#gah they are so dear to me it’s unheard of

[nullians]

Happy Valentines! 💌 ✨

[whumpwriterforlife]

Febuwhump 2022, Used as an Experiment - Summary:

“Touch me and you’ll regret it,” Nyx snarled. Besithia smiled, completely unphased by the threat. “I see Glauca has yet to snuff the fire out of you. That is quite okay, I am used to working with difficult specimens. You will learn your place sooner or later.” “I’m not becoming one of your lab rats!” Nyx shook his head sharply. He flexed his hands but the magic still refused to come when called. “I’m afraid you do not have a choice, my dear glaive.”

Read on ao3 or below the cut

The door banged open, causing Nyx to jolt out of his nightmare filled dreams. His heart hammered against his ribcage with fast, uneven breaths as he tensed up and watched a handful of soldiers push their way into his room. He was grabbed, wrenched out of the bed before he could form any words, and his vision instantly blurred as pain burst in his leg. It gave out from beneath him but the soldiers didn’t slow down. Nyx struggled to get up onto his good leg but the harsh pace made it nearly impossible.

They dragged him through a series of hallways before coming to a large metal door. One of the soldiers typed a code on it and opened it. He nodded at his buddies who unceremoniously shoved Nyx through the door. Nyx swore, barely able to catch himself with his bound hands. He pulled his leg to his chest, curling around it as protectively as he could as he tried to breathe through the pain. “Gah— fuck!”

“So this is Glauca’s top glaive,” a voice drawled off to the side.

Nyx startled, pushing up into a sitting position and away from the voice a split second later despite the pain. He gritted his teeth, shoulders hunched as he stared at the four figures on the other side of the room — Verstael Besithia, another scientist and two MTs. He said nothing.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, really. You Galahdan people have always been described as savages, of course you would make good soldiers.”

Nyx’s eyes narrowed as anger flared to life in his chest. He braced his hand against the wall and stood up, muscles tense and ready to attack. His condition wasn’t good, but he was not going to let the madman lay a finger on him if he could do something about it. The comment grated on his nerves but, while outrageous and completely false, maybe he could use those assumptions to his advantage.

Besithia cocked his head and stroked his graying beard as he leered at Nyx. “Yes, you will make an excellent specimen.”

“Touch me and you’ll regret it,” Nyx snarled.

Besithia smiled, completely unphased by the threat. “I see Glauca has yet to snuff the fire out of you. That is quite okay, I am used to working with difficult specimens. You will learn your place sooner or later.”

“I’m not becoming one of your lab rats!” Nyx shook his head sharply. He flexed his hands but the magic still refused to come when called.

“I’m afraid you do not have a choice, my dear glaive,” Besithia responded and motioned for the MTs to move forward. With that he turned his back to Nyx and walked out of the room with the other scientist right behind him. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even enjoy this! It’s highly unlikely, but not unheard of.”

Nyx spat an ancient Galahdan curse at the man, but his attention was soon drawn to the approaching MTs. One was aiming a gun at him, its red laser resting right over his heart while the other seemed to be holding a dagger of some sort. Nyx had never seen MT with a dagger, and the reason became clear a moment later as he realized it was actually his kukri in its grip. Nyx growled and bared his teeth.

The moment the MT was close enough, Nyx launched himself at it, positioning the MT between him and the gun-wielding one as he snatched the kukri from the MTs grip and used it to free his hands. The blade sank easily into a weak spot in the MT’s armor, causing the light to fade from its eyes as it collapsed. The other MT went down with another simple strike and left Nyx alone in the room.

He stood still, trying to catch his breath as he waited for one of the two doors to burst open and more MTs to flood the room. It didn’t happen. Instead there was a crackling sound before Besithia’s voice filled the room.

“Very good, you really have earned your reputation. I was not expecting for your performance to be nearly as aggressive or flawless in your condition, but I am pleasantly surprised. I have high hopes for you.”

Nyx looked around the room and clenched his jaw as he noted four red lights, one in each corner of the room. Cameras. “What do you want from me?”

“Ah, yes,” Besithia said. “You should be able to access your magic now.”

Nyx called fire and sent a powerful burst at one of the cameras. A wave of relief washed over him as he felt the familiar tingle of magic under his skin. If only he had something useful in his Armiger. He could have used a potion or two, but unfortunately Rubeus had been carrying most of their medical equipment.

Besithia laughed. “Your puny tricks won’t be enough to harm my equipment. The room has been built to withstand the most powerful daemons, and you’re nothing compared to them. Not even General Glauca himself would be able to break out of there.”

The man was really starting to annoy Nyx.

“You have the right idea though. The thing is, even with the handful of glaives I’ve been able to experiment on, my knowledge on the Lucian magic is almost nonexistent. You, however, as one of the King’s best, must have a good grasp on magic. With your assistance, I should be able to uncover all its secrets.”

Nyx huffed, irritated but slightly amused. “And what makes you think I’ll help you?”

“If you value your life, you’d be wise to.”

Nyx opened his mouth to retort, but then both of the doors opened and revealed multiple MTs. He muttered a curse, adjusting his grip on his kukri as the first of them stepped into the room. He sent a glare at one of the cameras. “This is your plan? Either I fight or let those things kill me?”

“Yes. The choice is yours, either die or fight back.”

Nyx shouted in anger. He was not going to let the MTs kill him. He had come way too far to go down like that. But he couldn’t give in to Besithia either. He would not let the madman get anything out of him that easily. He was not going to endanger the lives of his friends by giving the man what he wanted. Nyx stabbed his kukri straight through the temple of the closest MT and shoved it into the others. He couldn’t use magic, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight. He would just have to do it the old-fashioned way.

The adrenaline kept him going, masking all the pain as he fought, striking, slashing and stabbing wherever he could. At one point he grabbed a sword from one of the downed MTs and cleaved through half of the MTs in one swing. The floor was soon covered in MTs, and Nyx had to carefully watch his footing, especially so he could keep most of his weight off his injured leg. The MTs just kept coming though. Besithia taunted him through the speakers and tried to coax him to use his magic but Nyx refused to.

At least until he stumbled over an MT and fell. A pained cry burst from his throat and he reached for his leg as his vision turned fuzzy. A dark shadow fell over him and Nyx had a split second to see the blade before it came down at him. He instinctively threw up a shield to ward off the attack. Besithia’s elated shout made him snarl. He let the shield fall as he threw his kukri and warped. The MT went down with a kukri through the neck. He dispatched the rest of the MTs as quickly as he could with as little magic as possible before collapsing in a heap in the corner of the room.

