#Me watching every new little horror monster they introduce: Cool can I eat it? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if... 10c

First off, right away, I know some were looking forward to a Mandorin wedding and Grogu joining them, but truth be told, the What If story would have ended up on 500k too if that was to happen, because the boys are still so very young and I love exploring their lives and their first times for everything too much to do a big time jump... So my deep apologies to the ones who were waiting for that, but hope that some sweet teenage feels can soothe the disappointment a little. And, yeah, while we might not reach that point in this fic, of course these two got married and adopted the little bean, just a bit later on in life <3

Second, this is a monster so beware of a chaotic mess of plenty of POVs behind the cut. The main story was Dulcy’s but here she shares it with the others. Beware of feels and maybe a familiar face or two ;)

And, again, THANK YOU to the supporters of this fic. I appreciate every kudos, re-read every comment a worrying amount of times and cherish the reblogs like beskar! (You guys have some of the best tags ever xD )

And Sprungich, this chapter is for you! <3 With the lovely coffee you provided, feel free to send me a message if there is a particular one-shot you would like to see happen! <3

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10a Part 10b

Epilogue Everyone:

They have six entire months of just blissful happiness and fawning over their new family member, then Zev disappears. Again.

Dulsissia hates when she does that, but Davarax knows there is little they can do about it, except let her know that she’s always welcome home.

After nine days without a word, Zev’sonya reappears.

Standing right outside the entrance door, her face a mask of defiance as usual, Zev sticks her chin out. “Can my friend stay here too?”

Davarax shrugs. “Are they in trouble?”

“Yeah.” Zev replies. “His family is a bunch of mean jerks. He needs a safe place.”

Instantly filled with empathy, Dulsissia steps up next to Davarax. “Of course, baby.”

“Awesome.” Zev turns and gestures for her friend to step forward. “I said they were cool. Come on.”

Davarax instantly places his hand on his blaster while Dulsissia looks like she wants to scream but she’s too shocked to make any sound.

“This is Mose.” Zev’sonya declares with a grin.

A massive Hutt glares at them.

The silence stretches out until Zev’sonya reaches out and smacks the Hutt across the stomach. “Say hello, idiot.”

“Hello.” Mose grouses. A big drop of drool slides from his mouth.

Struggling to regain her words and the ability to form a comprehensible sentence, Dulsissia looks from one to the other until she ends up back with the Hutt. “Uhm, hello. N-nice to meet you?”

“He stays outside.” Davarax growls, not having that thing anywhere near where his children sleeps.

Zev’sonya frowns, but the Hutt nods and doesn’t seem surprised by the order.

A good thirty minutes later, Dulsissia is shoulder by shoulder with Davarax as they stand there and look out at where Corin and the others are cautiously approaching the Hutt, driven by youthful curiosity and bravery.

“That’s a Hutt.” Dulsissia says.

“Mhm.” Davarax confirms.

They continue to stare for a while, then she speaks again, a little worried this time. “What… what do Hutts eat?”

The size of their new arrival says whatever they eat, there will have to be a lot of it. Davarax is not thrilled at the idea of having to get even more credits to feed a Hutt. “Whatever doesn’t run fast enough, I think.” Davarax mutters. “Better keep an eye on that one, ner riduur.”

Dulsissia studies the Hutt. “He doesn’t seem… evil?”

“He’s a Hutt. I’ve seen what they can do.” Davarax declares in a hard voice. “They have their reputation for a reason.” He lets out a soft breath. “If he hurts one of our kids, he’ll find out that we Mandalorians have ours for a reason too. I will skin him alive.”

“If he hurts any one of them, you will have to get in line.” Dulsissia says. “But he hasn’t harmed anyone yet.”

To Davarax’ irritation, she then walks over to join in on the welcoming committee. She introduces herself, tries to put on her polite smile and only shudders a little at the drool dropping from the creature’s mouth and soaking his belly. “So, tell me, how did you meet our Zev?”

The Hutt gives her a blank stare. “She robbed me. I tried to kill her and she offered me a job.”

Dulsissia blinks. “Oh.”

Zev’sonya grins.

Davarax is not amused.

The day passes, so does the next and soon a week, and the Hutt does not harm anyone or try to eat any of them. Mose mostly keeps to himself. He sleeps in the shed Davarax and Din had set up for the speeder bikes, eats less than what a Hutt normally would and doesn’t really speak unless spoken to.

Davarax doesn’t relax, but he won’t end the Hutt’s life before he gives him a reason to as Zev’sonya really seems attached to him for some reason, almost to the point where he rivals her friendship with Din. So he watches and waits.

While he has trained and taught no small amount of children, Davarax have no real experience with babies. They are mystical beings to him, beautiful little wonders with endless potential, and his daughter is very much that. She amazes him when she starts to crawl around with curious determination to explore the world without any sign of fear. If something scares her, she watches it and frowns, but she will not back away and only cries when in pain.

There are moments when Davarax fears his heart will physically burst with pride.

So the horror he feels when he takes his eyes off his daughter for just a moment to reply to a message from Dulsissia, who is on a supply run with Corin and Din, and finds her gone; there are no words to describe it.

She’s not walking yet, but that little girl crawls at lightspeed when she sees something she wants to investigate and something must have caught her eye.

Davarax runs, panic snapping at his heels when he sees the doors are open to let some of the breeze into the too warm house, and his hand goes to his blaster as he sees his precious daughter having made it just outside the entrance door and is struggling to sit up in front of the massive Hutt standing there.

Nonono! Davarax can’t breathe, the fear is too strong and his fingers fumble at the hilt of his blaster and can’t quite get a grip. He’s never failed to draw his weapon before.

The girl reaches up and makes a curious coo.

Mose eases himself down, watches her for half a second, amused by her grabbing hands, then slowly reaches out and holds out a finger to her, which she eagerly takes a hold of and starts exploring.

Davarax’ panicked run morphs into a slow trot and then an awkward halt. He can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Unaware of being watched, Mose’s mouth eases ever so slightly into a faint smile. His big eyes give a slow blink with a benign softness that doesn’t belong in a terrifying and cruel Hutt facing the offspring of the enemy.

And then he notices Davarax.

Mose quickly pulls himself back up into his usual towering posture, but him yanking his hand away unsettles the little girl and she topples backwards.

Another fierce jab of fear cuts into Davarax, but before he can do anything; Mose curls his tail behind her and prevents her from falling. He doesn’t take his eyes off Davarax while he does it, keeps staring, keeps holding himself upright and a big glob of drool soon leaks from the corner of his mouth.

Davarax frowns. He’s starting to put some pieces of a puzzle he didn’t want to see together. That posture is not the Hutt’s arrogance, as Davarax had concluded earlier, this is a defensive pose. This is an intimidation tactic to fend off attacks, not seek them out. And the drooling? Now that he thinks about it, Davarax can only remember the Hutt drooling around him and Dulcy.

-He’s scared. The realization comes sudden and hits hard.

And shortly after it, a question arises. How old is he? Mose is far from the tallest Hutt Davarax has ever seen and his body mass is skinny compared to them, it kind of says oversized teenager or young adult. The life expectancy for a Hutt would make them slow developers, no? He might be older than Davarax and Dulcy put together, but still a kid by Hutt standards, and Davarax never once considered it. A Hutt foundling? That’s one for the legends.

Walking over, Davarax bends down and picks up his daughter, noting how Mose cautiously withdraws his tail and curls it protectively around himself. More drool is slipping from his mouth.

Somehow Zev’sonya had seen this side of Mose, or sensed it somehow, and decided to bring him home instead of leaving him to be devoured by the other Hutts. His baby daughter had shown Mose nothing but curiosity and trust. Davarax decides to do the same. He looks over at Mose, who is barely breathing, and nods towards the house. “You can come in.”

For a second there is confusion on Mose’s face and then he mumbles; “The shed is fine.”

A thick dollop of drool hits the ground with a splat. That’s going to be annoying indoors.

“It’s not. You are a guest here.” Davarax heads inside again but pauses in the doorway. “Come on.”

Mose cautiously does as he’s told. He carefully squeezes in through the door and follows Davarax down the hallway. Eyes flickering nervously from doorway to doorway, drooling non-stop and twitching fingers reveal how uncomfortable he is, but Davarax feels a pinch of actual guilt when he stops by the room he wants to place the Hutt in and he turns around to see Mose no longer going for the towering intimidation pose but actually shrinks and somewhat cowers anxiously. Inside the house, the Hutt is at a disadvantage. His movements are restrained and Davarax is armed.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Davarax reassures him, hoisting his warbling daughter a little. “I know I haven’t been the friendliest and I apologize. I thought that you… Well, I thought wrong. And I’m sorry.” He turns and pushes the button to open the door to the room used for storing furniture. “I’ll get the others to help clear it out, but you can fit in here, right?”

“The shed is fine.” Mose mumbles.

“Yeah, you’ll fit in here.” Davarax then realizes something. “But we don’t really have Hutt beds. Will have to make one.”

“The floor is fine.” Mose mumbles.

“I’ll ask Barthor to set up some calculations. It’s going to have to be strong.” Davarax sighs. “Okay, so what else will we need. Maybe-”

“What’s going on here?” Zev’sonya’s voice is sharp. She stalks forward and places herself between him and Mose.

Davarax nods towards the open room. “We need to get the others and clean this out. For Mose.”

Zev’sonya blinks with surprise and then, for the very first time, she gives Davarax a genuine and bright smile. “Really?”

Momentarily stunned by the sweet, happy side of her, usually hidden behind frowns and scowls, Davarax has to clear his throat. “Yeah. Really. We can’t have guests sleeping out in the shed.”

“The shed is fine.” Mose mumbles.

“I’ll get the others.” Zev’sonya declares and runs off.

Davarax watches her, gives a faint shake of his head in amazement, then looks over at the awkward and heavily drooling Hutt. He sighs with a faint smile. One more troubled youngster. Why not.

Barthor is heading back to his speeder bike after finally getting his hands on the last computer chip he needs for his little project. He’s parked right outside of the small town and it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes before he’s back home.

It shouldn’t, but it does.

Because as he steps outside the town walls, something wraps itself around his ankles, tightens and he drops like a roped tauntaun.

Training kicks in. Barthor instantly reaches for his blaster and his blade, seconds before he’s rolled over on his back to face his captor.

Blinking surprised, Barthor forgets to draw his weapons.

“Hello.” A voice says.

“Uh…” Barthor replies. “Hello?”

“They say you are very clever. Is that true?”

Barthor doesn’t do modesty. “I suppose so.” He gives his restrained ankles a pointed look. “Is that why you roped me? To ask me if I’m clever?”

“Maybe.” There is a flick of a wrist and the rope loosens so he can free himself. “Your friends seem more brawn than brain, which made me curious about you.”

Barthor gets up, a little tense. “They’re more clever than this entire town put together.”

“Loyal too?” A thoughtful hum. “You really are interesting, Barthor.”

“Wait. How do you know my name.” Barthor takes a step forward as they step away. “W-what’s your name?”

“Kaleo.”

“Do you have to go?” Barthor shrugs a little. “You can’t just rope some guy, ask him if he’s clever, insult his family and then walk away without an explanation, you know?”

A soft laugh. “I told you; I find you interesting.”

“The feeling is mutual…” Barthor mumbles. Then he twitches when they step away again. “Can I see you again?”

“Sure.”

“When?”

“When you find out where I live.”

Puzzled, Barthor shakes his head. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because you’re the clever one.” Is the reply. “You’ll figure it out.”

With the constant adding to their family, it comes as quite the shock when they lose one.

Davarax, Din and Paz are at a marked on the neighbouring planet when Din suddenly goes from half-asleep to full alert and shaking with eagerness.

Before Davarax can ask him what is going on, Din runs off.

It’s not difficult to track him down and when he does, Davarax instantly realizes why Din had reacted the way he did. He remembers the clothing on the corpses that littered the streets where he’d found Din and the man talking to Din right now is wearing that very thing.

It’s Din’s tribe. What’s left of it, anyway.

It’s a handful of people who have set up some stalls at the end of a marketplace. A couple of kids are running around in outfits similar to the one Din had worn when Davarax had brought him back to the Covert that first time.

Din is talking in a language he barely remembers, struggles a bit with the words and pronunciation, but the smile on his face is something Davarax can count on one hand he’s seen in the Covert. And when they go back home, there is a distance in his eyes that wasn’t there before and a heavy sadness settles in the pit of Davarax’ stomach.

Back home, Din instantly seeks out Corin to tell him about what had happened and for once he is the one eagerly talking while Davarax and Paz exchange quiet looks.

For the next week, Davarax spends no small amount of hours checking out the story of these people wearing clothes from Din’s tribe. He stalks and spies and learns as much about every individual as possible. He has to know they are who they say they are. He has to know they are good people.

They are.

Meanwhile, Dulsissia hugs Corin a little closer and a little more often that week, unable to explain to him why because she has a weak hope that she, Paz and Davarax might be wrong.

They’re not.

Din wants to go back and talk to them again and once he does, he learns that they are about to leave for the next planet on their path. After losing their home, they lead a rather nomadic life, searching for others from their tribe and lost relics to reclaim. They ask if Din will join them.

“Please don’t go…” Corin asks, tears in his eyes, holding on to Din’s arm as if he would float away into space if he didn’t.

“It’s just six months.” Din reassures him. “Then we are coming back here a-and we could-”

“What if we’re gone by then?” Corin blurts out, absolutely miserable.

“Then I’ll find you.” Din promises, reaching out and placing his hand behind Corin’s neck. “I’ll find you, okay?” He leans in and rests his forehead to his. “Stay safe. Look after the others. And we’ll talk again in six months.”

Silent tears running down his face, Corin gives a faint nod.

Din walks over to Dulsissia and lets her hug him, kiss his hair, squeeze his face and kiss his forehead with a patience he’s never show before. He even holds on to her a little longer than usual. Paz is furious and refuses to utter a word. Raga mutters for Din to look after himself. Zev’sonya is nowhere to be found. Barthor gives him a brief hug and wishes him luck.

Davarax waits a small distance away from the others. When Din walks over to him, Davarax has to clear his throat to speak. “You got everything you need?”

Din nods.

A heavy silence hangs between them for a moment before Davarax tells him in a quiet voice; “If you change your mind, if something happens, if… if anything, you send me a message and I’ll come for you. Day, night, one day from now, one week or a month, it doesn’t matter. You always have a place here, Din.”

Din nods and looks away, trying to hide the tears in his eyes.

Davarax hesitates before speaking again. “Din, I…” I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I failed you.

Din looks back at him.

“Be careful out there.” Davarax says, hating himself for his cowardice. “And remember, if you need us, if you need me, I’m here. Always.”

Din nods again, a couple of tears breaking free and he turns and stalks towards where his tribe is waiting for him.

Dulsissia absently pulls Corin close as he heaves for air between the tears.

Paz turns and stalks back on board the Razor Crest, Raga follows, then Barthor, Dulsissia and Corin. Davarax is the last to leave, his eyes on Din for as long as he can see him...

Corin’s heart is broken. His best friend is gone. No, not just best friend… He and Din was… Whatever they were, it was special. It was not like anything he’s ever felt for or with anyone else.

A heavy sadness settles over their family for a long, long time. They all miss Din and it feels like they are missing a limb.

His parents find distraction in his sister. Paz and Raga find comfort in each other. Zev’sonya runs off and does whatever she does. Barthor keeps heading into town to be with this Kaleo person. Corin is the only one who can’t stop thinking about how Din isn’t there any more.

None of the girls and boys in town can take his mind off Din. Nothing can.

Which is probably why Davarax agrees to let Corin come along on a bounty hunting job. Usually he goes alone on these, but Corin asks and after a brief discussion with his mother, Davarax agrees.

“You do as I tell you. Understand? This is a hunt and they will do whatever it takes to escape. Including shooting us.” Davarax warns Corin as they enter the city to find their bounty.

“I understand.” Maybe getting shot at might cure the numb feeling inside?

It does. Once the first blaster shot flies by him, Corin yelps and flails and forgets all about being sad. He has to focus on surviving instead.

Davarax goes after their prey like a Corellian hound. Corin has gotten so used to seeing his mild and calm side that he’d almost forgotten how dangerous and brutal his dad can be if he wants to.

They chase after their bounty into an abandoned building so worn down it is barely standing.

“Stay here.” Davarax orders and uses his jetpack to fly up the middle of the winding stairs.

Corin stays, but when he leans forward against the railing to look up to see if Davarax had caught his prize; the railing just gives in and Corin falls.

Luckily he doesn’t drop more than a floor before he slams into the ground, but it’s enough to knock the air out of him and scramble his brain for a bit. (If not for his helmet, his brain would probably have been scattered all across the floor…)

When his blurry sight clears up, Corin realizes that what he thought were white pillars are moving and he rolls over on his back with a startled sound to see the storm troopers walking towards him. He fumbles for his blaster, but a kick to his hand sends the weapon sliding across the floor and then a storm trooper is pointing their blaster right at his t-visor.

Corin closes his eyes and prepares to die.

“Wait.” One of the troopers says. “Wait. Stop. Wait.”

Corin opens one eye and sees one trooper grabbing the arm of the one aiming at him.

“Look. That’s a kid.” The trooper preventing the other from shooting says. “You can’t shoot a kid, man.”

“He’s right.” A third trooper says, appearing next to them. “We don’t shoot kids, remember?”

“But this one has seen us.” The one with the blaster growls.

“The kid is not going to say anything.” The one who had prevented him from shooting says, then turns to Corin. “Right? You’re not going to say anything? You never saw us, kid. Right?”

Corin nods. Sure. Whatever. He’ll agree to anything as long as they don’t shoot him.

“Put the weapon down, Pat.” The third one says and takes off his helmet. It’s a man in his early twenties with dark hair and tired eyes. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry. We thought you were someone else. You run along.”

Growling, the one called Pat reluctantly holsters his blaster. “You better be right, Dee. If this kid gets us killed, I will never forgive you.”

The one who had stopped him from shooting reaches out a hand towards Corin. “Come on, kid. Upsy daisy.”

Dazed, not sure what the right thing to do is, Corin slowly reaches out and lets him pull him up on his feet. “T-thank you…”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. But you better get out of here.” The man says.

Dee puts his helmet back on. “Drop is right. Go.”

Corin takes one step, but then something heavy lands behind him.

“There you are, little Mando.” It’s the twi’lek man Davarax had been hired to hunt down.

Pat reaches out, grabs Corin’s shoulder and yanks him towards him and the others. “Stay down, kid!”

A mess of blaster fire follows. Corin is boxed in by white armor as the three take up a defensive stance around him and he can’t see what happens, just hears the battle. It’s over within a minute.

When the storm troopers step away, Corin sees the twi’lek lying there, dead, with a blaster in his hand that he’d meant to use on Corin.

“Someone will have heard that.” Dee says. “We have to get out of here. If the others find us, it’s all over.”

“Do you think we’ll get a trial?” Drop asks with a touch of hysterical humour.

“No. They’ll execute us in this shitty place.” Is Pat’s deadpan reply.

Dee turns back to Corin. “Go. Hurry. You don’t want to be here either if the imperial army decides to check out this place. And be careful.”

Corin opens his mouth to thank them when another heavy shape lands behind the storm troopers. An arm goes around Dee’s throat and he’s yanked back against unforgiving armor while Davarax lifts his blaster to fire at Pat. Drop instantly draws his own blaster.

“No!” Corin runs to stand between them, his helmet nearly touching the muzzle of Davarax’ blaster. “Don’t shoot them!”

Davarax hesitates, ignoring Dee’s wheezing attempts to pull his arm away from his throat. “Corin, what is going on here?”

