#what'cha gonna do to the only person who actually does shit for it

[savvysquidling]

Go into any small enough town, and it's never clearer that everyone is their own variety of weird as fuck. The townsfolk know this, and that it would be hypocritical to point that out.

One thing I cant get over about Stardew Valley is how, in many of the heart events, the farmer is just outright spying on the other townsfolk, rooting throught their belongings, walking into their houses unannounced, or hiding in the bushes, and the townsfolk seem… fine with this.

At least, it doesn’t make them like you less.

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[writerofshit]

Jerematt for the ask meme please!

send me a ship and i’ll tell you:

who reaches out to new neighbors

Matt, surprisingly. He'll bring up some new name that Jeremy doesn't recognize, who then asks who the hell he's talking about.

"You know, Sharon? The woman next door? She moved in a few months ago?"

"Somebody moved in?"

who remembers to buy healthy food

Jeremy, because he actually gives a damn about staying in shape and all that. Matt is always shocked to find like... Apples and shit in the fridge

who remembers to buy junk food

Lmao MATT no question

who fixes the oven when it breaks

Matt tries to tinker with it before they ultimately call someone. It's always a brief argument bc Matt feels like he should be able to do it, and if he has enough time-

And Jeremy just "Matt I love you to death but we will starve by the time you figure this out."

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

Matt's actually big into plants ever since Jeremy forced him to have "some form of goddamn life" down in the basement his lair his office

The cats are an equal thing, Jeremy feeding them in the mornings and Matt at night. They both accuse the other of spoiling the cats too much, but they're equally guilty.

who wakes up earlier

Jeremy, because Matt stays up so late he's basically nocturnal.

who makes the bed

Matt, because he always gets up later. Used to be he didn't care about it, but it's the least he can do.

who makes the coffee

Neither, the fridge is stocked with Red Bulls and Bangs.

who burns breakfast

Matt burns the toast every single time he makes an attempt at making breakfast. At this point Jeremy thinks it's ridiculously sweet that he keeps trying.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

Jeremy tells him as he's pulling on a jacket, be it drinks with Michael or Trevor asking something of him. Regardless, Matt will tell him to be careful.

Matt on the other hand says absolutely nothing, only responding to Jeremy's "where the fuck did you go?!?!" text about fifteen minutes late. He forgets, sometimes, what it is to have someone who loves and cares for him the way Jeremy does. He's trying to get better.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

Matt will often greet him with "Oh my god, Jeremy, guess what?" Like something big has happened. It's always nothing, just "I got donuts!" or something like that. Jeremy just groans because he absolutely will not be able to resist them

Jeremy always greets him with a cheerful "Hi Matt!" when he gets home, throwing an arm around his shoulders and leaning down to peer at Matt's computer. "What'cha working on?"

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

They do it pretty equally, Matt finding anything purple and orange or animal related, knowing Jeremy will love either. Jeremy will bring home assorted snack foods that he knows Matt loves.

who picks the movie for movie night

They alternate, usually tossing the remote at each other when they get tired of scrolling through Netflix. Eventually, whoever has the remote will close their eyes, scroll a bunch, and pick something randomly. It has never resulted in a good movie.

their favorite kind of movie to watch

When they do actually choose a movie, it's Disney or some shitty movie Michael told Jeremy about. Honestly, it doesn't even matter because they're just happy to be spending time together.

who first suggests a pillow fort

Matt, because of they're gonna watch shitty movies all night they might as well have fun with it.

who builds the pillow fort

Also Matt, because according to Jeremy "I've seen you play Minecraft, man, you're the builder here." which Matt rolls his eyes at but supposes is fair. Doesn't matter much anyway, because after five minutes Jeremy joins him all "Alright, Matt, what's the plan here?"

who tries to distract the other during the move

Tries might be a strong word, but Matt does make a ton of sarcastic comments under his breath, which send Jeremy into laughing fits constantly. As far as Jeremy is concerned, Matt is the funniest person on the planet.

who falls asleep first

Well. See. The easy answer is Jeremy, because he goes to bed at a (roughly) reasonable hour. But, whenever he can drag Matt away from work before midnight, Matt is out within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

who is big spoon/little spoon

Jeremy's absolute favorite thing in the world is to wake up to Matt's arm wrapped around his waist, chin hooked on his shoulder. It's comforting and sweet and just... the happiest place he could be.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Makeup Session

Follow-up to a discussion (link to part of it) where @sluttyspiderpolkacock agreed to trade some venison sausage to Alastor if he agreed to get in drag. And then this follow-up discussion. So Alastor showed up at Angel’s room to get his makeup done, and also preemptively sulk about the fact that Angel thought he didn’t WANT his makeup done.

Angel

Something felt off. Tone was hard to read through text. It certainly didn't hold a candle to Angel's forte reading the body, but he was nonetheless possessed by conscience to descend the grand stairway to collect the aforementioned head from the freezer. Much as it shook him to his core to be using his precious palettes on the thing ( _mental as well as physical in the sense that he couldn't help feeling Vaggie's same shiver when the eyes locked on him_ ) , the spider found himself blending the finishing touches off a perfect cadaver's smoky eye before reaching for a radio. " Hey Smiles, if ya up, getcha grinnin' mug in 'ere. I got somethin' ta show ya. "

Alastor

Instead of responding, the radio crackles and plays a stanza of a 50s song with a female singer: “* Now if I call him on the telephone, and tell him that I'm all alone, by the time I count from one to four, I hear him knock, knock, knock, knock on my door—*”

Knock, knock, knock, knock. It’s the Radio Demon.

https://youtu.be/MeT9Glm_Jgg

Angel

" Hehe, very cute, Al. " Angel left the radio playing on his vanity and repositioned the head before going for the door. " So I did that practice run ya wanted, " he said lethargically with a flourish toward his station, " Not that I don't do up faces like yours on th' regula', but since ya _insisted..._ " Leaving the door open, he returned to the head and held it up to present his work in the light. " I went an' did it. Ya still game fa this look? "

Alastor

Alastor stepped in just enough for the door—pushed by who-knows-what—to swing shut behind him. He glanced over Angel's makeup station before focusing on the head. "Decided the head was useful after all?" he asked dryly. He glanced over the look—seemed like just smudged eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick, all basic black—and after only a second or two said, "It's fine."

Angel

" Usefu-? Nah, nah this was fa you! " he explained with a pull of his vanity seat to offer, " Bone structure's actually... _not_ that big a deal. With contourin', ya can pretty much create any shape ya want. A course, only within' the ma'gins a ya face, but even then ya can do a helluva lot. I once _completely_ erased my peripheral eyes fa a client. They got definition, but ended up lookin smooth as a bambino's ass. " Angel caught himself rambling with a sigh. Alastor only gave a fuck about the venison. He was wasting his time. _But---_ " ... What I _do_ wanna check out is ya skintone, though. I'd guess youse neutral all th' way through, but since we ain't human anymore an' the inside a the wrist trick ain't so reliable, I'd haveta experiment with ya cheeks. "

Alastor

"I said you could chuck it out if it wasn't useful." He unlatched his hands from where he'd clasped them behind his back, took the offered seat, hooked one ankle over the opposite knee, and sat perfectly straight. Very professional, not terribly welcoming. "I prefer the shape my face currently has."

He glanced at the head again. "Yes, well, that's why I decapitated somebody who matches my complexion." He paused. "I suppose that didn't last after freezing him, though. But how much skin tone matching do you need to do with black eye shadow and lipstick?"

Angel

" Ya ain't up fa foundation? It's beauty base level one, Sweetie, it evens ya out an'... " Angel hummed and took a moment to lean in to judge his skin. " ... Ya know what? Ya don't even need it. Youse one a the lucky ones. Who would a thought ~ ? " With a shrug of his shoulders, he took a knee and pulled a package of wipes from a drawer. " Should clean ya up some, though, just ta make this whole process easier. " He opened them up, a puff of a fresh, sweet scent emanating from the package. " Allow me, uh. " Eyes flickered to his posture. " Or you wanna handle it? " he asked, " No harsh chemicals or anythin', just clean an' good fa ya. "

Alastor

There's the slightest narrowing to his eyes that suggested he wasn't quite sure what "foundation" was, but, whatever it was, he didn't fully trust it.

The squint didn't quite go away when Angel withdrew the option of foundation; but he did offer some actual conversation. "I don't think my skin's entirely natural. Never looked into what's changed about it, though."

He glanced down at the package. "Go ahead." And, after a moment, he uncrossed his leg, leaned forward, and planted his elbows on his knees to give Angel easier access to his face.

Angel

He fluttered a short series of disbelieving blinks, not expecting him to pass any opportunity to take up something easy enough to handle himself. Nonetheless, he put on his professional poker face and started with gentle sweeps from his forehead. " Ok, close ya eyes, " he instructed as he continued.

" Whatcha meanin'? Ya sittin' in front a me while soundin' like youse comin' from a cell tower miles away. Ain't nothin' natural about the lot of us, anyways. "

With that, Angel started looking  little more closely for indications of what he meant. " I don't... _think_ there's anythin' weird about it. And that's comin' from a perpetually peach-fuzzed _bitch,_ " he joked, " Ya tellin' me givin yaself a full body once over wasn't the first thin' ya did when ya dropped 'ere? "

Alastor

Alastor tisked to himself at Angel’s surprised blinks; the sound didn’t emerge from his own mouth, but as a click coming out of the still-on radio nearby.

