effort, you are able to take him deeper, inch by inch. Your fingers grip the base and stroke it, though they are unable to curl around his full girth. To fit all of him, you have to open your throat, fighting your gag reflex. 

With anyone else, you don’t think you could manage, eyes watering as he nudges deep, untouched reaches of your throat. But a glance up at his shy eyes watching you in tender astonishment, black lips parted in a breathy moan, and your throat molds around him. You slide down the full length, and begin steadily bobbing. As his noises of pleasure grow, he places his hands on the back of your head, encouraging you to take more and more of him until you choke and sputter.

He lets go, face creased with worry. “Are you alright? I’m sorry if I… was that wrong?”

“You’re doing fine. Just be gentle.” Taking a grateful breath, you resume working him. 

He lets you take your time now, afraid to move his hips or guide your head. You bob on him at your own languid pace, savoring the texture of his rough scars and velvety smooth skin. Soon his panting grows fevered and erratic, and you taste his saltiness on your tongue.

Before he can climax in your mouth, you pull away.

“Why did you stop?” he whines, not bothering to disguise his desperation. 

“Let me show you something better.”

You lie back on the warm earth next to the fire and hike up your skirts, instructing him how to position himself on top of you. Taking his wet hardness in your hand, you guide him to your entrance. He rubs it against the opening, slick and dripping with your arousal, but doesn’t seem sure what to do next. You slowly buck your hips upward until he slides inside. He trembles and moans with unbelievable pleasure. You gasp out, wincing as he stretches you wide open.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

“Yes. It’s big, but it feels good.” 

“For me, as well.”

You grab his thighs and lower him down, whining and gasping at the dull burn until he is fully sheathed in your heat. He lets out a long, stuttering sigh that is almost a sob. 

Then you start to grind against him with tiny movements that make warmth surge between your thighs and spread in waves through your body, building pressure until you can no longer stand it.

“Now, go in and out,” you instruct. “Good, just like that.”

His thrusting is slow and uncertain at first, but instinct soon takes over, and he finds a rhythm, striking deeper and harder. He bends above you to plant hot, desperate kisses on your face, down your neck.

“Faster,” you beg, and he obliges. 

His thrusting becomes wild. His chest beads with sweat, and soft moans turn into frenzied grunts turn into animalistic cries that echo through the woods. Then with one last powerful thrust, he breaks, his hot release spilling inside you with desperate convulsions that push him deeper, filling you completely until you come around him, burying a scream in his chest, and he collapses.

For a little while, all is silent, except for his gradually slowing breaths, and the crackle of the campfire. At length, he lifts his head and stares, lips trembling. Tenderly, he strokes your face.

“I need you.”

You clasp his hand in yours, and turn your lips to press a kiss against his palm. “And I you.” There is something about him you can’t explain, but you know he is going to change your destiny. 

“I had never dreamed it possible that I would find an end to my loneliness, or experience such pleasurable sensations. Yet, I must apologize for being overcome by passion and forgetting all decency.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I was overcome, too. You don’t regret it, do you?”

“No,” he says gravely, “but I fear you may. I have ruined you. I am a hideous creature, and you, a benevolent angel on a mission of kindness. In your dedication to balming my wounds, you allowed yourself to be taken advantage of to heal my loneliness. Soon you shall awaken to your senses and take flight, feeling only disgust for what we have done… for what I have done to you. If you knew the truth of my loathsome origin, you would be sickened; I cannot bear the thought of causing you pain…”

You tangle your hand in his dark hair once again, and kiss his gnarled forehead.

“You are a beautiful, sweet, melancholy little soul. I’m going to protect you from now on.”

[yesimgoingtopeacecorps]

A Woman Is Not An Object or a Prize

As a female Peace Corps volunteer, there is no escaping it.

The sideways glances, the stares that last too long in your direction, the sigh you feel leaving your body when you're asked, yet again, if you are married or if you're dating anyone- and if you're not, "why not?"

There is a lot a person can get used to and become accustomed to when living in a foreign place. I am no longer phased by the fact that my toilet is simply just a hole in the ground, or that I have to wash my clothes by hand, or plans don't work out, or a three hour long car ride could end up taking me almost an entire twenty-four hours. Those are things that are easy to adapt to.

But the one thing that I will never fully adapt to? The one thing that continues to wear on me and chips away at the patience and acceptance I have built for other things in this experience? It's the feeling that no matter what, I am constantly looked at by men as an object, and I'm spoken to as if I have a buying price.

"Where is your husband?"

"Why are you not married yet?"

"My love, I love you, I want to marry you."

"Don't you want a husband? You need to start having children"

"Please, my darling, love me. We can go back to America together."

"If I was to marry you, you would be worth 1,000 cows. I would pay your father and he would be very happy."

"Hey baby, you are so sexy."

"Why are you not talking to me everyday? Is it because you do not want to be with me?"

"He is saying that because he wants to be with you, he does not mean any harm."

Let me be clear about something here, these aren't things I have heard from just Guinean man. I've heard it in all of my travels across the world. From my creepy rickshaw driver in Cambodia who picked me up from the airport, to the safari car driver in Tanzania where I worked for a summer, to my female host mother during my rural homestay in Uganda, who told me basically that “men will be men” when a drunk neighbor came by and wouldn't leave me alone. After awhile, this gross objectification starts to get to you. 

However, I think the difference for me now is that in the past, the trip always ended. I would go home and was able to surround myself again with male figures and close friends who respect me as a human being and don't look at me like I'm a walking vagina and breasts. 