After the explaining is done, Davarax reluctantly lets go of Dee, who stumbles forward into the protective grasp of his friends and coughs there for a moment while Davarax yanks Corin over to his side just in case.

“What are three storm troopers doing down here?” Davarax asks, suspicious.

“I think they are deserters…” Corin replies, looking at the three. “Am I right?”

“Hand the kid a medal.” Drop says with a wry smile in his voice. “Correct on the first try.”

Corin looks up at Davarax. “They can’t stay here. We have to help them, dad. Please?”

Davarax sighs.

And that is how he not only returns home with credits for a successful hunt and a revitalized Corin, but also with three ex-storm troopers in the cargo hold of the Razor Crest.

Dulsissia brings their daughter to greet them when the ship lands, only to freeze at the sight of what follows her husband and son off the ship.

“It’s okay, mom.” Corin reassures her. “They’re good guys. They saved my life.”

Dulsissia swallows down her fear and forces herself to put on a smile. As much as she hates that armor, she cannot hate men who has saved her son. “Then I am in your debt, sirs.”

While Davarax walks over and holds out his arms as the little girl eagerly reaches out for him, the storm troopers line up next to the ship and remove their helmets.

“Your son saved our lives in return, so I figure we are even, m’am.” Dee says.

Pat nods. The tallest of the three and with a semi-permanent scowl on his face.

Drop is staring at Dulsissia. “That is true. And something else that is true is the fact that you have to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, my lady. You don’t happen to need a new father to your charming son here?”

Davarax looks up from the toddler in his arms and his t-visor locks on Drop. “I think I changed my mind. I’m going to shoot you after all.”

Drop’s eyebrows flies up. “Oooh. You two are…? Oh. Ah. My bad.”

Flattered, Dulsissia smiles at Davarax. “I like these guys.”

Davarax grunts. “Yeah, I’m definitely shooting them.”

He doesn’t. Instead, the three are allowed to spend the night in the house and Davarax and Corin will head into town tomorrow to get them other clothes so they won’t be shot on sight. But the evening is spent with Davarax and Dee talking for hours over some strong smelling drink, speaking quietly and solemnly.

Corin tries to eavesdrop, but he keeps getting distracted by Drop constantly trying to cheat to win the second round of the boardgame he had challenged just about everyone to join in on.

Paz, Raga and Barthor had all been a little bit taken back when three storm troopers walked into the house, but then Paz shrugged and decided to just go with it as it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d experienced since leaving the Covert. Raga and Barthor couldn’t ague against that.

Zev’sonya and Mose have no opinion as they have disappeared again. Corin wonders what Din would think. He hates storm troopers. Din would probably never allow a storm trooper to stay with him.

The next day, in town, looking for clothing that will fit the men, Corin is not prepared to make another friend in such a short time.

“Hi.” A voice says as Corin tries to decide between two different leather jackets for Dee and it startles him into jumping around to face the culprit.

The owner of the voice is a brightly smiling blond boy around Corin’s own age. He is broad shouldered and clearly no stranger to staying in shape, but his incredibly cheerful attitude drowns out almost everything else about him. “You need help with that? Go with the left one. Way cooler.”

Corin blinks. “O-kay… Thank you?”

“No problem.” The boy steps closer. “I’m Leo. What’s your name?”

“Corin…” Corin decides Leo is right. The left one ‘is’ way cooler. He hangs back the other. “I haven’t seen you around here before?”

“I’ve just arrived with my family.” Leo happily shares. “My mom brought my dad to this place. He’s sick. There’s a doctor here that they say can help him.”

“Oh…” Corin shudders at the idea of either of his parents getting sick and it must be horrible not to have any friends in a new place during such a time. “So, uh, I’m looking to buy my, uh, uncles some clothes. All three of them. For their birthday. Today.”

Leo frowns a little. “They’re all born on the same day?”

“They’re triplets.” Corin lies with a tense smile. “You wanna help me pick out the rest?”

Brightening again, Leo coughs once and then nods eagerly. “Sure. Yeah. Awesome.”

Dulsissia is relieved to notice that things improve a little after that. The former troopers are eager to abandon their armor, which Davarax throws out of the airlock somewhere in space, and Dulsissia is pleased to discover a house for rent not too far away from their own where they can hide out and decide their next move. (Dee swears to pay them back and will not hear of anything else.)

Plus her son has made a new friend who seems to be able to cheer him up again, which makes Leo a very welcome guest in her eyes.

Paz bullies Leo a little but loses interest when it’s like kicking a defenceless Porg. Raga and Barthor both treat him with mild indifference. Davarax appears a little overwhelmed by the boy’s enthusiasm and habit of holding on to an uncomfortable subject, but her baby boy is finally laughing again and that is music to Dulsissia’s ears.

A little over two months pass before the next incident occurs.

At the shooting range they had set up behind the house, Dulsissia aims her blaster at the target despite little hope of actually hitting it as long as Davarax’ mouth is on her neck and his hand slides across her stomach to urge her to lean back against him. She fires and misses and doesn’t care as that gives her the excuse to twist around a little to making him move his lips up to hers.

Dulsissia knows how important it is to be improving her aim, but her husband is so incredibly attractive, sweet, kind, caring and the best kisser ever, so…

Davarax suddenly pulls away to prod at his vambrace. “Sorry, I…” He prods some more before stalking over to pick up his helmet. “Just…”

Dulsissia waits while he puts his helmet back on and listens to the message he’d just received. Whomever had contacted him had to be someone of importance for him to react like this, so she feels worry instead of annoyance at the interruption.

A little while later, he removes his helmet and Davarax sends her a wide-eyed look. “It’s Din.”

“Din?” Dulsissia’s worry triples. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” Davarax replies, sounding a little dazed. Then a faint smile appears. “He wants to come home.”

Getting Din back feels wonderfully right. Dulsissia feels no small amount of relief seeing the teenager again and find him looking healthy and unharmed. He even smiles when Paz hugs him a little too hard.

Everyone except the absent Zev’sonya and Mose are eager to welcome him home, especially Corin. Her sweet son has been climbing the walls since he heard Din was coming back and finally the two are reunited again.

“So much has happened while you were gone.” Corin declares. “Nemi is starting to walk. Barthor keeps sneaking off on dates with this person he thinks we don’t know about. I went on a bounty hunting mission with Dad and met these three awesome dudes who saved my life and are now our neighbours. And I can’t wait for you to meet Leo! Mom said I could invite him for dinner so you can say hello.”

“Our dear neighbours are coming over to dinner as well. I invited them.” Dulsissia adds, with a touch of glee as it makes Davarax groan. She knows he gets along really well with Dee, but Pat is too tense to relax around and Drop winds the youngsters up even more than hyper-sugar.

Din exhales with a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I guess I missed out on a lot, huh?”

Paz reaches out and smacks the back of his head. “That’s what you get for leaving, idiot.”

Deliberately falling behind a bit while the teens stalk towards the house, Dulsissia hoists the toddler on her arm before looking over at the quiet Davarax walking next to her. He’s watching Din.

“Did he tell you why he wanted to come back?” Dulsissia asks.

“No.” Davarax replies, sounding uncomfortably solemn. “He hasn’t said much of anything.”

“You think they were mean to him?”

“No.” Davarax says again. “He wasn’t angry or scared or resentful or… or anything. Sad, if I was to make a guess. But he was quite determined to leave.” He sighs. “If he wants us to know, Din will tell us in his own time.”

Dulsissia hopes he’s right.

They are going to have to move. The house is nowhere near big enough for all the souls who have come into their lives, but Dulsissia realizes that she’s going to miss this place. She’s grown so very fond of it. There are so many good memories here. And they keep creating more.

Barthor is sitting by the kitchen table with Nemi on his lap, keeping her entertained and hiding from the lively ruckus in the living room where there is far too much activity and far too many people for his taste.

Dulsissia is mixing up some treats on a plate when Davarax appears to hover in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Need some help?” He asks.

“No, but thank you for asking, cyare.” Dulsissia replies. She glances back at him. “Things okay in there?”

Davarax leans his shoulder against the door frame and sighs. “I think having Drop and Leo in one room might cause a black hole to appear. That kind of energy is not natural.”

Giggling a little, Dulsissia adds some fruit to the plate as well. “Leo is a sweetheart.” She glances back at Davarax again and sees Paz hovering behind him and trying to sneak into the kitchen but is being blocked by the man. “And Drop is always welcome in our house.”

It’s mean of her to tease but it is kind of flattering to see Davarax’ eyes narrow a little as he’s reminded of how interested Drop had been at the very first sight of her. Dulsissia purses her lips thoughtfully. “I wonder how he got his nickname?”

“Probably because his parent dropped him on his head while he was a baby.” Davarax mutters.

This is when Paz loses patience, wraps his arms around Davarax’ waist and simply picks him up.

What follows is probably the most hilarious thing Dulsissia has ever seen in her entire life.

The raw shock and utter disbelief on Davarax’ face as his arms and legs flail while he’s unceremoniously moved to the side and set back down again is something she will remember until the day she dies. Even after Paz has set him back on his feet and simply saunters into the kitchen to find himself something to drink, Davarax stumbles away from him and glues his back to the wall, looking horrified. He’s not a small and frail man, by far, and probably hasn’t been lifted since he was a child. If anything, Davarax is the one to pick other people up and move ‘them’ out of his way.

But Paz is now quite a bit taller than him and he’s gaining muscle by the day. Davarax watches him warily as he saunters back out and even takes a step away so not to risk humiliation again.

“Welcome to my world.” Barthor mutters.

Dulsissia breaks down laughing, wishing she had a way to immortalize the look on Davarax’ face.

Din greets Dee, Pat and Drop with polite distance, but he does brighten a bit when, to Dulsissia’s surprise, Zev’sonya and Mose suddenly appear in the doorway.

“I heard you were coming back.” Zev says with a grin, reaching out a hand towards Din, and they pull each other close for a brief hug/bump against each other.

“I had to come back and make sure you stay out of trouble.” Din replies with a grin of his own.

Over by where Dulsissia and Corin are sitting, Leo grabs her son’s arm with a soft gasp. “Is that your sister?” Unlike the gawking ex-troopers, he seems oblivious to the Hutt standing there as well.

Corin looks over at where Zev’sonya is bragging to Din about whatever she and Mose have been up to, nothing legal would be Dulsissia’s guess, and Corin makes a face. “No. She’s, uh, it’s complicated. She kind of lives here with us. Sometimes.”

Leo can’t seem to take his eyes off her. “Dude, you got to introduce me to her.”

Corin frowns. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to marry her.”

Corin looks somewhere between amused and genuinely scared for Leo’s safety and sanity. “Maybe you shouldn’t say that so she can hear it…”

“I’m in love.” Leo breathes, still with his eyes glued on Zev. “Come on, man. Introduce me.”

Corin looks over at Dulsissia, who shrugs. If Leo wants to risk his life, who are they to deny him? And maybe, hopefully, that sweet boy can be a good, calming influence on the troubled girl?

Dulsissia leans back and watches as Corin and Leo walk over and the introduction is made. It’s no surprise that Zev’sonya’s immediate reaction is to scowl and throw her emotional walls up, but Leo isn’t put off. He’s gentle in his approach, careful, like he’s defusing a bomb, but he’s not scared.

Dulsissia is about to smile, but then she sees Din’s face and she doesn’t feel like smiling anymore.

He’s looking at Leo with something dangerously close to hatred in his dark eyes.

When things wind down for the night, Dee, Drop and Pat agree to walk Leo home, despite the blond’s objections that he’s perfectly capable of getting there by himself. Dulsissia sends with them food and snacks, knowing they’re still finding their footing as civilians, and doesn’t know what makes her flush the hardest; Dee’s soft kindness, Pat’s intense respect or Drop’s shameless flirting as they fight to thank her.

She looks over at where Corin and Leo are saying goodbye, the blond making Corin promise to be his best man at his and Zev’s wedding, and the two laugh before Corin gives him a gentle kov’nyn and shoves Leo into Drop’s arms.

Din is nowhere to be found.

After they clean up, one by one they saunter off to their rooms.

Her riduur is one of the last to go. The long journey to get Din had Davarax start yawning early in the evening and now he’s close to falling asleep on his feet, so he only puts up a weak fight when Dulsissia orders him to bed while she finishes up the last bits of the cleaning.

Plus there are a couple of things she has to clear up before she has any chance of finding sleep.

Dulsissia piles food on a plate before heading to the backdoor and stepping outside the house.

Mose is lounging on the grass, staring up at the stars, but he carefully pushes himself up when he sees her approaching him. His gaze flicker cautiously from the plate to her face and back again.

“Here.” Dulsissia holds the plate out for him. If someone had told her that she’d be worrying over the well-being of a Hutt when she was younger, she would have laughed her head off. “I noticed you didn’t eat much earlier. You got to be hungry.”

Mose hesitates before slowly reaching out and accepting the plate. “Thank you.”

But Mose isn’t the only one who is on her mind tonight. “Do you know where Din is?”

Mose lifts his tail and points towards the Razor Crest.

Of course. His favourite place. Dulsissia sighs and pats Mose’s arm as she walks by him on the way to the ship. “Eat up and then get some rest, baby.”

Mose watches her leave in silence.

The Razor Crest’s left ramp, the one out of sight of the house, is lowered and Dulsissia makes her way up it and into the ship. Once inside, she sees Din right away.

He’s sitting on one of the fold-down seats in the cargo hold, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“Din?” Dulsissia speaks softly, hoping not to scare him. “Are you okay?”

Jolting into an upright sitting position, Din stares wide-eyed at her. “Dulcy. Yeah. Yeah, I-I’m fine.”

He’s lying. It’s obvious. Sighing, she takes a step forward and gestures towards the seat next to him. “Mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

“I don’t mind.” Din looks cornered and almost a bit scared.

Sitting down, Dulsissia looks over and fights the urge to hug him close. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” The answer comes a little too fast and his voice is too weak for it to be true.

“You can tell me, baby.” Dulsissia reassures him. “I promise I won’t tell anyone else.”

Din is about to say something but then he pauses and his eyes flicker for a moment before he asks, quietly, cautiously; “You promise?”

Dulsissia places one of her hands over his and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I promise.”

Din hesitates, then takes a deep breath and looks towards the open ramp. “I just thought… I thought that being with my parents people, it would feel like home. I thought I’d finally feel like I belonged. But… I didn’t. All I could think about was going back to you guys.”

Her heart shivers with pain, but Dulsissia is careful to keep her voice free of it. “You left because you didn’t feel like you belonged with us?”

Din turns his gaze down to the floor. “You feel like family to me…”

There is something unspoken at the end there. Dulsissia squeezes his hand again. “But?”

Din doesn’t answer right away. He tenses up and his breathing becomes a bit laboured and choppy, as if trying to fight back a wave of emotions, but eventually he loses and Din looks up at her with tears in his eyes. “He adopted Corin!” The tears begin to slide down Din’s face. “He found me, he saved my life and taught me almost everything I know, but he gave me away to those people and then adopts Corin. What is wrong with me? W-why doesn’t he want me…?”

“Oh, baby…” Dulsissia whispers and gently eases him into leaning over so she can hold him close, running a comforting hand up and down his back while his shoulders shake with grief. “Sweet, sweet baby. There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. Davarax simply thought you’d be happier with parents who could be with you instead of him who had to leave all the time. And he knew how dangerous his work was. It was not because he didn’t love you. He does.”

“He’s got you, Corin and Nemi now. He has his family.” Din whispers. “If I hadn’t come back, no one would have cared.”

“That’s not true.” Dulsissia argues gently. “We all missed you terribly.”

“Yeah. I saw.” Din’s voice takes on a sharp edge. “Corin missed me so terribly he replaced me with the first cute guy he could find.”

Petting the dark hair, Dulsissia sighs. “Din, Corin doesn’t think of Leo that way at all. They’re just friends. You don’t have to be jealous of Leo, trust me.”

Din pulls back to stare at her with a startled look, despite the tears still making his cheeks shine. “I didn’t mean… I’m not jealous.”

That makes Dulsissia smile a little. “Yeah. You are.” She wipes away a tear from his face. “Leo is a nice boy, but he couldn’t steal Corin away from you even if he wanted to.”

Din flushes and his gaze slides away, too embarrassed to meet hers.

“Din.” Dulsissia makes him look at her again. “You have a home with us. You do belong with us. We all love you.”

That brings a faint smile to Din’s face and he lets her pull him into another hug and this time, he hugs her back.

The conversation helps, but it doesn’t solve everything.

Dulsissia can see the tension to Din’s shoulders and the hint of anger in his eyes at times. And his patience becomes close to non-existent. Especially when it comes to Paz sliding right back into the role as his protector and supervisor.

“You don’t like those.” Paz says as Din reaches for some spicy spinach at dinner. He takes a hold of the tongs and puts some other vegetables on Din’s plate instead. “Here.”

Dulsissia sees the spark in Din’s eyes half a second before he explodes.

“Maybe I’ve started to like them!” Din shouts, making everyone turn to stare at him.

“You don’t like them!” Paz shouts back. “You refused to eat them the day before you left, idiot!”

Davarax glares over at them. “Hey! Tone it down. Now.”

Din grits his teeth and stares at his plate. Paz looks tense enough to want to punch him. But they leave it that. That day.

Because that is just the start. More shouting matches follow and the comments go from angry to mean as the tempers keep growing hotter and hotter.

When Din stalks off after bellowing that he regrets coming back, Dulsissia decides it has gone on long enough as she sees the hurt in Paz’ eyes. She inches over to the boy who now towers over her. “Paz…?”

Exhaling his anger, now just sad and tired, Paz looks over at her. “Yeah?”

Dulsissia puts on her most innocent face. “I was wondering if I could ask you a huge favour?”

He shrugs. “Sure.” While he was rumoured to be sullen and uncooperative at the Covert, Paz has always been incredibly amiable and helpful to her. Her sweet giant boy.

“I’ve been super-busy lately, got a lot of projects going on and with my blaster training and… Well, you know how it is.” Dulsissia lets out a dramatic sigh. “I could really need a little help with Nemi.”

Paz actually smiles a little. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do, actually.” Dulsissia insists, giving him her doe eyes. “I’m serious, Paz. I would really appreciate your help.”

“Why me?” Paz asks. “Why not Davarax or Corin?”

“Davarax, well, I don’t want him to do more than his share. And Corin has his mind on other things these days. If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine. I can probably ask-”

“No. I’ll do it.” Paz shoots in. “No problem. Just let me know what you need me to do.”

Dulsissia almost smiles. She could have had a great career in the Imperial army with her evil genius.

“Cyare?” Davarax’ voice says, half a day later. His voice worrying sweet and high pitched.

“Yes, cyare?” Dulsissia replies, curious.

He steps into the room where she’s doing adjustments on her helmet. “Do you mind telling me why I come home to find that our daughter has been kidnapped by a 6”7 man-child who told me he would, and I quote; knock my helmet off if I woke her up after he just got her to sleep?”

Giggling, Dulsissia wanders over to give him a quick kiss on his stubbled cheek. “I asked him to help out.”

Davarax frowns. “Why? Are you okay? I could-”

“Din and Paz have been fighting a lot lately. Din wants to stand on his own feet and Paz is too overprotective to let him so I decided to defuse things by directing Paz’ paternal instincts over to someone who wouldn’t mind.”

Sighing, Davarax returns the sign of affection and places a light kiss on her forehead. “I love how you love these kids and how you want them all to get along, but those two? With their tempers and stubbornness, I fear they might be doomed to be butting heads while killing anyone who dares to hurt the other.”

Dulsissia fails to hold back a smug smile. “Let’s see, shall we?”

At dinner, Din sends Paz a defiant look as he reaches for the spinach again, ready to erupt the second Paz makes a comment, but ends up having to ease some over on his plate without a word as Paz is too busy tending to Nemi trying to rub her food into her hair to care what Din is doing.