“No, the *first* thing I did was look for pants. But of course examining my body was the second thing.” He shut his eyes obediently. “I mean it doesn’t act quite like skin is supposed to. Not in a way that’s ‘unnatural’ but ‘artificial.’ Doesn’t react to substances it’s supposed to, doesn’t smell like skin—” He made a vague, dismissive gesture. “Natural side-effect of being dead, no doubt. Never you mind. It doesn’t need foundation, I’m sure that’s all that matters.”

Angel

Angel couldn't help blowing a raspberry, but managed to duck and cover in time to avoid any inadvertent spitting.

" Right, _right_! Not _everyone's_ lucky enough ta have long luscious _fluff ~_ " he teased, quickly discarding the wipe before bringing out his choice of liquid liner.

" E'ryone's got their own musk. _Believe me._ Yours ain't the _worst._ If it does anythin' weird with my shit, we'll play it by ear. Open. " Angel uncapped the liner and drew a thin line on the back of his hand for Alastor to see. " This shit didn' come around until the 60s, but it sure beats melting a pencil with a lighter and sufferin' minor burns fa a killer cat eye, " he laughed before motioning for him to close his eyes again via his own.

" Don't worry. Ya good enough not ta need foundation. Ya probably ain't even gonna need much lip, either. Ya smile's gonna be takin' care a most a that. What _I'm_ gonna be havin' fun with _here,_ is givin' ya some pretty dramatic eyes! "

Alastor

“I know I’ve got my own musk. My musk smells like a machine, not a person.” He wasn’t kidding; he smelled like the interior of a secondhand electronics store, all burning dust and hot electrical components. He could hardly ever smell it himself, but he knew his scent.

He examined the liner briefly, then shut his eyes again. “I can handle the lipstick myself, when it comes to that.”

Angel

" Ok! I'll do it with ya so you can copy me, " he asserted, moderately chipper. Angel then habitually reached to steady his chin as he approached the first sweep, but stopped himself in favor of taking the challenge without any unnecessary contact. Instead,  he braced an elbow upon his vanity and shut his left eye, as he did while aiming down iron sights. " Ya ever done it before? Or like, watched ya mammina? "

Alastor

“I’ve done it. Not in a while and I’m not quite as good without a stencil, but I’m not a complete embarrassment.” He does an admirable job of holding his head still while talking. “I expect lip stencils aren’t a thing anymore, are they? Can’t recall the last time I saw one.”

Angel

" Perfectin' the cupid's bow ain't no easy feat ~ " he commented as he worked, followed by a chuckle.

" They fell outta practice when people sta'ted realizin' they was mostly fa white chicks who ain't _got any._ _My_ theory is chola liner's some genius _shade_ about it... _Badumtss~_ "

" Can't imagine you'd be able ta see what'cha doin' if ya tried usin a stencil _now_ though, with that huge smile a yours takin' up half ya face!  "

Amused with himself, he paused to chuckled a moment before the rest of what Alastor said processed. " _When_ 'ave ya done it before? "

Alastor

“Well, they work just fine on Creole gentlemen, too.” That liner joke is a mix of references a little too specific for Alastor to get, so he let it pass without comment. “No, of course I can’t see what I’m doing smiling like this. Why do you think I’m going to do my own lipstick?”

The corner of his mouth twitched wryly at Angel’s question. “Oh—pfff.” The huff came out as a burst of static as he rolled his eyes up and tried to remember. “Mainly the twenties, some in the forties... smattering of times since then... seventies or nineties or aughts—don’t think I ever did in the eighties. But probably only a dozen times in the last fifty years. Like I said, ‘not in a while.’”

Angel

" I know e'ryone _loves_ the 80s... " he groaned, " Unpopular opinion, but _somethin'_ went pretty fuckin' _wrong_ in that decade... " There's a twang of personal resentment to his tone, sharp as the glinted gold off razor clenched teeth.

" Ok, open up an look up so I can do the bottom. "

Though it disappeared just as quickly as he snickered at his own innuendo, further still as all eight eyes lit up.

" AH! So ya fuckin' DABBLED! What ELSE ya been holdin' out on me with, Al? Ya 'ad fun dickin' with drag? Would ya 'ave done it more if ya 'ad the chance? Figure bein' the fuckin', RADIO DEMON's a full time job, but wit' THAT kin'a title... ain't no one gonna be fuckin' wit' YOU. "

It did occur to him that the lack of frequency would answer his question, but he shoved the logic aside for his own wishful thinking. His fluff started to shimmy with excitement and he halted his work in favor of steadying himself on the ground as he were readying a running start.

Alastor

“I spent the 80s in the 10s. Missed most of it.” He opened his eyes and looked up.

“I’ve done it as much as I’ve cared to.” A shrug. “You know I have a skirt, I’m on the record as having sung a drag queen’s part on a musical album—and yet you’re surprised I’ve done drag? What did you think the skirt was for, flagging down taxis?” He scoffed. “I’m sure you must think I’m just another one of those *tediously* defensive men who have allergic reactions if anything even slightly delicate brushes their skin.” There was an edge to his voice that matched the tenseness in his posture since he’d come into the room.

Angel

" Nah-nah-nah, if youse anythin' it's fuckin' nothin' _I've_ ever known. " Angel smoothed himself out, taking a moment before cursing his season and getting back to work.

" Less than a musical number afte' learnin' youse this Ove'lord level hotshot who ate fuckin' cities fa breakfast, you were in th' kitchen treatin' the whole house ta dinner. If ya gonna kick my ass fa anythin', I know it ain't gonna be fa the same reasons I gotta be watchin' my back on th' streets, Da'lin'. "

He then sat back on his mile-long haunches to judge his handiwork from a distance. " Alright! Step Two's done! Whatcha think? "

Alastor

Alastor regarded Angel skeptically for a moment; but then finally relaxed a bit, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. “And yet you were so convinced that I was looking for ways to wiggle out of this little meeting.”

He turned toward the mirror, studying the eyeliner. “Fine so far.” After a pause, he added, “You don’t think the smudged eyeshadow is going to be too much on top of my natural eyelid color, do you?”

Angel

" Youse a _dealmaker ~_ " he sang as he collected his shadow pallette, again showing Alastor test strokes on the back of his hand, " Wigglin' through loopholes what th' likes a ya do. Like an art. But th' kind that has fuckin', hidden scary shit subtext in th' background that haunts ya fa decades. An' I wasn't about ta let ya wiggle ya skinny ass outta _THIS~_ "

" I'll... " He scrutinized the shades before settling on a sparse swatch with subtle hints of glitter. " Work off whatcha got. Change a plans. I'm doin' ya lips a da'k red and enhancin' the natural shade a ya lids. "

Alastor

"You're right, I *am* a dealmaker. If I was that opposed to getting a little paint on my face, do you think I would have agreed so readily for nothing but a bit of sausage?" He scoffed again. "I agreed to your terms because there was no downside to them. Congratulations on managing to insert a downside that didn't previously exist in the terms—I wasn't expecting to get publicly accused of being too cowardly to wear makeup."

He eyed the new swatch doubtfully. "Do you have one that's less sparkly? Sparkles aren't terribly... me. I mean," he gestured at his ridiculous red getup, "that's not to say I'm not *flamboyant*—but I'm not *that* kind of flamboyant."

Angel

" Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'll make it up t' ya an' take ya t' work wit' me sometime. _Not_ ta do wit' whatcha thinkin'. I'll show ya where I been gettin' all my shit, but ya _cannot_ be fuckin' seen. "

His conscience screamed, alarm bells wildly ringing throughout the backstage of his brain.

" New deal? " he asked with a new selection of charcoal grey, " I'm startin' ta think ya deserve better than a single color palette. It'll go with ya- I mean, MY, bowtie. "

Alastor

"*Thank* you!" At the apology, Alastor immediately brightened. "That's hardly necessary—but, I admit, I do wonder what you *are* going to pull out if 'what I'm thinking' has already been ruled out."

Alastor glanced over the newly proposed color and a game show bell dinged his approval. "How many palettes does one need to just cover eyes and lips?"

Angel

" Well, that last venison treat I got from th' street, but at work... we got a lot more where that came from. A candy store fa cannibalistic radio demons, " he joked, " Kiddin'. Specifically _not_ fa cannibalistic radio demons. Unless ya gonna _pay,_ but I doubt ya gonna be interested in th' usual package deal anyways. I'll just take ya in through the back. "

" Close ~ " Angel instructed once again before sweeping his brush, " As many as there are different tastes in th' world, Sweethea't. Not e'eryone's satisfied doin' or wearin' th' same thin' fa all a eternity. It gets _borin' ~ _ "

Alastor

"*Do* you? Maybe I was a little hasty when I decided the porn industry doesn't have anything that would appeal to me!" Laugh track. "I'll take that under consideration."

He closed his eyes. "I can hardly wear all of them at once! And I don't exactly have plans to do this again any time soon."

Angel

" I already introduced ya ta hentai. Am I gonna have ta show you vore, too? " A snicker. His crusade to find Alastor's niche interests had already been put to rest.

" That's a _shame ~_ Guess I better make this count then, ah? Ya gettin' mascara. By th' time I'm done wit' them lashes ya gonna be able ta clear a room wit' a couple bats. "

Alastor

"I've heard that one already! And ever since then, have been haunted by wondering what my rare voluntary victims get out of offering themselves up." He stuck out his tongue, bleh.

