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imagineslashers · 4 years ago

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First Words Soulmate AU

okay so i love this au, and i’m not sure if it’ve done it before, but i’m doing it now so enjoy! essentially, the first words you ever speak to your soulmate are imprinted on you somewhere and same for them, if you aren’t familiar with this au! x

WARNING for violence and death and swearing!

also sorry this is long yikes-

Jason

To be perfectly honest, you had lost all hope of ever meeting your soulmate, if going only by the words on your wrist - or rather, the lack of words. All you have imprinted on your skin is a dash, a wobbly line, and nothing else. From day one, you had merely accepted the fact that your soulmate was likely dead, or going to die, before you’d ever have the chance to meet them.

Your trip to an old camping ground was purely as an escape, to break away from all your friends who were happily in love and all met their soulmates. It was overwhelming, the joy they were suffocating your lonely self with, so you needed to get away.

Hiking through the cool afternoon air, your heart lays heavy in your chest, proving that even distance and ignorance can’t shield you from the pain. Anxiously, your fingers rub at your exposed wrist, and the crooked line across it. An owl hoots in the distant treetops, reminding you of your isolation.

You pause, taking a minute to breathe in deeply, stretching your sore muscles, and peering at the glimpse of the lake through the distant tree trunks. A slight sound distracts you, a brief snapping of a twig, and all the birds stop singing. A deer, perhaps? Your head turns slowly, taking in the surroundings. Even the insects seem to be holding their breath, the forest blanketed by a harsh silence.

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you exhale shakily, deciding to push on and try to reach a clearing where you may feel less trapped. It doesn’t help. The more steps you take, the more aware you become of the sensation, constantly looking over your shoulder.

When your nerves are entirely fried, the sudden flight of a startled crow sends you into a fully fledged panic, bolting through the trees. The quiet snapping of twigs becomes a heavy thudding, trembling the ground and you no longer waste time by looking back, powering through the forest.

There’s a looming shadow that falls over you and your voice escapes in a shriek, realising the inevitable. You’re not fast enough. The world spins as your shirt is grabbed, yanking you backwards and throwing you off your feet. Rolling across the dirt for a few seconds, you’re finally stopped staring up at the hulking masked figure. There’s a machete in his left hand, and a shred of your shirt in his right. He steps over you, feet either side of your hips and pulls back his arm.

You instinctively lift your hands to defend yourself, turning your head away and gasping for breath. “P-please!” You whimper, heart racing like a hummingbird. “Please don’t!”

He freezes, pulls back, and blinks at you from behind his mask. After a few painfully slow moments, he rotates his arm holding the machete, and you’re able to glimpse three words inscribed down his arm. They’re the words you spoke.

It all clicks and you realise he doesn’t, or can’t, speak. You shakily lift your wrist to show him your mark. He appears bewildered, stunned at the thought of having a real soulmate as much as you, then finally extends a wary hand. You take it.

Bubba

The road trip was a stupid idea, you said that from the start. However, you had been dragged along by your friends to celebrate a few milestones in your lives, and so succumbed to their pleading. Now, you sit rigidly in the back of their car, waiting anxiously. How long does it take to pay for fuel?

Your mind is racing, it’s been nearly half an hour and you haven’t heard anything. You elected to stay behind to keep an eye on the car while they went inside to get snacks, but that shouldn’t take too long, right?

A light flickers in the back of the old gas station, and with it the sound of a machine, perhaps a chainsaw or similar tool. You try to shrug it off. It’s a dilapidated country station, they’re probably fixing something or working at the back.

However, you can’t ignore the screaming, or the sudden bursting open of the door. Your friend’s boyfriend comes streaking out, face ashen, bolting past you. You lean out of the window, eyes wide, calling his name but he ignores you. A whoosh of air rushes past your head and an axe lands squarely in the back of his head. You scream, jerking yourself back into the car before kicking the door open and almost falling out.

