#teen angst is a given but a street orphan
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Sea Foam on Your Skin
Pairing: Jason Todd x F!Reader
Summary: You’re haunted by the aching lament of a siren’s song. Jason is mourning the loss of his tail. The two of you find comfort in each other’s company.
Content warning: Siren AU, monsterfucking, Tentatodd, tentacles, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, body horror
Minors & Ageless blogs DO NOT interact!
There were two origins of sirens that have been passed down for years by the people of Gotham City.
They were beings as old as time, descendants of Atlantis whose magic had depleted with each generation until the only magic left in them was in their form and their song.
The other origin was that they were the by-product of pollution and toxic waste from Ace Chemicals. Poor workers often lived close to the facility and as the company grew, so did their exposure to the hazard chemicals. A lot of lonely men lived on company grounds, some that were mockingly called fishfuckers.
Your eyes bulged at the word, making you question if you were truly reading an academic article instead of some amateur piece on the internet. “Fishfuckers,” you snorted. You were certain that the author was pleased that that word made it through editing.
Sirens were the children of these men, mystical beings that were more beautiful in story than reality. But there was no way to confirm this as the story was only passed on by word of mouth, the article ended. You were certain that any records would have been destroyed as well lest that nickname haunt them and their families for years to come.
Most people, both sirens and humans, chose to accept the first account as their origin.
---
Jason couldn’t remember much of his life before his current state. He was an unwanted child, found on the edges of his underwater city, cradled in rotting seaweed and trash that had sunken down from the surface.
Thus as an orphan, he relied on stealing to survive, interacting more with shady humans than sirens. It served him well for most of his life until his early teens when he was eventually caught. He knew he could only survive like that for so long.
He should have known better than to steal Bruce Wayne’s prized black seahorse but it was practically asking to be stolen, tied to a crumbling spire of coral in the aptly named area known as Crime Trench, with no one else in sight. Jason knew it would go for a high price as well. Bruce was known for breeding them to be strong and fast.
It was only natural that he was caught as the reins were undone, the rope still fisted in his hands as his city’s law and order loomed over him.
The price to pay for stealing would be one lopped off hand. And for Bruce’s prized seahorse? Probably both.
But instead of taking a sword to either, the imposing siren took him in, letting out a low rumble of laughter that let out a series of bubbles as Jason eyed the dinner that was prepared just for him suspiciously.
Thus marked the beginning of Jason’s life of comfort. As Bruce’s ward and later adopted son, he was provided with opportunities he could never dream of having as a street urchin. Alfred, the butler, took to providing Jason with an education, often assigning stacks of novels to read, which he spent time pouring over until he had to borrow the bioluminescence of some algae.
A few times a week, he was given lessons on etiquette and business. Like his first son, Bruce was preparing Jason to watch over one of the many neighborhoods of their city as well as deal with any of the city’s politics. Despite the mystery that shrouded them, certain humans knew of the existence of sirens. Slowly over the years, Bruce introduced Jason to these individuals who were key to helping them live peacefully. But it seemed that Jason would get distracted by other humans whenever they went to the surface.
As grateful for Bruce and Alfred’s kindness as he was, Jason’s curiosity got the worst of him as the years went on. He’d been around humans before, oftentimes trading whatever he could scrape up in exchange for gold and food. But it seemed like after he turned of age, his curiosity towards humans turned sexual.
Sirens procreated similarly to fish with females laying eggs and males fertilizing them. Sexual pleasure was derived from kissing and touching the erogenous zones on their upper bodies.
Humans though were strikingly different. Their long legs helped balance them on land and propelled them through the water as they swam in the sea. At first it was scientific curiosity that made Jason wonder where their parts were. Where did the eggs come from? How would they get fertilized?
He found his eyes wandering towards their anatomy, later learning that their sexual organs lay between their legs from an old book that lay cast aside in Bruce’s library. Their parts were obscured by cloth whenever they swam in the ocean but if he looked underwater, he could make out the outlines of their shapes. There was usually flesh on their backside. Male-presenting humans had bulges that came in various sizes in the front. The females were smoother, making it harder to discern. It only made Jason more curious of what lay hidden beneath.
---
“He’s grown from a boy into a man,” Alfred said, writing off Jason’s behavior.
It wasn’t as if Jason’s performance at the latest meeting between the land councilmen and them went wrong. It actually went better than planned and he was proud of his son for securing a deal that they’ve been going back and forth on with negotiations.
No, he was just concerned about how much time he spent spying on the surface after these meetings. He saw the contents of the books he read too.
“It’s normal for a father to worry about his son.”
Alfred gave Bruce a look of disbelief.
“I believe you should worry about your own interest in a certain cat before you worry about your son’s interest in humans.”
---
Jason laid in his bed frustrated. The soft sands felt irritating to his skin. Even the finest seaweed that wrapped around him felt suffocating instead of luxurious, their light touches against his skin only lending to his frustration further.
Casting the seaweed aside, he ran his hands across his chest, trying to imagine what a human touch would feel like, how their lips would feel against his skin. He imagined what they would taste like, what kind of faces they would make as he kissed up from their feet to their legs, taking whatever was in-between them in his mouth.
Squeezing his pecs together, each hand latched on to a nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pinching and pulling them. He couldn’t even think of the prettiest siren if he tried, his thoughts focused on those damn humans and their fucking legs. He even had to go so far as shoving a fist in his mouth to muffle his moans as he pictured what they would like with their knees bent and tucked into their chest, how their legs would feel tossed onto his broad shoulders or wrapped around his waist.
As much as he grazed, pinched and prodded his sensitive spots, he couldn’t find the release he wanted, touching again and again to no relief.
If only he had legs and what lay between them.
---
While running an errand for Alfred, Jason bumped into a woman at the market. Helping her gather her things which had fallen, he couldn’t help but feel something familiar as he spoke to her.
Before he got the chance to ask if they knew each other, another siren passing by commented on the pair.
“It’s so sweet that you still go shopping with your mother,” they said. “Have a good day!”
Jason looked at her more closely. They were right. She did look like him.
After thanking him, she looked around before speaking to him softly. “I know about your secret.” She placed something small and hard in his hands.
As she moved back, she laughed at Jason’s guarded behavior, body stiff and eyes narrowing at her sharply.
“A mother, despite how long they’ve been separated, always knows what her child wants. And for you, Jason? You want to live on the surface. It’s only natural since you’re half-human anyway.”
With that, she swam away, leaving Jason stunned with her information. He made a move to chase her, but the merchant he needed to meet already called out to him.
He looked down at the object in his hand. It was a tablet, about three-fourths the size of his palm.
If you want answers, meet me at the abandoned ship on the next new moon.
-Sheila
---
It was two weeks too long for the new moon to arrive. Jason’s head felt heavy and dizzy with the weight of her words as he reached the ship. All of the feelings that he moved past -abandonment, loneliness, confusion and anger- returned. He wanted, he needed, he demanded answers.
Where was she all his life? What happened to his father? Why does he look like a normal siren? How was he even born? Was it because he was half-human that he longed for the land? Did that explain his urges?
Jason saw Sheila by the entrance, her hand glowing a soft white as she ushered him inside. She must still have some magic in her, he thought. Jason wondered if there was any magic in him.
She surveyed the area as he followed her in, similarly to how she did at the market. He doubted she could see anything past the glow of her hand. The new moon was when the sea was at its darkest. Even he had trouble finding the place, using the lowest luminosity algae to guide him so that he wouldn’t draw suspicion to himself.
She evaded all of the questions he asked about who she was and where she’d been. They passed by two rooms before she stopped before a door that was hanging by its hinges.
The siren let down her hair, the dark locks curling around her as she presented an elaborate bracelet made of scales. It was common for the mother to keep a scale or two of her children. Scales were unique to each siren, both in color and size. They looked black but as she intensified the luminosity on her hands, Jason could tell they were actually a very deep and rich red. The same color scales that he had on his tail.
Seeing the look of realization on his face and the way his features softened, she spoke with a gentle smile on her lips.
“We’ll have more time to talk about the past. Let’s talk about the present and future for now. I know you want to live on the land.”
Jason looked at his mother with uncertainty. There were rumors of powerful sea witches who could grant legs to sirens. The rumors were as fantastic as being able to transform sirens into humans for a night.
It was obvious that she was practiced in using magic to some degree but he still didn’t trust her powers. Years of being tricked by cruel humans and Bruce’s own paranoia towards magic made him suspicious of others, even if they were related by blood.
Sheila pointed towards the cut on his forearm- the result of sword practice with Alfred.
“Let me heal you,” she offered.
Sticking his arm out hesitantly, Sheila hovered her left hand on it, her hand glowing a shocking green instead of white. Jason winced as the light grew brighter, expecting something blinding or painful. Instead he felt a gentle warmth wash over the limb until her hand faded back to that dull white luminescence.
Turning his arm at every angle to inspect it, Sheila laughed. “Do you believe in my magic now?”
Jason hummed as he poked where the cut was, then smoothed two fingers over it, the skin soft as if it was never marred. There wasn’t even a scar as an indication it was there. It was as if it never existed.
“You asked me why I left you, why I abandoned you,” Sheila reiterated, motioning for him to come into the room. “I want us both to live as humans. It’s not safe for us to live in the sea anymore. Someone is after me and after you.”
As much as Jason wanted to live with humans, Sheila’s plan seemed too good to be true. How could they be certain that whoever was intended to harm them would stop at the surface?
“Bruce can help us,” he insisted.
She clicked her tongue, a look of annoyance and disgust missed by Jason as she adjusted the light from her hands. “Do you really feel at home here? Do you feel at home with that man?”
Jason answered with certainty. “I do.”
Despite his answer, she was persistent. “Try it for a day and see, my sweet child. Maybe that will change your mind. I’ll do it with you if you’re nervous. I have a lot of contacts in the human world.”