(Din still doesn’t like spinach and ends up just pushing it around on his plate with a frown.)

As days go by, Din tries to provoke one way and the other, determined to show he is the master of his own life and that Paz doesn’t get to tell him what to do, but time and again; Paz is distracted by the child and ends up ignoring Din all together.

Ignoring him little too much, as it turns out. Because one day Dulsissia sees Din stare after Paz’ retreating back as he carries Nemi off to fetch the toys she wants and she sees the sad slump to Din’s shoulders and the lost expression on his face. First Davarax, then Corin, and now Paz, Din thinks he’s lost them all.

Oh no. Her plan is working too well! Curse her evil genius.

Dulsissia considers interfering again, but luckily she doesn’t have time to conjure up another plan before she gets to witness Din inch over to where Paz and her daughter are building with blocks on the floor. Din asks what they’re up to, listens and nods and then cautiously offers to help.

Paz looks up at him, surprised, then lights up and gestures for him to sit down with them.

Together they watch over and help the little one. There is not a single harsh word between them.

“Fine…” Davarax mutters as he comes to a halt next to where Dulsissia is lurking and spying on them. “You win. Your little trick is working.” He nuzzles her neck. “Jedi witch.”

Quietly cackling, offering up her neck, Dulsissia feels unbearably smug. “No trick. Just logic. You Mandalorians really do love to complicate things.”

But Dulsissia’s evil plan do affect another victim when Paz and Raga are in the middle of another make-out session in the living room, which Dulsissia is pretty sure is just to annoy Davarax, and when her daughter makes an unhappy whine, Paz instantly breaks the kiss to see what is going on.

Barthor awkwardly adjusts the child in his arms but she is clearly still not pleased.

“You’re holding her all wrong.” Paz states, taking a hold of Raga’s hips, lifts her off his lap and sets her mindlessly aside so he can walk over to Barthor to show him what he’s doing wrong.

Raga rolls her eyes and flops down to lie on the sofa with a frustrated groan. She sends Dulsissia a glare.

Dulsissia responds with an apologetic smile.

She’s not forgiven.

Pleased that she had managed to salvage the friendship between Din and Paz, Dulsissia decides to take the chance. “Dav?” She speaks into the darkness of the night as the two are curled up together in bed.

“Mmh?” He mumbles against her shoulder.

“You have to talk to Din.”

There is a moment of silence, then Davarax lifts his head to look down at her, what little he can see in the darkness. “Is he okay? What’s wrong? Did he tell you something?”

“I promised not to tell anyone.” Dulsissia replies. “Just… please talk to him.”

Davarax hesitates, then slowly lies back down again. He doesn’t say anything, but he is awake for a long, long time after that.

All it takes is a simple question if Din wants to help him do some repairs on the Razor Crest and Davarax has the boy eagerly trotting along towards what he fears will be a rather uncomfortable conversation. Something is clearly wrong and odds are that it’s Davarax’ own doing.

Davarax has a moment of soft affection when he sees the adoration in Din’s eyes when he looks at the trusty old ship. He might be the only one who loves her as much as Davarax himself does.

They work in the cockpit in silence for a bit until Davarax manages to build up his courage.

Sighing, he wipes his oily hands on a horribly oily rag. “Din?”

“Yeah, yeah, almost done.” Din replies, half-way under the control panel.

“Just… leave it for a bit.” Davarax says. “I want to talk to you.”

Din’s body freezes. He breathes once, twice, then he inches out and looks up at where Davarax is sitting in the pilot seat. His face is awfully pale behind the smudges of oil. “She told you.”

“Nobody told me anything.” Davarax reassures him. “Whatever secrets you have, they are still yours. I just want to make sure you’re okay. A lot can happen in two months.”

Staring at him, studying his face, Din eventually relaxes a little as he can’t see whatever he fears seeing in Davarax’ eyes. He clears his throat, inches himself further out so he can sit up. “I’m fine.”

“You hardly said a word the entire ride back home, Din. You’ve been fighting non-stop with Paz. I barely see you with Corin anymore. You’re not fine.” Davarax says, firm but gentle. “Will you let me help?”

Frowning, Din stares at him and there’s a touch of anger there. “So now you care?”

Davarax blinks, not expecting that. “I always care.” And the snort Din gives at that feels like a slap to Davarax’ face. He reaches out and places a hand on Din’s shoulder, making him meet his eyes. “Din. I care.”

The teenager tries for a defiant stare, but there is hurt there and Davarax realizes this is why Dulcy had told him to talk to Din. Guilt settles on Davarax’ shoulders and weighs him down so hard he can barely breathe. “You think I don’t care? Why? Because I let you leave?”

Din shrugs.

“I didn’t want you to leave, Din. Of course I didn’t. But you wanted to go, you wanted to be with them, and what you want is more important to me than what I want. It wasn’t because I didn’t care.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you gave me away…” Din mumbles quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Davarax opens and shuts his mouth a couple of times. Oh, the guilt is so heavy it hurts now. “Din, I…” He gently squeezes the boy’s shoulder and makes him look back up at him again. “I’m sorry that didn’t work out. I thought… I just thought that it would be better for you to have a steady family, someone who didn’t leave all the time and who might not come back alive. I wasn’t in a good place back then, Din. But I never stopped caring. I still care. I will always care.”

“You have a new family now.” Din mumbles. “I have no one, because no one wants me.”

“Hey.” Davarax places his other hand on Din’s other shoulder, holding a little too tight but unable to stop himself “My family? You are a part of that. You always will be. Nothing can ever change that. From the very first time I saw you, the second you gave me your trust, you were family to me.”

Din’s eyes grow blank with tears and he smiles a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Davarax confirms, then leans a little closer to give him a pointed look. “You’re the only one I’d trust to look after the Razor Crest if I end up parking my slippers for good.”

Din’s smile widens and turns genuine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Davarax confirms again, now with a faint laugh. He gives him a light shake before he gets up and pulls Din up on his feet too so he can hug him close. Feeling Din’s arms go around him in return and how tights he holds on makes Davarax’ heart shrivel up with even more guilt. “I’m sorry, Din. I’m sorry I let them adopt you. I’m sorry you thought I didn’t care whether you left or not. I’ll try to do better from now on. I promise.”

“S’okay.” Din mumbles, his face buried into Davarax’ chest.

“You forgive me?”

Din nods.

Davarax runs his hand over Din’s smooth hair. He doesn’t deserve his forgiveness after so many mistakes, but that’s not his decision to make. All he can do is try to keep from making more and not have Din regret his kindness. “Thank you.”

Din merely hugs him harder.

When Din and Davarax return to the house, Dulsissia is relieved to hear Din talking like he used to; relaxed and almost playful with his great hero by his side. Davarax is smiling too.

She hides in the kitchen, doesn’t want to interfere, but she’s dying to ask. It takes no small amount of will-power for her to just wait.

Finally Davarax walks into the kitchen.

She turns to face him, about to start talking, when his hands cup her face and he leans down to give her a couple of soft, lingering kisses on her lips, before kissing her forehead and just pulling her into a tight, lingering hug as he sighs.

“Why do you put up with me?” Davarax asks.

“Because you’re hot.” She replies. Then she leans back and looks up at him. “So, you talked to him?”

“Yeah.” Davarax gingerly eases a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Dulsissia goes up on her toes to give him a soft kiss.

Luckily Leo is busy harassing Zev and Barthor is off to be with his mystery date, so Din gets to have Corin all to himself when they head into town to buy some supplies.

A lot has happened in the two months Din has been away, that much is clear by Leo’s arrival and them suddenly having three uncles now (who, Din had been horrified to learn, are in reality three storm troopers who have defected and will be shot if discovered.), yet the biggest change is the one he’s currently witnessing.

“Two? Are you sure I can’t get three for that price, Tahm?” Corin says to the shop-keeper’s daughter. He smiles, holds her gaze and even tilts his head a little. “Pretty please?”

The girl giggles and flushes.

Corin reaches out and slides a finger along her jawline and leans a little closer as he lowers his voice. “Pretty, pretty please?”

Din blinks. Corin is gorgeous. He’s always been a good looking kid, sure, Din isn’t blind and people have been talking, but over time Corin has gone from cute to gorgeous and… he’s clearly aware of it. There is nothing modest about the wink he gives that girl. Or the look he gives the young man who ends up selling them his wares to half of his original asking price.

“What was that?” Din asks as they load the bags up on the speeder bike.

“What was what?” Corin asks in return, fastening one bag.

“That.” Din insists. “Back there. The… that. The thing. You did.”

Corin snorts a laugh before glancing over at Din with a wicked grin. “Making them give me a discount? Leo taught me. It’s easy. You should do it too.”

Din feels his face heat up. “I don’t think I…”

Corin steps over, a little too close, and looks at him with bright, earnest eyes. “You could totally pull if off too, Din.” He touches Din’s jawline with light fingertips and the skin burns.

“I’m not…” Din swallows, his heart racing like crazy. “I’m not pretty. Like you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Corin laughs a little. “Din, you’re beautiful.” He leans in, gives Din a minor heart attack, and gently places his forehead to Din’s before turning back to the speeder bike again.

Din can barely breathe.

“I think that was everything?” Corin says. “Let’s go.” He gets on the bike, looks over at Din when he doesn’t move and raises his eyebrows. “Din?”

“Yeah…” Din croaks, forcing his legs to work. “Okay…” He gets on the bike too.

“No.” Zev snarls. “Go away.”

“Come on.” Leo whines, trailing after her. “One date. If you still hate me after, I will leave you alone. Pretty please?”

“I cannot think of a single thing that would change my mind about hating you, so I see no point.” Zev’sonya declares, chin held high and refusing to look at him.

“I could surprise you.” Leo tempts her. He coughs a couple of times before continuing. “One date, Zev. One!”

Zev’sonya wrinkles her nose. “You’re just going to give me your cold.”

Leo shakes his head. “I’m not-” Suddenly his gaze shifts over to something behind her and he frowns.

By the time she has turned around to see what he’s staring at, Leo is already running towards the three brats ganging up on Mose and trying to provoke him into a fight. By the time she’s caught up with him, Leo has already knocked one of the brats out.

The fight is over within minutes. Once Zev’sonya has made sure Mose is okay, hating how resigned he is to being hated and loving how Leo is huffing with offence on his behalf, she makes her choice.

“One date.” Zev’sonya says.

Leo spins around to face her, eyes huge and jaw dropping. “Really?! Wait, why? Wait, I don’t care.”

“One.” She underlines.

Leo nearly nods his head off and she has to hide the smile threatening to break free.

Din can’t forget about it. Can’t forget about watching Corin flaunting his good looks, the touch of his fingers and the kov’nyn… He can’t forget about it!

For years Corin has been his best friend. He felt so lucky to have him as his friend. He still does. But… it is getting harder and harder to be happy for Corin when others look at him the way Din does when Corin is not paying attention.

And after hearing Corin call ‘him’ beautiful, after having his full attention like that, Din can’t karking forget about it!

Din sits on Corin’s bed, thinking about this, when Corin enters the room again after he’d headed out to raid the kitchen for something to snack on. He returns victorious with a plate of cookies.

Sitting down on the bed as well, Corin places the plate between them and grins. “Mom said no, but then I gave her the eyes and she folded. I am a genius.”

“How… how do you do it?” Din asks, his pulse thrumming under his skin after daring to ask.

“As I said,” Corin inches closer so his knee almost touches Din’s, “it’s easy. All you have to do is keep eye contact.” He looks directly into Din’s soul with those incredible eyes of his. “Add a smile.” His lips curve into a smile that sends a frightful heat into Din’s blood. “And if you really need to bring in the big guns…” Corin reaches out and places his hand on Din’s knee. “...touch.”

Oh, Din swallows hard, struggles to find his voice. “I don’t think… it’ll work if I do that.”

“It definitely will.” Corin reassures him. “Your face? You will get whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Din asks, his pulse thrumming in his throat.

“Definitely.”

“Okay…” Din gathers his courage. “Eye contact.” He moves a little closer, so their knees not only touch but cross each other a little. “Smile.” Din forces his mouth to shape into what he hopes is a careful but appealing smile. (He sees Corin’s gaze dart down to his lips for a second and it makes his hear jump.) “Touch…” Din reaches up and carefully cups the side of Corin’s face, runs his thumb along his cheekbone. “Like this?”

A slight flush creeps into Corin’s cheeks. “I, uh, yeah…”

Din is keenly aware of how he’s pushing his luck, but he can’t make himself stop. “Now what?”

Corin is staring at him. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you want?” Corin almost whispers.

Din can’t say it, couldn’t say it to save his life, so he just looks at Corin’s lips with unspoken longing, hating himself for being such a coward. He just fears that if he gets a taste, he won’t survive seeing someone else kiss those lips…

“Okay.” Corin says, as if Din had spoken out loud, and before Din can ask him what he means; Corin leans in, tilts his head and gently touches his lips with his.

Din inhales sharply, startling Corin and causes him want to pull back, but Din’s hand flies up to grab his shoulder and hold him there. And then Din is the one to move closer to touch his lips to Corin’s.

It is such a sweet feeling. Soft, warm, cautious and fragile, and utterly perfect.

“I missed you so much…” Corin whispers, eyes closed and lips brushing his as he speaks.

Din’s throat snares up with a thousand feelings. “I missed you too. All the time.” They share another kiss before he can speak again. “Corin, I… I like you.”

That brings a soft laugh from Corin, startling Din a little into leaning back, but Corin merely grins at him. “I like you too, stupid. I kind of hoped we were past the obvious bit when we started kissing?”

Din’s face flushes hot. “I…”

“I kind of thought you did, was waiting for you to say something,” Corin says, shrugging one shoulder, “but then you left and I thought that meant you didn’t like me after all, but then you came back and… Well… “

“How did you know…?” Din mumbles, dying of embarrassment. He’d been so careful!

That makes Corin laugh again. “It was pretty obvious, Din. Come on.” He leans close again and smirks. “You’re always so nice to me. Not nice like with the others. Extra nice. And… you look at me a lot.”

Din’s face is about to melt off his skull. “I…”

Corin is dangerously close now. “You want to look some more or should we go back to kissing?”

Din stutters.

Laughing, Corin sits back up and grabs a cookie. “I’m sorry.” He munches on the cookie. “I’ll be good.”

Din’s heart is beating a thousand beats a second. He can’t stop staring. “You don’t have to.” He clears his throat. “Be good, that is. You can be… whatever you was just being. That’s… that’s fine.”

Corin lowers the cookie. “Yeah…?”

“I-if you want to.” Din adds cautiously.

Corin eagerly leans closer. “I really, really want to.”

Din grins, a little more confident. “Good.” He moves closer, both of them ignoring the plate tumbling to the floor, reaching up to touch Corin’s face. “Because I really want you to.”

Din is not a good kisser, he knows, it’s not something he has practised too much, but oh Corin is. Din follows his lead, moves his lips as softly and sweetly as he does, and can’t decide whether he’s grateful for Corin knowing how to do this or viciously hating every person who has kissed him. In the end, it doesn’t matter, Din is just weak with happiness.

“Obvious? What do mean it was obvious?” Din snaps, not expecting this kind of nonchalance from Paz when he confessed that he and Corin have become… a thing.

Paz shrugs, adjusting the wrapping around his left hand. “It just was. Everyone could see it.”

“Everyone?” Din asks with utter disbelief.

“Yup.” Raga confirms, delivering some hard hits that has the punching bag make a sound like it is groaning with pain. “Everyone.”

Din sinks down to sit on a crate, stunned by shock and horrible embarrassment. “But you never said anything?”

“I wanted to.” Paz says. “Believe me.”

“But Dulcy told him not to.” Raga throws a vicious punch. “I think she and Davarax have a bet going on which of you would make the first move.”

Din hides his face in his hands and groans.

Zev’sonya cannot believe she’s agreed to this. It was a moment of madness, that’s all. She got carried away after punching those jerks who bullied Mose and that blond idiot just happened to be there with his stupid date request.

What was she thinking?

Zev’sonya sighs as she looks at herself in the mirror. She’s clean, the clothes she’s wearing are whole, all the daggers and blades are hidden, that is good enough, isn’t it? Or do humans have other standards for this… dating thing?

She sees Mose’s reflection as he is standing behind her and scowls at the grin on his face.

“Don’t.” Zev’sonya warns, but his grin only widens so she flees before he can say anything.

Leo had wanted to come and pick her up, but she refused and insisted on her meeting him by his house. Bad enough Mose knows, but if Din and the others learns of this… ‘date’, there would be no end to the comments.

Approaching the house, Zev’sonya is surprised to see Leo sitting on the stairs leading up to it. But the surprise morphs into unease as she feels an intense wave of… sadness wash over her. No, he’s not just sad. It’s more. Deeper. More painful. Zev’sonya pauses in front of him, he doesn’t even notice her presence, and braces herself. “Leo?”

Starting a little, he looks up and when seeing her; he tries to smile. “Hey.” The boy is pale, there are dark smudges under his eyes and he looks miserable under his facade. “I, uh, I’m sorry, Zev. I know I hassled you for this date, but, uh… I don’t think I can go.”

Frowning, Zev’sonya crosses her arms. “What happened?”

Leo’s smile wavers. He swallows a couple of times before he can speak. “It’s, uh, it’s my dad, he…” Another swallow. “He died.”

That’s what she’s feeling from him. Grief. Zev’sonya exhales, forgetting about being angry and defensive and she merely moves to sit down next to him. “I’m… I’m sorry, Leo.”

He nods, turns to stare at the ground again. “We knew it was a long shot. They said it couldn’t be cured.” He carefully wipes at his left eye. “At least you won’t have to go out with me now.”

Zev’sonya plucks at the fabric on the knee of her pants. “I can wait.”

Leo shakes his head. “No.” He wipes at his other eye. “I, uh… It’s better if we don’t. There’s no point.” He clears his throat. “Don’t worry. It’s not contagious. I got it from working the mines with him.”

Startled, Zev’sonya looks over at Leo. “You’re sick too?”

Now Leo nods.

Fear and horrible resignation, both seep from him and into her. He will die choking and gasping for air, thrashing, terrified, like his father.

Zev’sonya reaches out and places her hand on his neck, and after a second of surprised hesitation; Leo shudders once before he breaks into helpless tears. She eases him over and wraps her arms around him, her eyes narrowing with determination.

He’s not going to die.

Davarax is biting his lip as he watches Nemi wobble along the table with a firm grip on it with her tiny hands and a look of thoughtful concentration on her adorable face. He is so proud, watching her progress, that he could die. His heart is not designed to handle this kind of emotion. He’s too happy.

“I need to talk to you.” Zev’sonya stalks into the room.

Nemi blinks, lets go and drops down on her behind to stare wide-eyed at the twi’lek.

Davarax stares at Zev too. She wants to talk to him? Why? Is she going to try to kill him again? She hasn’t done that in a long time. He thought they were making progress when she smiled at him after Mose moved in. What has changed? Why is she angry with him now? “Uh… Okay?”

After she’s done explaining, Davarax almost wishes she had tried to kill him instead. It would have been easier to handle than failing her meek request and having to watch her have her heart broken when the boy dies. “I… I’ll ask around.”

Zev’sonya brightens with hope and that terrifies Davarax.

“Zev.” He stops her from leaving. “I can’t promise anything, okay? I will try, but it sounds like they’ve been looking pretty hard for a cure already.”

Her dark eyes flicker before she focuses on Davarax again and she shrugs. “You got a good track record of saving kids. If anyone can save him, it’s you.”

Davarax stands there, staring, long after she’s gone.