You don’t have the keys, but running is obviously pointless. Instead, you bolt for the gas station, hoping to find a phone or a weapon or something! You don’t make it that far before the axe thrower steps out into the light, breathing heavily. He’s hard to make out, but you recognise the bloody apron and odd looking mask as immediately a threat, if you hadn’t already witnessed what he’d just done.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Shocked by his appearance, you find your feet are sluggish and unresponsive. He notices you but doesn’t charge, instead making cautious steps towards you, dragging a large chainsaw. He mumbles something, just a string of sounds, as if trying to soothe you like an injured deer. It takes hearing more screaming for you to start stepping backwards quickly, unwilling to take your eyes off of him. Your back thuds into something solid and your hair is twisted into an iron grip, making you cry out.

“Got ‘em! Hurry up and finish it so we can go home already.” The man behind you reeks of blood and sweat, his accent almost masking his words. The one with the chainsaw makes a muffled noise of distress, closing the distance between you and shoves the one holding you backwards, releasing the grip on your hair.

“The hell, Bubba?” He growls, but the much taller male hisses, grabbing your arm and pulling you back with him. This captor, Bubba, starts desperately pulling up his pant leg, seemingly having forgotten where his mark is, but finally twists around to see the back of his calf. Your words in shaky handwriting are scrawled across his flesh.

Shocked, you pull down your shirt and try to inspect the nonsensical letters along your collarbone. Bubba makes a slight squeal, pulling you against his chest, delighted to finally have his soulmate! Still in shock, you allow him to lead you to their truck, your heart swelling but your head spinning. Oh well, not like you have much choice anyway!

Freddy

Bad dream would probably be an understatement, that’s what you think as you find yourself sprinting painfully slowly through a boiler room, steam burning your skin as you pass. Laughter rings out, bouncing off the walls and startling you. Bitterness creeps into your heart, a sour taste in your mouth as you try not to fall into the sick games you know are going to begin.

“Where are you, you prick?!” You yell, hands balled into fists, stomping your foot for effect. You’re terrified, naturally, but not going to die looking like a wimp or giving him the satisfaction. You know all about him from the teens in your neighbourhood.

Freddy comes bounding around a corner, looking expectantly gleeful and sadistic, his gloved hand dragging along the wall. His face breaks into a grin, but you recognise the flash of panic in his face, which confuses you all the more. Why would he be scared?

You step back, ready to throw yourself into a fight or flight, but he just looks at you dumbly, huffing, amusement fading. “What did you say?” Something clicks in his mind and he stalks towards you. “Say it again.”

You’re ready to tell him where he can shove his request when you understand the significance of his words. His first words to you.

“Oh, shit, no way!” Your words leave you a breathless rush and it makes him laugh. He’s so badly burnt that your words have been essentially destroyed from his wrist, but he’d never forget what they said. You carefully roll up your shorts and expose the slanted writing wrapped around your thigh. Freddy looks a little stunned, and annoyed, but he finally sighs dramatically in defeat.

“Okay, guess you’re mine then, baby!” He resigns himself to it like a child having to do chores, grabbing your hand in his exposed one, pulling you with him.

Michael

Halloween is arguably one of the best holidays, but you don’t agree with that statement anymore as you’re creeping through the dark streets, trying not to be noticed. The news headlines were that the killer was on a streak, getting more creative with every victim, and you’re determined not to be the next one.

Unfortunately, you live in his neighbourhood, so you didn’t have any options when the television at your work lit up with a warning to stay home. And your car broke down, so you’re now stuck walking home, jumping at the sound of every meow and car horn. Pulling your coat tighter around your frame, you hurry down the street, passing under a streetlamp which illuminates your white knuckles wrapped tightly around your bag.

There’s a siren in the distance and that assures you, just a little, that perhaps the killer is being brought down right now. With that in mind, you let out a breath which escapes you in a puff of smoke in the cold air. Clinging tightly to your reassurances, you speed up a little, having reached your street. Relief washes through you, as well as embarrassment at how terrified you’d been.

You chuckle to yourself, rounding the corner to your house when you see him. A huge black shadow, stepping out from the neighbouring house, his knife stained crimson. You both stand in silence, staring at one another, before you decide to try your luck at running.

You turn around and sprint the way you’d come, biting your lip so hard it draws blood. Your breath comes in short puffs as your body is pushed beyond the limits. He may have the advantage of being quicker, but you know this area. Ducking down an alleyway, you launch yourself onto a wooden fence, scrambling to get over. You’re just about to when a cold hand wraps around your ankle and yanks you back down.