"Oh, good. I always enjoy clearing out a room with nothing but my face."

Angel

Angel couldn't help a flurry of giggles as he reached for his go-to wand. The _Radio Demon_ was _cute._

He applied the mascara generously, taking care to smooth out any clumps as he went. Bittersweetly, he sat back and kept himself from nitpicking any details to touch up for the sole sake of drawing out the process.

" Well, there ya 'ave it. The face of a _"Cha'min' Demon Belle"_ in ya _own_ right. Almost. Lemme find ya a bran' new one. Brushes an' applicators I wash, but lipstick goes directly on. "

Alastor

Alastor opened his eyes and leaned in toward the mirror to inspect the results. Angel was better with mascara than him. No surprise, really.

He had a new accent on when he next spoke: "Well! I do declare, you have done a simply *marvelous* job!" It was very much charming demon *Southern* belle, and he'd quite clearly practiced it before. He switched back to his usual voice before continuing: "I don't mind scraping off the last layer of germs with a hankie, it worked fine for us in New York." But he wasn't going to *complain* if he got a fresh one.

Angel

His jaw slacked. Of _course_ the amount of time and attention Alastor must've put into his voice would add up to him being able to pull off such a _sound_ outside his register. Much as Angel tried, he could never get nearly as close to sounding that _feminine,_ clear as a  _bell,_ pun intended. He was as much endeared as he was jealous.

" ... _Damn, dude,_ " was all he said on the matter before busying himself with his lipstick drawer. He pulled out his own favorite alongside a brand new burgundy shade, wordlessly breaking the safety seal and tossing the plastic.

" It's all yours. Now look. "

Folding his secondary elbows over the surface of his vanity, he joined Alastor at the mirror and twisted the cap. " Ya can go for whateve' shape ya want. Flat, pointed bow, rounded bow, a shape shorter than ya natural smile that looks like ya got a permanent pout. I like ta call that one th' Betty Boop... "

He flashed his eyes over as he racked his thoughts. " Pointed bow prolly best fa a big smile. They'd round out on they own with ya stretch, " he explained before beginning to draw out the shape on his own lips.

Alastor

Alastor cleared his throat with a rumble of static and winked at Angel. "Still convincing, I hope." Of course it was still convincing. He'd heard himself.

He'd wondered how he was going to make it look good with a smile—he always had trouble with that part. *Pointed* bow. Made sense. He watched closely as Angel demonstrated.

Angel

Angel rolled his eyes. All eight of them. " Yeah-yeah, _that's_ the word. _Convincin' ~_ " He snickered with a wink of his own and made a couple faces in the mirror.

" Yeah, pointed bow'll do it. Don't be afraid ta exaggerate some. It ain't gonna look as ridiculous as ya think it will so long as ya own it. If it ain't feelin right, ya can always take some edge off with a claw. No 'arm done. "

He then rested his chin in his palm to watch him in the mirror. " _Go fa it ~_ "

Alastor

He watched until Angel was done—even copying Angel's hand motions with his own, tracing his tube of lipstick in the air—and then he said, "Got it." He sat back and made a twirling gesture with one finger. "Turn around. No facing me and no facing any mirrors facing me."

Angel

" What- " He rose a brow sky-high. " _Seriously?_ C'mon, man, it's not like ya _strippin'_ in 'ere. " Nonetheless, he obliged with a turn to his bed and a dramatic drop of his face into a pillow before giving Alastor a sextuple thumbs up.

Alastor

Lightly, Alastor said, "Everyone's entitled to their quirks. This one's mine." He waited until Angel was flopped before turning back to the mirror and pursing his lips.

He looked so *tired* when he wasn't smiling. The eye makeup really didn't do anything to hide that. He tried to focus on his lips instead of his eyes, copied the motion Angel had done, and examined the results. It took him a few tries to get an outline that looked alright when he smiled, and then he filled it in. Not bad, he thought. Made his fangs stand out more.

"All right. You can come inspect the results." Alastor glanced at Angel, face down in a pillow, and added, "If you haven't smothered yourself."

Angel

Angel twisted back around, a vague pile of pink striped limbs promptly realigning into a comfortably casual lounge.

" _Hey ~ !_ Not BAD, Mista _Twelve_ Times ~ ! " he complimented with a snap of his fingers, " That's gonna getcha e'rythin' I got left, uh-kay ~ ? "

Folding his arms behind him, he got up and leaned about Alastor on all sides to appreciate all angles of his ( for the most part ) work.

" ... ... Next time ya do anythin' like this, take me wit' ya, ah? "

Alastor

"Even without the skirt?" He'd put the Southern belle voice back on. "Well, bless your heart! Aren't you the generous one?"

He stolidly endured the scrutiny—this was the least pleasant part of the whole process, *the scrutiny.* "It's not something I do often, remember—I don't get much out of it. But if a reasonable opportunity comes up, I'll keep you in mind."

Angel

Angel stepped back with a sheepish laugh, test-stroked hand over his mouth. " Fine, fine, I won't put ya through anythin' else. Ya can 'ave summa my venison wheneva ya want. Youse a good sport ~ "

His many arms then made quick work of cleaning up his vanity. The head could go away later.

" Here, ya can take these, too, " he said with an offer of the rest of the makeup wipes, " Fa after dinner. An' any other time ya feel like freshenin' up. They _do_ work _wonders_ on _blood ~_ "

Alastor

"Do they! How handy." Those were going in... nope, his pockets were currently occupied, that was where he was stowing the glut of spare bow ties he'd suddenly acquired. He dropped the makeup wipes through a little portal, they could hang out in another dimension for now.

Angel

The corners of his eyes rounded wide at the sudden sight. " Didja just...? " Angel vaguely gestured towards the floor, still in the midst of processing what he just saw. " Give my shit ta HENTAI? He even HAVE a face? "

Alastor

Alastor laughed. "I'm sure he'd find some use for them!" He got to his feet; they were about done here, weren't they? "But, no! I've got more than one little dimension I can open up. That one happens to be—well—more or less my travel trunk, I suppose. It has too much in it for me to call it a handbag!" He opened up another small portal and fished out a saxophone. "This wouldn't fit in your average clutch, would it?"

Angel

Angel snorted. Of all the nefarious uses he could've been seeing of his power, he had to witness the storage unit. " Ahh I getcha I getcha ~ " he said as he pulled a pistol from his fluff and fussed with the magazine, " It ain't no entire fuckin', _dimension,_ but pretty damn close. I can fit a _lotta_ shit in 'ere ~ Once shoplifted an entire Christmas dinner! " He then put it away and looked at the portal, a curiously conniving smile stretching his face. Without much thought, he picked up the head, gave it a toss, and dropped to peer into the portal like a wishing well. " ... _Oh shit, it's actually GONE!_ " he exclaimed, eyes sparkling in amusement before his experiment.

Alastor

"Really! Just in your fur, or is there some sort of magic—Wait *don't—*!"

He tried to seal up the portal. It was slightly too slow to keep the head from falling in. He stared aghast at the point where the portal had been, then glowered at Angel. "You don't see me chucking half-thawed meat into *your* wardrobe!" He opened a smaller portal again on Angel's vanity, leaned over to peer in, then played an annoyed buzz as he sealed up the portal and opened a new one in midair just above eye-level so he could reach up into it from below. "If I have to take everything out to clean it, you're helping."

Angel

" I like ta call it _AbracaBIMBO-!_ " The spider erupted into a flurry of giggles and raspberries, arms clasping his stomach as he rolled on the ground. " I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinkin'! I just! 'AD TA TRY IT! " Swiping his tears, he looked up into the portal and sprung up. " Wait, that leads t' ya closet?? I'LL GET IT! " Angel then shoved his head and primary arms into the space and began fishing for leverage to pull himself through.

Alastor

Alastor grabbed Angel's shoulders to jerk his head down out of the portal, but the portal wasn't quite high enough and Alastor wasn't quite tall enough to keep Angel's arms out of it. "Either you remove your arms now, or I fish them out in an hour so the doctors can try to reattach them to your stumps. Your choice." The portal narrowed threateningly.

Angel

" What's the big _secret_? " he echoed into the void before popping his head out, " Ya said you'd make me help ya _clean!_ What's the big idea wit' not lettin' me sneak a peek _now ~ ?_ " Angel almost whined. Singular ( and he presumed inadvertently _punk_ ) as the Radio Demon's fashion sense _seemed_ to be, if he kept a skirt in there, the curiosity surrounding whatever else he could he stowing into an endless void all but _killed him._

Alastor

"And if you tell an acquaintance he'll help you clean your room, does that mean you'll hand him items and tell him where to put them, or does it mean you'll give him *carte blanche* to pull open all your drawers and paw around in them?" The portal sealed shut and reappeared on the other side of the room; the lights dimmed briefly as Alastor called up one of his shadows to dig around for the head instead. Apparently it wasn't safe to keep it within arm's reach (or throwing distance) of Angel.

Angel

" _Cart lunch-?_ " His brow tweaked but his eyes rolled shortly after. He's got to be the cagiest person he ever met. " Alright, alright, _jeeze,_ " he groaned as he folded both sets of arms, " So if I get outta the _Acquaintance Zone, **then**_ could I see ya closet? " Angel posed the question with air quotes, resigning himself to the fact that he'd either have to start controlling his second nature assholery, or make apologizing to him a habit. Neither sounded fun, but the latter sounded painful. Much _more_ painful.