At first Dulsissia is heartbroken when she learns that Leo is sick. That sweet, cheerful boy seemed like someone who would live forever. Hearing that he’d watched his own father die in such a terrible way makes her hug him for so long he gets a little worried.

Davarax sends out a message to every contact he’s ever made in his years as a bounty hunter and mercenary, but one by one they come back negative.

It’s ironic that the one sliver of hope they get is from one direction they did not expect.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” Dee says. “They call it Miner’s Lung.”

“Is there a cure for it?” Davarax asks, trying not to get his own hopes up.

Drop makes a face. “Depends on how advanced it is. Once it catches proper hold, when it gets in the blood, it’s basically impossible to weed it out.”

“Tell us where to go.” Dulsissia says. “We have to try.”

On board the Razor Crest, Dulsissia doesn’t know what makes her smile the most; Zev’sonya’s expression of utter disgust but not doing anything to stop Leo from holding her hand, or how at the very back of the ship; Din tries to hide how sneakily he reaches out for Corin’s hand.

The doctor refuses to see them until he hears ‘Motti’. Dulsissia has absolutely no qualms about using her name to wring the arm of this horrible man to help Leo. No baby will be dying as long as there is something Dulsissia can do about it.

A complete medical scan, some tests run and a lot of frowning later, the doctor hands them a datapad with a treatment schedule that will last for about eighteen standard months and drugs that would knock out a fully grown Sarlacc. “This should work, but I can give no guarantees. It’s not like that boy has grown up on the most nutritious diet. His immune system is as poor as his family clearly was.”

Dulsissia takes the datapad, hands it over to Davarax, so she can step close to the doctor. “If it fails, then I know who to hunt down. You should know, sir, we Mandalorians are very protective of our children. We take the loss of one very hard and will take our anger out on whomever is responsible for their death.”

The doctor goes pale. “If he’s not showing any signs of improvement in two months, you better come back so we can make some adjustments to his medication.”

Dulsissia gives him a sweet smile. “Lovely. Thank you.”

Davarax looks at her like he wants to propose all over again.

When they walk back to the Razor Crest, Dulsissia is eager to hold her daughter again but also can’t help but to adore the sight of the group of teenagers ambling in front of her and Davarax. It feels like only yesterday they were mere youngsters and now they are snapping at the heels of adulthood.

Corin has his arm around Leo’s neck, laughing and tugging him into a mix of a hug and a headlock, while Din and Zev’sonya walk behind them and give identical shake of heads at the boisterous duo.

Paz is standing by the ramp to the Razor Crest, his back towards them, and Dulsissia wonders what he’s doing until she sees the hands sliding up to cup the back of his neck and she knows.

“For the love of…” Davarax mutters. “They will get brain damage from lack of oxygen soon.”

Dulsissia giggles.

“Hey.” Davarax snaps, making Paz and Raga flinch apart. “Don’t make me hose you two with cold water.”

Raga rolls her eyes. Paz clears his throat and glances over at Leo. “How did it go?”

“We got a plan and hopefully a cure.” Davarax replies.

“Nice.” Raga replies, punching Leo in the arm and laughs at his yelp. “The clan keeps growing.”

“Let’s go home.” Dulsissia says, entering the ship and heading over to where Mose is curled up with the sleeping Nemi in his arms. She has to smile at that sight as well. It’s just too cute.

The little girl has everyone wrapped up around her little finger, but Mose maybe most of all. Who would have thought a Hutt could be such a softie?

“Everything okay?” Dulsissia asks, running a gentle hand over Nemi’s hair.

“She’s good.” Mose confirms in an affectionate tone. “Fell asleep ten minutes ago.”

The ride home is blissfully incident-free, which is why it is no big surprise the shock comes the day after they return home.

Dulsissia opens the door and blinks at the sight that meets her.

Dez Vizla is standing there.

“I, uh…” Dulsissia is suddenly awkwardly aware of standing there in Mandalorian armor, helmet off, and looking like the fraud she is. Luckily Davarax appears in the hallway, carrying their daughter, and he walks over to hover behind her.

“Dez. What are you doing here?”

Dez’ t-visor shifts up from the little girl on Davarax’ arm to his face. “You had a child?”

“Yes.” Dulsissia replies cautiously, placing a protective hand on the curious Nemi’s back.

“Mom! Dad!” Corin shouts, stepping into the hallway with Din and Leo in tow. “We’re heading over to Dee, Drop and Pat. We’ll be back for dinner.”

“Fine.” Davarax shouts back.

Dez watches the three and tilts his head a little, a bit puzzled. “More Foundlings, I see.”

Then Zev’sonya steps into the hallway to head into the kitchen and Dez says; “A Twi’lek?”

“Well…” Davarax manages to say, before Dez flinches and places his hand on his blaster, and Dulsissia deducts that Mose has appeared behind them. “It kind of just happened.”

Dulsissia keeps a wary eye on Dez’ hand on that blaster. “Please don’t draw that blaster. Mose is a part of the family.” She knows she has absolutely no chance of overpowering Dez Vizla, but she will not let him just threaten her family.

Dez rumbles before he reluctantly takes his hand off his weapon. He seems a little overwhelmed. “I just… I want to see my son.”

Davarax nods then points.

Dez turns his helmet and looks.

Walking towards them, oblivious to the visitor, Paz and Raga are entirely lost in each other. Paz has his arm around her shoulders, she has her arm around his waist, and instead of looking where they’re going, they are staring at each other, making grinning comments and exchanging kisses.

Dulsissia hears Dez exhale and in that moment, she realizes that while the man might be cold (He hasn’t seen Paz for years and he hasn’t sent a word, not since they left) and that he can be cruel at times, he’s not entirely without a heart. At least not when it comes to his son.

Seconds after that, Paz and Raga both discover Dez’ presence and they come to a sudden halt not too far away. Both of them look extremely worried at the sight of Paz’ father.

“Paz.” Dez greets his son.

Paz gingerly removes his arm from around Raga, but she follows when he walks over to his father. “Father. What… What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my son.” Dez replies, reaching out to grab Paz’ shoulders, looking him up and down before snorting a laugh. “And what a sight!”

Paz manages a faint smile. He’s taller than his father now and working on becoming as muscular as him.

Seeing the unease in the boy’s eyes makes Dulsissia frown and she looks up at Davarax, but he simply looks every bit as nervous as Paz. Clearly the awe-inspired fear that everyone in the Covert had towards Dez and most Vizlas didn’t just apply below ground.

“And little Raga Saxon.” Dez drawls, turning his attention to the one next to his son. “Not so little anymore. Quite the warrior. Your mama said you were doing well. I’m pleased to see she’s right.”

Raga dares a careful smile and nods.

“Vizlas and Saxons, it would be a powerful clan union.” Dez points out, now sounding smug.

Paz clears his throat. “We… we took our helmets off, father. I don’t think they care what two outcasts are doing.”

“Don’t underestimate the influence your father has.” Dez gives Paz a couple of semi-harsh pets to the cheek. “As far as they know, you removing your helmet is just a rumour.”

Paz frowns, looks down. “I’m not going to lie and pretend I didn’t take it off. I’m not a liar.”

Dez lowers his hand and his t-visor stares at his son in silence for several long seconds. “I see…”

An awkward tension follows and eventually Dulsissia steps forward, trying to put on her pleasant face that she used whenever rival families had to meet during the social events on Seswenna. “Let’s all go inside, shall we?”

Luckily her trick works.

Paz’ reply seems to have knocked Dez off balance a bit and he spends the next couple of hours talking to Davarax, just glancing over at his son as if he doesn’t quite know how to approach him again. “I have to admit,” Dez says, having turned ignoring Dulsissia into an art form, “I did not expect to find you like this, Davarax. I didn’t think you’d last long without the Covert. Without her.”

“How is she?” Davarax asks, careful hope in his eyes for news about his sister.

Dez shrugs. “Like she always is.”

Davarax smiles a little and Dulsissia feels guilt wrapping around her heart. If not for her, Macero would not have sent the mercenary after Davarax, his helmet would have stayed on and he wouldn’t have had to leave the Covert. Davarax being here is her fault. She wonders if he regrets saving her that day when they’d met for the very first time.

No, he wouldn’t regret something like that. But maybe he regrets bringing them to the Covert? Maybe he regrets letting her into his room that night?

When it is time for dinner and the others return to the house, Dez declares it is time for him to head back to the Covert. He says so with a final look over at his son, but Paz tenses up and stares at the floor, which leads to him merely offering Paz a formal goodbye and stalking out of house, ignoring the other children gawking at him.

Dulsissia walks over to Paz, touches his arm and gets his attention. “You okay?” He nods, but it’s not really convincing.

Din appears on Paz’ other side, shoves Raga away, and punches him in the shoulder. When that gets him an angry glare, Din speaks. “He’s a douche. This is your home now. Trust me, leaving will only make you realize that. We’re your family too.”

That actually makes Paz smile and to Dulsissia’s delight, he pulls Din into a hug. It’s so sweet. It’s adorable. It’s… She sighs when she sees Paz’ biceps starting to bulge and Din squawks angrily before he starts trying to battle his way to freedom before he’s squeezed flat.

“I’m hungry.” Barthor whines.

“Let’s go eat.” Dulsissia declares.

That night, Dulsissia struggles to find sleep. All of her babies are in bed, safely tucked in, her husband is drowsing next to her, all is well, and yet there is an unease in her chest. She turns to look at Davarax. “Dav.”

“Mmh?”

“Are you awake?”

Davarax opens one eye to look at her. “If I say no, will you go to sleep?”

Dulsissia grins.

Sighing, Davarax turns on his side, fluffs his pillow and settles to look at her. “What’s on your mind?”

She reaches out and fidgets with the collar of his shirt. “Do you regret it?”

That brings a confused frown to his face. “Regret what?”

“Bringing us to the Covert.” Dulsissia rests her hand to his chest. “You lost everything because of that one decision.”

“I didn’t lose anything.” Davarax counters, reaching out and tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I gained a family. You, the kids, that scary twi’lek, a genuine Hutt and even our three bothersome neighbours, I wouldn’t trade this for the Dark Saber.” He leans over and gives her a soft kiss. “Without you, I’m scared to think where I’d be today.”

Dulsissia’s eyes well up with emotional tears as usual. “My life was horrible before I met you, I know it would be horrible today without you.”

“No regrets?” Davarax asks with a faint smile.

“No regrets.” Dulsissia confirms, burrowing close to him and savours the sensation of his arms going around her.

“Dav?”

“Yes, Dulcy?”

“Will you help me take the Creed?”

“Yes, cyare. It would be my honour.”

The unease in her chest is suddenly nowhere to be found and holding on to each other, they both slip into a peaceful sleep.

The End...?

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #What if #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Teenager Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU

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who-ya-gonna-call-winchesters · 4 years ago

Text

A Learning Experience - jack kline x reader

Sam and Dean Winchester leave their little sister behind on a hunt to be a glorified babysitter for a certain nephilim. Y/n introduces Jack to a bunch of new things like pancakes, grocery stores and chick flicks. A few harmless questions arise. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,154

masterlist

If anyone had told you a couple months ago that you would be babysitting Lucifer’s son while your brothers went out hunting without you, you would have laughed in their faces. But that was then and now you were cooking breakfast for two in the bunker’s kitchen balancing your phone against your head with your shoulder.

“Real nice move, assholes. A note. What a nice way to tell your sister you’re abandoning her”, you hissed.

“We’re not abandoning you, Y/n, it’s just a couple weeks. Jack isn’t ready to come with us and he shouldn’t be left alone”, Dean replied, “According to Sam.”

“Are you keeping the knives away from him?”, Sam asked in the background.

“I did not realize that was something I had to do but I think I’ll lock them up now”, you said.

“He’s not gonna hurt you, I’m worried about him hurting himself.”

“Great, so you abandoned me with a suicidal nephilim in a bunker that no one knows about.”

“It wasn’t my idea”, Dean grumbled.

“Shut up, De, I know you don’t like him but he’s just a kid”, you rolled your eyes.

Your oldest brother laughed, “You two are like the same age if you don’t wanna get technical-”

“Which”, Sam interjected, “is why I think it’s a good idea you stay with him at home. You can teach him stuff and make sure he takes care of himself.”

“I’m literally a babysitter. You guys owe me big time when you get back”, you said.

“Something I’m sure you won’t let us ever forget.”

“Goodbye, Dean”, you hung up the phone and plated the last of the pancakes.

After setting the table you cleared your throat and called out for Jack in your best mother hen voice. It echoed around the empty bunker for a few moments before you heard footsteps approaching and a head of blonde hair poked in from around the door frame.

“Yes, Y/n?”, Jack asked.

“Sit your ass down and eat, breakfast is ready”, you gestured towards the pancakes on the table.

“What are these?”, he asked, staring at the pancakes after he sat down.

You stared at him, “Are you kidding? They’re pancakes, you’ve never had pancakes before?”

He shook his head.

“Well, these are the best breakfast food in the whole world. I don’t really know how to explain them better than that”, you said, putting a couple on his plate and passing him the bottle of syrup, “I think, you’ll like them. You can put syrup on them if you want…”, You watched in abject horror as he drowned his pancakes in the substance before digging in.

Jack grinned through a mouthful of food, “These are good. I like pancakes.”

You laughed, “I’ll make them for you every morning as long as you don’t tell Sam about the amount of sugar you just ingested.”

Jack nodded, “Deal.”

After a couple days of making three square meals a day for a nephilim that seemingly never got full, especially of your pancakes, you had to make a trip to the grocery store. Syrup was at the top of your shopping list but you were running low on other actual essentials and you didn’t know if a nephilim could actually eat unhealthily but Jack was half human after all and Sam might appreciate you putting a salad into the boy.

You knocked on the door to his room, in between yours and Sam’s incase anything were to happen, and stuck your head in. He was reading, something you encouraged considering how many pop culture references your brother used, besides Harry Potter was a classic and you were showing him the movies as he gradually finished each book. Which was surprisingly quick before you realized that Jack didn’t sleep nearly as long as you did.

“Hey, Jack, you wanna get out of here for a little while?”

He looked up at you in confusion, “Sam and Dean said it would be best for me to stay here.”

“Well, I don’t see those dummies anywhere now, besides we need more food. It’s just a quick run to the store. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to though”, you said.

He shook his head and stood up, “No, I’ll come with you.”

“Cool.”

It really was supposed to be a quick trip to the store until you learned just how much food Jack had never had before.

“Do you normally get this much food?”, Jack asked, looking over the nearly full shopping cart.

“Living with Sam and Dean? Yes. But we’re getting a lot of stuff I don’t usually buy. It’s high time you lost your mac and cheese virginity”, you said as you examined the tomatoes.

“What is that?”, he asked tilting his head in a very Castiel esque manner, which you found absolutely adorable.

What? Mac and cheese? It’s kinda in the name, just macaroni and cheese-”

“No, virginity.”

You think you probably rivaled the tomatoes in how red your face was, “It’s uh…like when you’ve never done something before. But it’s just a metaphor, normally virginity pertains to um”, you paused. You really did not want to give Jack the sex talk in the middle of the produce section.

“Intercourse?”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thank god. Wait…

“How do you know what that is?”

“I saw something on Dean’s laptop-”

“Dean showed you porn?”, you hissed.

“Not exactly, it was just there”, Jack said nonchalantly.

You shook your head and put the tomatoes in the cart before dragging Jack off towards the registers. That was enough for today’s outing.

After about a week, you two had finished all eight Harry Potter movies and had moved onto the rest of Dean’s vast collection of movies. Over the course of your time alone with Jack you had learned he was a huge cuddler. The first time you had sat down on the other side of the couch, he pulled you closer by the second act. Not that you minded, Jack was warm and it kept the chill off, the bunker was drafty. It was only for that reason. Not because you were developing a huge crush on Satan’s son.

Tonight you were watching some romantic chick flicky movie you didn’t even know Dean owned. Well, Jack was watching it. You were nose deep in your book with one hand curled in Jack’s hair as he rested his head on your lap.

“They’re supposed to be in love, right?”, Jack asked.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the whole point of the movie”, you said, not looking up from your book.

“Then why is he hurting her?”

That got your attention, you looked up at the screen. The guy in the movie was pushing his female love interest up against the wall and gazing into her eyes with an intense smolder that made you shiver a little.

“He’s not. It’s kinda meant to be romantic. It’s building sexual tension”, you replied as the pair on screen started making out. “See? Now they realize they’ve been in love the whole time.”

Jack turned to look up at you, “How do you know when you’re in love though?”

“I don’t know, you feel all tingly and happy when you’re around someone you love. You really like spending time with them, I guess. These are some loaded questions. Haven’t you been watching the movie?”

Jack flushed, “I wasn’t really paying attention to some of it.”

You shrugged, “You didn’t miss much, most chick flicks are all the same anyway.”

The end credits rolled down the screen a few minutes later and you closed your book. Jack looked like he had zoned out again as you continued to play with his hair. He was probably tired. Even nephilim had to burn out at some point.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed. You look like you should too”, you suggested, pushing a few stray stands of blonde away from his forehead.

“Maybe. I’ll only wake up in a couple hours anyway. Can I stay up longer? I want to watch another movie”, he said, sitting up to let you up.

“Go ahead. I’m not your mom, you can stay up late if you want. Just don’t start Star Wars without me.”

Being a Winchester meant very few nights of peaceful sleep, luckily tonight was just the usual nightmares of being torn apart by various monsters. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. So when you woke up in a cold sweat, you shook off the fear and decided to grab a drink before going back to sleep. The clock read 3:00 AM in big red letters, so you had only been out for a few hours.

Jack’s bedroom door was shut when you walked past, so you assumed he had turned in sometime after you. You crept down to the kitchen as quietly as possible to avoid waking him. You grabbed a drink of water and checked your phone for any notifications, nothing from the boys yet but they weren’t supposed to be home until next week due to complications according to their last call. From somewhere down the hall you heard a floorboard creek. If Jack had woken up you would have heard his door, the hinges in the bunker weren’t exactly well oiled. The hairs stood up on the back of your neck and you set your glass down silently.

The hall was dimly lit but there was no sign of anything that could have made the noise. You sighed. You were just on edge from that nightmare, the bunker was decades old if ever there was the time to use the “house settling” excuse it was with this ancient building. You turned the corner back down your hallway and was suddenly slammed up against the wall. You let out a gasp that would have turned into a very loud scream if your eyes hadn’t met a pair of blue ones.

“Jack”, you breathed, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Jack stared you down silently. His grip on your wrists was tight and it made you wonder if he knew just how tight. His gaze was intense almost like…

“You can ease up a little bit there, tiger”, you whispered and his eyes softened along with his grip.

“I’m sorry. Did I actually hurt you?”, he asked nervously.

You shook your head, “I think I’ll live. What are you doing?”

His cheeks turned red, “In the movie, you said this was romantic.”

Oh. Now it was your turn for your cheeks to heat up.

“Jack...”

“I feel tingly and happy when I’m around you, Y/n”, he said sincerely, “You said that means I’m in love.”

“You’ve never been in love before, Jack. Love is more than just tingly feelings. It’s something that you have to figure out and learn on your own”, you explained.

“You don’t love me?”

That damn near broke your heart. You shook free one of your hands and caressed his cheek softly. “Jack, I like you way too much than I should already and could well be on the road to loving you. But I don’t want you to think you’re in love with me just because I’m one of the only people you’re around-”

He shook his head, “I’ve seen other people though. No one has ever made me feel like you do. I thought there was something wrong with me but it doesn’t feel bad. It feels good, like pancakes or grocery shopping or you playing with my hair.”