He held his tongue to say that he and Bruce did too, though his contacts were more questionable.
“It’s more fascinating to see the city up close and walk its streets instead of viewing it from the fringes.”
Jason thought about her suggestion and he thought about everything he’s read, from human society to the sea witches’ lore. His tail twisted with uncertainty.
It’s not like these powerful sirens were inherently evil. It’s just that they’ve become so rare in their society that nearly anything involving magic made the average siren uncomfortable. But this might be his only chance. If anything, he could do it for just one day to sate his curiosity.
“...I’ll do it. But only for one night.”
She smiled, telling him to follow her to another part of the ship on a lower floor. By the looks of it, it was the captain’s quarters, somehow nicer than the rest of the ship though still dilapidated.
The door closed loudly behind them and Jason felt his skin prickle as if he just swam over a deep trench. In the corner a dark being emerged. It was a set up.
Jason turned to flee the room but Sheila seemed to cast a spell in, the perimeter glowing an eerie purple. Despite how hard Jason pounded on the wood, something that should have broken easily, it didn’t budge.
She touched his arm gently to coax him to stop but Jason pulled away, breathing out a held breath as he tried not to panic.
“This must be another one of your spells, witch,” he accused as he felt his body comply with her commands against his will. He laid in the middle of the room, cradled in his mother’s like a small babe.
“I need the help of another sea witch to transform myself,” she tried to reassure him, as if Jason still cared and trusted her despite her actions. She took her hand in his like a child that needed soothing.
“Close your eyes and relax, my sweet boy. This will be over soon.”
Sheila’s words weren’t comforting. They were immersed with sadness yet not enough to let him go.
It seemed her hold on him weakened as she let out a sob, enough for Jason to turn his head and look at the being that turned from shadows into form.
The mysterious siren looked ghastly and pale with hair like bright algae. His teeth were rotten and his grin nearly took up his entire face. His scales flashed a duochrome of purple and green.
He looked at Jason’s terrified face and laughed, leaning in closely as if he wanted to taste his fear. Jason’s face contorted as if he was about to wretch, the scent of something foul and rotting invading his nostrils.
The siren drew back, speaking more to himself than Jason while his mother wept. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
The last thing Jason saw was a bright light as he heard his mother whispering one last time that she was sorry.
---
Bruce pulled on the reins to slow his steed down, giving it a grateful pat as he slid off, eyes already analyzing the scene of the explosion. He didn’t bother asking Dick and Jason to help him so late at night. Though they wanted to help in his effort to slow crime in their city, he never wanted to force this burden on them. They were young men leading their own lives. He wanted them to enjoy it.
As he searched the surrounding area, he found a siren, bruised and battered, nursing her ribs against the remnants of the ship’s deck. She must be one of the victims.
He approached her cautiously, arms raised to show that he wouldn’t harm her. When he was close enough, he asked gently, “What happened here?”
The siren extended her palm out to Bruce. He observed it with a sinking feeling in his stomach. She held a torn piece of skin and scales in her hand. At first he wanted to believe that the scales’ color was due to blood staining -even pulling out the most luminous algae he had in his pouch- but the longer he looked at it, the harder it was to deny. They were Jason’s scales.
Bruce cleared his throat, trying to swallow down the panic that set in. When she didn’t answer what happened the first time, he couldn’t help but raise his voice when he repeated himself.
By the third time, he grabbed her by the shoulders to shake her out of her shock, his voice cracking as he asked, “What happened? Tell me. Tell. Me. That’s my son’s scales… That’s my son!”
He grew impatient as he listened to her story. A sea witch took her captive and Jason was trying to save her. She regretted dragging him into her business. He seemed like such a brave and sweet young man.
When he questioned her about a possible motive for the sea witch, she described him as having a cruel sense of humor.
Bruce felt his blood run cold when she told him, “He knew you wouldn’t find any of this funny.”
Bruce knew who did this to Jason.
---
Jason wasn’t sure of how long it was since he’s been out. It could have been days or weeks but he was in a strange part of the ocean that he had never been to, leaving him disoriented. He must have drifted on a current after the blast.
He looked at his surroundings. It was dark but it must have been a place where humans lived before. Concrete laid in piles of rubble so old that the undercurrent beat their shapes, almost making them blend with the coral.
That’s when Jason felt the weight of something on his lower half. Suddenly the rubble that surrounded him seemed far too close and encasing. The feeling was so suffocating that he felt if he took in a breath, he might drown. With a sickening feeling he knew that his tail was most likely crushed and he would be trapped there.
Yet as he looked down, his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw that he didn’t have a tail but eight tentacled legs instead. They looked like writhing eels beneath the rock but he could feel each appendage. He wanted to gag. His beautiful tail was gone and replaced with something hideous and disgusting.
Despite his repulsion, it was with instinct that he used his legs to manipulate the rock and free himself, squeezing through a tiny passage to leave his rubbled tomb.
He swam for hours without stopping, first upwards to reach the surface, then as his head spied the upper world, he determined that it would be best to swim as far away from his former home as possible.
Hours later he reached a cove that seemed desolate enough. It was nothing that he recognized from his previous travels to the surface.
He threw his body across a flat rock, his lower half still submerged. As his body laid there, exhausted beyond belief, it was then that he was overcome with sickness yet finding himself unable to puke.
What happened to him had finally settled in his mind and into his bones. His mother’s reunion and betrayal. The sea witch’s stench. His stupid fucking wish.
His mind wandered to Bruce and Alfred, even Dick, that annoying bastard of a brother. As he thought about them he wept, overcome with shame. How could he have trusted someone who never cared for him, someone who abandoned him, when he had a loving family by his side all along?
He knew he couldn’t go back to them, not like this, not after his immense act of selfishness. He looked down at his bottom half, eight tentacles writhing under the water. He wasn’t even a siren anymore.
---
Jason adjusted to his new life as well as he could, finding it easy to get back into the habit of scavenging the sea floor for his own food and taking shelter in the cove when he grew tired. He still couldn’t bear to look at his lower half since that first day and often thought of his tail.
Losing his tail reminded him of all that he lost. His status. His family. Himself. Was he even considered a siren without it? What would his family think? Did they still think of him as much as he thought about them?
His existence was lonely. He grudgingly accepted that though he was used to being alone, he missed the company of his family. He missed any kind of interaction really.
After another month of deliberation, he ventured out from the safety of the cove, further south where he sometimes saw boats pass by. He hoped that human watching would be enough to quell his loneliness.
---
His new body was as fast as his tail, if not faster he determined. He practiced swimming laps for hours then moved on to greater distances. His tentacles had the added benefit of being able to grab things too.
This isn’t too bad, he thought.
Jason settled onto his rock after another day of training. He would find that sea witch that did this to him, even if it killed him.
His eyes stared at the ceiling of the cove then moved upwards. He had an idea.
He only ever practiced his grip on catching prey and launching himself from reef to reef. But his tentacles could theoretically allow him to climb to points he never could with a tail.
It took weeks of practice -apparently they moved differently in the air compared to water- but he finally did it. He let out a triumphant holler that echoed as he looked down at the little bay from his new vantage point.
As awestruck as he was though, he felt himself shiver from the tips of his tentacles to the top of his head. Perhaps now would be a good time to go back into the water. He didn’t want to overdo it.
---
The next few months were spent on building up his strength and coordination to walk on land after he mastered climbing. He started at one end of the small strip of beach at the back of the cave. Jason was clumsy at first with all of his legs tripping over each other but with patience and determination, he was able to walk from one edge to the other.
He cried when he finished his first lap, collapsing backwards onto the sand. He looked at the maroon tentacles below him, throbbing from holding his weight up for so long and inching towards the water.
It was with bitterness that he thought that Shiela and the sea witch kept their promise. Jason had legs to walk on land.
---
You’ve always felt that you didn’t belong here. Your heart was with the sea. You remembered the stories about sirens and Atlantis that your grandmother told you about, keeping them close to your heart after she passed and you got older.
In Gotham there was the occasional sighting. The men from the docks would sometimes claim that they would hear a siren’s song in the early hours of the day.
It was still early in the morning as you beach combed where the old Kane Chemicals used to be. It’s been about 200 years since its last use. It was funny how the site of the infamous pharmaceutical company -now known as Ace Chemicals- looked. It was the size of a moderately sized single family house, nothing in comparison to its current facility.
With some work, it would actually make a wonderful home, you thought, the foreclosure sign at its front in your line of sight. The tunnel that was used to dump chemicals into the ocean was sawed up by some hooligans a few years ago, essentially turning it into a slide that connected the small facility to the ocean.
Pausing for a moment to admire a pearlescent shell, you were distracted by the sound of a man singing.
His voice was deep and haunting. You couldn’t make out the exact words but from the tone, the song was sad. You felt drawn to it, ignoring the voice in your head that reminded you that this was how sailors died.
The song led you to the tide pools. Though the voice was beautiful, you were surprised to see that its owner was equally alluring. You could only see his upper body -he was resting on the edge where it met deeper parts of the ocean- but it was well-built with broad shoulders and defined arms. His skin was tanned and his dark locks curly.
“Your song is beautiful,” you commented.
Jason looked up, startled that he didn’t hear the sound of someone approaching him. He blamed it on the waves.
It was his first time interacting with someone -let alone a human- since his transformation. Was it several months or a year since he’s last spoken to someone? His legs spread across the floor, making him sink lower.
The man peered at you cautiously and you kept your distance out of respect.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” you said. “You must be a good swimmer, but you should be careful around these parts. It’s pretty dangerous here. There’s a few riptides and this place is pretty desolate. It would be awful if something happened to you.”
Jason mumbled a thanks.
His speaking voice was just as lovely as his singing one, you thought.
You introduced yourself and found out that the mystery singer’s name was Jason.
“Mind if I join you?”