“Bravo, bravo! What a show!” Besithia said, followed by what sounded like clapping.

“Screw you,” Nyx hissed. He winced as he shifted into a better position. His shirt was wet again from the side, telling him he had torn his stitches. Fuck. He put his hand over the wound and groaned.

“There’s no need for such crude language,” Besithia said. “This was very insightful, I can see why they’d call you one of the best. I will be looking forward to our future sessions.”

Nyx glared at the camera but saved his breath instead of retorting. He closed his eyes and waited for Besithia’s men to come for him, one hand still curled around his kukri.

A few moments later they did, but before Nyx could try anything, there was a dart sticking out of his thigh. He hissed a curse and yanked it out, throwing it off to the side but it was too late. His vision grew dim as the world spun around him. He tried to grip his kukri tighter, but his muscles went lax as he was pulled into oblivion.

---

Nyx blinked, waiting for his vision to come back into focus. His head hurt. Everything hurt. Not that it was anything new at this point. Nyx groaned. His hands were bound again and his magic was nowhere to be found. Damn it.

He gingerly shuffled himself into a more upright position against the headboard which left him weak and breathless. The dart must have had drugs in it, something that had knocked him out. He pushed the blanket down so that it only covered his legs and peeled his shirt up. There were fresh bandages on his side now. Nyx dropped the shirt back down and leaned his head against the wall. It was a good thing, he supposed. At least he wasn’t actively bleeding out. It meant there would be more to come, however, and Nyx couldn’t say he was excited about that.

He sighed and closed his eyes again, drifting off only moments later. He would need all the rest he could get.

---

The same cycle continued for days. At some point Besithia’s men would drag Nyx back into the room where Besithia would force him to play along to his games before throwing him back into his cell, most often in worse condition. He tried to fight back and defy Besithia, but the man was twisted and smart. Nyx hated it, hated himself for failing again and again. The knowledge that his failure could end with his fellow glaives suffering on the field made him feel sick.

On the fifth day something changed. The men didn’t drag Nyx into the same room. Instead they continued further into the maze of hallways and took him into what looked like an operating room with a table with straps in the middle of it. Nyx’s blood ran cold. He struggled against the men but the experimentation had left him weak enough that the men had barely any trouble manhandling him onto the table and strapping his hands and feet down with no concern for his injuries. Nyx had to bite his tongue to keep himself from crying out as a leather strap was tightened around his broken leg.

When the pain finally returned to a manageable level, Besithia made his appearance. He looked exhilarated which didn’t bode well for Nyx.

“Ah, you already got him settled, excellent!” Besithia nodded approvingly as he walked over to the table and gave Nyx an unsettling smile. “I thought we would try something new today and change things up a little.”

Nyx looked at him cautiously. Besithia patted him on the shoulder and walked over to the counters off to the side to grab a pair of latex gloves.

“Have you ever come in contact with the Starscourge?” Besithia asked, sounding perfectly casual. “I assume you have, considering the Empire uses daemons in their war efforts. Fascinating beings, aren’t they?”

Nyx frowned. “You’re crazy.”

Besithia inclined his head as he glanced at Nyx. “I am a scientist, an innovator. I wouldn’t expect a man like you to understand the importance of my job.”

Nyx tugged at the restraints but they wouldn’t loosen. He muttered a curse under his breath. “You’re nothing but a madman.”

Besithia turned around to look at him. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. So what fun do you have planned for us today?”

Besithia’s eyes narrowed for a moment but Nyx only stared back calmly. After a moment he sighed and turned back towards the counter. “Our experiments have given me lots of valuable information. However, you have been resisting every step of the way, and unfortunately I’m on a very tight schedule and have no time to wait. So I thought we would try a different approach today.”

“Just so you know, if you cut me up, I won’t be any use to you anymore,” Nyx quipped.

Besithia walked back to Nyx, except this time he was holding a clear bag of dark liquid in his hands. “Do you know what this is?”

Nyx had a pretty good guess, considering the man had just mentioned starscourge only moments ago. He swallowed hard.

Besithia smiled. “I thought I would introduce you to the wonderful qualities of the ‘scourge today. Did you know that the magitek troopers are powered by the miasma that it emits? It’s so very fascinating. Humans, however, don’t tend to react well when infected. It affects us even worse than it does wildlife. Most test subjects say that it causes pain like nothing else. That is, when they still have their ability to speak.”

Nyx tried not to shiver as Besithia went on and on about the starscourge and grew more and more crazed and excited. The man was an utter maniac.

“If you kill me, you won’t be able to experiment on me anymore,” Nyx pointed out.

“Oh but a small dose will hardly kill you. It may cause excruciating pain and make you wish you were dead, but you’d live. At least for some years,” Besithia told him. “Maybe that would encourage you to cooperate more.”

Nyx gritted his teeth. “Would you endanger your only captive like that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you are hardly my only captive. Only one at this facility, yes, but there are many more waiting for my return to Niflheim.” Besithia shook his head. “But the decision is yours, glaive. Give me what I want and I can put the bag away.”

Nyx jerked his hands against the bindings but they held. He wasn’t getting out of this on his own. “And what do you want?”

“Your magic,” Besithia said, “Fire, to be more precise. I find it intriguing that it doesn’t seem to harm its host. Your task is nothing complicated, only to summon a flame into your hand and keep it going as long as possible — or until I tell you to stop.”

Nyx’s eyes narrowed. It was an easy thing for him to do, but it also sounded too good to be true. Every other time Besithia had made him fight for his life until he had no choice but to use his magic to survive. This was too simple, too easy. He didn’t like that. It was better than being infected with the starscourge, he supposed, but complying still meant he would be giving Besithia information on how the magic worked, something he didn’t want to do.

Besithia motioned for one of the soldiers to come forward. Nyx’s eyes darted to the soldier who took something from one of the countertops before walking to Besithia’s side. He tensed up.

“Hold his arm still,” Besithia ordered as he took a plastic packed item from the soldier. A needle.

“Don’t—”

“If you’re not going to cooperate, you leave me with no choice,” Besithia told him. He opened the pack and put it on the table next to Nyx’s head. “It’s a shame to lose a test subject with magic, but it will also be quite interesting to see how the ‘scourge interacts with the magic.”

Nyx yanked and pulled at the leather strap but it was no use. The soldier pinned his arm down, allowing Besithia to make quick work of cleaning the injection site. Nyx shook his head. “Don’t do this.”