Forget being on the road, you had reached your destination. You were definitely in love with Lucifer’s son. His eyes bore into yours and you couldn’t take it anymore. You surged forward and pressed your lips to his. His hands landed on your hips as you threaded your fingers into his hair. The kiss was hot and messy, that was the only indication that this was Jack’s first time doing something like this. Of course he would also be a perfect kisser. You pulled away after a few more moments, breathing harshly.

Jack beamed at you, “Can we do that again?”

You laughed, “Yes, Jack. But maybe after a couple hours of sleep.” You swore he was pouting.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”, he asked, “I heard you earlier, you had another nightmare.”

“Did I wake you?”

He shook his head, “No, I haven’t gone to bed yet.”

That’s why you had heard creaking, it really was Jack moving around.

If anyone had told Sam and Dean Winchester a couple months ago that they would come home to find their little sister cuddled up to Lucifer’s son in bed, they would have laughed in their faces. But that was then and now Dean was looking absolutely mortified and about to blow as Sam dragged him out of the doorway so as to not wake them up.

#spn #supernatural #jack kline #supernatural jack #jack kline x reader #jack kline x y/n #fluff #supernatural fluff #one shot #supernatural one shot

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cloudbattrolls · 4 years ago

Text

The Tithe

TW: bugs, worms, mild body horror (nothing heavily described).

Wasps buzzed along the winding rock path.

A solitary figure trudged along it, surrounded on both sides by thick clouds of yellow and black. The insects darted among the yarrow and monkshood, the bluebells and sego lilies, antennae and eyes alert as a stranger to their land passed by.

Nestled in a valley between two peaks, the path led to a town so old it was almost part of the land itself. All its signs were weathered and worn with sun and rain, replaced only when they began to crumble.

The traveler paid the fluttering wasps no mind. They didn’t see the few white ones hidden among the yellow, black, and gold. The white ones saw them instead, faceted gazes following them without pause. These few creatures waited, buzzing among the flowers that braved the growing alpine chill.

The traveler looked over the town before they walked down into it - even the buildings were shaped like wasp nests, roundish wooden structures with hexagonal windows.

Someone certainly had picked a theme and run with it. Maybe the place belonged to some wacky entomologist.

People in the town spoke with accents the traveler hadn’t ever heard, and they had traveled quite a while. The townsfolk said it was because few of them ever left. They never felt the need; they were well taken care of, anything they could want brought to them.

By who? The traveler asked.

The people only smiled. Stay, and you’ll meet her, they assured them.

Golden wasps adorned the doors, gleaming under the light of old-fashioned street lamps. The traveler didn’t ask, hoping to figure it out themself. It was more fun that way. Perhaps this caretaker kept the living ones to defend the place from the rest of the world.

Everyone in town always seemed to have as much food and comforts as they wanted, lacking for very little. Everyone seemed to have someone for company, and as much as they needed without excess. No trash blew in the wind, no houses were abandoned.

Everyone wouldn’t answer any further questions about their caretaker. It was waved away with a smile, with an indifferent shrug. She’d come eventually. End of the month at the latest. No rush.

The traveler was pretty sure something really weird was going on by this point, because they weren’t a complete idiot.

They also felt bad after discreetly drinking blood from a lot of these people (it wasn’t like there was anyone else for miles, and they preferred that to going feral from hunger, thanks). It would be nice to maybe see if there was anything they could do in return for using them as snacks (assuming they weren’t all in some kind of evil bug cult).

If everyone turned out to be too cuckoo to bother with, well, they could always leave.

So, what do you folks most enjoy?

They’d asked one night, feet up on the table. They leaned back in their chair, arms bent and hands cupped behind their head.

Getting piss drunk, one man had said. Another person elbowed him, and a few people laughed. Then a young woman piped up, fingers running over a beautiful amber necklace she wore.

It’s always nice after the tithe. We celebrate, and she brings us presents. It’s a little festival.

A few older townsfolk sighed at that.

It’s not about presents! One scolded. Yes, she’s very kind about it, but it’s our most important duty.

Yeah, yeah, grumbled the young woman good-naturedly. You see how righteous you are when she brings your new stuff.

Their ears pricked, the traveler said nothing, hoping to hear more about the tithe. But no one spoke of it further, the conversation turning to other things.

Well, that didn’t bode well, yet they were morbidly curious to see how this would all play out.

There was a big fountain in the center of town (guess what lived there? More wasps) that they liked to sit on the benches near and work on repairing or designing clothing at. They’d mended some things for the people who kindly let them stay, baffling in of itself that they were so trusting. How did they survive, honestly.

When a fleet recruiter came to town trying to drum up soldiers and did not even get to open his mouth a second time before wasps ate him alive, shedding a bit of light on that particular question.

The bones were picked clean so white there wasn’t a scrap of meat left, collected by townspeople who acted as if they were merely picking up some trash blown in the wind. Townspeople who merely shrugged and rolled their eyes as if it was all quite routine.

Which left the traveler with a fairly obvious question: why hadn’t they been attacked?

Not that they could bleed, of course, their skin and outer appearance a facade for their parasitic insides. Did the predatory wasps recognize something they couldn’t eat, and thus let them pass? Were they intelligent enough to be security guards? They certainly didn’t seem to harm the locals.

Though they certainly followed them everywhere. No one walked without a wasp or two trailing them, and they’d seen them crawling in the buildings. No one ever commented on this. Flowers grew in abundance, treated reverently, and people polished their little door wasps as reverently as if they were being paid to do it.

Okay, so the town was there to serve the wasps, probably. But why? Who put them here, what were they protecting? Was there something worse than them around, demanding some sort of tribute for their services in the form of this ‘tithe’? That’d be depressing. On the upside, the ensuing fight would be fun and guilt-free.

It was a cool, brisk night with the starlight sparkling off the fountain stone when the whole town gathered around it.

Only the stone. The water had been drained.

The traveler was really not looking forward to what that meant or why everyone was holding a small knife engraved with a wasp in their hands, looking eager.

Hey, so, what happens for the tithe? They said, trying to sound casual and like they didn’t have a loaded gun, smoke bombs, and explosives hidden in case they needed them.

You’ll see. It’s such a small thing, really, our way to give back to her.

Her. Doesn’t she have a name?

She’ll introduce herself when she comes. She’s very nice.

The traveler was placing their bets on just who and what she was when people started slitting their arms and bleeding into the fountain, blithely lining up and walking away when done, chattering about nothing in the meantime.

One by one by one.

Even as a parasitic blood drinker, the traveler was alarmed as the fountain filled with drops from obediently slit veins, bandaged up afterward by those who had already gone, or were waiting.

Why did they do this willingly? What could possibly make this worth it?

It had to be another vampire; they hissed in anger at the thought. Definitely worth fighting, at least. If they could kill them, even better - one less was better for everyone, and this one was clearly far worse than they were.

This tempting smell was almost overwhelming despite their own feeds -

Oh god. Had they weakened their victims too much to bear the cost of the tithe? Out to lunch as these people might be, the traveler didn’t want them dead. They’d probably been brainwashed their whole lives.

One fell over and was caught by their fellows. Another fell as well. A third.

The traveler felt a tug of guilt at their writhing insides, no matter how useless and contradictory that feeling was. There was no changing what they were, and they’d had no idea this was coming.

The blood in the fountain steadily rose, lapping and staining the fountain’s edges, and a hot wind cut through the cold air.

A low buzzing surrounded the gathering as the last local made their cut.

Everyone fell silent, and every person that could turned and bowed.

The traveler crossed their arms, annoyed.

A woman stepped up to the edge of the crowd, who parted for her like water, moving back from the stranger in their midst so that they stood alone. She wore an old scuffed hat in the style of a cowherd. Her long legs were half-covered by boots with silver spurs, a poncho over her shoulders and dust on her worn jeans.

Her eyes were covered by a faded tan bandanna, but she seemed to stare straight at them as she put her hands on her hips.

“I see you’ve been swipin’ at my supply, sugar cube. That’s just plum rude. How would you feel if I did that to you?”

They threw a smoke bomb at her and went for her throat. If they could just -

Wasps covered them mid-leap, stingers poised around every inch of their body, a great buzzing prison surrounding everything but their face.

The woman waved her hand, and more wasps came to fan the smoke away with their wings.

“I don’t need to see you, honey. I can feel you. I’ve felt you since you rolled in here, and I know something ain’t right. Something’s different about you, even for your kind.”

The traveler snarled, as they'd about had it with all this idiocy.

“Face me like an adult and stop hiding behind your pets.”

The smoke fully cleared, and the woman stood with hands on her hips, smiling.

She opened her mouth and white wasps poured out.

The traveler stared.

“No.” They whispered. “No. It can’t be.”

All throughout the shell of their body, their own white worms shuddered. They had always thought - always hoped - they were the only one of their particular type of blood drinker. The only thing of such wretchedness in the entire world.

Bugger to that, apparently.

They watched, immobilized, as the woman’s swarm flew to the blood-filled fountain, drinking much of it, but not all. After they went back into the woman, townspeople came and collected the rest, reverently placing it in refrigerated coolers.

The traveler looked at their fellow monster.

“Who are you?”

“Name’s Rhyssa. Now who are you?”

“Tuuya.”

“Well, Tuuya, how’re you gonna pay me back for that blood you nabbed? Don’t be a pill, we can still settle this proper like gentlefolk. Hell, I’ll even let you stay for the festival! It don’t gotta be like this.”

The vampire stared, still suspended by the buzzing swarm.

“How are you going to pay these people back for deceiving them into being your willing smoothies for their entire lives? I don’t owe you anything.”

Her face twisted into a scowl.

“Y’don’t get it. I take care of them. They’re my people, I protect them, Protect them from the likes of you.”

They rolled their eyes.

“Oh, how absolutely genial of you to - ”

All their limbs were ripped from their body at once and they screamed, worms flailing as they were exposed to the air without warning and stung by the pitiless insects. The squirming white invertebrates died by the dozens, helpless against the scourge.

Then it stopped.

Nearly blind from pain, they looked up blearily to see Rhyssa putting her hands over her mouth, rigid in what they could only assume was shock.

“I’m - I’m so sorry - no, no, how can this - no, you’ve gotta be a fake - ”

Tuuya wasn’t in a state to do much more than groan.

The wasp drinker pulled on her long hair in agitation, walking up to them and kneeling down on the grass.

She whispered a word, a name they barely heard as their worms struggled to repair themselves from the onslaught. Hlayos. Who or what was that? It probably didn’t matter. They were going to die here, to some obnoxious wasp woman who didn’t have the right.

Then...they felt themself healing. The wasps crawled over their body, somehow mending the worms they’d stung, helping them regrow or fuse back together.

They saw more wasps healing those townsfolk who’d fallen from blood loss and injured themselves, but that didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be. They had to be hallucinating from pain. Parasites couldn’t mend. Theirs couldn’t.

The townsfolk retreated, taking the coolers of blood with them. The yellow and black wasps departed as well, none left buzzing around the fountain.

Its water began to flow again, washing away the stains. In the deep quiet broken only by the trickle of liquid, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

The worm drinker couldn’t see the woman’s eyes behind the bandanna, but her shoulders shook as she held herself, rocking gently.

“It’s you. It’s really you...except...no. You died.”

Her words were empty nonsense. Tuuya waited until they healed further, their limbs re-attached as worms knitted together, and they pushed themself up.

They couldn’t fight her. They knew they had been spared for some reason beyond their comprehension, and didn’t feel like pushing it. Something about being ripped apart and stung repeatedly made a person a little tender.

Rhyssa’s head tilted, seeming to look up at the other vampire.

“Don’t go.”

A quiet, desperate plea. Tuuya turned, ignoring it, walking away quickly before breaking into a run.

“Don’t go!”

A desperate cry, followed by a word they fled from, a word that spurred their strides into leaps, scrambling away in such desperation they nearly fell on the rocky path leading out of town and back down, as far away as they could get.

A single, terrifying word that couldn’t be true, but settled in their head and wouldn’t leave. It sunk into their every thought, dragging them down, tearing apart the truth of their life.

A word that must have been what saved them, yet damned them in the same breath.

Sibling.

#cloud writes #etuuya vannyn #rhyssa #and so we kick off #the children of ozyrel

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houseofvans · 6 years ago

Photo

SKETCHY BEHAVIORS | INTERVIEW WITH LAUREN YS

From large scale murals to multi-layered works on canvas, LA based artist Lauren YS’s art captures everything from the female experience, addressing topics like sexuality, death, aliens, monsters, and the occult. Her works are complex much like her own experiences, so we’re super stoked to find out more about what drives her, who and what inspires her, and what challenges and advice she has for our readers in this awesome Sketchy Behaviors interview..

Take the leap!

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself. Hey! I’m Lauren YS - Hmm, something you might not know … I used to play ice hockey and my favorite candy are Peach O’s. I am a really good listener, but that also means I hate being interrupted. I dream, often, about being underwater.

Tell folks a little about your artwork and what do you love to make works about? I make work about the female experience, sexuality, identity, space, aliens, heritage, death, monsters, nature, emotions, natural phenomena, the occult and whatever else I might be obsessing about. I like slimy creatures, kitsch, psychedelia, sex and Halloween, and mixing repulsion with attraction. I want the viewer to feel unsettled as much as engaged. I make things in an effort to try to process the beautiful shit rocket that is the world around me.

When did art become something you were aware you could do for a living or as a career you wanted to pursue? I have always been making art, but I never thought it was possible to support oneself as an artist: It seemed really out of reach or surreal. It wasn’t until I had already been fully freelance for a year before I realized I was actually doing it. I think it’s just something that comes out of necessity, it’s like – if I want to keep making art as much as possible at the rate I am living, then damn, I’m going to learn how to make money off of it.

What’s a typical studio day for you like? I tend to work nocturnally. I’ll paint through the night and sleep through the day and watch horror movies, listen to podcasts about art, serial killers and cults, and eat anywhere from 1-2 sacks of tangerines every day. I like to really plow through paintings as well, it’s hard for me to stop working on something once I start. After about three weeks in the studio like this, your mind starts to wander off into deep strange places, and that’s when the really good stuff comes out.

What’s your studio or creative space like? What do you keep around to constantly motivate or inspire you? I have always worked best in a bit of “artistic chaos”–I like to fill my space with odds and ends, knick-knacks, items from my travels, talismans. I believe in the power of objects. I love my lava lamp and need to buy seven more. I also have this drawing I made of an Asian grandma screaming “DRAW, MOTHERFUCKER” which I plan to make into a screen print and give to all my artist friends.

When working on a body of paintings and works for a show, what is your process like? How long does it typically take you to complete a painting from start to finish? Depending on the size of the gallery, it can take anywhere from 2-6-10 months to create a show, given that it is often punctuated by mural tours and big projects to pay the bills. I like to work on lots of pieces at the same time, so generally it’ll take a few days to a week or two to finish a piece. I am trying to get better at reworking pieces rather than just pushing through them one by one. Workflow is still sorting itself out. I also make a ton of pieces that end up being nixed from the final show. I am very prolific but also very psychotic.

Not only do you work on canvas, but you are also known for some of your amazing murals! When did you start going from painting on a regular scale to large scale works? What’s your process like for mapping out these large works? Well shucks, thank you! I started painting murals around 2013, which was a sort of natural transition because I wanted to work bigger and bigger, I wanted to travel and be in the sun and use giant machines to make my art. I actually started learning color from using spray paint. I freehand everything because I like to feel independent of projectors or machines, especially if I’m in a foreign country or don’t have time or resources.

It makes me feel empowered to be able to make big things on my own. Maybe that comes from growing up under the common experience girls have, especially asian girls, where you’re expected to be small and quiet and obedient. I have always worked in active aggression against that stereotype.

Is there a medium you’d love to get your hands on, but yet to have the chance too? And what are your go-to materials? I’d really love to learn how to use an airbrush, a la Sorayama. Outside of 2D I am dying to get back into stop motion animation. My favorite brand of spray paint is Montana Black (high pressure forever!), and I use a wide variety of acrylics and gouache in my paintings, specifically the Holbein gouaches from Japan.

What do you love about where you live, and what is the art community like in your area? I never thought I’d move to LA, but I’ve been really enjoying it here. I’m a communal living person (been in and out of communities for about 9 years) and I am lucky to have found somewhere that fits with my work ethic (intense) and social vibe (weird). I like to be able to work alone while still having people bustling around and making things all the time. It helps me to feel like I’m not dead or a total solipsist.

I’ve also found that the artists in LA–especially the female artists–have proven to be really kind, generous and welcoming. There’s a lot of room for weirdos here; it might take a while to find them, but they’re here. We also have a one-eyed cat, did I mention that?

Who are some artists you’re inspired by and have influenced you throughout the years? I’m a big fan of dark/psychedelic/erotic artists like Keiichi Tanaami, Suehiro Maruo, Sorayama and the whole Ero Guro movement. I also love Goya’s dark paintings and the sculpture work of Bernini. Some contemporary artists I’ve been into lately are Christian Rex Van Minnen, David Altmejd, Robin Francesca Williams and the fabric sculptures of Do Ho-Suh. Jamie Hewlett, Swoon, Andrew Hem, Aryz. I find that my taste changes constantly and I am always thirsty for different influences.

What’s been the most challenging part of your art career? What’s been the most rewarding? What do you do to keep the balance? Something really challenging has been learning how to trust myself while growing in the industry and balancing business, work and travel. It’s a really solid test: moving to a new city, providing for yourself, going on tour, shifting from place to place, managing gallery work and mural work, all while protecting and nurturing your own ambition and positivity, and not feed into the shitstorm of capitalism and social media past what is required of you.

The muralist life is not for the faint of heart. I would hardly say that I keep any type of “balance”–art is my life and there isn’t much room for anything else, and that’s how I like it. It is the most rewarding thing to look around and feel like you’ve created something new and good and powerful, all on your own terms. It is similarly rewarding to feel the need to level up - I enjoy feeling stressed arguably more than I enjoy feeling accomplished.

What would your dream collaboration be? What do you enjoy most about collaborations with other artists or clients? I would love to do something with Takashi Murakami and/or his gallery (Kaikai Kiki Gallery). There’s also this amazing Australian animator named Felix Colgrave whose work I’ve been obsessed with lately, I’d love to find a way to make an animated short with him! I love collaborating - especially on mural work - because it’s such a cool experience to be able to intermingle your visual world with someone else’s. Working with ONEQ in Hawaii this year was really great, she had so many suggestions and ideas from out of left field that made me rethink my own work as well. It also forces you to relinquish some control on the way you work, and reflect on the basic joys of making shit in the first place.

If you could paint a portrait of anyone living or dead, who would you choose and why? I really want to do a tripped out portrait of Yayoi Kusama or Bjork or maybe Steve Buscemi—all heroes of mine.

What’s your advice to folks who see what you do and want to pursue art as a career? I would say, go at it as hard as you possibly can! Make sure you really enjoy doing it! Not all parts of painting murals are glamorous (actually, few are) and it’s important to truly love every part of it if you’re going to commit your life to it.

This means: hustling walls, handling machinery, travel, people, logistics, finding somewhere to pee, dealing with unexpected bullshit, not complaining, being comfortable handling yourself in dangerous situations, being independent and resourceful, etc. I have reservations about artists who genuinely don’t seem to enjoy all the elements of mural painting going too deep into it. But if it’s something you love, there’s nothing better.

What are your FAVORITE Vans? I’ve been rocking the classic authentic Vans in black/burgundy as paint shoes for years now. But I also love the Sk8-Hi boys in burgundy… I never wear them because I’m too scared to get paint on them, haha!

What other artists would you love to see interviewed for Sketchy Behaviors? I’m currently really into Andrea Wan, Louise Zhang and Caratoes. It would also be really cool if you covered a GNC or trans artist, like Nomi Chi or Laughing Loone!