He hesitated, remembering what happened the last time he trusted someone. Ultimately though, he consented. He could finally learn about humans directly instead of through observation. If worse came to worst, he knew how weak humans were. To a siren, they were as harmless as sea turtles.
He watched as you rolled up your pants legs to dip your feet in the water, still keeping a distance of about four feet until he seemed more comfortable around you. You could feel him staring but chalked it up to his distrust.
Jason swallowed discreetly as he looked up and down the length of your legs, noisily splashing water about you as you dipped your feet into the pool. He felt a surge of embarrassment as you caught him staring.
“The water’s normally so clear here. It’s weird that it’s darker and murkier than usual,” you said as you dipped your body closer to the water to investigate.
Adding to his embarrassment, Jason realized that he must have expelled some ink while looking at you.
A beep from your phone pulled you away from your thoughts and as you read your text, you told him you had to go. Something came up at work.
Jason looked at you curiously, all apprehension gone. “What’s that?”
You looked at him strangely, pointing towards the object. “A phone, duh.”
“Right.”
You gave him another look before laughing. “You’re funny, you know that? Well, maybe I’ll see you around. Thanks for the concert.”
Fishing the shell you were admiring before he distracted you out of your pocket, you tossed it to him. Jason caught it easily. You glanced quickly past him so your eyes wouldn’t linger too long on that sculpted chest.
“A token of my appreciation.” You smiled, “Maybe next time you can take a request?”
---
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Jason asked, irritated that he saw you again so shortly after your first encounter. It seemed like his quiet escape away from his home would be disturbed if you turned this into a habit.
Your eyebrow shot up questioningly. “Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing?”
He scoffed, not having anything to say without revealing his true form. Despite your friendly disposition, you knew your boundaries and sensed when you were invading his private space or asking too personal of a question.
“Besides, I told you that I liked your voice. Your songs sound very pretty.”
Jason gave you a little ‘hmph’ before adding, “Of course they are.”
“But they always sound so sad,” you commented. “You don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to sing, really. I just… wanted another chance to hear it. If you’re hurting, I’ll listen.”
His eyes narrowed at your concern before he turned around so that his back was towards you.
Standing awkwardly and trying to decide if you should apologize, the waves crashed against the rocks before another sound took over. You stood in place as you were entranced by Jason’s song.
---
“If you’re not from here, where are you from?” You asked after a few weeks of meeting up with Jason. You were fortunate enough that part of your job was surveying the Gotham shoreline so you could visit the man often.
He paused before choosing his words carefully. “I’m not from here. Lived on the streets for most of my life.”
You always assumed that he must have been a runaway of some sort based on his questions about basic technology and when he told you that he didn’t go to school.
You tried to put on a positive spin on his words. “And now here you are, living off the land like a wild man. You’re honestly living my dream life,” you told him. “I wish I could swim and sing all day though I’m definitely not as good of a singer as you are.”
Jason gave you an amused hum.
“I always wished I could just leave my life and become a mermaid. I never felt like I belonged here. I’d trade my legs for a beautiful tail in a heartbeat,” you confessed.
It was true. You never felt like you belonged in the gloomy hustle and bustle of Gotham City. Even when you went to college in a different state, you didn’t feel at ease there either. The only place where you felt like you truly belonged was in the ocean. The ocean reminded you of unconditional love. It reminded you of your grandmother.
Jason couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. If only he could warn you about the dangers of having such a foolish wish. But it seemed like humans and sirens had similar dreams to live lives they weren’t meant to have.
---
“Maybe you should sing something happy for once,” you told him, voice a little louder to beat the crashing of ocean waves. Jason still wasn’t completely comfortable around you so you were still farther from him than you would have liked.
His songs sounded beautiful but your heart couldn’t help but ache as tales of melancholy and loss drifted in the air. Those pale blue eyes always looked so pained as he sang. You liked it better when his eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint whenever he retorted with a cheeky comment.
Jason looked up at you from that ledge of rock that he made his own. “I’m not happy though so what’s the point?”
You didn’t let the conversation pause lest you wanted it to tread into awkward silence. Jokingly, you placed a hand over your heart and told him that you’re hurt.
“Surely you must have found some sort of happiness in our little meetings. You agree every time and you even get here early.”
He didn’t appreciate your teasing, scoffing at it. “I’m only doing you a favor since it seems like you have nothing better to do than to take long walks on the beach.”
“Hah. Sounds like you found my dating profile. Please tell me you swiped right at least.”
Jason only blinked at you in return, making you wonder just how sheltered the man was. But you supposed that if he didn’t know what a cellphone was and spent most of his life traveling, he definitely wouldn’t know what a dating app was.
You sighed before taking your phone out of your pocket, hoping he wouldn’t be an ass and splash it.
You scooted closer to him but held the phone at a distance, just enough so he could read the screen.
I like taking long walks on the beach and getting paid for it.
Your name, age and Gotham City were displayed below it.
You set it aside, changing the subject. “You must have a lot of free time too. You’re always swimming in the ocean. I bet your lower half is chronically pruny.”
He rolled his eyes before he scooped up a bit of water to splash at you. Not one to back down from a challenge, you splashed him back, starting a war that ended with you both soaking wet.
It even got to the point where Jason lifted himself out of the water a bit and you saw a peak of dark red around hips but the salt water in your eye prevented you from getting a closer look.
“You owe me,” you said, wringing out your shirt. “I gotta go back to work in an hour smelling like the sea and being cold.”
“....Better yet, I’ll tell you what I want from you. Maybe we can go for a long walk on the beach together.”
It was a bold move but you were certain that Jason had to have some kind of feelings for you. You saw it in the way his eyes sparkled as he talked about his favorite books or asked to borrow yours. He remembered the little things you shared with him about your childhood.
But you weren’t as certain as the silence grew.
Jason sighed. “There’s something you should know about me.”
You watched the ripple of biceps and triceps working in conjunction to lift himself out of the water. You realized what it was that he wanted you to know as you saw eight long tentacles splay across the jagged rock. You already suspected that he was tall but like this, he towered over you.
“I’m a-” monster, Jason was going to say before you cut him off.
“Siren,” you finished in disbelief.
An actual siren stood before you in all of his half-man and sea-bodied glory. You stared at him with glowing satisfaction and a more childish you wanted to rub this moment in the faces of all those who doubted their existence.
With uninhibited excitement, you reached out and grabbed the nearest appendage to shake his… hand? Leg? Tentacle?
“Nice to meet you. Or I guess to finally see all of you!”
Jason didn’t match your enthusiasm, looking uncomfortable again.
“...Or not?”
He blushed a shade of pink that made his tanned cheeks glow. He hoped he wouldn’t get ink everywhere.
“You’re shaking my…”
Mating arm sounded too lewd, hectocotylus too scientific. He tried to think of what humans called it in the books that he read.
“Cock?”
You choked. His what?
Looking down at the appendage you held, you realized that you were indeed gripping his hectocotylus, marked by the fat arrowed tip and ribbed section near the bottom. The underside was grooved differently compared to the other tentacles.
You dropped it immediately and apologized, spitting out that you had to go.
“Next week, same time!” You called out from over your shoulder. That should be enough time for you to cool down.
---
Jason retreated to his cave, thinking about the way you touched him earlier. He didn’t know what it was at first either, only finding out by pure accident after massaging it after he spent too long practicing how to walk.
He noticed that one leg felt more pleasurable than the rest and that it looked different too. It was only out of curiosity that he stroked it. Then he touched it again. And again. It led to a sensation he could never achieve when he had a tail. He finally found release.
This time he found himself touching the tentacle intentionally, trying to mimic the firm way you grasped it. His hands were too large, too strong, and he had to loosen his grip. He closed his eyes as he leaned against a rock, imagining that it was your hands that were stroking it instead.
How long had it been since he touched himself to a human? Surely it was before he turned into this. But it wasn’t the same as before where he’d think of any human he observed for the day, no.
Jason thought of you. The way that pretty mouth of yours smiled at him and called his name. The lines of your figure. He thought of your legs spread and in other positions. He thought of marking them with his kisses. He thought of binding them together.
Jason thought of everything about you, stroking and squeezing his cock and caressing his body until finally he came, copious amounts of cum leaking onto his stomach and hand, his breath ragged and your name still heavy on his lips.
---
He waited for you at your spot again the next day though you didn’t agree on meeting. He sat closer to the beach in a different tide pool, the shallower basin exposing his tentacles. The other creatures scurried away from him, leaving the area all to himself. He wondered if this was what it was like to bathe in a tub.
As more time passed, he grew anxious, lost in his thoughts. You had no reason to come so why should he be expecting you? You were probably just being polite by telling him that you would see him in a week, maybe hoping that he would forget about your date and you could just disappear.
He read the myths about the Kraken and stories like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. When he was a siren, he might have had a chance with you. But people feared octopi, which was why they were often the villains in humans’ stories.
The grind of feet walking on sand moved Jason out of his thoughts. He looked up to see you standing a ways away from him.
With a basket in your hand and a blanket tucked under the other, you shyly called out to him. The weather was nice so you wore a sundress, exposing your legs. He tried not to look at them, knowing he might expose himself with ink if his eyes lingered any longer.
You took a few cautious steps, gauging his reaction to you before deciding it was acceptable to come closer.
The usual chipperness in your voice wasn’t there, replaced by a faker saccharine that hid your anxiety.
“After what happened yesterday, I stayed up all night thinking of what to do. I actually didn’t think you would be here today.”
“I thought that maybe I should bring the date to you since you can’t actually walk with me.”
You scratched the back of your head, now sheepish, realizing that he never actually agreed to any of this.
You read news articles and heard stories about octopi escaping from their tanks in aquariums and being able to walk for almost half an hour on land. You wondered if Jason could do the same before you shook your head, thinking yourself silly. He was a siren. You were certain that things worked differently for them.