The force of it knocks the wind from your lungs as you lay on your back, gasping. The stranger crouches over you, pressing the tip of his blade to the hollow of your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Just do it!” You manage to force out.

The blade pulls away and you risk peeking one eye open to see the white mask. Your killer is shocked, looking almost like a stone figure, unable to move or breathe. He never wanted a soulmate, didn’t believe in it, but now you’re laying under him and he can’t kill you.

Angrily, he slams his fist into the concrete by your head and you flinch, eyes wide open now as he stares back at you. There’s a quiet word he mutters, just loud enough for you to catch it. “Fuck.”

You barely have time to question him, recognising that one word from the one that’s imprinted on your shoulder blade, before he’s hauling you up and carrying you off bridal style, one hand still tightly clutching his knife.

Beetlejuice

The motel room is kinda dingy- well, it’s very dingy if you’re honest, but you’re so exhausted you can’t bring yourself to do more than collapse on the bed. You’d been travelling for a few days on your way to a new town to start up your new career, passing through this idyllic little town. It’s cute, very homey, but the motel is pretty old.

Whatever, you just need to sleep. Rolling onto your stomach, you pull out your phone and check your messages. The television starts playing. Sitting up, you strain your ears but hear only some corny romance film. Rolling your eyes, you decide that you’re leaving as soon as the sun rises, but begrudgingly force yourself to walk into the living area to turn off the television.

Once you do, you put the remote on the coffee table, making sure it can’t fall or turn itself on again. Turning around, you start walking back to the bed when it turns on, louder this time. Your brows furrow in annoyance as you return and turn it off, smacking the side of the set for good measure.

After staring at the black screen for a few seconds, you decide it’s done being irritating and once again try to walk back to bed. You’ve just collapsed on your side when it turns on again.

Gritting your teeth, you rub your eyes and contemplate how much effort it would be to walk back to reception to ask for a new room. You’ve just decided on getting up when you feel the bed dip behind you, fingertips tracing your arm. Your heart nearly bursts in terror.

“You don’t like this movie?” The words come out dripping in sarcasm and amusement from the stranger behind you. Immediately, your body reacts defensively and you leap from the bed, whirling around to punch the intruder. He yelps in surprise, hand over his nose.

“You asshole! Get out of my room!” You yell, barely able to contain your emotions, completely glazing over the realisation that those words are on your lower back. However, the intruder does notice and sits up excitably, eyeing you like a prize. You’re not sure where to look first, the green hair or the dirty striped suit.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to find you in a motel room, but hey, can’t complain!” He grins, his expression resembling that of a wolf. He pops the buttons on his shirt and you’re stuck standing in confusion as you read back the words you just yelled at him, imprinted on his collar.

“No.” You point at him, then the door. “Not happening. Go away and come back at a decent hour.” He laughs, but then realises you’re serious, whining as he pulls himself from the bed.

“You’re mean. I like it. See you in the morning!” He disappears in a hazy cloud of purple smoke, leaving you coughing and wondering if you hallucinated.

Billy & Stu

School sucks. Not only because of the obvious; preppy kids, bullies, annoying teachers, homework. No, you’re annoyed because everyone is falling madly in love with their soulmates, throwing it in your face. You’re a freak to most, because you don’t have your soulmate mark. You have two.

Wearing long sleeves is how you conceal it, but everyone knows you’re different, the rumours started as soon as you walked in the door. Irritable, you resign yourself to having to deal with not only the first day at a new shitty school, but also being the object of much taunting on said first day.

You manage to sail through most of your classes by ignoring everyone else, but by lunch time, you can’t avoid it. Your feet carry you to an empty table where you hope to just have a quiet meal. That, of course, can never happen for you.

Two rather imposing looking teens slink over to you, and you recognise them as the school’s bad boys, popular kids if a little weird, Billy and Stu. You look down and continue picking at a sandwich, hoping that if you pretend they don’t exist, they’ll do the same for you and move onto someone else.

Once again, that doesn’t happen for you. “Hello, gorgeous.” Billy sits in the seat next to you and Stu sidles up on the opposite one, both of them grinning. “Why are you sat alone, baby?” Stu purrs. You’ve had enough of being taunted today and you stand up, causing your chair to scream in protest against the tacky floors.