Alastor

"*Carte blanche.* Permission." Alastor considered the question for a long moment. "No."

The shadow pulled out the head. With a gesture from Alastor, it threw it down on the bed. "What did it land on?"

The shadow half pulled out a wire laundry basket full of books (which now also contained the face wipes). Several disembodied voices muttered disapproval as Alastor facepalmed.

And then immediately un-facepalmed to make sure he hadn't smeared any makeup on his glove.

Angel

Narrowed eyes and pursed pout, Angel merely watched the head land. It wouldn't have been the grossest thing on his sheets. He'd start caring again if Fat Nuggets woke up and started nosing it.

" What? I get blood on ya diaries? " he teased, " Ya got a whole fuckin' secret dimension in there. Why don'tcha keep books in a, _I dunno, **bookshelf**_ instead a a _laundry basket?_ "

He was one to talk, having repurposed every possible thing in his room as a hanger.

Alastor

Alastor gestured demonstratively at the shadow, which pulled the top book out of the basket: a massive tome bound in black hide, held closed with three locks, and sporting an eyeball on the cover that looked alarming like one of Alastor's. The eyeball blinked and rolled around until it fixed on Alastor and Angel. "*Yes,* actually." Alastor gesture dismissively; the shadow dropped the book in the basket again and shoved it back into its separate dimension. "Because bookcases are harder to haul in and out of a small portal than baskets and boxes."

Angel

Angel blinked intermittently. He was running out of feet to eat. " ... Took ya mo'e fa a talker than a writer, " he commented dryly, eyes gluing to the floor as he pondered just how much of a _jerk_ he could be even when he wasn't actively _trying._ He drummed his fingers over his arm. _Questions, apologies, questions, apologies._ He was beginning to tire _himself_ out as he spaced and spiraled into his lack of grace. He couldn't hear a thing for a hot second.

Alastor

"I am. But talk is temporary, and some things need to be recorded. Recipes, rituals, messages..." Had Alastor managed to shame Angel? Give him a moment to bask in the awkwardness. Ah yes, this was where he was at home: making people uncomfortable.

Then he broke the silence. "Lucky for you, that particular book happened to be the only one in the basket that *likes* blood."

Angel

" ... 'Scuse th' FUCK outta me: _what?_ " He was conflicted as to whether he was more relieved or _disturbed._ Now his brain isn't going to be able to rid itself of the thought of certain inanimate objects _also_ enjoying his pain for a good while. " Ya feed ya feelin's _blood?_ " A second too late he realized he was stating the obvious.

Alastor

"Not *often,* no; but it helps keep its skin supple and rejuvenates some of the wards running inside." He shrugged, like this was a totally normal and not at all weird thing to say about a book.

Angel

" Wa'ds like- _oh,_ " he pieced. Literal bloodbaths in the spa were no secret. That much made sense to him. " So, uh... welcome? " Angel smacked on a wide, hopeful grin that left his eyes.

Alastor

"Ha! No, you're not winning points for this. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't leaking and didn't land on something more delicate." He gestured toward the door. "Now, before we have any more mishaps?"

Angel

" Ya can't blame _me,_ ya walkin' _Funhouse a' Horrors,_ " he scoffed with a strut towards the door. He opened it with a deep flourish, completely forgetting about the rotting head in his bed. " Afte' you. "

Alastor

"I can, I should, and I will."

Was Angel just going to leave that there? Well, if he'd forgotten about it, far be it for Alastor to remind him. He swept out the door past Angel, pulling his belle voice on again to say, "Such a gentleman!"

Angel

Chuckling, Angel canted his head to watch the demon walk out before turning back to his room.

" Be good, Nuggsie! I'll feed ya afte'- _oh fuck._ "

With about the same amount of thought as before, Angel swept the head out the window with a calculated rond de jambe before taking after Alastor.

Alastor

And off to get his hard-earned sausage.

[zainclaw]

Alfie’s Café  --  chapter one

masterpost  |  AO3  |  coffee shop/modern day AU  |  art tag

It's all thanks to Charlie, really. That he finds it.

They're walking the streets of London, Charlie's small hand holding two of Tommy's fingers in a tight grip. It's spring, the air still chilly most days despite the sunshine. Charlie is a patient three year old, but Tommy can tell he's almost had enough exploring for the day. He says he's hungry, and since it's not quite lunch time yet, Tommy promises to find them a snack in the meantime.

He spots the café at the end of Bonny Street, close to Camden Road station. There's a small sign above the door, reading Alfie's in bold, fun lettering. Tommy has been around these parts a few times even before the move, but the place had never caught his attention. It looks decent enough, a handful of customers sitting outside in the sun while most tables inside look empty.

Tommy tells Charlie to open the door for them, secretly helping. Inside, the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee hits them like a wall. The first thing catching Tommy's attention are the warm colours of golden brown, bread loafs and other baked goods filling the shelves.

The second thing is a dog lying in a big dog bed in front of the door. The dog is huge, lifting its head and perking its ears as the bell chimes above the door. Charlie stops dead in his tracks, Tommy nearly tripping over him.

"Daddy, look! A doggie!"

"Yeah," Tommy agrees, not sure if his son is scared or amazed. Judging by his tone, it's the familiar combination of the two. Instinctively he holds out an arm in front of Charlie, as if to shield him.

The dog doesn't move from its spot, but the tail starts flopping back and forth as it looks at them. There's a simple cardboard sign placed next to the dog bed, reading please pet me.

"Can I pet him?" Charlie asks, as if he could actually read.

Mostly amazed, then.

"I'm not sure," Tommy says hesitantly, watching the dog's big paws, big jaws, big everything.

A soft chuckle makes Tommy look over, finding a man standing behind the counter. It's hard to notice anything but the wild beard at first, more fuzzy than Tommy has probably ever seen. The man's got his arms crossed over his chest, tattoos peeking out from under the white t-shirt. He's got two chains around his neck, and more bracelets cluttering his wrists than Tommy can count.

 Somehow, he's not the kind of man Tommy had expected to find inside a small London café.

The man uncrosses his arms and leans over the counter, peeking around the big showcase of pastries to smile at Charlie.

"No, you go ahead, mate." He gestures towards the dog. "Cyril is a very nice dog, you see. Totally harmless. And you'd make him very happy if you gave him a petting."

Charlie's face lights up, and he expectantly looks up at Tommy. Tommy looks between his son, the man behind the counter, and the massive dog.

"…Alright," he says after a moment, thinking no sane person would let a dangerous dog loose inside an open café. And the man looks sane enough.

Charlie makes a squealing happy noise, breaking free from his dad's hold and stomps over to the dog. Tommy can't tell if he means to sit down on the corner of the bed, or if he just loses his balance, but either way Tommy's heart skips a beat watching his son plop down right next to the big dog. Tommy half expects it to snap, but it remains perfectly still as Charlie pats the dog's wide spine with his little hand. Charlie laughs, his whole face scrunching up with delight.

The man behind the counter chuckles again, and Tommy turns his attention away from his son. The man's got his arms crossed on top of the counter now, still leaning over as he watches Charlie and the dog with a pleased grin. His teeth are all crooked, but it's still a nice smile.

Very nice.

Tommy looks back to Charlie, watching the dog finally turn its big head towards the boy. He's struck, once again, by just how big its jaws are. Charlie's arm looks tiny so up close. Tommy suddenly goes very still, heart stuttering.

"Is that a pitbull?"

He doesn't know much about dog breeds — they'd had a german shepherd in the army, but that's about as far as his knowledge goes — but it's difficult not to pick up what a pitbull looks like. There'd been talk about putting a ban on them last year, so Tommy knows of the prejudice around the breed. And as much as he wants to believe that no animal is born dangerous, that bad behaviour is usually the owners fault, just like with horses, Tommy can't help the fear stirring inside him at the risk of his son getting bit.

The man regards him for a moment before answering.

"Mostly, I'd say. Probably some german shepherd in there, too."

"You don't know?"

"Well, he's a shelter dog, mate. Kinda hard to know these things when some prick just abandoned him, innit? But I know my breeds pretty well, and I'd say that's definitely a pitbull mix." He nods, looking over to Charlie and the dog again. "Yeah," he drawls, somehow making a single word sound like an entire sentence. Then he looks up at Tommy again, smiling. "Not that it matters, you know? Dogs are just dogs. Big hearts, all of them."

"Right," Tommy hears himself say, somewhat taken aback by the man's rambling.

The man must see the doubt lingering on his face, because he huffs and shakes his head a little as he straightens up.

"Really, you got nothing to worry about, mate," he assures him. "Cyril can tell he's only little. Lets kids do whatever they want to him, that lad. I didn't help him write that sign for nothing, yeah?"

Tommy is no stranger to the man's accent, having been to southern London many times through work, but the man's voice somehow seems to elevate it. It's rough and soft at the same time.

"Yeah, of course," Tommy nods, scoffing at himself. He can feel himself starting to blush, through he's not sure why. For being so mistrusting of an already misunderstood breed, maybe. For coming across as an overprotective parent. He takes a few steps closer to the counter, hands itching to reach into his pocket and pull out a smoke. "Sorry. He's just…"

He trails off, glancing over again to see Charlie touching one of the dog's ears with great interest. The dog side-eyes him, but keeps its head still. When Tommy turns back to the counter, the man's got yet another wide grin on his face.