At that, Jason’s chest puffed up with pride. “Of course I can. Who do you think I am?”
With that, he rose from the tide pool similarly to yesterday, this time walking towards you. His steps were graceful, moreso gliding rather than walking. He reached you quickly.
Craning your neck upwards, you figured he was at least a head and half to two heads taller than you. He didn’t seem tired from walking either, his breath even as if he walked on land often.
Letting out a whistle of appreciation and then an applause, you jokingly asked him what he couldn’t do.
All the nervousness and apprehension he felt about showing you his body melted away as he felt for the first time since he changed that he could accept his new body.
---
Knowing who Jason really was, you couldn’t help but ask him all the questions that you’ve been dying to know, wanting to confirm with him if that was really what sirens and their society were like.
In turn, he asked you about the human world. Surprisingly, his amount of knowledge was more accurate compared to yours.
One thing kept on bothering you as the two of you spent another morning talking until the sun was high in the sky.
“When I was a siren-”
There it was again. Was.
You interrupted him. “You still are. You’re a siren, Jason.”
He blinked back at you, processing what you said.
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not?” You challenged him. “From a human’s point-of-view, you’re most definitely a siren! Your upper half is human, the bottom a creature of the sea. You have a beautiful voice. You’re incredibly handsome.” You said the last part quickly, still a bit shy about how bold you were being about your feelings towards him.
“But my tail,” Jason argued. The only creatures he knew that had bodies like this were actual octopi or sea witches.
“So what about your tail?” You argued back. “That doesn’t change who you are inside. Your body might be different from before but you’re still a siren at heart.”
---
Jason sulked in the deeper waters of his cove, your conversation still replaying in his head.
It wasn’t that he truly believed that his tail made him a siren. It was that every time he looked at his legs, his eight long, tentacled legs, he saw a monster. They represented his greed and selfishness, his lust, his shame.
But after talking to you, it seemed that he was the only one who saw himself that way. He really wasn’t as terrible as he believed himself to be. He wondered if his family would feel the same way as you if they saw him now.
Thinking about them made his heart hurt. He wasn’t ready to face them, not yet at least. He distracted himself with other thoughts and each of them led him to you.
Jason didn’t hold you in the same regard he held other humans. He was curious about you on an individual level in a way he never felt towards other sirens. He wanted to know more about you, your past, your dreams. He wanted to know what you liked and what you hated. He wanted to know if you felt the same way in your heart about him as he did for you.
---
Summer on the East Coast meant humidity and heat. As much as you loved spending time with Jason, you were finding it increasingly difficult to see him during the day.
The question about what you two were still hung in the air -your first attempt at asking him out on a date seemingly forgotten in Jason’s mind- but you didn’t want to ruin whatever it was that the two of you had.
Jason took pity on you, realizing that humans differed from him in their ability to thermoregulate.
“Would you want to go to my cove?” He suggested as you fanned yourself with your wide-brimmed hat, pausing to wipe the sweat off your brow.
“Ah, finally taking me back to your place, huh stud? Took ya long enough.”
Your flirtations seemed to go over his head as Jason told you that it wasn’t far from here, about a 20 minute walk away.
“I might not look like it but I’m actually a great swimmer.”
Even with Jason helping you, there was a high probability of you drowning because of the bigger waves and stronger currents. It wasn’t something that Jason was willingly to risk.
“It’s fine, we can walk.”
As Jason glided beside you, you still couldn’t help but be in awe of the siren. You could already imagine the headlines if Vicki Vale caught sight of them. ‘Gotham’s first and very own cryptid,’ the headline would read. ‘Has Cthulu chosen Gotham City as its preferred vacation spot?’
The cove was closer than you thought, making you wonder why you never moved beyond the tide pools. You didn’t have much reason to, you supposed. The entrance was small and you watched as Jason went in first, his limbs adjusting in size to accommodate himself. It seemed like a short swim.
He paused a few feet into its mouth before turning back to you, still knee-deep in the water. He swam back towards you before guiding your arms to wrap themselves around his shoulders.
“It’s safer this way,” he justified. “The depth drops in weird places.”
You didn’t mind. It was better for you anyway because you could keep your phone dry in your hands and carry your flip flops as well.
Jason thought it was a good excuse to have you touch him.
Soon the water reached a level where you could comfortably float.
This ended too soon, you both thought.
---
As you waded towards the beach, Jason thought that you looked like a jellyfish with the way your dress floated around you. You looked graceful as you moved, tips of your fingers dragging across the water and splashing it around for your amusement.
You reminded him of a time when Alfred and him would take a break from his studies to lay on the seagrass and watch the jellyfish and seahorses float past. It was the first time he felt like he was back home.
But the illusion was broken as he reminded himself that he wasn’t home. He was somewhere more wonderful as he watched you walk onto land, your dress wet and translucent, clinging to your body. Jason wondered if he really did die in that explosion.
As you wrung out the excess water from your dress, the material clung to your skin and rose. Jason was able to get a more revealing look at your body and saw that you weren’t wearing any panties, finally giving him a glimpse of what was between human legs.
He could have turned into sea foam then, grateful that the water here was dark.
You sat on the edge of the beach where sand met sea, patting the spot beside you. The waves crashed and reached your ankles so that he wouldn’t be completely deprived of water, making it an ideal position for him.
Jason sat with a splat of limbs everywhere, mindful to keep that special leg away from you in the event that you grabbed it by accident again. He realized just how huge he looked compared to you and embarrassed, he splayed himself out across the beach, trying to make himself smaller. He knew he wouldn’t have had this problem if he still had his tail.
“Are you posing?”
Jason must have subconsciously gone into a sunbathing position, the classic pose that humans loved to depict sirens in.
You giggled. “No, no. Stay like that. You look cute, like you’re a model or something.”
“Oh yeah?” Jason said, humoring you and trying to laugh off his humiliation. “What should I be modeling?”
You thought for a moment before giving him a naughty smile. “I don’t know, sex on the beach?”
Before Jason could ask you what that was, you leaned over and kissed him.
It wasn’t like he hasn’t kissed before -he has- but it was the fact that it was you that had him surprised, so surprised that it was easy for you to slip your tongue in his mouth and taste him.
You took a wide stance as you straddled him, grinding your hips in his lap as you kissed. Jason wrapped his arms around you to bring you down to the sand with him, only pausing for a breath before his lips were on yours again.
This was better than any kind of fantasy he could think of as he flipped you onto your back, making sure that his hands squeezed your ass before he let go.
He could feel his cock pulse and ache as he felt your silky legs run themselves across his own, getting tangled in them. Your dress was more of a bother than a tease, preventing him from being able to touch all of you. One tentacle slipped off your dress while the other unhooked your bra, tossing it somewhere where the tide wouldn’t get it.
With your body exposed, his tentacles seemed to have a mind of their own, already placing scattered kisses across your body. You giggled into his mouth at the sensation. It felt like you were being tickled all over and you couldn’t help but squirm from their touch.
“Bad girl,” Jason chastised. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to make you feel good?”
“If you’re not going to be good and stay in place, I’ll just have to pin you down.”
A tentacle wrapped itself around each leg, spreading them open. You struggled against the restraints, shy about Jason being able to look at you so closely. One more held your wrists above your head in case you tried to push them away.
Jason leaned down to look at your wet sex closely. It was dripping with a wetness that was thicker than water, making it glisten. A cute little bud laid on top of your hole. Another tentacle prodded between your folds curiously before deciding that it liked how nice and wet you felt, sliding in a few inches at a time.
You let out a squeak as you felt it move in and out, the sensation strange and tantalizing. Jason observed your expression and the sounds you made when he touched you, noticing that you tended to make a high-pitched keen whenever he expanded the tentacle to be thicker or when he went in deeper.
As entertaining as it was, Jason wanted to do more than just hear you, he wanted to taste you as well. You responded well to the tentacle’s suction on that little fleshly pearl, so he wondered what you would do if his mouth was on it instead.
With his mouth hovering over your clit, he gave it a sharp lick before licking a stripe down and up, swirling around that bud once more.
You let out a cry. “More. It feels so good when you play with my pussy like that.”
Jason complied, alternating between drawing circles with the tip of tongue and licking fat stripes with the flat of it. He drew two fingers up to that wet little hole of yours, his tentacle still in it too, plunging in at a pace to match his mouth. It felt incredibly lewd to have your hole stuffed this way.
Jason said your name in a low, almost raspy voice, his voice seductive. “You like that, don’t you? Don’t be shy, pretty girl. We’re all alone here. You can be as loud as you want.”
You gave him a distracted ‘uh-huh,’ making him look up at you questioningly. It seemed that his cock somehow found its way near your mouth. It was more engorged now, the arrowed tip fat and swollen, edges puffy and rounded. It looked somewhat similar to a human cock, just longer, thicker and shinier. It even had a slit on the end and you wondered if Jason would be able to cum like a human too.
As if reading your mind or possessing a will of its own, Jason’s cock slipped itself into your mouth. You felt a stretch in your jaw as you tried to accommodate its girth, only able to comfortably take the head but that was more than enough for Jason.
He groaned into your cunt as he felt your tongue lick across the slit, doing your best to suck while doing it. He glanced up to see drool dribble down your chin, mouth keeping his cock warm instead of sucking.
Adequately wet, his cock slid out of your mouth and Jason knew that it was time. He hovered over you again, letting your tired legs rest against his shoulders.
“I know that you were a little too busy to talk, but I better hear you now that your mouth is free.”
You nodded your head, already panting heavily as you felt Jason stretch your pussy with his cock, the tentacle moving achingly slow past your lips. He sighed as he reached a comfortable spot, giving your body time to get used to him. He could already feel your legs shaking.
“So big,” you whined, thinking that if you moved your hips a little and rocked them, it would make his cock fit more comfortably inside of you.
“It’s so big you say,” Jason mocked, “yet that cute little pussy of yours seems to be taking my cock real nice.”