“Can everyone just leave me the hell alone?” You scowl, grabbing your bag and missing the look that the boys exchange in surprise. Billy nods, and Stu grabs your arm.

“Hey!” You try to pull it back, but Billy takes your other one and they both pull up your sleeves. Sure enough, the words they just greeted you with are on your arms, one of each. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, and relief, at finding your soulmates.

Stu lets go first, practically bouncing on the spot as he lifts his shirt to show you what you said written angrily across his ribs. Billy’s next, he has the same words but wrapped around his ankle.

You’re in a state of shock when they coax you back into your seat, one hanging one each of your arms. There’s no way you’re getting away now, especially not with the way they’re looking at you like you’re their favourite toy.

The Man

The night was finally quietening down when you decided to sit on the porch for a bit, a hot drink cupped in your hands, listening to the crickets.

Your decision to live in a wooded area is probably one of the best you’ve made, or at least that’s what you believe as you enjoy the blissful peace of your surroundings. Blowing on your drink, you almost don’t notice the figure in the corner of your eye.

Expecting one of the neighbours checking in about something, you aren’t immediately alarmed, sitting up a bit straighter to try and make them out in the shadows. The stranger doesn’t speak, so neither do you, but the longer you both stare at one another, the worse the feeling in your gut becomes. Something isn’t quite right.

You’ve just decided to go back inside when he starts approaching. Coming nearer to your porch lights, you can finally see that he’s wearing a mask, and across his back he’s carrying a crossbow. Adrenaline shoots into your veins and you leap up, your mug smashing. The display of alertness doesn’t concern him, he continues approaching at a leisurely pace, dragging his hand across the side of your car as he comes up the driveway.

You walk backwards to the front door, making sure you can keep him in your sights at all times, your hand fumbling for the handle. He waves at you, and you sense he’s smiling under his mask, judging by the delighted, predatorial glint in his eyes. You simply scowl in response, attempting to hide the way your body trembles as you finally get the door open and jump backwards, slamming it shut.

He leaps up the porch steps and stands outside the door, his shadow spilling in from under the door. You step back, holding your breath. The shadow retreats with the sound of boots, leaving you frozen to the spot listening for him.

The silence becomes so painful that when he finally does make a noise, it startles you. Tracking it down, you find him stood outside your kitchen by the large window, head tilted as he peers inside at you, still jovial and content to be terrifying you.

Unwilling to show him your fear any further, you point at the alarm system, indicating you can set it off to alert authorities. Yelling to be heard through the glass, your words get his attention easily.

“You better leave, or I’m going to make sure they haul your sorry ass to prison!”

He steps back, much to your surprise, and then lifts his mask. You’re taken aback by his face - attractive - and don’t notice him pulling up his hoodie. There in cursive along his hip is your handwriting, and the threat you just gave him. His face breaks out into a grin as he jumps back to his position right up against the glass.

“Show me yours!” His voice is elevated by his delight and you step away, warily lifting your arm to reveal his demand written along your outer forearm. Like a kid given candy, he knocks excitably against the glass. “Let me in! You’re so mine!”

The Blissfield Butcher

What a shitty day. You missed the bus trying to get home from work, and then it started raining. By the time you’d made it to the next operating bus stop, your clothes had been successfully drenched, leaving you shivering under the meagre shelter provided.

Cursing your boss for lecturing you and in turn making you late to leave, you hug your arms around yourself. A ping goes off from your pocket, then another, and another, until you give up on trying to warm yourself and fish around in your pockets to find the source. Your phone lights up your face in the darkness. An amber alert prompts all residents to stay home if they can, following a string of murders.

You exhale sharply, trying to centre your thoughts on anything other than the anxiety creeping into the back of your mind. Your gaze lifts from the screen and is immediately drawn to a passing shadow, which halts the second you look at it. Unsure if you’re seeing things, you put your phone away and squint through the rain, attempting to distinguish whether it’s someone you know.