What’s next for you that you can share? My first book is coming out this year with Von Zos, and I’m also going to be designing a tarot deck with them. April is my first mural tour in several months; I’ll be hopping from Australia - Guam - Peru, and then moving around South America for a while, trying to practice my spanish. After that, I’ll be starting work on my next big show, scheduled for a city in Asia, which I’m really, really excited about - keep an eye out!

FOLLOW LAUREN YS | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM | SHOP

#Art #Vans #Vans Girls #Vans Art #Sketchy Behaviors #Interview #Lauren YS

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lightsandlostbells · 5 years ago

Note

so, overall, what did you think of season 3 of stranger things?

It took me a while to answer this question because I had to sort out how I felt about this season! I guess if I had to narrow it down to an overall opinion: enjoyable, but very messy. Had some of the series’ best moments but also, while I was watching, I had far more grumbles and gripes than the previous two seasons.

I’ve never really been hung up on whether this show is derivative or plays too into nostalgia or w/e. Plenty of media does that. And despite all the time I’ve spent dissecting micro-expressions and weighty silences in European teen dramas that are filmed for the cost of a candy bar … I am way into genre films and TV shows. I love monsters and superheroes and spectacle! I watched Stranger Things the weekend it premiered because I love ‘80s movies about kids on bikes having adventures, I eat that shit up. So I don’t expect this show to be a hardcore deconstruction and re-imagining of those tropes (though that sounds like a pretty great show), I’m fine with it being what it is: a solid, spooky sci-fi/horror throwback series. What matters most is whether the story and characters work. Personally, I would say whatever criticisms you can make of S1 and S2, they had heart, and unfortunately I think some of that heart was missing from S3. Much of that, IMO, comes from sidelining some of the familial relationships that were at the center of the narrative in S1 and S2, like the Byers family and Hopper & Eleven, and to some degree the important friendships like the party, although there were other friendships introduced in this season so that wasn’t as glaring. It’s not a surprise that one of the best-received parts about this season, Steve and Robin’s friendship, is also responsible for one of the most heartfelt scenes Stranger Things has ever done.

There was also a way larger emphasis on comedy in S3. Comedy is probably my favorite genre, and I did laugh at a lot of humorous moments in this season. But I also felt like there was more comedy for comedy’s sake, like long sequences created intentionally to make the audience laugh. Whereas in S1 and S2, I can’t remember any scenes like that? The comedy was more understated and came from character personalities and relationship moments rather than joke set pieces. That’s perhaps another reason why S3 felt like it had less heart.

My hope for season 4 - and I am assuming there is a season 4, because apparently this show did mega ratings for S3 - is that they don’t add more major new characters (except love interests for the gay characters, go ahead with those, lol) and instead focus on the existing cast, which is already a very strong ensemble, yet many of the characters have gotten pushed to the sides. I would love if they added to the episode count: a lot of Netflix series drag out their seasons, like they have enough story for 10 episodes but have to stretch it out to 13, but Stranger Things has the opposite problem. I feel like if they had 10 (or 11, ha) episodes they could have more time for breather moments and more space for character arcs. This season was really fast-paced in my opinion, and although that’s a positive in many respects, I missed a lot of the down time.

Also, I think every season has taken place over like a week maximum, not including the epilogues, and like … you can make the story last longer than a week! Not everything has to go to hell in like a day or two.

Some more specific opinions underneath, obviously lots of spoilers.

First of all, I gotta say, I feel like a weirdo, because so many of the reviews for this season are like A RETURN TO FORM AFTER A DISAPPOINTING SECOND SEASON and UP THERE WITH SEASON 1 NOT THAT CRAPPY SEASON 2 THAT NO ONE LIKED and uhhhh … I liked season 2 just fine? It’s probably my favorite. There are things I don’t like about it, but the stuff I love is stuff I really, really love. Hopper and Eleven’s relationship, for instance. Steve and Dustin teaming up and Steve Harrington becoming a guardian to four children. Those are not just great elements to the series, but directions that I think only a second season could have taken - Hopper and Eleven’s bond wouldn’t have had half the weight if they weren’t established as traumatized, broken people in S1. Steve Harrington becoming a babysitter would not be nearly so delightful if we had not known him as the popular douchebag stereotype from S1 - if he were just a cool dude hanging out with kids from the get-go, the impact wouldn’t be as great. After S1 used Will Byers as a MacGuffin in S1, S2 gave Will a much larger role and that little actor acted his ass off. His performance generated a lot of genuine suspense and chills. There was Sean Astin being lovable! Paul Reiser’s character being a surprisingly good guy! Yeah, there are big flaws in the season, and you can argue it’s too much of a repeat of S1, but to me it was a version of S1 that made the characters more specific and interesting. I’m just … genuinely baffled by how it’s supposed to be demonstrably worse than the others. Because of the Kali episode? I didn’t think that one was terrible, either. I think it broke up the momentum of the chaos at Hawkins Lab, and Kali’s friends were obnoxious, it’s certainly not the greatest writing of the series, but as a whole the episode is like. Fine. It’s fine. It’s mediocre, not atrocious. It’s not the worst thing ever. It doesn’t ruin anything about the story or direction or the series. Most importantly it’s easy to ignore or skip on a rewatch if you don’t like it. The backlash was way overblown.

My biggest disappointment with season 3 was Hopper. Whaaaaaaat. Whaaaat did they dooooo.

Hopper in previous seasons is a flawed, messed-up human being, but I always knew where he was coming from. When he yelled at Eleven in S2, I still got why he did it. In this season he felt cartoonish. The overprotective paternalistic dad trope is annoying BUT I might have been less bothered had they connected it more to Eleven’s lack of experience with the world, less RAWRRRR KEEP BOYS AWAY FROM MY GIRL. Or if Hopper had not demonstrated like, actual rage toward Mike and we just saw him fuming about it to himself or venting to Joyce, if he was trying to keep that shit under control. (I did laugh at him singing “You Don’t Mess Around With Jim” in the car, I gotta admit.)

But his attitude toward Joyce was what really bummed me out. I’m not into this show for shipping reasons, but I low-key enjoyed the possibility of Joyce and Hopper hooking up based on previous seasons. This season felt like they were writing a completely different dynamic for them, one that was much more aggressively obnoxious. I think their intentions were clear - they were going for a Sam-and-Diane relationship, something that was referenced early on in the Bob flashback - but the problem is that their relationship was not like that at all in S1 and S2. When I think of Joyce and Hopper from those seasons, I think about him supporting her after Bob died, or listening to her concerns about her son, or working together to find Will. They didn’t have this combative dynamic! Frankly watching giant-ass Hopper yell at tiny Joyce was viscerally unpleasant. (Side note but in the first trailer there was a shot of Hopper running at the Fun Fair with someone else who I assumed was Eleven, but no, turned out to be Joyce, Winona Ryder is just that tiny next to David Harbour.)

Also, considering this season ended with his death (and we all know he’s not really dead but OK) it’s such a waste that there were few Hopper&Eleven moments! Only the finale brought some quality content on that front. But otherwise their relationship was out of sight, out of mind for almost the whole season, which wasn’t a great choice, both to maximize the emotional impact of the ending, and to expand upon their situation post-S2. I mean, it’s been months since then, how has their relationship changed now? Hopper’s letter talked about the stuff he enjoyed doing with his daughter - why didn’t we see any of that on screen this season? It could’ve helped with the Mike angle, too, like show Hopper and Eleven watching TV together and laughing and having a good time, and then the phone rings and it’s Mike and suddenly Hopper’s watching TV alone as Eleven’s now focused on her boyfriend, we see his disappointment, etc.

Scoops Troop - Now they were a delight. They had such a ludicrous story but for the most part it worked due to the characters playing off each other and because the writing/acting/directing embraced the silliness.

Steve Harrington is easily one of the best characters on this show. I fucking love that guy. He’s consistently entertaining, he’s had possibly the best character growth out of anyone in the series, he’s evolved from a stock ‘80s asshole stereotype into someone who’s funny and sympathetic and likable. He’s this amazing blend of the ridiculous with the heroic. Steve and Dustin were great together, as they were last season, and I’m cackling that Steve acquired YET ANOTHER CHILD under his supervision without even trying. But the MVP of the season was the Steve & Robin friendship. Holy shit do I love that relationship. Holy SHIT.

Robin herself is a terrific new character, smart and funny and once you know she’s half-Uma, you can’t unsee it. I was loving her already and then the bathroom scene happened and I YELLED. I was so utterly overjoyed. If they had made Steve and Robin hook up, honestly … I would’ve been fine with it, like this show doesn’t need more heterosexual romance but at least they had a fun dynamic, but man, the friendship angle was so so superior. It’s a type of relationship that media is lacking, and the specific circumstances of this friendship made it genuinely moving to me. I keep wanting to write like a meta post devoted to just this relationship because I just have so many emotions about it! But they play well off each other as a comedic duo and as an odd couple friendship, and they’re really what each other needs, IMO. Steve needed this close friendship more than he needed a girlfriend; in this season he’s clearly adrift and we’ve seen the kind of shitty friends he had in like season one, is Dustin the best pal he had at this point? And I love Steve & Dustin but Steve needed a good friend his own age. Robin is a lesbian in small-town Indiana in the ‘80s, and she was clearly full of fear that Steve would hate her if he knew, and for him to accept her so easily, not even making a big deal about it? That’s kind of life-saving, really. I can’t wait to see more of them, if Netflix wants to make the half-hour Clerks-esque spinoff about them working in a video store and shooting the shit, I would be 100% down for that.

I have some mixed feelings about Erica because I think she could have benefited from getting the same humanization as the other kids (and I’m going to leave the discussion of racial tropes gently by the side at the moment but … yeah). The other child characters are played more like actual people with vulnerabilities, which has been part of the show’s appeal since the first season, and Erica was more like the sitcom kid who always has a snarky quip ready; however, she did make me laugh and I like that they tapped into her being a nerd, I wish they’d explore that in future seasons with the character. “I’m ten, you bald bastard” was one of my favorite lines of the season, I lost my goddamn mind.

Billy - Lmao, so Billy in S2 was the woooorst. This dude had ZERO redeeming qualities. His abusive dad creates a smidgen of sympathy, I guess, but Billy goes so far beyond normal teenage assholery that it didn’t make a dent in my opinion of him. You can redeem someone like Steve Harrington, first of all because Steve actually feels regret and works to correct his mistakes, but Steve also didn’t go to a point of no return in the first place. Billy did, for me. Physically and verbally abusing his younger sister? Attacking a black middle-schooler for the crime of being in the same room as his white sister? What a piece of shit.

With that in mind - I have no problem focusing on him as a villain this season, I really don’t. It justifies his inclusion in S2 other than as a human antagonist who’s ultimately not really connected to the main plot, as it retrospectively establishes him as an even greater threat in this season. I also think the actor did a good job with the material he was given. However, ultimately this dude’s arc was underwhelming. The thing is … I can tell they were trying to show Billy struggling with the Mind Flayer, but Billy is so lacking in any positive qualities that it’s kind of like, where does that struggle even come from? Yeah, even the worst people aren’t going to be wild about having a monster from another dimension hijack your body and use it to collect people for spare parts, but this is the same dude who was about to run over Mike, Lucas, and Dustin on their bikes last season for absolutely no reason. He beat Steve to point of unconsciousness and could’ve put him in the hospital. He assaulted Lucas. So I really need some evidence of Billy’s moral compass because it is not inherent and there’s in fact plenty of evidence that it doesn’t exist. I’m not very enthusiastic about redeeming a racist, abusive creep, but I also think if you’re going to go for him helping Eleven at the end … you have to show some current potential for goodness, not just “used to be a nice kid.”

A really glaring omission: the lack of any family/home scenes with him, Max, and their parents this season. We left off last season with Max telling him to leave her and her friends alone. How is their relationship since then? Is there still a lot of friction? Is there a tense peace? Has their relationship improved in any way? We really needed to see that follow-up. I get that Max crying over Billy this season makes sense in that he’s still her family and we can still have love for those who hurt us … but I also feel that we needed something between them to justify her pain, like even just the potential of their relationship being a fraction better, or the suggestion that Billy used to be OK to Max before he went full asshole. And I think we really needed to see Billy’s dad being currently abusive in this season - tbh, missed opportunity that the dad didn’t get flayed like, out of revenge (which would have been both satisfying and horrifying), missed opportunities for suspense when we think Billy might serve up Max and her mom to the Mind Flayer, etc.

Another missed opportunity: drawing parallels between Billy and Will. Both are possessed by the Mind Flayer. Both had shitty dads calling them homophobic slurs. Both could be read as gay (I’m not hungry to claim Billy as LGBT representation or invested in this interpretation but his scenes with Steve in S2 admittedly have that sweaty homoerotic dick-measuring vibe, if you want to take it there). Their names are both William, FFS. The difference is that Will is a sweet and gentle kid surrounded by loving family and friends who fought to save him, and Billy is a violent, cruel dude who probably doesn’t have any real friends, just shallow connections. You could show how the Mind Flayer could more easily possess and manipulate someone like Billy, but that wasn’t really explored.

Also, is anyone going to dwell on the fact that like … Max is living with an abusive man as her stepfather? He’s shown hurting Billy’s mom. Does that not concern anyone that he is very likely to attack either Max or her mom?

Oh, and thank God they didn’t take the Billy/Karen thing all the way. In retrospect, even weirder considering Billy’s mommy issues.

Joyce - I get that it’s a big leap downward in emotional investment to go from “must save my son” to “fucking magnets, how do they work” but I liked that she had her own investigation that wasn’t full of emotional turmoil. Winona forever.

Mike - Everyone is ragging on him but I think he was less terrible than people are making him out to be. He was bratty in a teenage way, but he wasn’t the worst kid ever. I didn’t take his now notorious line to Will (“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”) as something intentionally cruel or homophobic, just something that came out wrong and that he instantly regretted, and he and Lucas did seem genuinely apologetic over the D&D game and went over to Will’s in the rain out of concern. And the reason he lied to Eleven was because SCARY ASS HOPPER threatened him??? Also, his concern over Eleven overexerting herself was not misplaced, lmao! It really took that long for anyone to go, “Hey, should we be worried about the amount of blood coming out of her nose? Should we be concerned about the effects on her brain?” Sure, Eleven has the final say in whether or not she uses her powers, but tbh… she didn’t have a normal upbringing and her view of her powers is probably skewed. Like, would Eleven have enough basic medical knowledge to be worried about brain damage or nosebleeds, or would that just be the norm to her? Is she making these decisions with a full grasp of the potential consequences? Anyway, I don’t have a more negative opinion of Mike after this season.

Eleven - I loved Eleven a lot in this season. I don’t know if it did a ton for her character arc, but it’s nice to see her slowly develop into more of a normal girl. And the season was rough for her in terms of getting her ass kicked, she goes through so much mental and physical pain! In the end she loses her dad and her powers!

Of course one of the bright spots was her and Max becoming friends! Not gonna lie, there was something a little … simplistic about some of that depiction of friendship for me - just that so much of it was SHOPPING and GIGGLING and BOY TALK, girls being GIRLS, when Max has been portrayed as a tomboy and Eleven is a telekinetic kid raised in a lab, that maybe their interactions shouldn’t have fit the mold quite so much - but it doesn’t truly bother me because they were so sweet and fun. I loved them tracking down Billy together and I appreciate that their friendship carried throughout the season, that Max was the person shown carrying an injured Eleven along with Mike, Eleven comforted Max after Billy died, etc. That was a definite sore spot of S2, the girl-on-girl jealousy and Eleven flat-out rejecting Max’s friendly introduction, and I do think they took that feedback into account for the better here. I also like that Eleven was clearly taking cues from Max, the more “worldly” of the two about boys and clothes and teenage attitudes in general - it gave their friendship a more specific shape.

I cannot WAIT to see her living with the Byers family next season. Like if they don’t spend significant time on that dynamic, it will be the biggest disappointment. There could be 8 episodes of just boring mundane Byers domestic scenes and I would love it, please inject it into my eyeballs, Duffer bros. I want to see her bonding with all of them, trying to fit in at school, attempting the most normal life she’s ever had. Also lmao, she and Will can finally have a goddamn conversation??? I hope they’ve been withholding that relationship because they were planning to go all out with those new sibling vibes in S4. They are the two characters who have been most traumatized by the Upside Down, we deserve to see them connect.

On that note, I have a lot of thoughts about Will in this season! Mainly - underused as FUCK. After all that trauma of being possessed by the Mind Flayer last season, they barely utilize this connection in the second half of S3. Even his Spidey sense hardly came in handy??? Now that was really weird, IMO, because the least they could do was have that feeling alert the others or be useful, but lmao it was practically pointless.

It’s weird because I’m not sure if they just don’t know what to do with Will if he’s not being a victim (which is stupid because there’s plenty you could do with him), but at the same time, he has one of the most poignant subplots of the season. From the reactions I’ve seen, Will feeling rejected and left out as his friends move on really resonated with a lot of viewers. But then this thread is abandoned after episode 3, for the most part. Will cries and destroys the place that represents his childhood, a place that was created specifically in response to trauma (mentioned in S2 that he and Jonathan built it after their dad left), this is very rich emotional territory … and then the show’s just like ehhhhhh moving on. He’s just hanging out in the background and touching his neck for the rest of the season.

And now I gotta talk about that other thing with Will.

I am so confused by what the Duffer brothers are trying to accomplish with Will’s sexuality, because on the one hand it seems like they have a really clear idea about it and on the other hand they’re just like¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The thing is … it seems very obvious they have always thought of Will as gay. This is blatant from the original pitch from the show as well as one of the S2 scripts (the only one that’s available publicly, so who knows what else they’ve written). I accept that people have different interpretations, but The Line this season is far from the only textual support for Will being gay, and I think it makes for a much, much stronger narrative if you read Will as gay in addition to not wanting to grow up as fast as his friends and being stunted from trauma - that is an entire meta post in itself, though.

What gets me about the ~ambiguity is that the Duffer brothers planted the gay hints in the first place! They are absolutely not there by accident! Like I’m not speaking for the teenage actors but lmao, the adults involved in the writing and directing of this series absolutely fucking knew how that “not my fault you don’t like girls” scene would be interpreted, especially considering fans were debating Will’s sexuality from the beginning, based off the many homophobic comments leveled at him in S1. There have been TV shows where fans latched onto gay “subtext” that was likely unintentional, but this isn’t one of them.

IDK, man, it’d just be nice to have some confidence in where this is going. I loved Robin and the bathroom scene made me think that yeah, they might do a decent job with Will’s sexuality, something I might have doubted before. Under no circumstances do I expect a Skam S3-style coming out arc for Will, but I’m also uncertain if I should expect anything from the show on this front at all or if they’ll play it coy to the bitter end. Though I guess I’d still take the ambiguity over giving him a female love interest after everything. Lol, that would be a giant oh-fuck-no.

Real talk, though, let’s discuss what an utter waste it would be to not write a scene where Joyce tenderly accepts her son when he comes out to her. You really aren’t going to bring that instantly iconic moment to life, assholes? You’re not going to provide that for Winona Ryder’s and Noah Schnapp’s Emmy reels? MAKE IT HAPPEN, BASTARDS.

Nancy and Jonathan have a reputation for the most boring plots but they’re fine, w/e. I’m not deeply invested in their romance but I don’t want to fast forward their scenes or anything. Nancy is an underrated character; she’s extremely proactive and always has been, and I enjoy watching her shoot things. I think the best thing they could do for both characters, though, is to separate them next season, not just physically but storyline-wise. Jonathan would be best in a subplot involving his family, because he’s at his most likable as a son and brother, and Nancy should either go off with Mike (a sibling relationship that is VASTLY undeveloped), or she should team up with Robin. I mean it, Nancy and Robin would be a power pairing, let me show you my manifesto. Both are smart young women who are good at solving mysteries. Would Robin think Nancy is a priss after Nancy unloads several rounds into the latest demogorgon chasing them? Would Nancy find Robin a refreshing alternative to the crushing suburban conformity that she claims to want to avoid? Oh, the possibilities. Meanwhile, Steve tags along in the background, all like OH SHIT, my lesbian BFF and my ex-girlfriend are in cahoots!