He let the tentacle that pinned your arms go slack. Your arms immediately drew him towards you, pressing his body close to yours.
He moved his cock inside of you, starting off slow then building up friction.
“Tell me how badly you want me to touch you, how badly you need this cock to cum.”
“So bad,” you whimpered, letting out a sensitive gasp you felt his tentacles grope your tits, suckers on your nipples.
“I don’t think I can cum without you, Jay.”
Your confession alone was enough to drive Jason wild, making him thrust in a little too hard and too fast, an apologetic ‘sorry’ as he kissed your lips.
Jason was practically singing as he fucked you, though this was a different sort of song from his usual ones. You felt the needy hum of his moans and ragged breaths against his chest, the crash of waves serving as distant background music.
He felt your walls squeeze around him, your eyes shut tight and mouth agape, letting out broken whimpers as you came. He could feel your legs spasm around his neck, twitching as he continued on his movements, a bored tentacle moving down to give your clit attention.
He didn’t have time to compare how it felt to have you cum on him versus how you looked, his orgasm closely following yours.
Gently pushing himself off of you, Jason couldn’t help but watch his cum ooze out of you and drip down your legs, a swell of pride in his chest as he realized just how much he unloaded.
After he finished gazing at his work, he settled beside you, looking at your sleeping form, unsure of what to do while you slept. You shivered from the mix of ocean and breeze and Jason knew what to do as he scooped you up to settle against his chest. You could talk about what exactly you two were later. He wasn’t trying to cuddle, if anything he was just keeping a fragile human like you warm.
---
“I don’t get why you want to live in this dump,” Jason said four months later, still at the edges of the shore as he assessed your new home.
Luckily for you, the old Kane Chemicals site was dirt cheap, so even with your modest savings, you could afford to pay for it in cash. The city practically shoved the key in your hands, perhaps eager to finally make a buck off of that rotting building by the sea.
“It’s not that bad,” you told him. “Surprisingly it’s on the electrical grid and all it really needs is a deep clean. And I own it too, so maybe I won’t be hit hard with taxes next year. It’s also a major upgrade from my shitty little apartment in Little Italy.”
The upsides of your new house seemed to go over Jason’s head.
“Just think of me as the girl next door.”
Another blank look from Jason who didn’t understand the trope.
You gave him a sly look before speaking. “Maybe you can’t see me as your friendly neighbor after everything we’ve been through?”
The blush on his face told you everything.
“Of course I can. You better keep the noise down to the minimum or else I’ll call the cops on you.”
“With what cell phone?” You teased.
Speaking in a more serious tone, you looked Jason in the eyes. “I always told you that my heart was with the sea but I lied. It’s with you, Jason. I really care about you, ya know?”
He laughed, pulling you close. “I love you too,” he said before grinning widely. “Now tell me what you like the most about me. My charming personality, my good looks, my fat cock or all three?”
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Life Goes On
This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.
This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.
Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.
Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.
The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks.
There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.
It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.
You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.
His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.
Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.
Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.
Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.
Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.
You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.
When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play.
You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.
"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."
"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."
"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."
You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.
"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."
You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.
"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."
He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.
"Sorry, I'm rambling…"
"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."
"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."
"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"
"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."
"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."
"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"
You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.
"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"
"Sure," you said.
"You got somewhere to be?"
"No…" you answered cautiously.
"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."
"You wanna talk? To me?"
"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."
"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."
"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."
"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."
🖤
That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.
“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”
“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.
“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”
You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”
“It feels… too early for that.”
“Too early?”
“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”
“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”
“Read?”
“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”
“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”
“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.
“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”
You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.
“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”
“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.
“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”
“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”
“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”
“With the kids?”
“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”
“Decide what?”
“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”
He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”
“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”
“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.
“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”
“What time?” he raised his head.
“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”
“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”
“For what?”
“For putting up with me.”
You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”
“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”
You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”
🖤
Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.
You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.
When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.
“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”
He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”
“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”
You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.
You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.
Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.
You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.
“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”
“But you’re still here,” you said.
“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”
“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”
“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”
“Is it too much?”
“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”
“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”
“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.
“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”
He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”
“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.
“You gotta be up early?”
“Nah, not too early.”
“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.
“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”
“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”
🖤
Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.
That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.
You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.
“You okay?” Andy asked.
“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”
“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”
“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.
You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.
Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”
“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.
“What’s wrong? You eat something?”
“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”
You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.
“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”
“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”
He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.
🖤
You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket.
You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.
"Why am I here?" You asked.
"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"
"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."
"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."
"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"
"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."
"You don't have to--"
"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."
You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."
"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."
"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."
"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."
🖤
You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.
Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.
You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.
"Andy! Andy! What--"
"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."
"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.
"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.
"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"
"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."
"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"
The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.
"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."
"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."
"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."
"Andy, you're wrong--"
"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."
He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.
"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."
He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.
"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"
The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.
"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."
You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.
"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."
🖤
You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired.
Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.
"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."
"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."
"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."
He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.
"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.
You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?
🖤
He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.
You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.
"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."
“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”
He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.
“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”
“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”
“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”
“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”
“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”
“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”
“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”
“And--��
His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.
“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.
He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.
His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.
He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.
“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.
“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”
“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”
He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.
“Andy, stop, please, no--”
He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.
“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”
You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.
“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”
He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.
He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.
He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”
“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”
“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”
Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.
“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”
Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.
The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.
Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.
He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”
“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.
“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”
His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls.
He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.
He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.
“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”
He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.
“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”
#andy barber#dark andy barber#dark!andy barber#andy barber x reader#one shot#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#defending jacob
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Lemme get the timeline right, so Dick was about 15-16 when first Teen Titans happened, then he came back to Batgirl's debut, some time later he left for college & that was the issue where Bruce is kinda teary, looking at Dick's prizes, Dick teases him a lil? Or was that golden age? Then he's recruited by Raven, NTT happens, but the firing... I'm confusing these parts. He got fired after getting shot by Joker? He was Robin then so before Jason, but was he with NTT or in Gotham?
LOL don’t worry about being confused, because it very much IS confusing thanks to so many continuities and retcons.
Personally, I tend to go with pre-New 52 timeline and then just later stories like that timeline never ended and just kept going with New 52 and Rebirth stories....with any discrepancies being like....’flashback stories’ retroactively inserted at the appropriate point in the characters’ histories. That’s just my approach though, doesn’t necessarily work for everyone.
But pre-New 52, the ages up until Dick is around 16 or 17 are pretty flexible.....you can kinda pick and choose when you view the first Teen Titans having formed because there aren’t any hard age milestones to use as a marker. So regardless of what you go with, up until Dick was about sixteen, maybe seventeen, he lived full time in Gotham with Bruce, was Robin, and ‘moonlighted’ with the Teen Titans, who in their early years were kinda more an excuse to hang out with their superhero friends rather than like....a specifically focused team.
THEN is when it gets confusing, because enter the Age of Retcons:
ORIGINALLY, pre-Crisis of Infinite Earths, aka Retcon-Palooza, Dick went on to become Nightwing while he was still on good terms with Bruce. Bruce took Jason in and adopted him, but there was zero conflict with Dick over this....in fact, at this point in the comics, Jason was ALSO an orphaned circus acrobat whose family had been friends with Dick’s family, and DICK was the one who helped him after his parents were murdered, and took him to Bruce, which led to Bruce adopting him.
(Fun fact, and part of why I side-eye people who dismiss retcons as ‘not counting’......Jason’s extremely iconic and well-known history as a street kid who Bruce found stealing his tires......only spanned about TWELVE ISSUES. Before his death, he literally only existed with that origin for about a year’s worth of comics....as opposed to pre-Crisis, when he existed for SEVERAL years worth of comics as the plucky acrobat who adored Dick and was always doing his homework and saying “Robin gives me magic” and stuff. Fandom lives mashing these two versions of Jason together, which is fine, but they have zero problem plying his twelve issues of having grown up as a street kid for angst, while being dismissive of other characters’ retcons, and that’s right up there when talking about Things That Make Me Go HMMMM).
Anyway, so originally, pre-Crisis, Dick moved on to become Nightwing when HE was good and ready, of his own volition, because he felt he was entering a new stage of his life and wanted to reflect that. And then HE gave Robin to Jason HIMSELF, like, literally bequeathed it to him, brother to brother, with Jason being appropriately grateful to HIM for that rather than crediting Bruce with it, who had absolutely nothing to do with it other than looking on fondly and proceeding from there with Jason as his partner. Dick then transitioned to living and working with the New Teen Titans full time in New York.
He also briefly went to college at this time, but dropped out after just one semester or one year or so......which other people often skew to make it sound like he’s lazy or spoiled or just wanted to live off Bruce’s money all of which makes me gnash my teeth, lol.....nah, he already had the equivalent of several college degrees just from growing up being trained by Bruce. Dick dropped out for one reason only: nothing he wanted to do with his life benefited from a college diploma specifically, and none of the jobs he went on to work later required one. He’s a kid who comes from a family who never went to college either because they didn’t NEED to in order to do what they loved....and Dick was no different. People love to cite that Dick was already fairly old when his parents died and that’s why ‘he didn’t need Bruce to be his parent as much specifically’ or whatthefuckever....but then they turn right around and act like he should live his life more according to the expectations and standards of Bruce as opposed to.....in keeping with his first family and their priorities and whatnot. BUT I DIGRESS.
But anyway, at this point, he mostly lived in New York and came back to Gotham every now and then to visit or to help with cases. Babs had at this point been Batgirl for some time, before he became Nightwing, but again, the timelines are messy, so the only real marker that’s important IMO is that her history with Bruce and Dick as Batgirl predates Jason joining the family, AND post-Crisis, when Jason had his street kid origin.....I think she interacted with that version of Jason maybe once?