“I recommend you relax your arm if you wish to make this easier for yourself.” Besithia ignored him as he grabbed the needle. “I am done playing games with you. You still have the option to comply, but you are running out of time.”

Nyx’s chest tightened uncomfortably as his heart started racing. It was a no-win situation. He didn’t know what to do. A pained hiss left his lips as the needle pierced his skin.

At the same time the door burst open. Besithia and the soldier whipped around.

“What do you think you’re doing?” came a familiar growl. Nyx’s heart skipped a beat as he realized the voice belonged to Drautos. He turned his head but the soldier and Besithia were blocking his line of sight.

“Ah, general, I was just—” Besithia was cut off by an abrupt choking sound. The man was slammed against the side of the table, and a sharp spark of pain traveled through Nyx’s leg at the jolt. Nyx let out a strangled curse, but then Besithia’s hand happened on his leg and pushed. His vision went white and he screamed as the pain became too much and dragged him under.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Corpse, Cake, and a Cuppa (Rated NC17)

Summary: Aziraphale is Death and Crowley is the serial killer who keeps murdering to catch a glimpse of the ethereal being he fell in love with. (1714 words)

Notes: Written for the above Halloween prompt from @new-endings/M.A.D.#8943. Human Crowley au. It’s kind of gory, I’m not going to lie.

Read on AO3.

“Jesus Christmas!" Aziraphale yelps, tiptoeing through the thick pool of red coagulating on the concrete. Threads of it cling to the soles of his shoes when he lifts his feet as if trying to drag him down. Aziraphale has seen a great deal of blood in his time. None of it has been pretty. But this is especially gruesome.

He wonders if that’s for his benefit.

"Look at... look at this! Look at all the… !” Aziraphale takes a pause and breathes in deep, pressing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to his forehead. Tension causes a vein to distend and throb - quite the feat since, as a non-human entity, he shouldn't be able to experience this kind of pain. Or so he thought. In the thousands of years he's roamed earth reaping souls, he's finally found the one mortal who can give him what humans call a migraine. And he doesn't like it. Not one bit. “Could you please just… stop already?"

Crowley grins, thrilled giddy by the arrival of his intended audience. “No,” he replies, shoving the slicked head of his filthy ax deeper into the severed spine of the fresh corpse at his feet.

Aziraphale grimaces as the blade lands with a resounding slap. 

That ax of Crowley's gets on every one of Aziraphale's nerves. It's effective for its purpose but positively unsanitary. It makes his skin crawl every time he sees it.

Crowley lifts it slowly, eyes Aziraphale menacingly.

Eyes his nice, clean coat, Aziraphale realizes.

“Crowley!” he warns, putting both hands up in defense. “Don't you dare... !”

But Crowley doesn't let him finish, hoisting his ax higher with part of the dead man's torso attached. He doesn't need to do anything after that. The torso falls from the blade and splashes down in the pool, accomplishing what Crowley set out to do.

“Holy... GAH!” Aziraphale leaps back to avoid the spray. He frowns at his clothes when he sees he wasn't quick enough. "Look what you've done! You’ve made a mess of my coat!”

“Improved it, I’d say,” Crowley snarks. “Given it a pop of color.”

“I've had this coat for ages and hadn't collected a single stain! Not one! And look at your shoes! Ruined!" He gazes down at Crowley's feet in despair. "I actually liked that pair.”

“Really?" Crowley tilts his head, batting his eyes innocently. "You didn't tell me that.”

“Yes, well... " Aziraphale busies himself fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. Praying he’s swift enough to save the fabric, he pats at the specks on his sleeve "... it’s not my place to tell a homicidal maniac that he looks fetching in snakeskin, is it?”

Crowley pouts, his lower lip jutting out, making him look comically childish despite the streaks of blood running down his cheeks. 

Aziraphale’s brows pull together. He glances around, trying to work out what's wrong. "What? What is it?"

"You're being mean."

"How am I being mean?"

"You're calling me names."

"Accurate ones, yes."

"You sound disappointed."

"You think so!?"

“B-but... but why? I took your advice!" Crowley argues. "I changed me m.o.!”

“I didn’t give you advice! I said you should stop killing innocent people!”

“I did! This guy?" Crowley plants the heel of his sopping shoe into the dead man's crooked neck for emphasis. "He weren’t innocent! He was a serial killer, too! He just happened to be shite at it!”

"I can see that." Aziraphale peers into the vacant eyes of the man on the ground, spirit buzzing beneath his skin, waiting to be reaped. But Aziraphale is in no rush. In the choice between filling out paperwork and shooting the shite with Crowley, surprisingly, he chooses Crowley. 

Or maybe not so surprising, Aziraphale muses, biting his lower lip and indulging in a private chuckle. He rolls his eyes in disgust at himself right after. What are you doing? Stop that!

"Besides, I'm doin' you a solid!" 

Aziraphale scoffs, snapping back to his senses. "How do you figure?"

"You're Death, ain't ya? I'm keeping you in business!"

"I don't know if you've read the papers lately, dear boy, but humans are dropping like flies thanks to their own stubbornness and stupidity. You're slap in the middle of one of the worst pandemics in history, but instead of doing what you can to stay safe, you lot spend your time arguing over petty b.s.! I won't wear a mask! It's against my rights! I'm not taking the vaccine! It'll make me sterile! There is no disease! It's all a big conspiracy! Meanwhile, in the states, some orange lunatic has everyone drinking bleach! Believe me, I hardly need your help doing my job!" 

“Oi! Don’t lump me in with those prats!”

“Why not? You’re not wearing a mask, I see.”

“Don’t have to. I got my shot. And I keep me distance.”

“But you’re covered in blood! Did that man you dismembered have the virus!? You don’t know!” Aziraphale cringes at words that sound far more like concern than scolding. Which he should be doing. Scolding and ridiculing, and possibly calling the police.

But he won’t.

If Crowley were thrown in prison, it would be harder for Aziraphale to find an excuse to see him. Aziraphale has yet to decide if that’s something he wants, but either way, he’d prefer it not be at the expense of another life.

"Fine. Whatever. If that's the way you feel about it... " Crowley grumbles, letting what remains of that statement die as embarrassment rises to his cheeks, settling beneath the red already there. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns his face away. 

Just like a child, Aziraphale thinks. 

And as with a child, Aziraphale should have nipped this in the bud much, much earlier - like when Crowley realized that he could summon Aziraphale whenever he wanted by upping the frequency of his murderous antics. 

This, to date, is his twenty-seventh kill.