Likely just a passer-by, you resume huddling under the shelter. The shadow moves away, and your anxiety with it. However, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. After a few minutes, the shadow reappears and you realise it’s circling you from a distance. The reality sets in and you curse, chancing up your options. Glancing over your shoulder, you can see your workplace still lit up a few blocks down. You could run there, but you’re not sure how fast the figure is.

When you tear your eyes away from your distant workplace, you realise that looking away had been a mistake, the shadow significantly closer and now more obviously a male. A very tall male, in a mask. You curse under your breath and decide to risk it, your aching legs once again forced into action. The bitterly cold rain makes running harder, and it’s worse trying to see where you’re going as it starts to come down heavier, masking the sounds of your stalker.

You shoot a quick look over your shoulder, your heart jumping at how close he is, within reaching distance. Your mind makes a quick decision and you jerk to the side so his grab misses you, whilst you run down another street onto a local sports field, now dark and silent.

The wet grass clings to your feet, slowing you down, but you don’t have time to reflect on this mistake because your shoved from behind. The force of your momentum and the power behind the shove sends you skidding on your front, grazing your cheek.

He’s on you before you can blink, pushing you onto your back, straddling your hips. His eyes are wild behind the mask as he uses one hand to keep your shoulder down, the other gripping a butcher’s knife. Your efforts at squirming are denied by his sheer weight and the force of his thighs trapping your lower half. Seeing no other option, you start to panic and gasp, the rain still soaking you both.

“Wait, please, don’t!” Your tears mix into the rain as your hands desperately push against him, one accidentally knocking his mask off. He’s distracted by this and you continue, your hands instead lowering to protect your face. “I know a lot of cops, I-I-” the excuse tumbles from your mouth, but cuts off when you notice the black writing on his neck. “Oh.” Your voice is reduced to a whimper, reading back what you’ve said to him.

He sighs, stabbing the grass and sitting back, looking at you expectantly. “Um, are you not going to kill me?” You curse the way your words shake as you look up at him. The ghost of a smile touches his lips and he grips your wrist, pulling you up. He doesn’t stop there, throwing you over his shoulder and stooping to pick up his knife. “I’m not gonna kill what’s mine.” He growls the words, sending a chill through you as those familiar words are etched onto your arm.

#soulmate au #slasher imagines #jason voorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #freddy krueger x reader #michael myers x reader #hush 2016 #the man x reader #blissfield butcher x reader #billy x stu x reader #beetlejuice x reader #reader inserts

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

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Hell Takes Riverdale pt. I

Imagine moving to Riverdale while your father has some business to attend to. While there, you meet some people you find yourself growing attached to.

Words: 8.8K Author’s Note: Riverdale AU where FP didn’t go to prison for his crimes and Jughead joined the Serpents because he wanted to. This isn’t exactly Northsider friendly and I’ll be focusing more so on the Serpents, so I won’t go into detail about all the drama the Northside gang constantly puts themselves into the middle of, nor will Jughead be a part of it. I will mention a certain family who lives nearby from another show, but I will NOT be bringing those characters in here. The most you’ll get is what I explain about them in the imagine.

Jughead Jones was notorious for laying low and staying out of the spotlight. At least he was until a murder rocked his small town, Veronica Lodge- along with her criminal family- moved in, and his best friends Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews put together their very own crime solving Scooby Gang. He liked a good mystery every now and then, but the murder of Jason Blossom pointed towards his father's gang and he didn't know how to cope with that.

When FP Jones- Jughead's dad- eventually confessed to the murder, Jughead didn't know what to think. All he knew for sure was that his dad was innocent. So he and his friends did their best to prove Mr. Jones of his innocence, which they eventually did, but given FP's past the police decided to keep him a bit longer.

Jughead Jones was a powder keg waiting to explode, so in a move no one expected, he channeled his anger from the crookedness of their small town Sheriff to the local high school jocks when they decided to target the new girl for laughs. Y/N Y/L/N was a meek little thing, small smiles and small voice whenever called upon. She didn't dress like someone who had money, but then again she didn't dress like she didn't have any either. She presented herself as someone from the middle class which is probably why Jughead felt at ease coming to her defense one day out of the blue.

You're at your locker, putting away your books before you head over to the cafeteria for lunch, when someone shoves their shoulder into your back. You grunt as you collide with the metal in front of you, a few notebooks falling to the floor, and you turn to frown at the culprits. Reggie Mantle and his merry band of jocks laugh at you. "Seriously?" You mumble.