My point there is there’s a lot of piling on the angst and pointing back to Dick as the ultimate culprit, with people making a big deal about how Barbara and others were constantly comparing Jason to Dick and resenting him for not being Dick and this made Jason’s childhood even with Bruce especially difficult....but again, nah. The vast majority of the time Babs/Batgirl co-existed with Jason/Robin, it was pre-Crisis Jason, which meant that he was on great terms with Bruce AND Dick and Dick was on great terms with Bruce, all of which means....NOBODY WAS RESENTING ANYBODY OR COMPARING ANYONE TO ANYONE ELSE, THEY ALL COEXISTED JUST FINE.
NOW.
ENTER THE RETCONS.
This is where it gets messier and more complicated, because JUST LIKE the comics retconned Jason’s origin to make him a street kid - and which NOBODY has trouble acknowledging or balancing......the comics ALSO retconned Dick’s departure from Gotham. Now it was because there was a story in which Dick was shot by the Joker, Bruce freaked out about his safety, and decided the best way to express this was by firing Dick as Robin and alienating him. Dick lingered for a few weeks, its said, in the hopes that Bruce would change his mind, but when Bruce didn’t, Dick finally packed his bags and left to go live with the Titans full time, where he became Nightwing. Its further said that this was the last contact they had for about a YEAR AND A HALF.....with Dick being the one to make the first move to resume contact.....when he found out from the papers both that Bruce had taken in a new kid (Jason) and adopted him already, AND made him Robin.
(A name which no matter WHAT origin you go for in terms of what it means to Dick, is regardless HIS CREATION, the mantle HE made for HIMSELF, and was never Bruce’s to give away, whether or not you go with the take that it was Dick’s mother’s nickname for him, or it being a reference to Robin Hood, Dick’s favorite childhood hero).
Anyway, Dick confronted Bruce about this, and Bruce basically just....acknowledged this without actually ever putting the words “I’m sorry” or “I messed up” in there, and that was Dick’s one and only ON THE PAGE interaction with Jason post-street kid origin before A Death In The Family....which occurred like two story arcs later.
(However, something I like to point out is the issue where Dick and Jason meet after both their respective retcons, was a FLASHBACK issue. It literally starts the issue off with the caption “One year ago”.....meaning that even though Jason died only two story arcs later and we never saw Dick and he interact on the page again, that issue was deliberately scripted in such a way as to allow for a good couple years to pass IN UNIVERSE....which, IMO, is where Dick and Jason’s sibling bond and dynamic had more than enough time to form. Just because Dick was on bad terms with Bruce doesn’t mean he ever took this out on Jason, and we know from later stories that they at least interacted a few times we never saw, like when the two of them went skiing together - so while people act like they barely knew each other because Dick was never around, IMO there’s literally no reason to assume that Dick wasn’t just as good about reaching out to Jason and forming a sibling bond with him after that first initial meeting, as he later was with Tim and Cass and Damian. In fact, given how familiar Dick and Jason seem to be with each other after his return to Gotham years later, IMO the thing that ACTUALLY strains credulity is the idea that before Jason died, he and Dick only interacted a bare handful of times. Nah. That doesn’t track.)
ANYWAY. That’s how all that played out those two different times, and why there’s so much confusion, BUT I maintain a huge part of that confusion is artificially produced.....by people deliberately trying to mix and match continuities in a way that just flat out doesn’t work. Sooooooo many times over the years, we’ve heard takes on how Dick ‘quit’ being Robin and then Bruce made Jason Robin and Dick resented both of them for this, but uh.....that’s the one version of things that DIDN’T ever happen. There were two distinct ways it played out. In the first, Dick quit voluntarily, and then made Jason Robin himself, and he and Bruce and Jason were all on great terms. In the later version, (the definitive version, because just like Jason’s street kid origin, it was the retcon, yes, but it was also never refuted or contradicted, the way it would have to be to ‘reset’ canon to that earlier sequence of events/state of affairs) - but yeah, in the later version, Dick was fired, Bruce made Jason Robin, and Dick resented BRUCE for this.
But people keep trying to play mix and match so Dick both quit - thus ‘giving up his claim to Robin/theoretically having no basis to object to someone else being Robin’....AND Bruce made Jason Robin - thus getting ‘credit’ in Jason’s eyes for giving him this mantle, responsibility and trust - with Dick then resenting Bruce for giving away the thing he ‘gave up.’
And that’s so disingenuous and obnoxious, when people try and play that game. They don’t want Dick to have ‘the right’ to the same complaints they have about Jason and Tim being ‘replaced’ but they also don’t want him to get credit for giving Robin to Jason because that would imply a strong brotherly bond and connection between them, one in which Dick clearly loves his little brother, and its just....uggggggh. So annoying.
BUT I DIGRESS.
Anyway, that’s the scoop, the buzz, the happening.
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Two under his wing, and one missing.
by Anonymous
There were only three who remained. Three subjects who survived the ground-breaking drug which killed thousands in the process, the first and only three who reached the godhood that humanity strived to achieve. And in return, those three killed the people who had given them power no man should have.
But what if there was another unaccounted for? A fourth one, overlooked in a pile of dead children?
////////
Tommy was completely ordinary. Yep, in this world of vigilantes, heroes and villains where almost everyone had some kind of unique ability, Tommy really didn’t stand out. He was just some broke orphan trying to survive the dangerous city streets of L’manburg.
Lately though, it seems like his luck in life has gotten worse. He actually has roommates now, and things are getting weirder.
He just can’t understand why his roommates are all the sudden being nice to him? And why are there supervillain sightings alarmingly close to him?
////////
or: a vigilante fic with sbi + benchtrio!!! but tommy is Always in denial
Words: 3114, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Video Blogging RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: Gen
Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy, Cuptoast | Crumb (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu, Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity, Karl Jacobs, Charlie Dalgleish, <—- thats slimecicle, Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Other Character Tags to Be Added
Relationships: Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Additional Tags: Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Hybrids, Avian Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Goat Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Human TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Human Wilbur Soot, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Human Experimentation, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Dream SMP Ensemble are Superheroes, Dream Smp, BenchTrio - Freeform, Secret Identity
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/36556333
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My family is going to be moving houses at the end of June, and since I’ve started packing away my books, I thought I might as well share some of my books with y’all and give some book recs while I’m at it!
First up is the LGBTQ+ books I own. Unfortunately, I don’t have very many given it’s kinda difficult to find ones with plots that I like. (I contemplated whether or not to include the wtnv novel in this one, but seeing as it’s not centered around Cecil and Carlos, I decided to leave it out for now).
But anyways, here they are:
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz - A coming-of-age story about two young Mexican boys, Aristotle “Ari” Mendoza and Dante Quintana, who are as different as can be, but who somehow manage to forge an unbreakable connection that spans from childhood to adolescence, and beyond. Ari is angry and confused and from a broken family. Dante is gentle, and emotional, and is “crazy about his parents”. Dante knows he’s gay. And Ari has no idea what to make of his relationship with his best friend.
This one is super sweet and isn’t in the picture because it’s with Natsu at the moment. But it’s really thoughtful and adorable, and I just love Ari and Dante to bits and pieces. Definitely a must-read, guys!
Beautiful Music For Ugly Children by Kirstin Cronn-Mills - About a young trans teen named Gabe who recently came out to his best friend and parents. The book is about him trying to make peace with who he is. Mostly, he does this through his love of music, and his bond with his next door neighbour, an old man who helps him get his first radio show, where he quickly develops a following of fans who fall for his unique taste in music and his quirky personality.
Carry On by Rainbow Rowell - A Harry Potter-inspired fantasy book with an absolutely fascinating magic system. We follow an orphaned chosen one who’s just trying to get through the his last school year at his magic boarding school, the Watford School of Magicks, while the entire magical community somehow expects him to save them from the villain who’s been stealing their magic. And not to mention having to deal with his archnemesis vampire roommate who has probably been trying to kill him since the moment they met in first year. But after being broken up with by his girlfriend, and invited to his aforementioned archnemesis’ house over Christmas break, needless to say nothing is going as he would have expected. This entire book reads like some kind of strange, drarry roommates au fanfiction, and it’s absolutely GLORIOUS.
every day by David Levithan - “A” doesn’t have a body of their own. For every single morning of their life, they’ve woken up in a different person’s body, with no friends or family or life to call their own. And it’s all fine. A’s gotten used to it, made peace with their fate. They’ve learned not to get too attached to anyone, learned not to attract too much attention or interfere too much with the life of the body they wake up in. That is, until they somehow find themselves falling in love with the girlfriend of one of the guys whose body they’re borrowing one day. I actually had to consider for a while whether or not to include this book, because a lot of the most important bodies A inhabits throughout this book are male bodies, and the main female lead is straight. But A themself is nonbinary and pan. They identify as whatever gender the body they’re in is, and are attracted to people regardless of their gender. Loved this book to bits and pieces, really bittersweet. It has a sequel called “Another Day” which is focused mainly on the Rhiannon, the female love interest, but I haven’t read that one yet since I’m not terribly interested in her.
Fan Art by Sarah Tregay - This one is....very juvenile. And by that, I mean it’s one of those idyllic, clichéd ya romances that we all like to pretend we don’t like, but that has all the tropes that we just adore in fanfiction and that we inevitably end up finishing in one sitting. It’s about a high schooler named Jamie who’s recently realized he’s head over heels for his (seemingly) straight best friend, Mason. Cue teen drama and angst and mutual pining. A really cute, light read with an adorable little comic near the beginning.
More Than This by Patrick Ness - Seth attempts suicide by trying to drown himself, and is pretty sure he succeeded. He felt his skull bash against the rocks after all. Only...he wakes up, naked, thirsty, starving, and utterly alone. He has absolutely no clue where he is, but the abandoned, crumbling, overgrown streets seem somehow vaguely familiar to him.