"Fucking massive, right?"

Tommy blinks, taken aback by the swear word. Even Charlie who's busy petting the giant dog pauses for a second to look over. The man seems to realize his mistake, slamming a hand over his mouth.

"Shit, sorry, mate. I got a real foul mouth."

"That's alright," Tommy assures him, smiling faintly. If Polly was here, she'd probably grab Charlie and walk out, but Tommy is far too polite for that. And it doesn't really matter how foul this man's mouth is — it's not like they're gonna hang around here every day.

"You Alfie?"

It's an attempt to steer the conversation back to more casual ground, away from the dog and back to the task of feeding Charlie. But the man's smile still lights up like he never thought Tommy would ask.

"That's me. One and only. Well, there's another fella working here sometimes, but he's bloody useless. Burns the bread every time, you see. Can't handle anything but the register, that lad."

Before Tommy can respond, Charlie comes over to join them by the counter.

"How old is he?" He asks, pointing back to the dog still sitting on the bed, though it's looking longingly after Charlie with the tail still wagging.

The man — Alfie — leans forward and crosses his arms on top of the counter again, smiling at Charlie.

"Four years old, can you believe it."

Charlie makes a little surprised noise, looking up at Tommy.

"He's bigger than me, daddy."

"Older, Charlie," Tommy corrects him.

Alfie chuckles softly, a wheezy sort of sound that somehow fits the man. He nods down at Charlie.

"And how old are you, mate?"

He doesn't change his voice the way most grownups do when speaking to children, and for a moment Tommy thinks his son will be too surprised by Alfie's odd behaviour to answer properly, but then the kid's face lights up and he proudly tells Alfie:

"I'm three. Almost four!"

"Oh, I see," Alfie nods seriously, stroking his beard with one hand. The way he does it makes it seem like he's barely aware of doing it. "Now, that 'almost' is really important, innit? You grow a lot in just a couple months, don't you?"

Tommy can't help but hum in agreement, a smile tugging at his mouth as he ruffles his boy's hair.

"Plenty."

Charlie giggles, looking back to the dog. Its tail had gone still for a moment, but as soon as he regains Charlie's attention, it starts wagging again. Charlie lifts his hand to wave in response.

Alfie's straightens up with a hum, his eyes locking with Tommy's.

"So did you lot just come in here for the dog and not the food, then?"

"Food!" Charlie exclaims, head snapping back towards Alfie. He grabs onto the counter top with both hands and jumps in place.

Tommy scoffs, realizing they've been in here for several minutes at this point without ordering anything. He blames the dog for being such a distraction, throwing a glance to the small group of teenagers sitting by a table in the corner as he clears his throat.

"Right." He gestures to the pasty showcase next to them. "Go ahead and pick something, Charlie."

Charlie makes a little gasping noise, moving to press his hands and face against the glass. Alfie chuckles, drawing Tommy's attention yet again. He's watching the boy with a kind smile, and Tommy can't stop the warmth spreading from his chest.

"What'cha want, mate?"

"That one!"

Charlie points at what looks like a cinnamon roll, only the little sign next to it says something else.

"Cha...llah?" Tommy reads, looking hopefully to Alfie.

Alfie grins, nodding as he opens the back of the glass box to reach inside.

"My own cinnamon challah bread, that. How many?"

"Two," Tommy decides, patting his pockets to locate his wallet.

Alfie puts two thick slices on a plate. He puts it down between them, but before Tommy can ask about coffee, the man reaches for a glass jar sitting on the counter. It's filled with little bone-shaped biscuits, and Alfie pulls one out and leans over the counter to offer it to a wide-eyed Charlie.

"You wanna go give this to Cyril for me, mate?"

Charlie nods, taking the cookie with an excited grin and bounces over to the dog who's waiting for him. Tommy watches the boy hesitate before holding the treat out in his hand.

"Coffee?"

Tommy meets Alfie's questioning eyes, before his gaze darts back to Charlie.

"Yes," he says, distracted. "Latte, please."

Alfie hums, stepping away from the counter and out of Tommy's line of vision.

The dog seems hesitant to take the treat from the Charlie's hand, but then it slowly opens its big jaws and oh so carefully bites down on the biscuit and takes it out of the boy's hand. Charlie squeals happily, giggling as he pets the dog while he eats, and Tommy finds himself releasing a breath.

He looks back to where Alfie is standing by the coffee machine, finding the man already watching him with a small smile. Tommy scoffs and ducks his head down, a little embarrassed.

"So, Birmingham, eh?"

Tommy looks up again, cocking an eyebrow. Alfie's attention is on where he's pouring the milk.

"You got a good ear."

"Nah," Alfie huffs, crow feet appearing around his eyes. There's a flash of teeth. "You're just a textbook example, mate."

Tommy snorts, shaking his head. He's tempted to say so are you but it feels... dangerous. As if that'd make this little back and forth less innocent. It's already so far from what Tommy is used to when speaking to his employees or meeting with business partners. He tries to remember last time he took part in casual small talk like this, but fails.

Alfie returns to the counter with Tommy's latte, gently putting it down next to their plate. There's a fancy heart pattern in the milk foam, and while Tommy knows that's pretty much the standard for most places serving coffee nowadays, it still makes heat rise to his face.

"Something for your boy?" Alfie asks. "Glass of milk? Still growing, ain't he?"

"Yeah, perfect, thank you," Tommy nods.

Alfie turns away again. The group of teenagers that'd been sitting in the corner gets up and starts to gather their things, and Tommy feels a strange sort of relief. They tell Alfie bye as a they pass the counter, each giving Cyril a pat on the head as they walk by the dog's bed. Charlie looks shy for a moment, sitting next to the dog again, before waving at the teenagers as they head for the door. They happily wave back at him, making Charlie laugh. Tommy feels himself smile.

"Regulars," Alfie says, placing a glass of milk next to Tommy's latte. It takes Tommy a moment to realize he's talking about the kids that just left. "Most people coming here, are, in fact," he goes on, sounding thoughtful. "Not you, though," he add, lifting a finger to briefly point at Tommy across the counter, smiling. "Haven't seen your face here before. I'd remember."

Tommy parts his lips, but no words come out. There's a glint of something in Alfie's eyes, something that makes Tommy's heart miss a beat. He waits for the man's smile to twist into a smirk, for that look in his eyes to turn into something suggestive. Something familiar. But it doesn't happen; Alfie's smile remains soft and genuine.

"We just moved from Birmingham," he admits, taking out his wallet.

"Ah," Alfie says, hands flat on the counter as he leans back. For a moment Tommy feels exposed, prepared for Alfie to get nosy and ask questions he doesn't feel like answering, but then Alfie hums. "Well," he grins. "Welcome to fucking London, mate."

Tommy scoffs, relaxing his shoulders. He looks over to Charlie, but the boy is too busy with the dog to hear the bad word. Alfie seems to remember himself and makes an apologizing gesture. Tommy just smiles, nodding in thanks.

"Charlie," he calls out once he's paid for their good, loud enough to catch his son's attention. "Let's pick a table."

With one last pat on the dog's head, Charlie jogs over. Tommy takes their drinks, one in each hand, while Alfie leans over the counter to hand Charlie their plate.

"You got it, mate?" He asks before letting go. "Be careful, yeah?"

Charlie nods, focusing as he holds the plate steady with both hands. He follows Tommy over to one of the tables next to the windows, letting Tommy take the plate from him once he's sat the drinks down.

It takes Charlie approximately half an hour to finish his bread slice.

Mainly because he's a slow eater, but also because the world is full of distractions. He has to look over every time a new customer walks through the door, giggling every time they pet Cyril and the dog's tail starts slapping against the bed again.

At one point a lady comes in with another dog on a leash, and Charlie stares in awe as the dog follows the woman up to the counter, standing on its back legs to receive one of those bone-shaped biscuits and a pat from a grinning Alfie. The lady doesn't stay, just grabs her coffee and goes, but not before the two dogs get to say a brief hello. Alfie looks over to their table when Charlie laughs into his hands at the dogs' wagging tails, and Tommy automatically returns the man's smile.

When Alfie comes over to wipe off the table in the corner, Charlie has to pause from eating to watch what he's doing. Once Alfie notices, he chuckles and asks if they liked the bread. Tommy lets Charlie answer for them, the boy nodding enthusiastically. Alfie grins, pointing to Charlie's glass and reminds him to not forget drink his milk before disappearing behind the counter again.

Once they're finished eating, nothing but bread crumbs left on the plate, Charlie jumps off his chair and bounces over to Cyril. The dog is lying down, curled up on its belly, but it happily lifts his head when Charlie sits down on the bed again. The dog licks Charlie's hand, and Charlie shrieks happily.

Tommy takes their plate and empty cups back to the counter, Alfie giving him a thankful smile.

"I'll be seeing you," Alfie says, sounding a  bit like he's trailing off at the end.

"Thomas Shelby," Tommy offers, extending a hand.

Alfie smiles, sliding his hand into Tommy's to shake it, firmly. His palm is warm, rough from labour.

"Alfie Solomons. Hmm. Well. I'll be seeing you, Tommy."