Aziraphale doesn't know how Crowley spotted him. He's pretty adept at avoiding human detection. But after victim number eight, Aziraphale turned around, scythe in hand, and there he stood: tall, gangly, bizarrely besotted, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses at one in the morning. Aziraphale thought Crowley was a run-of-the-mill psychopath looking for attention, seeing Aziraphale as a hapless dolt to play cat-and-mouse with, not knowing for one second who he was dealing with.

Not only did Crowley know exactly who Aziraphale was, but he had taken a considerable shine to him.

Aziraphale humored the man when their paths crossed so he could get on with his work, never for one minute considering the consequences. Thinking back on their past interactions, Aziraphale can pick out the hints Crowley had been dropping.

Aziraphale played right into them, and he could kick himself over it.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Aziraphale quipped dryly after Crowley had beheaded some poor, down-on-his-luck fool. "I'm going to start thinking that you have a thing for me."

"Finally!" Crowley tossed his arms in the air. "At this rate, I was going to have to murder half of London and spell out the words ’Will you go out with me?’ with their bodies. Do you know how time-consuming that would have been?"

Aziraphale had written that comment off as a morbid attempt at humor. 

Now he feels like an imbecile.

He’s going to get an earful from Gabriel if he ever gets wind of this. Aziraphale has been able to cover up the increase in London deaths by blaming the pandemic. But once people get their acts together and things calm down, he’ll have to come clean.

There’s a serial killer roaming the streets that has a serious crush on him.

Aziraphale lets out a heavy sigh as he comes to a decision.

A bad decision.

He's going to regret this. He knows he's going to regret this. 

But will he really though?

Aziraphale looks Crowley over, still moping with his nose in the air. He examines him at depth - his sharp features, his debonair style (hiding beneath a litre of blood), his devil-may-care attitude, his rowdy sense of humor. If he were another angel, or even a demon, Aziraphale would have asked him out already, body count or no. 

So what is he waiting for?

It’s not entirely unheard of, an angel dating outside their dominion. And as for the moral issues of dating a murderer, well, Aziraphale is an angel. He has a responsibility to bring sinners to the light, help them see the truth. That can be done anywhere, not just in church - on a street corner, in a diner…

Back at his flat.

Besides, he and Crowley have a lot more in common than Aziraphale did with his last paramour, an angel he had dallied with solely for the fact that he was guardian of comestibles.

It seemed like a match made in Heaven, so to speak.

Far from it.

“Look - if I let you take me out for coffee, will you stop the gratuitous bloodshed?”

Crowley all but gasps when that question leaves Aziraphale’s mouth, the grin growing on his face transforming, becoming less maniacal and more… normal if that makes any sense. "One cup of coffee. That's all I ask."

"Then come along. Here… “ Aziraphale snaps his fingers, cleaning Crowley thoroughly before he takes his arm. “If you're good, I'll let you buy me a slice of cake.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m a very slow eater. And I figure the longer I stay with you, the more I can keep an eye on you."

“Deal. But, you know," Crowley starts, his tone so filled with teasing he’s on the verge of giggles, "if you, say, spent the night at my flat, you could keep an eye on me for hours. Think of all the people I wouldn’t be able to kill.”

Aziraphale smirks, amused that they both had a semblance of the same idea. “You don’t say?”

“I do.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“More so than you bartering human lives against a cuppa and cake?”

Aziraphale shrugs, but he doesn't relinquish Crowley's arm. He does, however, relieve him of his ax so he doesn’t get any ideas along the way. “Fair point.”

[archived-mononokeland]

ask : Can you do a fic of mammon selling a really precious thing of mc? like a jewel accessory from a family that passed away. but mammon doesn't know it's mc's until they ask where it is

Ooh, an angst prompt! >:3

Mammon sells MC’s precious thing

warning: angst, mention of the death of a loved one.

You’d gotten used to your life down in the Devildom. Despite your previous thoughts, living with the demon brothers wasn’t much of a terrifying experience as it was annoying. And today was going to be just a normal morning like usual.

Was, at least.

“Has anyone seen my necklace?!” Your question seeping with exasperation reached to nearly all of the residents in the House. Instead of spending your morning with your usual routine, you’ve been pacing around each room and checking every spot for a particular item.

A necklace, one you could be seen wearing most of the time. It had a small gleaming, yellow gem dangling off of it with a silver-ish frame. It wouldn’t be worth much in terms of money, but what was important was the worth of it to you.

A gift from your grandmother, one that you held dear and kept carefully after she passed. You would die if you lost it.

So far, Satan, Lucifer, Asmo and Beel had heard of your search. Each one of them promised to tell you if they found something. Stomping into the planetarium, your eyes laid on Mammon, who seems to be doing his usual scavenging of things to sell.

“Mammon,” you called out, running up to him, “I need your help, have you seen a necklace with a yellow gem and silver frame anywhere?”

You could see him being surprised at your sudden appearance and finally regained his composure, “Eh? Necklace with a yellow gem? Yeah, I think I saw that around…”

“Great! Can you please tell me where it is?” You beamed as your eyes flooded with relief and happiness. “Please, I’ll even treat you out for dinner later!”

Mammon stuttered for a moment with the last part, a small red streak coming across his face. His eyes shifted to the side, “Came across it in the music roo—”

“Okay, then show me where it is!” You grabbed his hand without a warning and earned a yelp from him. You dragged him to the music room and looked around, then looked at him expectantly, “So, where is it?”

“Gah, tell me next time you’re gonna do that!” Mammon pulled his hand out of yours and huffed, “I didn’t even have time to explain. I already sold the thing.”

You blinked once. Twice. You hoped you heard that wrong.

“You… what?”

“I, uh,” Mammon squirmed just ever so slightly in his place, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I sold it. Wasn’t that valuable but it was worth a thousand Grimm.”

The light in your eyes died out as it widened. Your shoulders slumped, and suddenly your limbs felt heavy. Your heart felt heavy. Empty, even. But somehow you had the strength to curl your hands tightly.

“Oh,” It was soft mumble, almost unheard to the demon in front of you, “I see.”

And without another word, you forced yourself to leave to your room. You weren’t seen outside for the rest of the day. Not even a word from the previously fussing you.

Were you angry at Mammon? No, you figured. But you didn’t let him slip past that just yet. Perhaps disappointment? Stress? Your heart was muddled with emotions; emotions you couldn’t even get a grasp to deciphering.

Empty, yet such a roaring heart.

Knock knock.

The sound of the door rang through the room, but your body felt too sluggish to walk over to open it. Or even respond for that matter. A click sounded, and you knew it was open.