I was able to build those walls up again and rebuild stronger each time, so that each new foreign experience, I started to care less about the stares, the crass comments, and the creepy actions towards me. I grew, I learned how to recognize these men and these situations, and I would brush them off or I would say something really brash and straightforward like "I want a husband someday but it won't be you." or I'd ask "Why is it necessary for me to have children?". I could say what I wanted and be as cold and detached as I needed to be if someone was making me uncomfortable or was being disgusting to me because, 9 times out of 10, I was probably never going to see them again.

I had these walls, these safeguards, and these skills I gained from over a decade of dealing with men out there who feel as if myself and other women are something that is owed to them. I came into Peace Corps with that fortress of self reliance under my belt and I was ready to take on what Guinea was going to throw at me. And let me tell you, in the last 17 months, the constant objectification has been bombarded on me.

The stares from men anytime I go anywhere, the constant comments from taxi driver asking me where my husband is (or if I want a husband, or can they be my husband?), having my photo taken without my consent, having to refuse invitations to men's homes, the persistent feeling of never fully being safe in a crowded male dominated space… the list could go on, and I know for a fact most other female volunteers I know have similar stories to share with you. It's gotten to the point where many of us just find it necessary for our sanity to straight up lie about being married or engaged to avoid further questions because, after the hundredth time of hearing "So if you are not married or engaged, you need to find someone here to marry." you stop wanting to have the argument of women's rights and choices.

But, all that said and done, those are the sort of instances and people I can deal with. Sure, they're exhausting, but I built those walls on purpose and they've kept me safe here. These sort of things exist everywhere in the world; as much as I individually do what I can to change those actions and inherited traits of these sorts of people, I try not to let them affect my life.

What exhausts me in the end, are the alarming number of men here whom I've put my trust in to not act that way towards me, and then having them betray that trust. They are the cannonballs among the pebbles being thrown in my direction and they are the ones that are wearing me down to a point of burn out.

Guinea, like almost all of the rest of the world, is a male dominated society. Unlike the culture I grew up in that has adapted and begun the journey of social equality for all, many Guinean men do not see women are their equals. It’s a culture where a bride price still exists, meaning simply that a woman literally has a monetary value assigned to her and her rights, her choices, and her body can be sold to the highest bidder. It is also a culture where, for the most part, the thoughts and feelings of the males in society are seen as the only ones that matter. But because I want to get work done, and because I want to make a difference, I grit my teeth and I grin through my gut-wretching feeling of wanting to run the opposite direction. I try to make friendships, develop work relationships, and have casual conversations with the opposite gender.

...Obviously the director of a branch of a major non-governmental organization in our area who works with my health center would be willing to work with me on helping to improve the capacity building of the community. We have so much to work on and he'd be a great work colleague. At least that's what I thought until I went to his house once on my way to my regional capital, just to chat, and he told me he wanted to "marry a beautiful American woman" and would leave his wife to do so, staring at me the whole time like a vulture waiting for his chance at the roadkill. Uncomfortable, I left and ignored his phone calls after that. He's since been moved to another posting in the lower part of the country.

...Of course this guy in my community who wants to work on organizing sessions for malaria trainings wants to just work with me because he cares about what I'm here to do… unless of course he's decided that by doing this with me, it was his way of telling me how much he loves me and wants to be with me. He said this to me over text message after a campaign that we did. When I didn't answer him and I started getting his six phone calls and fourteen text messages a day for a week, I finally had the doctor at my health center get involved and the harassment ended.

...There's no way that my friend and French tutor, a young, well educated, guy, would want anything more than my friendship and to hang out- until he asks me to dump the Peace Corps volunteer I’ve been dating so I could date him and when I said no, that I just wanted to be friends, he proceeds to stop speaking to me.

I’ll reiterate again, this sort of thing happens to women in America and all over the world; I'm aware it's not just a Guinean phenomenon of culture. But when my Peace Corps service has consisted of over ~80% of my interactions with male acquaintances always leading to me hearing a comment about my marriage status, or the 99.5% chance of me being nice to the taxi driver and then giving him my number to contact him for rides later, result in him constantly calling me asking to hang out, or, when I have at least a 1 in 2 chance of a man I'm trying to develop a professional friendship with, is thinking that working with me is eventually a way to get in my pants- you really begin to question whether you’re going to be able to make any difference at all.

So, what keeps me going on days that I feel like this? And feel like venting out about how I don't think things will ever evolve in this testosterone filled space I find myself currently apart of?

Every single day is a constant struggle to keep pushing back against these norms and keep allowing myself to trust people and let my guard down- despite being hampered with so many reasons to be jaded and shut the men out all together. But the reason I don't give up is there are men who are an exception the rule. By forming friendships with these men and having them embrace that fact that I am a human being, not an object or a prize to be won, it empowers them to teach others group them how to act and behave towards the opposite sex. It gives me hope that they will be the ones to change the ways of the next generation.

I see it in my friend Cissé, who's marriage I was a part of and who has constantly been working with me to start a girls' sports club.

I see it in my Chef de Santé, Dr. Bah, who always tells me about the importance of educating women and calls me his teacher.

I see it in my counterpart Mamadou, who has never once asked me about a husband or has ever made a pass at me in our year and a half of working together.

I finished writing this, and I went and stopped by my health center and sat down with Dr. Bah. Frustrated, I explained my feelings to him about how men act here. He said something to me that gives me hope. “Les hommes qui ne respectent pas les femmes ne sont pas des hommes bons.” The men who do not respect women are not good men.

So, because of them, and Guinean male role models like them, I keep moving forward. I keep finding ways to, cautiously and carefully, let the other gender into my life while I'm here. I keep going so that, maybe one day, men like my few Guinean male friends who respect me and respect the rights and choices of women, will no longer be the exception but will instead be the rule.