Tommy almost opens his mouth to ask, how he can be so sure, but decides not to. He just smiles faintly, nodding before withdrawing his hand.

"Tell Mr. Solomons bye now, Charlie," Tommy instructs, ruffling his son's hair as he comes over to the dog bed to help him put his jacket back on.

Charlie makes a little protesting noise, but doesn't fuss. He gives Cyril one last pat on the head before waving at Alfie.

"Goodbye!"

Alfie waves back, his smile all teeth and sparkling eyes.

"See you, mate."

Tommy helps Charlie open the door for them, the chilly air welcoming them as they step back out on the street. Once again Tommy's hands itch to reach for a smoke, but then Charlie is there, wrapping his little hand around his dad's fingers.

"Are we going home?" The boy asks, looking up at him. He's still got bread crumbs around his mouth.

Tommy swallows, feeling his heart clench inside his chest. The new apartment doesn't feel like home, not yet, and Tommy is worried that it never will. Its walls are empty and dull, a lack of life that makes you feel cold even when you're not. But it's free of memories, free of ghosts.

"Yes, Charlie," Tommy says, smiling down at his son. "Can you make it? Or do you want a ride?"

Charlie grins, reaching his arms up. Tommy laughs, lifting him off the ground and putting the boy on top of his shoulders. Charlie giggles, the weight of his hands coming to rest on top of Tommy's hat, trusting his dad to keep him balanced.

"Let's go home," Tommy says, allowing himself a smile.

[warriorqueen1991]

What Fresh Hell (pt. Four)

Characters: Clyde Brenek X OC

Warnings: angst and self harm (kinda)

Notes: I think this one’s a bit short for me but I wanted to get this chapter out tonight sorry for the delay I’m hoping to get back on a role here :)

—————————————

Clyde jerked awake, bolting up on the couch his eyes glowing brightly in the increasing darkness. His breathing was ragged as he scanned the room, swallowing roughly he pulled up his sweater.

His wounds were completely healed.

“you alright?” the soft voice made him flinch, he glanced over his shoulder to look at Katrina. She was still sitting on the loveseat from earlier, her feet tucked up beside her comfortably, an old tattered book wedged between her fingers.

He met her gaze for a moment before breaking eye contact, his eyes fading to their natural honey gold.

He gave a curt nod before getting to his feet, his eyes drifted to her once again as his teeth worried his bottom lip.

He should thank her.

Grimacing instead he gestured to the book “what’s that?” she looked up at him in surprise, was he really initiating a conversation? She looked around the room to make sure his question was actually aimed at her.

Clyde shook his head at her shocked appearance “never mind”.

He stalked past the loveseat as she quickly sat up straighter “it’s uh…it’s some kind of romance novel” she blurted out a little too loud. Clyde stood at the edge of the worn cushion, he scoffed his lips quirking into a small smile.

“really?”

She giggled closing the book “yeah it’s pretty silly actually, I found it on the floor by the fireplace and figured I’d pass the time”. He nodded “probably on its way to the fire” she cocked an eyebrow, now he was making jokes…what got into him?

She smiled “probably”

The silence that spread between them was awkward and she could almost feel it’s suffocating presence. Shifting uncomfortably Clyde cleared his throat “look, about earlier…” she shook her head “it’s ok Clyde…it was no problem” she could tell he was fighting with himself and wanted to spare him the pain of apologizing.

Leaning back he dipped his head nodding slightly before he continued to the door.

She smiled, he had wanted to thank her. Maybe there was some hope for them yet, hearing the door scrape open she got to her feet tossing the book into the empty fireplace.

Clyde grunted “looks like we’re clear” she pushed in beside him “should we go back to the mansion, or head back to your place?” he looked down at her then back out at the street.

“I didn’t get a chance to look around much while we were there, so that’s probably our best bet”.

She frowned “what if there’s more of them?” his eyes glowed softly as he stepped out of the house “how about we worry about that if there’s any fresh bodies”.

Sighing she followed him back down the dimly lit street. Clyde looked back to make sure she was following him before continuing up the stairs to the large building. He hated to admit it but he was feeling a hell of a lot better after that demon juice injection earlier.

Stalking over to the crushed desk at the side of the stairs he quickly began ripping the drawers out examining their contents. Katrina step over to the busted door as the sound of crunching glass continued to ring out behind her.

Clyde growled shoving the demolished desk back onto its legs, fucking thing was a mess. Jerking on one of the large drawers he grunted when it put up a fight. Snarling he kicked the troublesome drawer knocking it loose to spill out onto the ground.

Crouching down he picked up a small antique key with a red ribbon tied to it.

****

Katrina shuffled silently through the now unoccupied mansion, it’s tall walls and fancy decor only making her more uneasy at the retreating sunlight. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be exploring the previously demon infested house alone, but she needed to be useful.

Taking a small jump to avoid the broken step she pulled herself upstairs. There were four doors one of which had been torn off by the snake demon. Avoiding it’s tattered frame she continued down the hall to the set of double doors “well you look important” she whispered grasping the handles.

****

“Katrina look at this”

Clyde stood up glancing behind him his brow furrowing at her absence. “Katrina!” he called out louder, eyeing the kicked in door he growled shaking his head.

“Goddamnit girl” he hissed quickly entering the demolished mansion.

Leaping up the stairs he yelled for her again as he rounded the corner spotting her pulling on a set of double doors.

She jerked around “what’s wrong?”

Clyde sighed rubbing the back of his neck as he approached her “nothing…what'cha find?”

She shrugged “not sure, it’s locked but they kinda stand out right?”

He looked up at the doors “they look old” she nodded “yeah…definitely older than the building”. Shoving his hand in his coat pocket Clyde pulled out the antique key, Katrina eyeing it curiously.

“Think this will fit?” he asked handing her the smooth bronze.

Katrina examined the key “no harm in trying right?” she smiled looking up at his stoic face, the smile quickly faded “well…I mean…it’s just an expression Clyde”.

“Yeah one that doesn’t fit our current situation” he growled snatching the key back from her to shove it in the keyhole. Hearing the slight click of the lock Clyde quickly pulled the doors open, his eyes widening in surprise, A slight breeze blowing their hair gently.

Katrina gasped clutching onto his coat “oh my god”

Clyde narrowed his eyes at the swirling vortex before them. The room was a giant black hole of deep greens and blacks a rumbling growl echoing out of its depths.

Large teeth protruding from its edges like the sea monster cilea in the Odyssey.

“It’s a daemonium ianuam”

Clyde turned to face her “what the hell is that?” she shook her head in shock “its…it’s a demon door” he growled letting his eyes glow ominously as he looked back at the void “what do they use it for?”

She moved forward scanning the now visible carvings in the door frame “demons use em to quickly travel anywhere they desire…” she crouched down looking back up at him “not sure what a antique collector would need one for though, humans can’t use em”.

He ran his hand over his mouth “think the demon I killed created it or something?” She shrugged “seems unlikely since Mr. Thereon had the key in his study”.

He nodded his brow furrowing in concentration “you don’t think he knew about the demon do you?” Katrina’s eyes widened “then what happened to him?”

Clyde looked back at the portal “there wasn’t a body, even if he had been eaten or something there would of been blood or…” he gestured around them “something”.

She stood up “you’re right… the place was perfectly intact, no sign of a struggle” he frowned “ he was never home”.

She looked at him with a slight smile “that means he probably took the halo with him”.

Clyde winced “so how does this shit work?”

“Well…from what I’ve read you just think about where you wanna go and…step through” he ran his hand through his hair “fuck you’ve never used one?” she shook her head “sorry”.

Slowly he shut the doors “ok, let’s go back…talk this through” he gripped her arm turning her to face him “you’re gonna tell me everything you know about this thing and whatever the hell I could be walking into… got it?” His voice was rough as he locked the doors back shut pocketing the key.

She nodded “ok…but…”

“No buts, I’m not going in blind again…” he growled, his fangs peeking out from under his lips “you want my help…my…my trust, you have to start listening to me”. He wrinkled his nose “if I’m supposed to protect you, I can’t keep getting fucked up like I have been…so I want answers”.

Katrina nodded, it was only fair she just hoped he could take the information she was about to give him.

“ok” she whispered

****

Back at Clyde’s house they once again sat opposite of one another at his dining room table. She sighed “so what do want to know?” he dropped his gaze to the table “a lot…but that’s not important right now”.

She rolled her lips with a faint smile as he met her gaze “the door…how could we use it to find Donald Thereon?”

Katrina was surprised that he chose to use this time to further their mission. He had to have personal questions he wanted answered, leaning back in her chair she watched him discard his coat.

“If Mr. Thereon wasn’t as human as we thought, he could have used the door to escape anywhere he wished. But I have some connections in the demon world… I think I know a couple that could help us locate him”.

Clyde cocked his head “and you’re not a demon?”

“No…i’m not” she breathed “you see many demons are feared by different religions, take Satan for example… same demon made up of different names so they need to travel fast across the world”.

She frowned “even to the world’s beneath”

“you mean there’s different demonic worlds?”

She nodded “humans call them dimensions, but yes…that’s why descriptions of demonic entities vary so much”.

He nodded “so who the hell were the fuckers that killed me?”

“Tilla and Zule…there twins, both very powerful and very interested in more power…they guard the gates for the dark one. That’s why they’re after me and the halo but that’s also why they wanted to kill you before we met”.