Lucas and Max were playing relationship counselors to Mike and Eleven through much of the season. Max still had a fair amount to do, but Lucas needs a meatier subplot next time. I feel like they’re not sure what to do with him? I would like to see him and Erica interact more since their dynamic so far is one-note.

There is one hell of a conversation to be had about the Evil Russians of this season, but I’m really not the person to do it.

Also about the depiction of capitalism this season. That’s more thinkpiece-y than I am equipped to do right now.

The product placement is something that should bother me more but I’m just like … shrug. Except that New Coke bit because that was an actual mood-breaker.

Could have done without Russian Terminator guy. That was a blatant ‘80s homage so I get why he was there, he just wasn’t all that interesting. And was that guy supposed to be superpowered or something? Was he getting jacked on Upside Down steroids??? What was his deal???

Alexei/Murray was the true OTP of the season, let’s be real.

The trend of lovable, doomed minor characters continued with Alexei. Props to that actor for making you root for the guy. He even made me kind of love Murray? I was very WTF over that guy encouraging two teenagers to fuck in S2, and I’m still not into his habit of telling people to bang even when they’re adults, but I guess he just needed a sympathetic Russian buddy to win me over.

There were a ton of moments where I felt like the characters made stupid choices as opposed to earlier seasons. Will getting dragged into the Upside Down in the first 10 minutes of the series is an impressive example of a horror movie character doing everything right and making good decisions - a 12-year-old, no less. And he was still overpowered by the demogorgon so it’s not like making good decisions will always save you! Whereas this season I was like LORD some of these characters are drinking dumbass juice.

There was also so much silly stuff happening, like things that are even more far-fetched than previous seasons, but I just kind of went with it. Yeah, of course there’s a secret Russian base under a shopping mall. Sure.

This season is objectively disgusting in terms of gore and yet I was fine with it? And I’m someone who was repulsed by Barb’s corpse in S1. The Mind Flayer being made of people was some nasty shit but effective horror. I felt bad for the poor little rats :( Oh, and the flayed humans, too. Some of them. Was sad to see Mrs. Driscoll bite it but FUCK those cartoon misogynists from the newspaper.

Visually beautiful! Starcourt Mall is an amazing set and I’m rather sad that the mall was destroyed, although that was basically a foregone conclusion. Some great cinematography, too. On a purely aesthetic level I had a great time just blasting this season into my retinas.

I have had the motherfucking NeverEnding Story theme song in my head for almost two weeks and I’m suffering.

#lillypedalsxx #replies #stranger things #also they referenced my university this season so i dug that thx 4 the shoutout

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losersclubbitches · 5 years ago

Text

ReaderxLoser(Richie Tozier)

You met Richie Tozier a week after what the Losers deemed “the Clown Incident”. You were messing with your yo-yo as you walked down the sidewalk and suddenly, another yo-yo string entangled with yours.

“Hey, asshole, watch where you’re swinging that thing!” you exclaimed, looking up to further scold whoever it was. You weren’t expecting to look into the deep eyes of a gorgeous pre-teen.

“Damn, rude much?” he spoke, giving you a smile full of huge, crooked teeth.

“Sorry. Not having a particularly good day,” you grumbled, sitting on a nearby bench. The kid sat next to you, since your yo-yos were still connected.

“Tell Granny what’s troubling you, child,” he voiced in what seemed to be an attempt at a sweet old lady voice, but turned out to be more like his regular voice. You laughed, wiping at the tears in your eyes.

“That’s an awful impression,” you informed him.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied. “But seriously, tell me what’s up.”

“I’m just sick of moving ‘cause of my mom’s stupid job. This is the sixteenth city I’ve been to and all of them have been on the stupid East coast. Have you ever been to Florida?” A head shake. “Well, don’t go. It sucks to live there. It’s hot and humid and there are way too many old people pinching your cheeks.” A laugh. “One day, I woke up to an alligator on our front porch! So not cool! And don’t get me started on New Jersey!” You spoke the state’s name in the local dialect. “I just want to move out to L.A.. Somewhere cool. But no. Mom’s stupid job brings her to stupid places like boring Derry, Maine,” you ranted. “No offense.”

“None taken,” the boy replied. “This town sucks major balls. But it’s not boring.”

“Really? What’s the most interesting thing that’s happened here?” you asked. “Little Timmy won a spelling bee?”

“It was a science fair, and no, actually. The weirdest thing that’s happened here was a series of murders every 27 years over the course about a year and a half, give or take,” he told you.

“What? Do they have any idea who’s doing it?” you inquired, eyes widening.

“Well, my friends and I know. It’s an interdimensional shape-shifting alien that feeds off fear and mostly takes the shape of a clown named Pennywise,” the kid informed. His tone was so natural and blank that you thought he was joking.

“Ha ha, asshole. Be serious.” You shoved his shoulder, laughing, but he didn’t laugh back. “Oh, my God, you are serious. That sounds like some shit out-”

“Of a horror movie, yeah,” he finished with you. “But it’s real. And we defeated IT.” You could practically hear the capitalization in his voice.

“Holy shit,” you cursed under your breath. “How’d you do it?”

“Stopped giving IT fear,” he explained. “Took away IT’s food source and sent IT down the well.” You looked at him and noticed tears in his eyes and a tremble in his body. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked. He nodded and you listened as he rambled on about Pennywise and the Losers and Neibolt and a werewolf. When he finished, tears were streaming down his face.

“I don’t wanna fight it again in 27 years,” he sobbed into your shoulder, clenching and unclenching his bandaged hand.

“Look, uh. “You stumbled as you realized you didn’t know his name.

“Richie. Richie Tozier,” he introduced, sticking out his uninjured hand. You shook it.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you stated. “Anyway. Look, Richie, from what you’ve told me, I don’t think IT’ll come back. I think you guys defeated IT.”

“You willing to bet money on that notion, Y/N?” Richie goaded, smirking.

“50 bucks seems fair, Richie Tozier,” you challenged, sticking out your hand again.

“Fair indeed, Y/N Y/L/N.” You two shook on it. Richie’s watch beeped and he checked the time. “Shit. I’m gonna be late. C’mon, Y/N! We’ll figure out the yo-yos when we get there!” Richie pulled you up and dragged you off in the opposite direction of home. You followed willingly and ended up at the edge of a hill, looking down into what you’d heard the locals call “the Quarry”. There was a group of kids sitting at the bottom of the hill. Richie waved to them, then started down the hill. He lost his footing and fell. taking you with him by your tangled yo-yo strings. You both tumbled, head over heels and side over side, down the hill until you got to the bottom. Somehow, seemingly impossibly, the yo-yo strings had become even more knotted up, trapping you and Richie together by your wrists.

“Well, that was exciting!” you exclaimed, sitting up.

“Let’s do it again!” Richie also exclaimed. You looked over and noticed a slight crack in his glasses, which sat askew on his face. You laughed and pulled a leaf from his hair, also readjusting his glasses.

“Are you guys okay?” a boy with curly hair asked.

“I think I bit my tongue. Is it bleeding?” Richie asked you, sticking out his tongue. You leaned forward to examine it.

“Not really. Am I bleeding?” You stuck your arms out toward him like Frankenstein’s Monster. You noticed there was a small stick embedded in your arm about four inches from your wrist.

“Holy shit!” Richie cursed, grabbing your arm. The boy behind him, short with brown hair and eyes, looked over Richie’s shoulder.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” he chanted frantically, grabbing at an inhaler and using it. You instantly knew who he was based on Richie’s story.

“You must be Eddie.”

“Yeah. That’s me,” he confirmed. “Who are you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduced. “I’d shake your hand, but Richie said you’re a germophobe.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“That doesn’t matter right now, Eddie,” the curly-haired boy quipped. “We need to get that stick out of Y/N’s arm before it gets infected.”

“Thanks, Stan-Man, but I’ve got it.” You pulled the stick from your arm and tossed it into the water. Your arm started to bleed and you placed a thumb over it. “You got any bandaids in that fanny pack of yours, Eds?” you asked. Eddie just stared at you with a look of pure shock and disgust. Stan snapped his fingers in Eddie’s face.

“Focus, Eddie. She’s bleeding out over here.” Eddie flashed back to reality and dug around in his fanny pack until he located a bandaid. He also grabbed out a pack of wet wipes and moved to kneel in front of you.

“I’m gonna clean your arm off so your cut doesn’t get infected,” he explained. You nodded, just wanting to get it over with. Eddie scrubbed at the dirt on and around your contusion and you watched, barely wincing at all. Once the area was cleaned to Eddie’s liking, he unwrapped the bandaid and placed it gently, yet securely, on your arm.

“Thanks, Eds,” you expressed, pressing a kiss yo his cheek. Eddie blushed and Richie squawked offendedly.

“Hey! I saw Y/N first!” he declared. “She’s gonna be my future wife!” You laughed and gripped his hand, the one entangled with yours.

“That’s cute, but we just met. I don’t even know your middle name,” you told him jokingly.

“It’s Wentworth. After my dad,” Richie responded.

“Richie Wentworth Tozier,” you repeated, tasting the name on your tongue. “Cool.”

“Thanks. Now! Dr. K! Fix us up, will ya!” Richie shouted in what you assumed was supposed to be a British Voice. You giggled.

“Richie, shut up,” Eddie groaned. “I’m getting to it. Mike, you’re good with string and knots. Think you can untangle Trashmouth from the innocent bystander unlucky enough as to be wrapped up with him?”

“Hey!” Richie protested, but Eddie and Mike ignored him. Mike examined the knot.

“Yeah. This is easy to undo,” he told Eddie, starting on the string.

“Richie was right. You are as handsome as a magazine man,” you affirmed, winking. Mike blushed and focused back on the knot.

“H-how much d-d-did you t-tell her R-Richie?” asked a kid with auburn hair.

“Relax, Big Bill. I’m great at keeping secrets,” you assured. “Besides, who’s gonna believe me? My mom gets one word about a child-eating, interdimensional, shape-shifting alien and she locks me in the loony bin for brain evals.” All the others looked at Richie in shock and Richie looked sheepish.

“I had to tell someone. Besides, she asked and I needed someone to cry on,” he defended with a shrug.

“He cried?” Stan asked, looking to you.

“He cried,” you affirmed. “Soaked my shirt pretty well.” The others looked between you and Richie skeptically.

“What? I’m a sensitive guy!” Richie protested. Stan snorted.

“Yeah. The resident Trashmouth is a sensitive guy. Mike, you almost got that knot undone?” he asked. Mike gave one more tug and the strings separated, falling from your now red wrists. “You and Richie both rubbed at the abrasions, happy to be apart.

“Thanks, Mikey.” You kissed his cheek as well, earning another squawk from Richie and a slight gasp from Stan.

“It’s like you’re trying to make me jealous,” Richie exclaimed.

“Maybe I am,” you answered teasingly, smirking at him. He squawked again and crossed his arms, turning away from you childishly.

“Uncross your arms, you dope. I need to fix up your wounds,” Eddie scolded, pulling at Richie’s arm. Richie huffed and held his arms out for Eddie to look at. The boy made quick work of cleaning Richie’s arms and face, but when he got even close to the cuts, Richie whimpered and cringed away.

“Stop being a baby and woman up,” you scoffed, earning you a cheer from Beverly. You smiled at her. Richie looked at you with pure surprise and something like love. When Eddie had finished patching Richie up, he did the same thing to you, muttering to himself the whole time. You didn’t flinch, just sat stock still as Eddie bandaged your cuts.

“Perfect. You’re all done, Y/N,” Eddie told you, putting the wet wipes and bandaid wrappers in a plastic bag to throw away later.

“Thanks, Eds.” You kissed his cheek again and he reddened, mumbling a “you’re welcome” as he zipped his fanny pack. You looked at your watch and cursed. “Shit. I gotta go. See you tomorrow?”

“W-we hang o-out a-ah-hat eight every d-day,” Bill told you.

“Cool.” You started to leave, but turned back. “Hey, Rich?”

“Hmm?” he asked, looking up from a cartoon-printed bandaid. You cupped the sides of his face and planted a lingering kiss to his lips. He kissed back, loosely draping his arms over your shoulders. You pulled back and smiled at him.

“Thanks for making this town not boring,” you whispered.

“Anytime,” he replied. You turned and left, calling over your shoulder as you did.

“Pick me up tomorrow at eight by the bench!”

***

You hung out with the Losers all summer and beyond. You either swam or hing out at the Quarry most of the summer. When school started, you saw them almost as much, though it was mostly studying in either the clubhouse or one of your houses and complaining about homework and teachers. You and Richie got closer, seeing as after the kiss, you both decided to date. You went on your dates mostly at the arcade and you beat him in Street Fighter, though sometimes you let him win. In high school, you grew even closer to him; you were each other’s first in the backseat of his shitty car on his seventeenth birthday. You watched the other Losers pair off: Ben and Bev, Mike and Stan, and Bill and a girl from his class named Nicole. You figured Bill and Nicole wouldn’t last, as they were going to schools on near opposite sides of the country and Bill was too flighty to be tied down by a long distance relationship. You and Richie, however, were going to the same school; you finally got to go to California and you were happy your boyfriend was going with you.

“So, wait, is Eddie-Spaghetti the only one still single?” Richie asked one day as you all were sitting in the clubhouse; you and Richie sharing the hammock.

“Leave him alone, Rich,” you scolded, noticing Eddie’s red cheeks. About a month ago, Eddie had confided in you about his boyfriend of one year, saying he’d needed the clubhouse for a “special anniversary gift”. He didn’t know how you’d react and had started crying, scared you’d laugh at him or tell the other Losers or even his mother he was gay. Instead, you’d puled him into your arms and assured him you’d find a way to keep the others out of the clubhouse for as long as he’d need. He’d promised to call you when he was done, just so you’d know. You’d invited the Losers to your house that afternoon for games and Eddie had politely declined, saying he had bunches of homework. He’d smiled at you and you’d smiled back; your own secret language. When he’d called later that night, you’d listened while he talked about what had happened(sparing certain details) throughout the night.

“I’m just saying. It’s senior year and we’ve all found someone,” Richie piped, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Maybe we can set Eddie-Spaghetti up, too. I know a few girls who might be his type.”

“You clearly don’t know my type, then, Trashmouth,” Eddie snipped. The other Losers looked at him.

“Wait, Eddie are you-” Stan was cut off by Richie.

“C’mon, Eds. You don’t even know what they look like,” he started. “You gotta at least see the cover before you judge.” Eddie huffed and stood up, brushing off his shorts and climbing out of the clubhouse.

“Don’t call me Eds, asshole,” he grumbled.

“What’d I say?” Richie asked, looking to you. You just climbed out of the hammock, using Richie as a balance, and left. As you passed him, Stan looked up at you.

“He’s...?” He gestured to Mike and himself subtly. You nodded and bent to kiss his cheek.

“Yeah. He is,” you confirmed. You kissed Mike’s cheek as well before climbing out of the clubhouse. You found Eddie just a few feet away, sat on the ground with his knees to his chest. Before you could even get a word in, he spoke.

“He’s just so oblivious sometimes.”

“I know,” you replied, sitting next to him. “He is my boyfriend, after all.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Eddie joked. You both laughed for a moment before settling.

“You know, Richie’s the only one who didn’t understand your comment, but the others aren’t gonna say anything until you tell them,” you reminded him.

“I guess I’ve just been scared about coming out to people I know. My mom would flip if she knew I’m gay,” Eddie admitted.

“I know, hon. But we’re not like that. You remember when Stan and Mike came out?”

“Yeah. Stan started crying and we all hugged him,” Eddie recalled.

“So what makes you think we’ll do anything less for you. Eddie?” you questioned. Eddied bottom lip quivered as he thought it over and tears dripped down his rosy cheeks. You cooed and pulled him into a hug. Other than maybe Beverly, you were the most protective of the whole group. They were like your kids and crying kids needed comfort. You ran your fingers through Eddie’s soft, brown hair and shushed him gently. Once his tears stopped flowing and his body stopped shaking, he pulled away and looked at you.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he expressed.

“No problem, Eds. You ready?” He nodded and took your hand when you offered it for him to stand up. You led the way back into the clubhouse and Eddie stopped at the bottom of the ladder.

“You guys, I have something to tell you,” he spoke, attracting the attention of the Losers. You climbed back into the hammock and pinched Richie when he opened his mouth.

“Go on, Eds. We’re listening,” you said, smiling at Eddie. Eddie smiled back and took a deep breath.

“I’m gay!” he blurted, starting to ramble. “I’ve known I’m gay for ten years and I have a boyfriend named Nick and I really like him and I really don’t want you guys to hate me.” Tears streaked down his face again and he crossed his arms over his chest, curling in on himself. Beverly stood up from her place in Ben’s lap and rushed over to hug him. The others weren’t far behind.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Bev soothed, smoothing down Eddie’s hair. Richie was sitting stock still, mouth open slightly.

“Close your mouth, babe. You look like a fish,” you told him, pecking the corner of his mouth. That seemed to resonate, because he blinked himself out of his stupor, turning to look at you.

“You knew?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. He needed my help to get you guys out of the clubhouse for the day so he could bring his boyfriend here,” you explained.

“Is that why there were candles down here and the place smelled like apples?” You nodded. “What’d they do?” You zipped and locked your lips, throwing away the key.

“I am sworn to secrecy, Richie Tozier,” you replied. Richie smirked.

“I know how to unzip those lips, Y/N Y/L/N,” he teased, leaning forward and capturing your lips. He continued that way until your back hit the hammock and he was between your legs, one hand pressed to your midsection to keep you in place.

“G-g-gross, you g-guys,” Bill chimed.

“Yeah. Get a room,” Stan added. Richie picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist. He clambered out of the hammock awkwardly and carried you out of the clubhouse, stopping at the bottom of the ladder first.

“Congrats, Eds. You’re super brave for coming out,” he praised. “But I gotta get a secret out of this one.” He lifted you slightly and you giggled. Needless to say, he tried, but your lips were sealed(about the secret; not much else, though).

***

When IT returned 27 years after you’d first met Richie, you two were married. You still vaguely remembered the Losers, as Derry’s full power didn’t work on you. It was the middle of the day when you got the call and everything came back.

“Y/N, it’s Mike from Derry,” Mike introduced himself.

“Mike, hey. How’s Stan? You two still together?” you greeted.

“Yeah. We are. He’s fine. He’s an accountant here in Derry and I’m the librarian,” Mike told you. There was something in his voice that worried you.

“I’m guessing you didn’t call after 20 years just to chat about jobs with an old friend?” you remarked, wanting to get to the point.

“No, it’s not,” Mike replied. “Is Richie there with you, Y/N?”

“He’s at work, but I can call him, too,” you told Mike, already dialing Richie’s number to add to the call. He picked up on the third ring.

“What’s up, babe? I’m in the middle of a show, but it’s on commercial, so I’ve got a few,” he greeted you.

“Rich, Mike from Derry’s here, too,” you told your husband. “He has some news, baby.”

“Okay.” Richie sounded skeptical. “What’s up?”

“Guys, IT’s back,” Mike said and again you could hear the capitalization in his voice. Your breath hitched and you nearly dropped the phone.

“I really should’ve bet more on that,” Richie joked and you laughed slightly.

“Yeah. I thought IT was dead, Mikey,” you stated.

“So did I. But the killings have started again. They started with the murder of Adrien Mellon and there have been several others so far. We’ve got to kill IT for real this time,” Mike responded.