A suspenseful, thrilling, heartbreaking post-apocalypse with a gay protag that absolutely definitely has room for a sequel, though I don’t think the author has any plans to write one.
Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg - Rafe Goldberg is openly gay, and has a pretty good life. His parents are super supportive, he’s popular at school and has lots of friends, and no one really cares that he’s gay. But he’s getting tired of always being labelled as “the gay friend”. He just wants to be a “regular guy” and not “the gay guy.” So when he transfers to an all-boys’ boarding school, he decides to become “openly straight” instead. But just when everything was going perfectly for him, it all starts unravelling when he finds himself falling for one of his new friends.
I have mixed feelings about this one. I enjoyed it quite a bit while I was reading it, but the ending left me quite unsatisfied, and after having some time away to think about it, I’m not entirely sure I like the main character very much. He’s kinda really manipulative. Read at your own risk.
Proxy by Alex London - Sydney “Syd” Carton is a proxy. Rescued from the wastelands as an infant, his debt to the city was bought by a huge corporation that sells the lives of orphans like him to various rich and powerful people, who buy them as scapegoats for their own children. Syd’s patron, Knox Brindle, is exactly the rebellious, asshole bad boy that every proxy dreads. When Knox breaks an expensive vase, Syd is beaten. When Knox crashes a car, Syd is forced to donate a dangerous amount of blood to keep him alive. When a girl dies because of Knox’s aforementioned car crash...Syd gets the death penalty. His mad attempt to flee his fate leads to the accidental kidnapping of his patron and has the two of them branded as terrorists, leading to a crazy, cross-country chase that will change their entire world as they know it.
This book. Is literally one of my favourite books in the entire fucking world. Hands down the best dystopia book I’ve ever read. The characters are absolutely fantastic, the character development is fucking amazing (Knox somehow ended up becoming my fav character???), the world is rich and vibrant, and the book is beautiful and thrilling and utterly heartbreaking. If you read just one book from this entire list, let it be this one. It also has a sequel, for those of you interested, though I haven’t read it (and don’t plan on it either), so I can’t really vouch for it.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan - When two boys from completely different social circles and personalities somehow stumble across each other on one mutually crappy night, their shared name brings both their lives careening together in a strange, complicated, and downright frustrating way.
This one....was kinda dark. It was funny, because one of the Will Graysons is an edgy lil emo kid who thinks strictly in lowercase and writes angsty poetry and he’s absolutely adorable. But it also addresses some very real hardships and struggles that both gay and straight teens have to face.
#long post#book recs#lgbtq+ book recs#carry on#rainbow rowell#fan art#sarah tregay#every day#david levithan#john green#will grayson will grayson#proxy#proxy novel#alex london#more than this#patrick ness#beautiful music for ugly children#kirstin cronn-mills#openly straight#bill konigsberg#aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe#ari and dante#benjamin alire saenz
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Get Some Meat On Your Bones
yeh…im not so sure about this title but oh well
the first chapter in a small series I wanted to do, If you like this keep an eye out
words: 3444
summery: the ghost crew help Ezra get back on his feet after 8 years on the streets
other places to read this:
(I own these accounts)
fanfiction.net
AO3
warnings: vomiting, street life, mentions of genocide, depiction of injury, angst basically
please give feedback if you can
This would be his first meal on the ghost, Ezra knew he should take it slow, eat just enough to stave away the worst of his huger, then leave the rest for later. Things usually took a bad turn when he ate too much after practically nothing, and the last few days had been rough, between just general bad luck on the streets and his abrupt adventure with the rebels whose ship he now shared, not to mention his brief imprisonment. Those dratted imperials had even gone to the trouble of taking the yogans he had…. earned, and not even bothered to spare him a few ration bars! Ezra pouted. He hoped they choked on the seeds…
By the time he had finished sulking over his lost fruits and looked up, he saw Hera handing Sabine a bowl which she accepted with gratitude before retreating to her room. As the colourful girl stepped lightly past him he could smell the food, it smelt like salt and meat with that undertone of starchiness that all rations had, he could almost taste it. His eyes followed the steaming stew and Sabine rolled her eyes, thinking she was the focus of his gaze, but for once, his mind was elsewhere, revelling in the thought of a hot meal. A hot meal! His mouth watered. He couldn’t count how long it had been since he’d had one of those!
Hera soon arrived at the table where he and Zeb sat, as far as possible from one another. Kanan followed soon after, they both carried two more bowls, each filled with the same protein stew. To his obvious dismay, Zeb was forced to scoot closer to Ezra to allow Kanan and Hera room to squeeze in, his face twisted in a dramatic disgusted snarl. Ezra gave a repulsed grimaced in retort and Hera shot them a look that was gone in two seconds flat, melting back into her companionable smile, but it had been just long enough to scare the pants off of the both of them. Ezra deduced that this little “dinner as a family” thing was Hera’s idea given that her gentle smile looked out of place when put next to Zeb’s scowl and Kanan’s face that somehow managed to convey an air of masked awkwardness and acceptance. Kanan seemed to be good at conveying his feeling through only the slightest expression, or maybe he wasn’t, Ezra thought, maybe it was just this force thing the man liked to babble about, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t just emotions the Lothali boy had picked up on either, even in the short time he had known the man, Ezra got the impression Kanan sometimes had a hard time saying no to Hera. He was fairly sure he didn’t need the force to see that though. In the corner of his eye he saw Zeb glance at him. he started to envy Sabine and wonder how she got out of this.
His thoughts where completely shattered when a bowl and a spoon clinked down on the table in front of him and the tantalizing sent of food flooded his senses with salty promise. Instantly, his earlier rules of taking it slow were forgotten.
Kanan watched his newfound apprentice pick up the spoon with enthusiasm and begin to shovel the stew into his mouth. He was about to just roll his eyes and continue with his own meal before a grim thought wormed its way into his head. Now, he didn’t know much at all about Ezra, and he could admit that, no matter his knee jerk reactions at first, he knew the boy was more than just some reckless punk wanting to cause troubled. When Hera had told him that he was an orphan it had added an extra layer to Ezra’s motives that he hadn’t thought to consider before. He grazed a look at the younger boy, who was still intent on his food, and suddenly noticed the hollowness of the lithe teens eyes and his sunken cheeks, even the way he chewed looked awkward. His mind wandered back to the days he had spent rooting through dumpsters after order 66. He remembered the way hunger had clenched at his empty belly with an iron grip and sowed a weariness into his heart that made him snap and lash out if someone came too near. His hand clenched subconsciously around his spoon.
“you okay love?” he heard Hera say softly, he didn’t reply but gave her a meaningful glance that made her soft smile stiffen into a line of concern, before turning to speak to Ezra
“hey kid, slow down a little”
Ezra glanced up at the sound of Kanan’s voice and swallowed the stew in his mouth with a bit of difficulty, his throat had a hard time with food occasionally. What right did this guy have, to tell him how to eat his food? So, in response he just gave an irritated grunt and shot the Jedi a striking blue glare before pulling his bowl closer almost protectively and eating even faster. Even Zeb glanced at that before going back to his own meal, the genocide of his people had ensured he was no stranger to hunger. They were all rapidly beginning to expect something was going on here.
The stew was amazing, Ezra couldn’t get enough, it was hot and filling, it had been so long since his last bite of food let alone his last decent meal. Ezra couldn’t eat fast enough. But then the stew turned unexpectedly sour in his mouth and his throat refused to swallow the chunks of chewy protein, his stomach, which had once accepted the nutrition thankfully, was churning. He felt the stinging sensation of bile rising in his throat. He stilled his spoon a few centimetres from his mouth. A part of him was hitting itself for forgetting how his stomach had might have shrunk in the last few hungry days. The spoon fell from his hand and into the stew with a plop that splattered the table and caught the attention of the three sentients. Ezra sprang from his seat and ran out the room, grabbing the door frame and using his momentum to skid around the corner and towards the ‘fresher, the location of which he was thankful he knew.
It was Kanan who leapt to his feet first followed by the other two, he stalled for a moment, unknowing of what to do. He was quickly snapped out of his daze when the blur of green that was Hera as she dashed past him. He followed hot on her heels. Zeb could only stand dumbfounded, unknowing of what to do, he’d never been any good at this sort of thing but then an idea sparked in his green eyes a and he turned to the small kitchenette in the far side of the room.
***
When Hera turned towards the small room, Kanan lagging a little behind, she saw the door had been left open giving her an immediate view of Ezra hunched over the toilet, throwing up violently. She saw some of it had splashed against his jump suit and the thin white undershirt he wore underneath. He knelt with his legs splayed out every which way and his bangs obscuring his face, it gave her an opportunity to really notice just how sickly he looked, the dry, unhealthy dullness to his hair and the faint rash that seemed to be spreading up his neck. The trembling boy turned his head slightly towards her and Kanan, he looked like he was about to speak to her but snapped his face back towards the toilet coughing and spluttering before once again wrenching, this time bringing up only bile. As the boy coughed and gasped Hera settled down beside him.
In some weird, unfamiliar way, Ezra was glad Hera had come, but it also ignited a small spark of fear in his chest, she had an air of gentleness the others seemed to lack, but there was also some sort of anxiety that rose in his throat when he was around her, she was the captain and owner of the ship after all and if she deemed him more trouble than he was worth he’d be dumped back and Lothal without a single yogan stashed away for the fast approaching winter months. They didn’t get much snow on Lothal, but there was a frost that came and settled over the grasslands, hardening the ground and sinking into the bones of those without sufficient shelter. If you didn’t have enough food, you would surely die. What would Hera think of him like this? He was weak and useless, a useless boy that couldn’t even feed himself. He felt her gaze burning into him, why keep him on the ship if he was no use to any-
-the thoughts swirling in Ezra’s head dispelled as he felt Hera rubbing a gentle, comforting circle on his back, anything he might have said was interrupted as he once again heaved, but his stomach was empty so all it did was make him choke and splutter, squeezing small tears from his eyes. He gasped in short deep breaths.