Clyde grunted shaking his head “How come they didn’t since you or something?…I could smell the fucking snake demon” she sighed dropping her gaze to her lap dread settling in “you…you shield me”.

He blinked at her “what?” he rasped his shoulders rising as his breathing increased.

She looked at him in remorse “you shield me”.

His face instantly hardened, his lips pulling back in a snarl as he pushed his chair back flipping the table with a vicious roar. “You fucking knew!!” he snarled, his eyes glowed brightly as his fangs extended “I’m so fucking tired of being used”.

She shook her head pleading “Clyde I didn’t mean for you get hurt I swear” he backed away from her “you sure as shit didn’t try to warn me, or fucking take responsibility and do something…”.

She was crying now “I…I can’t do anything!…I…I would of been killed and Tilla and Zule would of found the halo and terrorized this world”.

He looked disgusted “oh, so better to let me be torn apart so you could use me later right?” She closed her eyes “I…I’m so sorry” he kicked the table aside to corner her pinning her against the wall “you see…you keep fucking saying that, but you don’t mean it” he bared his fangs smashing his fist into the wall beside her face making her flinch.

“You knew exactly what was gonna happen” he hissed in her ear “and you let it fucking happen”.

He jerked away from her with a growl “let’s not pretend this is anything more than me dancing on your puppet strings…so tomorrow we’re going back to that house, going through that damn door”. He wrinkled his lips “fucking bouncing around fuck knows where until we find that damn thing…I’ll do this shit, I’ll probably get fucked up because of you…endure massive amounts of pain…for you…but in the end you’re gonna do something for me”.

She nodded, more tears running down her face “I promised you”

He shook his head “your damn promises mean shit to me…but I can guarantee you, that if you fucking screw me over…”.

He grasped her throat squeezing against her windpipe making her gasp clawing at his wrist.

“I will fucking kill you”

Letting her go he watched as she dropped to the floor, a tiny part of him felt guilty, but she had taken everything away from him.

There was no going back for him.

He was doomed

She might as well fucking suffer along with him.

****

Clyde was sitting on the floor of his kitchen, his legs bent as he rested his elbows on his knees.

Katrina had retreated to the living room to curl up on the couch, her quiet sobs had quieted down around midnight so he guessed she must of fell asleep.

He leaned his head against the wall eyeing the glowing digits on the microwave.

2:35 am

Letting out a deep sigh he lifted his right hand, flexing his fingers. He winced as his fingernails slowly transformed into long black claws.

Shaking his hand he willed them to disappear, glaring at his still elongated nails he grimaced closing his eyes in concentration.

Gasping he looked at his fingers satisfied to find them once again normal. Running his tongue across his fangs he once again willed his claws to appear smiling as they formed in front of him, “now we’re getting somewhere” he growled.

Pushing himself to his feet he extended both his arms out to his sides with a flick smirking as his claws lengthened. Raising his hands in front of him he watched his nails return to normal.

He needed to gain control

Ejecting his claws on his right hand he quickly slashed his left arm with a hiss. His blood ran down his arm dripping to the floor “ok” with a deep breath he willed his skin to heal.

Nothing.

He growled closing his eyes thinking of his skin pulling together and sealing.

Still nothing.

“Fuck come on” he snarled, his eyes glowing brightly in the dim light. He paused watching as his skin slowly began to heal, he smiled with a deep chuckle snarling with a rumbling growl letting his fangs extend and his eyes glow.

His skin sealed shut, the black lines quickly disappearing across his skin once he was healed.

“well it’s a fucking start” he rasped slashing across his arm once again.

***

Katrina was curled up on the couch listening to him heal himself over and over again.

He needed her help

He was in so much pain, and now he was inflicting it on himself so that maybe…just maybe he could grow stronger.

She could help him

But he would never listen to her again, she had begged and pleaded him to trust her while lying to him the entire time.

She was such a selfish, manipulative piece of garbage.

She had fooled herself thinking he would ever forgive her for what she had done.

She deserved this.

All she ever did was hurt people.

It’s why she was alone.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

☆TAG LIST☆

@zoesmama2024 @noodlecupcakes @dixonsbait @ashzombie13 @artemisxeros @jdmfanfiction @jdms-network @holyjeffreydeanmorgan @i-am-negan-trash @roguesandsaviors

[dootznbootz]

DIFH x2 Chapter 9: Home Is Where The Heart Is

Nalu multichap Basically it’s Natsu’s and Lucy’s point of views in which their away from each other and sad/mad about it.  And if any of you have read my other fics, You KNOW It’s going to have more Fluff in it than a Build-A-Bear Workshop and a Pillow factory combined! Sometimes so fluffy that it may seem out of character at times so yeah! (Better summary in first chapter!)

On fanfiction

Rating: T (swearing, puberty, violence, some mentions of abuse and there is sadness but there is not smut or sex in any way shape or form!)

Words: 3088

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

Wow, I really didn't get any sleep…

Twice, the blonde had fallen asleep standing up. It felt like gravity's pressure was even heavier on her as if Libra herself was trying to flatten Lucy the ground. Her thoughts were muddled as she walked, using muscle memory as she was dazed. The cobblestone ground stared back up at her as she concentrated on making sure that she made it home to her comfy bed… She finally opened the door with her key after a few failed attempts for she kept nodding off. Wandering up the stairs, she opened the door to her room, threw her bag on the floor and dragged herself to her bed, and crawled in.

But suddenly she was squeezed tight against the surface…

By large strong warm arms…

The arms of her favorite person.

Her favorite person hummed contentedly, rubbing circles up and down her back. Lucy squealed as she felt pressure on her hairline, most likely her favorite person's nose.

"'Mornin, Luce," he mumbled softly though it still sent shivers down her spine.

Natsu.

Lucy's face could've been mistaken for a bright red rose. She loves yet also hates when he does this. He was so warm, making her more comfortable than she's ever been. She loves how he's holding her as if she's the most precious thing in the world. She just wanted to snuggle up with him and stay there forever...

The reason why she hated it though is the fact that she doesn't know if maybe she is his most precious thing in the world. So with him sleeping here, with her tucked so gently in his arms, confused her. With him doing stuff like this, it got her hopes up, making her feel as if maybe, just maybe, he feels the same love that she felt for him. But if her hopes got up, the more it'll hurt when he loves someone else…

So she did what she always did.

"Natsu," She said in a voice as sweet as honey as it always was in his ears, still tucked in his arms.

"Mmm, yeah Luce?" He smiled softly, contented with being lucky enough to be endowed by the most wonderful angel in his arms. Although he was in her home while he slept, where her scent was everywhere, he had had a very restless night. Off and on, tossing and turning, and when he would finally actually get some sleep, he was only to be awakened maybe a half an hour later by dark dreams. Only she gave him the total bliss and peace that he needed.

"WHY ON EARTHLAND ARE YOU IN MY BED?!"

Okay, maybe not total peace but bliss, yeah.

Suddenly she tried to yank herself from his captivating embrace by pulling herself backward only to take the rose-haired boy with her. Making her now straddling him with his arms wrapped around her.

"Ugh, Luce," His smirking face now shoved under her chin, purring in delight. He squished her closer while one of his hands played with the end of Lucy's messy blonde braid. It's only been a short while but wow, had he missed her. "You're so loud~."

"Yeah, I'm loud! Now, why are you here?! You said you were going home! So why are you here?!-Oh my Mavis! You're only in boxers?! Fucking Perv!" She pinched his cheeks and pulled at them painfully, knowing that he hated it.

Natsu yelped, his cheeks stretching dramatically. He just wanted to cuddle with her like they were just moments before. Was that so hard? He knew very well that she could beat the ever loving shit out of him if she wanted to, what she was doing right now was just horseplay. When he had had enough of her pulling and yanking on his poor aching cheeks, he grabbed her tightly clenched hands and put them behind her back, holding tightly enough to make sure that her cute hands didn't get away, but loose enough so that it wouldn't hurt her, then he pressed her against himself.

Lucy squeaked and felt like she was going to faint. Not only was pressed flush against his bare and toned chest, but she was also straddling him. She tried wriggling away, only for him to bonk his forehead against her own, noses barely touching. Her brown eyes crossing just to look at him straight. Only a few more inches and their lips would be touching…

"Oi, quit shouting, I'm trying to sleep." He whispered. Wow the morning breath!

"N-no but…" Her blushing face more rosy than ever and even with all the excitement, her eyes kept closing on her. She wanted to sleep so badly, this was infinitely better than the piercing cold she felt at Fairy Hills. Damn his warmth and comfiness...

"Exactly, you're sleepy too." He grinned and leaned back on the bed. He took Lucy's cute tiny hands out from behind her, left them loose and again wrapped his arm around her petite waist as the other hand weaved through her hair on her head, cupping it gently. He could tell that she was so close to sleeping. She was nodding off as we speak.

"Bu…But this is my...my bed…" She said sleepily, which was fuckin' adorable. Her beautiful eyes that he was always happily lost in were slowly being covered by her eyelids, eyelashes fluttering. Natsu swears that her lashes could blow houses down with how long and lush they were. They already blow him away with each blink. Her head was now resting against his chest, right where his beating heart was. His purring could easily be heard and was like a soothing lullaby to her ears. She slowly relaxed in his arms.