The white blur was telling enough of who it was. Mammon called out your name, as soft as ever. You didn’t respond. Slow footsteps to your bed where you lied, and now you could see the nervous face of the demon.

You glanced at him with empty eyes and a soft frown, before looking back up to the ceiling. Suddenly, you felt something being put under your hand. You took a hold of it, a box, it seems. With a sigh and reluctancy, you sat up weakly and looked at the box, then at Mammon, then back at the box.

“Open it.” Mammon muttered to you, almost like a silent plead.

And so you did. The lid of the box lifted and you saw… the necklace. The one you’ve been searching for. Your eyes widened, and once again your tears came back to fill your vision. You hugged the box to your chest, and for the next few minutes, only your silent tears were heard. You didn’t even notice Mammon stroking your back in an attempt to calm you.

You wiped your tears and looked at Mammon with a ghost smile, “Mammon…”

“I managed to buy it back from the witch. Had to pay double the price. B-But y’know, it’s—”

You cut him off with a tight hug, and a whisper of a thank you in his ear.    

[beyond-the-mirror]

Nocturnal Encounters - An Incubus! V x Reader story

It’s been a long time but the second night is finally ready! In which the reader is plagued by dreams of our lanky boi and she wonders who he really is. Next chapter they will finally meet personally I promise!

It’s a quite long chapter and once again I hope you don’t mind.

Second Night: Dreams

Your eyes fluttered open at the warm sunlight that filtered through the curtain, letting out a long yawn before sitting up and stretching your arms.

Normally you were a light sleeper, more often than not you would feel a little heavy and drowsy at mornings, you were not a morning person after all. However this particular day was different, not only were you feeling quite rested, but your sleep wasn’t interrupted at all last night. Maybe you were more tired than you believed? But then you remembered the dream, how it felt completely different and unusual from others that you had before.

Shaking your head from your thoughts, you reached your hand towards the alarm clock on the nightstand. Checking the hour your eyes widened, no wonder you felt so rested.

“What?! I overslept?! Ugh, stupid alarm!”

You shot out of bed and right into the bathroom, taking a shower and getting ready at mach speed. There’s no way you could afford getting late to work, not after you had so much trouble finding this new job.

After putting on something decent to wear today, you headed to the balcony to quickly water your plants. You had just finished when something caught your eye, a single feather tucked under one of the pots stood out. Curiosity had once again taken the best of you as you picked up the feather and inspected it closely, its dark midnight color mesmerizing you with the way light reflected on it revealing blue and purple hues. Running your fingers through the feather’s elegant, sharp silhouette , you found its texture so incredibly soft and smooth, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of bird could have such gorgeous plumage.

“So beautiful, maybe a crow flew over here, or a raven perhaps…” You muttered to yourself. Now that you think about it, you were in need of a new bookmark since you lost your previous one, this feather could be an excellent replacement, of course you would have to clean it first.

Suddenly your mind was brought to the present once again

“Gah! Stop wasting time (Y/N), we have a job to keep!”

Quickly grabbing all your stuff, you rushed to the door, not even stopping to eat some breakfast before leaving for your job. You were definitely going to feel a lot hungry this morning.

The same dream kept coming back over and over again. Every night you would find yourself in a different scenario, a garden, a pond, a clearing in the middle of a forest… and in every single case, the same man would appear before you, always embracing you, always caressing you, and always whispering poetry in your ear.

The first few times you thought nothing of it, but as time went by you started to become wary, not to mention the fact that the dreams were all strangely lucid and that since that first night, you have been sleeping for longer than usual. Who was this man? Why did this particular dream overwhelmed you so? What did his presence mean? After all, people say that sometimes dreams carry an important message with them.

Many times you tried to talk to the man in your dreams, to ask him the reason for his constant visits, yet you never could. It's almost as if he kept you in some kind of trance that numbed you and made you feel lighter, a warmth enveloping your entire being that lulled you into submission. At the end he would always turn you around in his arms and lean towards you, your eyelids fluttering close as his breath fanned across your lips, but just moments before you could feel his kiss you would wake up.

To be honest you were scared, your thoughts wandering around any possible explanation to your current predicament. One thought crept to your mind, one that made a cold shiver run through your spine

Demon

Attacks were uncommon in the city but definitely not unheard of, though they were not frequent and they’re usually dealt with by a locally infamous demon hunter, there was still a small possibility that one could have found its way into your mind. Still, you had never heard of a demon that could interfere with dreams, so maybe the idea was a little farfetched after all.

You looked at your alarm clock, the numbers displayed marking fifteen minutes to midnight. Letting out a sigh you closed the book you were unsuccessfully trying to read in order to help you relax, tucking the black feather you had found a week earlier between the pages. Reaching for the lamp on the nightstand you turned off the light, reciting a short prayer before pulling the covers over yourself.

It was only a matter of time before he arrived.

“A recurring dream you say?”

“Yes, it’s always the same every night. I have never met this man in my life, and yet he is always there”

You were having a conversation with your best friend, having decided that you definitely needed someone to vent out your worries and maybe ask an advice. She had invited you to the small coffee shop near your workplace for lunch before you had to go back to your job.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you, my dear, have a crush on somebody”

“Now is not the time for jokes! I’m genuinely concerned about this”

“Sorry sweetie, you know can’t help but tease you a bit” She booped your nose gently, making you giggle. Although she couldn’t really solve your problem, she was definitely succeeding in making you feel a lot better.

“Maybe it’s trying to tell you something, like someone new you’re about to meet? Or maybe a person you’ve already met but just don’t remember?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know. Though I can assure that if I already met him, I would definitely remember him” You let out a sigh. She immediately reached for your hand to support you.

“Don’t worry sweetie, nothing bad has happened so long right? I mean, from what you told me you’re still able to rest at night. If you’re worried about your job and oversleeping, you can always go to bed a bit early than normal to compensate, maybe that’ll help?”

“I suppose you’re right, thank you, I really needed that” You smiled, she stood for a moment to give you a hug. 

“If anything happens or you start feeling unwell, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll do anything in my power to help”. You can’t help but thank the heavens for gifting you such an amazing friend.

You decided to change the topic and spend the rest of your lunchtime just hanging out and relaxing with your best friend.

Running to the bus stop, you managed to catch it on time before it left. Today was a really busy day, forcing you and your coworkers to stay overtime and catch up with pending work. The only thing worrying you is that it was already dark outside, you just hoped the walk to your apartment will be uneventful.