Ezra heard feet scuffing near the door and gave a sideways glanced to see Kanan still standing where he had been before. He glimpsed Kanan as he stood awkwardly in the door. He had taken his shoulder armour off before dinner and his hair was a little dishevelled from a long day, a few strands had escaped the previously tight pony tail. He had expected the Jedi had come to say something along the lines of I told you so, but then Ezra saw his face, his teal eyes were soft and his eyebrows creased in concern, he wore an almost knowing frown. It was a look of… understanding and empathy. Ezra could most definitely say he hadn’t been expecting that.
Kanan stared back at the boy when he caught the deep blue eyes studying him through a drape of greasy blue hair. He let out a sharp breath, at that moment (however inappropriate a moment it was) he felt relief, no matter his insecurity’s and concerns about teaching Ezra, at least he would be fed and sheltered, and in some twisted sense of the word, safe. Hera’s voice brought his attention back to the situation at hand and he noticed Ezra had finally stopped vomiting. He sat next to the twi’lek a hand covering the right side his now pale face. He looked exhausted.
“we should get you out of your jumpsuit, and your under shirt as well, I think” he heard her say gently, rubbing soothing circles into Ezra’s back, but then moving her hand away when the boy looked uneased by the simple gesture. He saw her frown but Kanan knew it was because of something other than their newest member’s edginess towards her
“I don’t think I saw you bring any more clothes though” he barley heard her murmur, the thought directed at herself. He was trying to think how to solve this new problem before remembering the sleep top he had accidently shrunk a in a wash cycle.
“I have something that should fit, hold up a minute” Hera regarded thankfully him with a small nod, but when he looked at Ezra, the boy’s blue eyes swirled with confusion. He found himself dwelling on that as he walked briskly to his cabin
Hera watched Kanan leave before turning back to the newly named spectre six. He sat with his knees pulled into his chest and he was fixated on the wall outside that could be seen through the still open bathroom door. He didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the state of his clothes, but Hera was sure it couldn’t be comfortable. He had looked distant but when she shifted so that she was crouching on the balls of her feet his blue eyes darted too her as quick as a pouncing loth-cat. Hera did her best to give the gentlest smile she could
“why don’t you get your jumpsuit off and I can wash it for you” Ezra still didn’t speak, but his wary gaze seemed to soften a little. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Hera heard him murmur a quick thanks and reach a hand behind his back to fumble with the zip of his clothes. She breathed a small relived sigh as Ezra struggled to pull his arms from the tight sleeves of his scruffy attire. Talking to the kid in this state was like trying to heard tookas. Kanan rounded the corner as Ezra stepped out of the pile of orange fabric leaving him in his sick tainted under shirt and thin black trousers. He was holding a loose cream coloured sleep shirt that looked small enough to fit his padawan. As Hera gathered the dirty suit off the ‘fresher floor he extended the bundled shirt to the boy. Ezra reached almost tentatively towards the soft material. When he had it in his hands he grasped it so hard his knuckles went white, as if someone were about to steal it, but then his darting eyes glanced towards her and his grip loosened
“I will- “he broke off to cough, trying to lose the hoarseness in his throat “-I’ll give it back later”
Kanan gave a wry chuckle
“it’s not like it fits me, kid” he countered with slight amusement in his voice “besides, it’ll do you as sleep clothes until we can get you other stuff”
Ezra had an expression that Hera could only describe as bewilderment. He looked like he was about to say something but Kanan cut him off
“better get it on, so we can wash that as well” he suggested, pointing at Ezra’s splattered white under shirt. The blue haired teen blinked out of his daze and began to pull his shirt over his head. Hera did her very best not to gasp. As he pulled up his shirt the stretched fabric slid over the bumps of his protruding spine. A red, dry rash cracked its way down his right shoulder, caking itself on his spine, it stopped halfway down only to be replaced with a fairly new looking dark purple bruise that bloomed across his lower back like Sabine’s water colours. Although he wasn’t starving just yet, he was a good half of the way there and she could have counted his ribs with little difficulty. She didn’t get time to properly examine his array of old scars and new scratches and bumps before he pulled the cream sleep top over his dark mop of hair and let it slide down to cover his torso. When his sunken blue eyes turned to glance at her as she took the newly shed shirt from his hands, all she could see was the grim childhood memory of the hollow eyes of her people, starving in the tight clutches of the war many a cycle ago on Ryloth. She raised her gaze to see Kanan, she knew he had seen what she had, but instead of horror, instead of pity. She was met with something else.
Ezra was frankly feeling a little overwhelmed. He was starting to think maybe he had judged these people wrong but then a doubting voice rang out in his thoughts. “No”, he told himself, “they’ll only disappoint you, as soon as winters over you stick to the plan and make a run for it”. But there was another voice that argued in favour of this motley band of rebels, a voice that had always been there, unlike the cold logic that had only developed on the dusty streets of Lothal. That soft humming that usually told him of dangers and traps, but more recently to trust. Right now it shouted to him, “no! no! stay! This is where you should be!” he had always trusted it before, but this was different, he needed more than this to convince him to change his entire way of life, so then the voice said, as if in answer “look up” so he did
He lifter his head slightly, only to be met with the glittering teal of Kanan’s gaze, he saw all that he had before, the knowing and the empathy, but now, shining in the depths of blue and green, he felt something new. Respect, and a promise.
***
Kanan’s hand on his back between his shoulder blades guiding him to his room didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He didn’t like touches, people could grab you too easily when you let them get that close. But that paranoia… that fear just wasn’t there as Kanan nudged him through the door and towards the ladder. I’m just tired, that’s all, he lied to himself.
“you should rest, take a nap or something, you’re as white as snow on Hoth” Kanan observed and Ezra huffed in agreement already climbing the ladder, hoping to sleep before the building headache he had worsened and his returning hunger came back with a vengeance. Kanan was just leaving as Zeb walked in, holding a glass and a packet of crackers. The Jedi halted in curiosity, looking up at the tall lasat.
Zeb shuffled uncomfortably, suddenly looking embarrassed. The clawed paws hurriedly transferred the goods into Kanan’s hands, murmuring something Ezra didn’t catch, before hurrying out the door. Kanan examined the packet before smiling and handing them and the glass up to Ezra
“I didn’t think, you won’t have any food left from dinner, you must be starving, not to mention dehydrated” as he said that Ezra was already hurrying to get the glass of water to his lips but Kanan reached up and stilled his hand, lightly gripping his wrist “just do me a favour and take it a little slower this time, alright kid?” the Jedi gave a wry smile and dropped the boys wrist then made his way out the cabin, as soon as he’d left Ezra smiled back.
Taking small slow sips from the glass he gave a sigh and began to open the packet. He looked at the salted cracker in his hands and took a small bite of the corner, letting it melt in his mouth
Maybe he’d be here a little longer than expected
***
“I kind of feel better about all this now, in a kind of twisted way” Kanan murmured into his kaff as Hera blew on her own, trying to cool the hot beverage down. Her breaths sent steam swirling into the air, catching in the glow of the lights above them that had been dimmed to signal the artificial night. They had both volunteered for the graveyard shift and were currently sitting next to each other right where the drama had started a few hours before.
“about what?” she asked as she decided the drink was cool enough and took a sip.
“this whole training him thing,” he replied, moving his tanned face away from I own mug. She looked up at him and gave a warm smile that meant more to him than she could have ever said, he didn’t even need to explain. He loved that about her, always so smart.
“I’m surprised he wasn’t more trouble today, especially with his shirt, I suppose he did look awfully tired” Hera spoke in a hushed voice, trying to keep her words from leaking through the thin walls of the ship and disturbing the others, especially Ezra.
“me too-” Kanan agreed, “-he doesn’t really know us yet, I would have been apprehensive of showing stuff like that to you when we first met” he mused, thinking back to the man he had been without her but then the serious atmosphere was shattered as Hera laughed into her kaff. He raised an eyebrow in the pilot’s direction.
“Kanan” she exclaimed between giggles “you had trouble keeping your shirt on around me when we first met!” Kanan rolled his eyes and feigned a pout as her giggles died down, melting back into the companionable silence
“but seriously Kanan” she said as she turned to look at him “you can do this, you’ll figure it out” her voice was soft and soothing but at the same time determined, she could speak in a way that made him feel he could do anything “and for what it’s worth,I think Ezra will make a great student"
Kanan gave a huff and settled his cheek on her covered head
“if you say so” he murmured “but first I think we need to get a little meat on his bones”
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A Diamond In The Rough
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2mZnKXi
by BluePotatoLord
In a country filled with human-animal hybrids, the breed of their animal defined their status. The higher class animals lived on top while the common animals stayed below. Depending on how strong their beast bloodline was, a person could either turn into their own individual animal or have the same traits and scent.
Yuuri Katsuki, an orphan living on the streets, had always wanted to live in the palace. He knew he could never be worthy enough, not with his low breed. Even if he were to be somehow given the opportunity, he doubted he would ever find the courage to seize it.
But he wanted so much more.
Join Yuuri on a magic carpet ride as he falls in love with a cerulean-eyed prince and discovers a mysterious lamp that will change his life forever.
Words: 976, Chapters: 1/23, Language: English
Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: M/M
Characters: Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky, Yakov Feltsman, Phichit Chulanont, Minami Kenjirou, Otabek Altin, Jean-Jacques Leroy, Georgi Popovich, Michele Crispino, Emil Nekola
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Jean-Jacques Leroy/Yuri Plisetsky, Anya/Georgi Popovich, Jean-Jacques Leroy/Isabella Yang, Michele Crispino/Emil Nekola
Additional Tags: Disney AU, Aladdin AU, Disney, Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Human/AnimalHybrids, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, bigbangonice2018
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2mZnKXi
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