“Richie, baby are you okay?” you inquired of your husband. After his joke, you only knew he was there because of his heavy breathing.

“Y-yeah. We’ll be there, Mike,” Richie panted. “I gotta get back to the show.” With that, Richie hung up.

“We’ll be there by tomorrow, Mikey,” you told Mike. “Give my best to Stanny.” You hung up as well and started to pack bags for you and Richie and booked the soonest flight for after Richie would get home. When you got to Derry, memories came flooding back to you at once: the bench where you and Richie had first met, the Quarry, your old house, everything. When you saw Bev, you saw her bruises and her shaky way of talking about her so-called “wonderful husband”. You pulled her into the girls’ bathroom.

“Bev, I know you’re lying,” you told her. “Tom isn’t a good husband.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N,” Bev protested.

“Look, Bev. I can see the bruises on your arms. The boys can, too, but they’re not gonna say anything,” you countered. Bev sighed heavily, tears dripping down her face.

“I don’t know. I married someone who treats me how I deserve,” she admitted.

“Bevvy, I’m calling bullshit on that. There’s a good man out there who’ll treat you like you really deserve: a goddamned princess,” you refuted. Bev gave you a confused look. “Ben, hon. He’s been in love with you since we were eleven. January Embers.”

“I thought Bill wrote that poem,” Bev gasped you shook your head. Bev smiled, hugged you, and left the bathroom. You smiled and then dragged in Stan. He looked very uncomfortable.

“Stan, I know you have concerns about facing IT again,” you started. Stan cringed.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“First of all, you cringe when anyone even starts to mention IT.” Another cringe. “And you’ve been so nervous you haven’t eaten. So go home, take a calm, warm shower, and don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine,” you instructed.

“But what are you gonna tell Mike and the others?” Stan inquired.

“I’ll tell them the truth: I’m taking your place. Now, send Eddie in, please. We need to talk, too.” A minute later, Eddie was in front of you, looking just as uncomfortable as Stan, if not more.

“What’s up, Y/N?” he asked, eyes shifting awkwardly.

“You’re gay,” you told him, ignoring his squawk. “You’re gay, so why did you marry a woman?”

“I.” Eddie paused, unsure. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“Exactly. And do I even need to bring up the fact that you basically married your mom?” you pointed out. Eddie shook his head.

“What do I do?” he questioned.

“Break up with her and live with us,” you offered. “Don’t go back after this, just send her the papers. We’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Eddie hugged you tightly.

“No problem, baby boy.”

You defeated IT for good this time and everyone survived and moved into the same neighborhood as you and Richie were in. Bill finally finished a novel properly, Ben and Bev got married and had two kids, Stan and Mike adopted, and Eddie married a man named Tyler and adopted a Pomeranian, which freaked Richie out at first. All in all, life was good and everyone got the ending they deserved.

@gracelynns, I hope you liked it! Feel free to request anything else, I love writing for y’all!

#richie tozier #readerxloser #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #stanley uris #it 2019 #it 2017 #request please #request #canon compliant #mostly

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imagine-darksiders · 6 years ago

Text

Blue-eyed monster.

What’s this? A jealous War fic? With a part 2 on the way???

Love you guys <3

------

There would never be an easy way to do this...

War glares resentfully at the flimsy door in front of him, at the little nicks and scratches that mar the white paint around the frame, revealing the splintered wood underneath. Each mark alludes to a time in the past where he’d squeezed through the relatively tiny, human-sized doorway and ended up taking most of the damn thing with him as he shoved and bullied his way inside your apartment. He would always spend an inordinate amount of time picking flecks of paint off his broad shoulders and watching you sweep the remnants of your doorframe from the carpet.

War’s proud, blue eyes narrow to slits, his gauntleted fists clenching and unclenching as he considers the problem. He remembers that, a few days ago, you’d very casually asked him to please be more careful whenever he enters and exits your home. Had is been anybody else, War would have laughed brazenly in their face and done as he pleased.

But you are not ‘anybody else.’ You are his friend. One of the few - if not the only - friend he has. And, at some, undetermined point in your journey together, you’d unwittingly found yourself promoted from War’s tiny ally to his tiny charge, and if his charge’s only request was that he not scuff his armour against the sides of the door, then he’s willing to comply. A courtesy he saves only for you.

Strife had accused him of going soft when he first witnessed War interacting with you. The youngest horseman showed his brother just how soft he’d become...by introducing the full force of the Tremor Gauntlet to Strife’s helmetless head. It’s been several weeks since then and that bruise still hasn’t completely faded.

Deciding that he’s stared down your door long enough, War rolls his mighty shoulders, the pauldrons clanking noisily, and reaches out with two fingers to delicately grasp your flimsy, brass doorknob......

And promptly freezes in place, his eyes going wide and ears straining to hear through the thin wood.

There’s a voice. Nothing exceptionally unusual about that - except, it isn’t your voice. War’s fingers tighten of their own accord, inadvertently pressing dents into the metal knob. This goes ignored though, the horseman too preoccupied with the new voice.

It sounds male..No, there are two males speaking now. And two females. To his disquiet, he can’t pick out your voice amongst the dim, muffled chatter.

Now, War has always been a strategist. Pragmatic to a fault, he is not prone to random surges of alarm or worry. And as a tactician of the battlefield, his mind reflexively speeds through every possible scenario that could be occurring in your kitchen right now, each becoming progressively more disturbing than the last.

You’ve moved out and these strangers are your familiar apartment’s new residents.

They’re burglars who waited until you left for a few hours before they started ransacking your home....

..Or maybe they had a more....malicious intent. War’s heart lurches at the thought and he bares his teeth unconsciously. What if they’re kidnappers? You could be sitting there, helplessly bound to a chair with a filthy rag stuffed into your mouth so you couldn’t call for help!

The beast that forever lurks dormant between War’s ribs, suddenly growls, the sound rumbling out of his throat between clenched teeth like rolling thunder.

He dwells on the last thought, caught in its swell, drowning under the gruelling, haunting images it pushes insistently against his mind’s walls. He won’t wait any longer, not while your safety is compromised.

Throwing aside any previous hesitancy about damaging your door, War lowers his head, lifts up one leg and throws it forwards in a kick so powerful, it’d make Ruin proud.

The door buckles under the force of a titanic horseman’s murderous rage and shatters into mere splinters as he shoulders his way through the low frame, amour screeching in protest when it’s dragged against your walls. A cacophony of screams greets him on the other side, along with shouting and a voice - a blessedly familiar voice - exclaiming, “War!?” at the same time as a man screeches, “What the fuck!?”

Tugging himself into the apartment fully, War stands to his full, impressive height and hurriedly takes stock of the room, eyes flashing dangerously.

To the right is your little kitchenette - kettle, stove and all the familiar things that War’s become accustomed to seeing are still in their respective places. That’s good. On his left, the living area, adorned with a large, well-worn sofa and matching armchair that frame a modest coffee table, beyond which sits your television. It’s still there too. Again, good. Strife and Fury will be pleased.

There are also at least five humans here. His attention flits from two wide-eyed girls squashed together at the far end of the sofa, to one of the males, who’s frozen halfway between sitting and standing in front of your chair. War’s eyes then snap to the ground where the remaining male sits, cowering behind the coffee table and next to him, the horseman’s main target.

“War!” you repeat, leaping up off the floor and throwing your arms out in front of your friends, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing!?”

Gradually, like steam seeping out of a pressure valve, War loosens his grip on Chaoseater’s hilt and lowers a vibrating Tremor Gauntlet, shoving down the weapon’s carnal lust to crack a few skulls and willing his own thundering heartbeat to still. Eyes of impossible blue meet yours and instantly, the tension behind them dissipates.

In a blink, he’s storming across the room towards you and stuffing his sword into place on his back. The other humans scatter backwards, some even hop over the sofa in a bid to get away from the danger but you bravely stand your ground, jutting out your chin and balling your hands into fists, glaring up at him with a mixture of exasperation and defiance. War dully notes that he’ll have to commend your bravery later. Most would have backed down under the approach of a charging nephilim.

He easily shoves the coffee table aside using the back of his knuckles before, jarring to a halt in front of you and bringing his large hands up to hover protectively at your sides. There are no ropes around your wrists or ankles, no gag, no marks that indicate injury....

Movement snatches his attention and he whips his head down to the boy on the ground who raises his hands in the air, acting on bare instinct. “H-hey! Cool it, man! Just chill!!”

War sneers down at him distastefully. In a threatening growl, he gruffly demands, “Who are you,” sweeping his burning gaze over each of their faces.

With a hefty sigh, you push one of his hands down and rub at the skin beneath your eyebrow. “It’s okay, guys. You were bound to meet him sooner or later. This is War - and I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise, he isn’t going to hurt us.”

Nobody - the glowering horseman included - looks convinced.

“Are you, War?” you snap, jerking your head at the people behind you, “These are my friends. From before the apocalypse.”

Chest heaving, War surveys the group of unfamiliar humans, finally registering that they’re all staring at him, petrified. Which wouldn’t be a first, but frightening humans who look to be around your age is nothing to be proud of. Drawing himself up, he flares his nostrils once in an exhale and swivels his hooded face to fix you with a stern glare. “You didn’t tell me they were coming,” he mutters.

Your eyelids flutter incredulously. “Er.. I don’t have to tell you every time my friends come round. Besides! You didn’t say you were coming either! A-and why does that mean you should break down my door and scare everyone to death!?” Gesturing at what’s left of it, you whine, “It took me ages to repaint that after last time.”

Around you, your friends slowly begin to move towards you and War, their fear dissipating, overridden by natural human curiosity. The boy on the ground staggers to his feet, grabbing the hem of your pyjama top to steady himself, although he immediately snatches his hand back at the sight of the red behemoth’s curled lip that shows off a pair of gleaming fangs. “Holy shit...You weren’t kidding,” one of your other friends - Jessica - whispers, sidling up to your shoulder, “he’s huge!” One after the other, the small group of humans venture closer to War. He stiffens at their approach, his instinctive neural responses warning him that he’s being surrounded. Covering his massive, metal-clad chest with both arms, the horseman watches them warily whilst they gather around him and shoot questions at you, rapid-fire.

“What is he doing here!?”

“Does he always come through doors like that?”

“He looks like he wants to eat us!”

“Isn’t he a horseman? Where’s his horse?”

Groaning, you run your hands down your face and snatch the remote control up off the table, pausing the film you’d all been in the process of watching. It isn’t that you don’t want War here. Normally, you’re delighted anytime one of your strange, otherworldly friends comes to visit. But tonight was supposed to be a night for you and your human friends. This is the first time you’d all managed to get together since the resurrection of your species and you had a lot of catching up to do.

You’d missed them, immensely. Surely it isn’t that selfish of you to want a little time just being an ordinary human again. Hanging out with your friends, watching some terrible horror movies and eating as much junk food as you can handle sounds like a godsend after living rough on the demon-infested Earth with only a ferocious horseman of the apocalypse for company, surviving on energy bars and boiled water.

Tom - a boy you’d only really been friends with because he lived in your area - is bold enough to grab your arm and hiss in your ear, “So, uh..What happens now?”

War’s frown deepens at the sight of Tom’s hand on your skin.

“Now...” You puff out your cheeks. “I...guess I introduce everyone?”

War, for his part, couldn’t really care less who any of these humans are. Truthfully, he’s still on edge, wound up from the anticipation of a fight. What matters most is that you’re not in any immediate danger, so he supposes he can allow this customary introduction...for now, though he still doesn’t like how intimately that other human is touching you.

The horseman’s brow furrows in response to an odd sensation swimming around in his belly and, out of the blue, all he wants to do is rip that hand off your arm. If he didn’t know any better, he’d liken it to jealousy. But that’s impossible. He is War. Jealousy isn’t his jurisdiction, it’s more Strife’s.

Setting his jaw and squashing the ugly feeling down into the very soles of his boots, War listens disinterestedly as you point at each friend respectively, telling him their names.

“This is Jess.” A girl with dark hair, a friendly but timid face and a pair of thick, round glasses averts her gaze, swallowing thickly. For your sake, the horseman grunts, acknowledging the shy human.

“And uh... this is Beatrice. Say hi, Bea.” You indicate the woman clutching a pillow to her chest. She appraises War suspiciously, offering a quick, “Hullo,” and a hesitant nod. Satisfied with that, you turn to the boy next to her. “Here, we’ve got Jack...”

The human; a slight, weedy little thing that’s at least a few inches shorter than everyone else in the room ducks behind ‘Bea’ when War tilts his head towards him. “Hey,” he wheezes, glancing uncertainly at you. At last, you lift your elbow - the one Tom is still clinging to - and jerk your thumb back at him. “And this is -”

“Tom,” the remaining human interrupts, matching War’s scowl as best he can and edging in front of you minutely, “You usually go around kicking in people’s doors, huh big man?”

“Tom,” you urge him back quietly, all too aware of the subtle challenge he’d just issued a horseman. What Tom forgets is that War is not human and he reacts to challenges like a bull to a red rag. As you expected, the horseman’s eyes harden and you can hear his leather straps creaking under the strain of his flexing muscles.

Desperate to placate the horseman and keep your friends reassured, you step right out of Tom’s grasp and move to stand next to War, failing to see the look of surprise flicker across his shadowed face. “Listen, this is...unexpected, sure.” You shoot War an extremely pointed glare. “I mean, I’m gonna have to rebuild the door. But it’s done now, so. Let’s just get back to watching the movie, yeah?” The others shift on their feet and nod uncertainly, slowly sinking into their previous positions - all but Tom.

“Will uh...he be joining us?” he asks, roving his eyes up and down the horseman a few times, no doubt sizing him up.

Skeptical, yet hopeful, you cock your head at War and admit, “I don’t know. War, would you like to watch TV with us?”

Watching your eyes light up with a smile, War almost feels bad for roughly growling, “No.”

Your four friends flinch at the animosity he’s packed behind the small word. You however, just shrug and roll your eyes. “Fine. Suit yourself, stand there all night if you like. But we’re watching a movie.” With that, you leave him to go and plonk yourself down on the sofa, sandwiching yourself between Jack and Jess. Tom follows suit, though when he reaches the sofa, instead of sitting on the end, he stares with raised eyebrows at Jack, who holds his gaze for a few moments before sliding up, away from you.

Anger rears its head as War sees the uncomfortable way your lip pulls to the side at Tom’s action, a clear indication of your displeasure. So when the boy falls into the sofa and goes to toss his arm casually over your back, you immediately shrug it off and fix one of your withering stares on him. There’s that billowing swell of pride filling up War’s chest.

For a time, he does exactly as you’d suggested. He stands in place for a good chunk of the movie, taking nothing in because he’s too busy glaring daggers at the side of Tom’s head. He’d made up his mind. The other humans are...tolerable at the very least. They seem harmless enough. But this one...Something about him feels....off. He’s like so many young Nephilim that War can remember, and like those young Nephilim, he’s aggressive. Confrontational. Cocky. Doesn’t know when to back down from a fight. Why you’ve placed any value on your friendship with Tom, War will never know.

Another half an hour later and everything goes to pot.

Tom, making sure to catch War’s eye, stretches loudly, yawning with his mouth obscenely agape and then, to the horseman’s outrage, he lowers his hand down your back, snaking it around your ribcage and brushing his fingertips over the soft skin of your stomach. War sees your face, sees the way your eyes widen, livid. He registers the soft flash of your throat as you swallow down an angry lump. You open your mouth to tell Tom to get off, but before you get a word out, he’s suddenly yanked from his seat at your side.

War had cleared the room in three strides and taken a hold of Tom’s forearm, drowning it in his enormous gauntlet. He squeezes the human’s flimsy wrist, teeth gnashing and eyes blazing wildly, not enough to cause a break but definitely enough to hurt him.

In an instant, you’re on your feet as well and once again trying to stop a fight from breaking out.“War! Stop it! Put him down!” As you speak, the others all rise as well, looking at each other, unsure of how to help.

War ignores you, lifting Tom off the ground and snarling in his - now rather pale - face. “You will not touch Y/n,” he seethes. Something latches onto his arm and he snaps his gaze down to see you tugging on the heavy limb insistently. “Let him go, War.”

“He touched you. You didn’t want him to,” he says, as though you had no idea.

Looking back at your other friends, you lower your voice to a hoarse whisper, wincing when Tom begins to thump the horseman’s hand in an attempt to free himself. “He’s just being an idiot. You think I can’t handle that? I’ve been handling stuff like that a lot longer than you have.”

Apparently, War doesn’t quite grasp the subtle concept of whispering. The human dangling from his grasp lets out a shrill yelp when the hand twitches and the pressure around his arm increases. “This human has touched you before?” he all but bellows, “Where?”

Heat rushes into your cheeks. “War, please,” you hiss back, “you’re embarrassing me! Just put Tom down and go! I want to have a nice, quiet evening with my friends.”

“You are my friend,” he rumbles, jostling Tom with a shake of his fist, “Mine.”

As annoying and pushy as your old neighbour can be, you have no desire to reset a broken arm tonight. Furiously, you land a vicious slap to War’s gauntlet, tears springing to your eyes from the pain of hitting metal. “If you don’t let him go right now, I won’t be!”

Silence, broken only by the film credits now rolling in the background, descends upon the room. You stand there, heaving and panting as the horseman stares down at you, searching your face for a hidden lie. You hadn’t meant that. Surely?

A few more seconds pass by before War finally opens his hand and drops Tom unceremoniously to the floor. You don’t move to help him up.

“...Maybe we should all just go,” Jack suggests after the room feels as though it’s been still for far too long, earning a few murmurs of agreement from the others.

Turning away from War, your eyes grow round and you plead, “No, wait, it’s okay! I - he’s not gonna -”

“Y/n,” Jess whispers, fearfully eyeing the giant man, “You know we love you, but this guy is bad news! I - I already died once..” She trails off, looking at you with remorse and shaking her head. Then, without taking her eyes off the horseman, she bends down and snatches up her phone and bag, fleeing out of the door while you can only watch on helplessly.

Beatrice gathers her own things off the floor. Slinging her sleeping bag over a shoulder, she smiles at you, though it looks more like a grimace in this light. “Sorry, Y/n. Talk soon.” And with that, she too has gone.

Meanwhile, Jack has managed to lift Tom off the floor and he’s thrown the other boy’s good arm over his shoulders. “M’gonna take Tom home,” he breathes, voice trembling. Your shoulders slump as you watch him shuffle out of the destroyed doorway, dragging the moaning boy along beside him.

Once more, the apartment is plunged into uncomfortable silence. It feels so much emptier, even with the hulking juggernaut of a horseman taking up ample space. War regards you softly for a while, relishing the steady rise and fall of your chest and the sound of your quiet little breaths. Suddenly, you suck in a deep lungful of air and hold it, ceasing all movement as you turn a hurt and rightfully livid look onto the horseman.

Sighing, War takes a step forward, reaching out a hand. “Y/n-”

You don’t give him the opportunity to finish. Instead, you jab a finger in the direction of your broken, apartment door and utter two, dangerously quiet words. “Get. Out.”

Then, spinning on your heel, you march over to your bedroom at the other end of the apartment and throw the door open, disappearing inside. Despite his battle prowess, War still flinches at the power with which you slam that door shut again.

War takes one look at the unprotected entrance to your home and recalls the missives that Azrael had sent out, of demons still rumoured to stalk the sewers below your city. He doesn’t leave, of course, choosing to remain on guard in your apartment until the early hours of the morning, only standing down and traipsing reluctantly out of the building when he heard the first stirrings coming from your bedroom.

---

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be the last time War felt the stinging buck of jealousy.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #war #reader #jealousy #there will be a part 2

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