You were reading your book when you noticed the bus already approaching to the stop near your home, closing it immediately and putting it in your purse, the feather still marking the pages you left on.

Once your feet where on the sidewalk you took a deep breath, just a few minutes of walking and you’ll be back in the comfort of your home. However as you continued, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as you noticed the street being unusually quiet and empty, you knew what they said about quiet nights in Red Grave. Just a few more steps though, you clutched your purse tightly, just a few more-

“Well then, what do we have here?”

A tall figure stepped out of an alley stopping you in your tracks. By the way the person slurred his words, you could tell he must have been drinking.

“P-Please excuse me, you’re in my way” a small stutter left your lips and you cursed yourself silently for acting so meek at such moment. You tried walking around the tall man, but just as you thought he was going to leave you alone he took your wrist in a strong grip.

“Let me go right now!”

“Hey that’s a nice bag you have there, maybe if you hand it over nicely I will consider letting you go” His putrid breath could reach your nose and it almost made you vomit, yet you maintained your ground and refused to give him what he wanted.

“I said LET. GO!” With a quick shift of your weight, you used your free arm to elbow the man in the stomach, following immediately with a strong kick right between his legs. As soon as your wrist was free, you immediately bolted towards your apartment, thanking the heavens above that you took those self-defense lessons last year.

“You BITCH!” You heard your attacker scream behind you, right before his running steps started to be heard. If he was armed or not you didn’t care and you definitely were not going to look back, the only thing in your mind was running non stop until your reached your home.

The beat of your heart pounded in your ears just as strongly as the steps behind you. The door to the building was right there, you immediately dug in the pockets of your jeans for the key without slowing down a single moment. Almost. Almost there. Your hand grasped the door handle right at the same time you felt a breath on the back of your neck. Time seemed to stop, looks like you were not going to make it after all. You closed your eyes and braced yourself, and then-

A yelp of pain erupted from behind you. You were shaking uncontrollably, curling over yourself waiting for the man to attack you… but nothing happened. Slowly, you opened your eyes and even though you were scared to, you forced yourself to turn around.

He was gone. Your attacker was nowhere to be seen, as if he had just vanished in thin air. Your legs wobbled and gave away, hands holding onto the door handle for dear life and your heart in your throat beating as if it were about to explode. Steadying yourself, you inserted your key in the door and ran up the stairs to your apartment.

You didn’t bother to cook dinner, the incident made you lose your hunger completely. Instead you immediately changed into your pajamas and boiled some water to make yourself a cup of tea to try to calm your nerves.

After emptying your cup, you climbed on your bed hoping to get some sleep. You were safe. You were safe.

Once again you found yourself inside a dream, this time you were laying on a large bed in the middle of a white bedroom, a tall glass door in front of you led to a beautiful rose garden, looking down at yourself you were now wearing a white silk nightie that barely covered your behind.

A tap against the floor sounded behind you and you turned around right away. There he stood once again, the green-eyed man.

He was tall and lanky, black ink flowed through the entirety of his torso and arms, he wore a long black vest with ties on the front laced in a corset-like fashion, as well as a pair of skinny black trousers with a chain on the side, he was completely barefoot and you noticed a silver cane on his right hand, that must have been the source of the sound.

He approached slowly and placed his cane gently against the wall beside him, he leaned towards you and scooped you in his arms, carrying you bridal style towards a door behind him. To be fair he was making you quite nervous, and yet you once again  found yourself relaxing at his touch.

The door led to a bathroom, you noticed a tub filled with water surrounded by a few candles, petals and water lilies floating gently on the surface of the water. The man put you down on your feet and ran his hands soothingly up your arms, taking the straps that held your dress up, he gently pulled them off your shoulders, letting the nightie fall swiftly on the floor.

With a small gasp, you lifted your arms to cover your breasts and preserve your modesty, but with a soft kiss on the side of your neck he took your wrists in his hands and slowly lowered them, revealing your naked form to him.

“Sweet dreams form a shade, o'er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, by happy silent moony beams.” He whispered into your ear like every other dream, once again carrying you in his arms and lowering you gently into the bathtub. The water felt cool against your skin, the scent of the candles and the flowers relaxing you more so. Taking a seat behind you, the man used his hands to take some of the water and pouring it over your shoulders and neck, never once stopping his poetry. You couldn’t help the small moans and whimpers that left your lips.

“Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, chase not slumber from thy eyes. Sweet moans, sweeter smiles, All the dovelike moans beguiles.” His hands took one of the lilies that floated around and placed it behind your ear, tucking your hair before placing a kiss on your temple. His hands kept massaging your body, his voice and ministrations keeping you in trance like always.

Suddenly, you found the energy you needed to finally speak. “Who… who are you?”

His hands froze completely, not a single sound could be heard except your breath.

“You… you always appear in my dreams, every time you embrace me and hold me in your arms like… like a lover would. And yet, I don’t know absolutely anything about you.”

He still didn’t move or make any sound. “May I at least… know your name?”

Finally, the man took a deep breath before answering “… You may call me V”

V… what a strange name. You considered the possibility that wasn’t his real name to begin with.

“May I know why are you always in my dreams?”

“… I’m afraid now is not the right time for you to know yet. But I can assure you, all your questions shall be answered eventually.”

You pouted, finally you ha gained the strength to talk to him and now he won’t give you any answers. You felt his fingers tipping your chin up, making you look into his green eyes.

“Little wanderer, I will not let anyone or anything hurt you again. Fear not my little one, for I shall keep you safe and protected, that is my promise to you.” With those last words, his long fingers tapped into the center of your chest, making you fall in that deep trance once again.

Like all other dreams before, you were completely at his mercy.

The human whimpered pathetically on the floor, crying desperately in fear of the creature before him who gave him a look of utmost disgust. The wound on his side was bleeding, painting the concrete beneath his figure crimson red.

“P-Please, p-please… I beg you… M-mercy, m-mercy…”

The demon huffed in annoyance “You bore me deeply human, I have decided that you are simply unworthy of my time, let alone killing you”

Sharp, pointed claws waved in a dismissive manner, which the human took as a sign to scramble to his feet and flee in terror. The creature lifted his hand to his lips, licking them clean from his unfortunate victim’s blood. He moaned at the delicious taste, though it was not his preferred food, a bit of the red liquid made a sweet treat from time to time.