"I guess…" Her eyelids felt as if there were weights on them and could barely keep them open. She gave up, she was so fucking tired. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she didn't want him to leave in the first place. "I guess you could stay…"

"Yeah," A soft smile was spread across his face. In his eyes, was love so rare and so warm that it would melt everyone's hearts only for everyone to realise that that love from those dark green eyes would never be for them.

That love was only for the heavenly girl in his arms.

He made no movement to keep from disturbing the beautiful mage in his arms. When it seemed the coast was clear and that she would not wake up, he started to settle himself down to-

"You just gonna forget about me or what?"

Natsu jolted and looked toward the noise and found a very annoyed Happy staring back up to him from the couch. His tiny arms were crossed and he tapped his little blue foot.

"Oh, sorry Happy. What'cha doing on the couch anyways?" Natsu whispered. He relaxed as he saw that it was their friend who was speaking and not some sort of threat.

"Because you-!"

"Shh!" Natsu said quietly, pointing to the sleeping girl in his arms. "You'll wake her."

"Oh, sorry," Happy said, now coming up to the bed. He hopped up and started walking up the blonde's back where he started to knead his paws on her shoulders. She stirred only a little with the new weight on her, stilling the two boys. When she did not move again, Happy whispered, "You kept on moving around in your sleep! You kept rolling over and squishing me! And then I slept on the side of your pillow, and then you kept mumbling and shouting, and then-then you finally pushed me off! So I moved to the couch..."

"Oh," Natsu said, pink tinting his cheeks. He knew he got weird in his sleep when she was gone, but he never actually knew what he did. He idly twirled a lock of Lucy's hair around his finger, marveling at how soft and pretty it was and gently tucked it behind the girl's ear. "I'm sorry buddy, you know I'd never purposely hurt you..." His hand then went to scratch behind the blue exceed's ears, his favorite spot to be scratched.

The cat smiled and purred, leaning into the pinkettes hand while still kneading the girl's back. "Don't worry, I forgive you. By the way… What were the nightmares about this time?" Natsu sighed, his hand that was petting Happy went back to it's place, weaving his fingers through her hair.

"The usual," he mumbled into her hair to which Happy only nodded in reply.

When Lucy was gone Natsu was left alone with terrifying nightmares. Although they were usually different places and people, they always had the same ending: Someone he cares about dies or gets hurt. It wasn't always the same person, though it usually was Lucy who was in it. A few times he's had where Happy is missing only to find him dead. He's had a few where Gray finally goes through with the "Iced Shell" and dies. He's had nightmares where Erza is absorbed by etherion back at the Tower of Heaven and never returns. Some have Igneel being killed by black and blue dragon. That's to name a few of the mild ones. Thoughts like these were constantly on his mind, didn't matter if he was asleep or awake. It spurred him on to do more, to be more. If he couldn't save the people that he cared about then why bother?

Natsu looked back at the girl, his thumb now lazily stroking her soft cheeks. He chuckled lightly as she murmured and leaned into his hand. Her pretty lips were parted in her sleep, her breathing slow and even. Happy always liked to tease Natsu for his snoring and Lucy for her drooling. Natsu didn't mind though. It was Lucy after all.

The dragon slayer closed his eyes and shoved his face near her hairline once more, inhaling her scent that calmed him like no other. It was his favorite by far, outshining all others. The very reason why he found her the first time back in Hargion was because she smelt like home. Only Igneel's scent had made him feel at home during all the years before he met Lucy. That 'home' feeling was what he had been using to track Igneel only to find Lucy instead. But the scent of comfort that day was different from the Igneel's scent he knew. Igneel smelt like smokey evergreen and something that was uniquely him. The scent he had been following that fateful day smelt like vanilla, raspberries, apples, and any other sweet thing all mixed in one. He just thought that maybe Igneel became some sort nutritionist at the time.

That's the thing about his senses. They were so enhanced that when most people heard a droplet of water he heard a waterfall. He could distinct every single scent in the room even if it was filled to the brim. He could see in the dark and quite far, although he will admit that he cannot see as well as Sting, Rogue, and Gajeel can. He knew that he had the best sense of smell out of all of them. Wendy had the best hearing, being able to depict airflow and all. Dragon slaying senses were a curse and a blessing all at once. A curse because of the fact that it was sometimes overwhelming, like when Macao gets gassy. Sometimes Natsu thinks he could pass out from how potent the stench was! A blessing because he is very good at hide and seek and knew where the good food was and much more.

Relaxing, both in mind and body, he opened his eyes to look at the girl that he held so dear one last time before he would sleep again. He stared at her features that he knew in incredible detail. Although he was anything but an artist, you could ask him to paint a portrait of her and even if he had not seen her for centuries, he could remember each and every miniscule thing about her. From the 17 freckles she had across her nose and cheeks, to the large circular scar that was on her knee from when she said that she jumped off her playhouse when she was 6 because she wanted to fly. And every one of those details were perfect to him.

Something wasn't right though…

Something about her face, although still stunningly beautiful, it was different. He stared at her, trying to figure out what it was that was so different. Only when he took in another sniff of the air, he came to the horrifying conclusion of what it was.

"She's been crying…" Natsu whispered, his voice straining a bit. His hand yet again going to her cheek underneath her eyes.

"Huh?" Happy now curled up on Lucy's back asked, surprised. He had just gotten settled completely on Lucy's back but stretched nonetheless and yawned to see what his friend was muttering about.

How could I not seen this before? She had the faint scent of salty tears all this time. And her dazzling chocolate eyes were not glimmering as much as they usually did and they were red and puffy. Her angelic voice that was usually high pitched was low and she sounded like she had a cold when spoke.

The pinkette faced the blue exceed who was now walking over Lucy's shoulder to see what he was talking about, panic written on his face. He whispered, "She's been crying, Happy!"

"What?!"

The cat immediately crawled completely over the girl's shoulder to get a closer look. He softly pawed at her cheek and sure enough, he saw the evidence too. Although she had been sleeping which made her eyes look less puffy, her cheeks were still red. Even before she was blushing they were red.

"Oh, Lucy…" The tiny blue cat then looked over at the man, looking near to bursting into tears. "Natsu, what do you think made her sad? I don't think she's injured anywhere… Do you think the other girls were saying mean about her? You know what?! I think it was Erza! Why, I oughta teach that big bully a lesso-"

"No. Erza may be a bully to us but she'd never do something to Lucy," Natsu answered. He was thinking long and hard about what could've happened that would've made her upset. Although Lucy was a sensitive, overly-kind, nervous person, she didn't just cry over nothing. That was the thing though. She just was so nice. She worried about things that were such little things. She worried about if she upset or hurt someone and had a habit of asking "Did you think I said or did anything that was bad?" She did everything for others. She thought of others way before she thought of herself. Something that annoyed him, she needed to take care of herself too. And she was so hard on herself...

"Natsu?"

"Huh?" The pinkette answered, startled out of his thoughts.

Happy shuffled his feet as he laid across Lucy's back in some sort of hug fashion. Happy's bottom lip now trembling.

"Do you think… Do you think that we made her sad?"

Natsu's eyes widened as his mind was derailed at that moment. It had never occurred to him that they could be the ones behind Lucy's tears. The mere thought of it infuriated him. He was supposed to be one to make Lucy feel happy. He was supposed to make her feel safe. He cheered her up when she was sad and pulverised the good for nothing dipshits that made upset in the first place.

What the fuck was he doing if he himself was making her cry?

He cursed himself severely under his breath. "I don't know, Happy. But guessing is not gonna help us any...We're gonna find out though…Just go back to sleep now, buddy."

Happy sniffled once. "Okay…" He rubbed his cheek against the blonde's affectionately in the usual cat fashion. The blue cat padded back up Lucy's back to go back to where he slept before.

While Happy settled down to rest once more, Natsu brooded. How could anyone want to hurt the precious celestial mage?

Although Natsu did not know the reason behind Lucy's tears, the sleazy motherfucker would not go unpunished. The dragon slayer growled lowly and tightened his hold on the beautiful girl.

Even if it was himself.

Bleh!

So here you go guys! Hoped you liked it!

So I just wanted to explain how they feel for each other in my opinion:

For Lucy: Okay, so for her, she's definitely in love with Natsu and she's accepted it too. It's just for her, she's just really trying to make it go away. And she pushes away the mere thought of confessing because she's so afraid that he won't love her back. And you know her with her active imagination and all, she's thinks that everything will go to worse even if she simply tries to show how much she cares for him. Even though sometimes she lets it slip every once in awhile, she denies and scolds herself for thinking or doing whatever she did. She also thinks that she is not good enough for him. (Which is partially because of what people say to her) So basically that's why you don't see many fluffy moments from her point of view. Think of it like "I won't say I'm in Love" from Hercules.

For Natsu: This doofus is just head over heels for her if you have not seen that already. He knows that he's damn well in love with her too. He isn't trying to deny it like Lucy is though or trying to make it go away although he does not think he is good enough for her like she does. He's heard of how Lucy wants a "knight in shining armor" (Even though she doesn't want that obviously) and so he "strives" to be that knight as best as he can (even though Dragons are better) So in the beginning when he first met her, he knew that she was special and that she was his favorite person (Note: Favorite person, not favorite cat) but then around the galuna arc, he's kinda like "Shit, I like...like like her" but then after the Phantom Lord Arc "Fuck, I love Lucy… welp guess this is my life now!" and he's been like that ever since.

But yeah!