His mind then went to the girl he encountered weeks prior, after all, if it weren’t for that small gift he left on her balcony he wouldn’t have been able to help her from that filthy scum that just left. A lustful groan left him, he couldn’t help but imagine that the blood in his claws was actually her own essence, thus making his tongue start lapping at a much more vigorous pace. Oh how he wanted to take her, claim her for himself. But he had to be patient, if she was going to give herself to him, it had to be out of her own volition. Incubi prided themselves on their ability to bring their partners absolute bliss and pleasure, and although sadly some don’t follow that nature, he proudly considered himself to be one of the former.

“Little wanderer, I will not let anyone or anything hurt you again. Fear not my little one, for I shall keep you safe and protected, that is my promise to you.”

[zephyrthejester]

Code Geass Deadblog: Episodes 42-44

So what happened in episodes 42-44?

Episodes 42-44 of Code Geass were the very definition of "shit hitting the fan." Everything escalated to unheard of levels, then promptly went *as badly as possible for everyone.* Dear lord, I was on the edge of my seat for all of it! From my outsider's perspective, I wouldn't be surprised if this group of episodes are the most infamous in the fandom.

To start, Lelouch and Suzaku met at the old Kururugi shrine, and after much anger and rage thrown at the former, Suzaku eventually agreed to protect Nunnaly... But only if Lelouch made his lies into a reality and become an actual knight of justice that would do the right thing. How he found it in himself to tolerate Lelouch in any capacity, I'll never know. Unfortunately, Kannon and an elite squad swooped in and captured Lelouch! Schneizel had been keeping tabs on Suzaku and figured that due to his odd relationship with Zero, following him when he went off alone might lead him to the terrorist.

Lelouch managed to escape due to a clever, previous planting of Geass on Guilford, but the damage was done. Schneizel learned Zero's identity, AND secured undeniable recordings of Zero's own voice admitting that he was the mastermind behind Euphemia's genocide and the possessor of a power called Geass. To make matters worse, Lelouch mistakenly thought the trap was Suzaku's doing, and thus closed his heart and turned his back upon him.

Immediately afterward, the second battle for Tokyo began. The surprise train EMPs shut down all technology and all KnightMares of gen 5 and older, which gave the Black Knights an incredible advantage, but even still the presence of Suzaku, Bismarck, Gino, and Luciano meant it was an uphill battle. And might I add, I found Luciano's KnightMare to be super cool. Its trademark weapon was a set of wrist-mounted claws that could extend out and rotate rapidly around the arm to form a lance! Shame the pilot was such a butt.

The power swiftly returned to the city and the tables turned against the Black Knights, who found themselves fighting an uphill battle. The cherry on top was the incoming news that the Emperor's flagship was en route to Japan... Though Lelouch and Schneizel both cooly rationalized that the Emperor had no business with such boring nothingness as this battle.

Then, briefly, everything was pretty great. Sayoko busted Kallen out of her prison and brought her to the Guren, now upgraded into the Guren SEITAN. It immediately displayed absurd speed and power, killing Luciano, the Knight of Ten, with ease. Then it turned upon the Lancelot... Suzaku. And that's where everything fell apart.

The Lancelot was equipped with Nina's deadly FLEIJA weapon, which held untold potential for destruction. Suzaku soon realized that the Guren was a foe he could not defeat, and the only way to survive was to use the FLEIJA. However, he didn't want to sacrifice the entire city, and resigned to his fate... Oh, yeah, whoops, turns out Lelouch told him to live a while ago. Against his will, Suzaku fired the FLEIJA.

Over 25 million people died. Among them... Guilford (aww maaaan), Lohmeyer (yesss), Asahina (meh), and... Nunnaly.

Oh, shit.

Lelouch broke, and the world fell apart around him. He screamed manic orders to drop everything and search for Nunnaly until Rolo and Orange escorted him back to his quarters, where it wasn't long before he lost it at Rolo and told him exactly what he thought of him and how he was planning to kill him. Rolo, understandably, was hurt. And might I just add, that infernal locket fell to the floor during this and was opened! Face down, dammit.

Meanwhile, a temporary truce was called between Britannia and the Black Knights. Schneizel landed upon the BK's airship and asked for a big council talk. And so it was that Schneizel, Cornelia, Kannon, Tamaki, Tohdoh, Chiba, Diethard, Ohgi, and Villetta all came together... And then Schneizel laid bare the irrefutable truth. Zero was a Britannian Prince, wielder of a Geass power, and had used it on nearly everyone in the room with the sole purpose of obtaining his own goals. Understandably, the Black Knights lost their shit. Because that's what every character did in this series of episodes.

Ohgi proposed a deal, to which Schneizel agreed: Hand over Zero, and Japan will return to its people. Kallen, kept in the dark, was sent to collect Lelouch from his room. She lead him, unwittingly, right into a firing squad, composed of all the big name Black Knights. Kallen moved herself in front of Zero, but Lelouch realized that his time was up. In order to save Kallen, he threw himself under the bus and loudly declared that the worst interpretation of his actions were true, causing Kallen to walk away from him and leave him to be shot. Though, Lelouch did whisper to her that she needed to live, giving her a brief glimpse at his true intentions in those final moments.

Just at the right time, Rolo leapt down in the Shinkiro to block Lelouch from the gunfire. Quite against Lulu’s will, Rolo saved Lelouch's life and flew off and away with him. Rolo... didn't believe what Lelouch said, about hating him, and wanting him to die. After all, Lelouch is a liar, right? He lies to everyone. So clearly he was lying just then, too. Despite Lelouch's screaming protests, Rolo killed himself to see his dear big bro to safety; using his Geass well over a dozen times to secret Lelouch away, far from anyone that could see where he landed.

And that's where I am now: Lelouch with no allies at all, no reasons to live, and only one goal: To go to hell, and drag the Emperor down with him. Hot damn, dude. The Emperor, by the way, is keen on activation a Ragnarok whatchamacall it, which will create a new world. Something tells me he's being literal. Oh yeah, and Suzaku's been standing in the Tokyo crater for a full day and suddenly started cackling madly at the sky, so I'm sure he'll turn out fine! Haha! Ha!

Seriously. Dude. These episodes were ridiculous. So many people dead. Nunnaly, dead. Every single bridge Lelouch has ever had just burnt to ashes. And I know I've said this before, but... I'm really starting to see why people were surprised at the existence of Season 3... 'Cause holy shit, dude. There's no coming back from any of this.

By the way, Lelouch put that heart locket on a small gravesite he left for Rolo, and I'm pretty fucking sure we'll never see what's inside it. GAH. WHY. HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME. THAT'S THE WORST PART OF ALL OF THIS.

Other notes:

Tamaki was MVP. His boisterous love for Zero was hilarious... Until the proof of treason was thrown in his face. Poor guy.

I'm pretty damned sure this show swept the Ohgi/Villetta/Sayoko situation under the rug. Seriously, what the fuck happened after Ohgi and Villetta fell off that cliff? SUDDENLY THEY'RE JUST FINE, APPARENTLY. Also there was a bit where Diethard was blackmailing Ohgi by keeping Villetta prisoner, but that went absolutely nowhere and she escaped on her own and Diethard didn’t even say anything when Ohgi and Villetta showed up for that council. This plotline sucks, big time.

Nina got real emotional when she witnessed the sheer death and destruction caused by her weapon. Good. There are human lives in those projected statistics you worked out, lady!

Xing-ke and Kaguya’s reaction to Zero’s identity is unknown for the moment. Really curious to see how they’ll take it.

I think that’s it. Now to go watch episodes 45-49... Expect another post like this later today!

[magicalcreeks]

Creek with 5, please 💚

5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Ayyyy I hope you like it!! I wrote it quickly so excuse the mistakes!! Thank you for sending this

Tweek gritted his teeth, the pencil in his hand snapping straight in half, “wow, dude,” said Clyde who got flicked in the arm by the flying shards.

Clyde pulled his attention away from the math problems he was struggling with. He was glad to have a distraction, especially when it was a good enough distraction to have Tweek angered enough to break through three pencils in a single class period.

Kenny slyly slid another pencil into Tweeks hand.

On the other side of the classroom sat Craig who was busy laughing at something that Thomas kid had told him. Clyde saw the way his eyes would light up, “Uh oh,” he murmured, knowing his actions towards Thomas was completely harmless but there was no point in telling Tweek that. The green monster had completely taken over.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Tweek swore. He was halfway out of his seat with the plan to give Thomas a piece of his mind— of course, Craig would never cheat on him but, “Gah!” He shouted, dropping his head on his desk. Of course, Craig wouldn’t cheat on him.

“It sounds like someone needs a little advice from a dear pal,” Clyde shifted his desk over, getting in real close so they could talk in a whisper. He was an expert at these things, all Tweek needed was a little friendly advice.

Craig burst into another fit of laughter loud enough to capture the attention of both Clyde and Tweek.

Tweek groaned into his arms.

“The last time you offered to give anyone advice you got Kevin Stoley punched in the face,” Token butted in from his table, working meticulously on his math problems but still eavesdropping on their conversation. Clyde blew his a raspberry, defending himself by saying Kevin only got punched in the face because he didn’t follow his advice word for word. Which was false. Kevin did follow Clyde’s advice and it only resulted in him getting punched by Red.

That was the exact moment when anyone with common sense knew to stay away from the unlicensed love doctor who was Clyde Donovan.

“Just tell Craig how you feel,” Token suggested with a nonchalant shrug.

The class bell rang and immediately the room was filled with idle chatter and scrapping desk, “don’t forget to do pages-“ their teacher talking over the noise to remind his students of the homework they had due but went unheard.

Tweek lifted his head, his body feeling as antsy as it had before and now his fingers and eyes twitched. What did Thomas have that he didn’t? Even before when Tweek told Craig a joke he never laughed. He would roll his eyes or if he was feeling nice, humor him with a chuckle. It wasn’t like Tweek prized himself for being the funniest, but god damn it, he was way funnier than Thomas. Craig only thought he was cool because he swore a lot.

“If I were you I would make Craig just as jealous, go flirt with Butters or something.”

“Nngh- Butters?! No way, man. Kenny would kill me!”

“Hey, it’s just an idea,” Token pulled Clyde away by the back of his varsity jacket. Whatever he told Tweek was bound to be a ridiculous idea.

Just talk to him, he stressed once more before leading Clyde away so that he and Craig could talk in private.

Aw man, what was he going to do? Tweek started packing his pencils— shards and all— but sliding all of his belongings off of his desk and into his bag, “I can’t talk to Craig... ugh!”

“Can’t talk to me about what?”

Shit. Craig was standing in front of him, waiting with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. How long was he standing there? Tweek bit down hard on his lower lip until his mouth filled with the familiar taste of copper. Now Craig was expecting him to say something but how could he with him staring at him like that? All serious with his bright green eyes... Tweeks heart thumped against his chest until he was reduced to nothing more than a jittery mess.

“I was waiting for you outside of class but you took too long. Then when I looked back in you were staring off into space,” Craig observed in his monotoned way, “whats up?” He finished, waiting for an acceptable answer. Why couldn’t he sound as carefree talking to him as he did Thomas?

Tweek growled, wanting to reach for his hair or anything to pull on. Craig did not like when did that- especially when he discovered a bald patch in his head- so a month ago he gave Tweek a pack of colorful rubber bands to wear around his wrist and pop whenever he felt anxious. The problem was Craig knew something was definitely wrong upon hearing the loud snaps on his flesh. Now he was worried, and his eyes conveyed just that. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Where’s Thomas?” Tweek bitterly asked, guilt settling when he watched Craig’s expression change. He didn’t mean to sound bitchy.

“Oh, I don’t know. We went to lunch with his friends I guess.”

You didn’t sound so casual when you were laughing at his jokes, was what Tweek would have said if it weren’t for the fact Craig was eyeing him up and down.

Like a snap of the fingers, it clicked.

“Are you jealous?” Craig chuckled at a flustered Tweek. Did he really think... he and Thomas were just friends. A friend who he still owed laundry, but still a friend.

“Honey, there’s nothing to worry about. My eyes are on you only.”

“Gah! I’m not worried because of that! You laugh at his jokes but you don’t laugh at mine.”

Now Craig was confused. He blinked a few times, “I’m a catch, man. Wendy and Bebe say it all the time.”

“Do you know why I don’t laugh at your jokes?” Tweek was afraid to hear his answer. He motioned for him to proceed.

“Because you make the same joke every day and they’re bad. They’re so bad that I love them, and I don’t have to laugh at them anymore. Thomas’ jokes are bad too, but not as bad as yours.”

There was a pause.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Craig took his hand into his own, “it doesn’t have to make sense because I love you.”

“Stop, you’re so sappy,” Tweek laughed, giving his hand a squeeze. After everything, he could never stay mad at Craig, and he loved him just as much— also in a less embarrassing way.

He may have felt better but he also felt incredibly silly. Being jealous is stressful and stupid.

“Well, I have another joke for you-“

“Tell me later, babe. I promise I won’t laugh.”