Reggie smirks, shrugging. "I gotta find my entertainment somewhere and what better entertainment is there than the new girl with no voice?" You roll your eyes and bend over to pick up your belongings, only for a sneaker clad foot to kick one of your notebooks away.

"Hey!"

The sound of someone being shoved into the lockers next to you has you looking up, a beanie-wearing, plaid shirt tied around the waist, boy coming to your aide. "What the hell is your problem, Mantle?" Hands fist into the material of Reggie's letterman jacket, slamming him twice against the lockers. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase pick on someone your own size?"

Reggie shoves him back. "Cool it, Jones, less you wanna end up in a cell next to your pops."

He scoffs. "You look real tough picking on a girl. Keep walking, jackass."

Your gaze darts between the two boys, chest to chest with one another, and you practically hold your breath. You can see the other jocks just itching for a fight, but the longer Reggie and your savior stare at one another, the less Reggie seems to be amped up for a fight. He eventually scoffs, smiling. "Whatever. The little mouse isn't much fun anyway."

Reggie goes to walk away, but not before kicking another one of your notebooks further down the hall. You sigh and start collecting your things closest to you once more.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about him. Reggie's a total dick."

You glance at the boy collecting one of your notebooks for you and flash him a small smile. "It's fine. Every school has a bully. I didn't expect this place to be any different."

"Yeah, well.." He trails off, placing the stuff he collected in your locker. "I'm Jughead."

"That's an unusual name," you say. "I'm Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, would you care to join me outside for lunch? I'm kind of alone today and I noticed you don't really sit with anyone either. I'll help keep Reggie off your back," he muses as if his protection would somewhat sweeten the deal.

"Sure. Why not?" You shrug.

Once everything is situated in your locker, you grab the lunch bag that had been hanging from a hook on the inside. Side by side, you walk with Jughead outside and towards one of the concrete picnic tables. He sits down and only then do you realize he had a brown sack clutched in his hand. Immediately he pulls out two smashed sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap, and unwraps them to start eating.

"So as a token of my thanks," you say while taking a seat across from him and unzipping your lunch bag, "have a fruit cup." You toss him a cool cup of mixed fruit and he happily catches it.

"Thanks." From the corner of your eye, you watch as he stares at you until you start eating your own sandwich and chips. "So Riverdale," he says. "Why here of all places?"

You huff a quiet laugh. Of course you'd heard the whispers about you, curious about your move, but you never spoke to anyone and no one dared to ask you before now. "My half sister lives in Greendale, and she and her aunts were having some personal issues. My dad moved us here so he could help them out, but he wasn't fond of the housing situations Greendale had to offer so we ended up here."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." He takes a bite of his food. "So are you and your sister close?"

"Not really." Your nose wrinkles. You eat a bit of your own food before explaining. "She kind of hates our dad because he slept with her mom when she was married, but instead of villainizing them both for their mutual decision, she puts all the blame on him."

Jughead shakes his head. "Well that sucks."

"Yep. But she obviously doesn't have a problem calling on him when she's in trouble." You roll your eyes, opening your water and taking a sip. "It's whatever. Riverdale is.. interesting."

"Yeah. It is," he huffs a brief laugh.

Over the next month or so, you and Jughead become actual friends. He attempts to introduce you to his group of friends, but the only one you can actually stomach being around is Archie. Veronica is too nosy, Betty too suspicious, and Kevin rarely hangs out with everyone less it involves a good gossip session. So more often than not, after realizing his group of friends wasn't just your cup of tea, you and Jughead hung out at Pop's Chock'lit-Shoppe.

The retro diner quickly became one of your favorite places in all of Riverdale, but upon entering one Sunday evening and seeing Jughead's expression you know you're not going to enjoy your dinner.

"Uh oh. What's going on with your face?" You ask as you slide in across from Jughead. "You look like you have some bad news."

He grins, shaking his head. "It's not bad. I'm just not sure how well you're going to take what I have to tell you."

"Mhm. Tell me after I've gotten my food." Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, Pop Tate himself is dropping off your and Jughead's usual order. "Thanks, Pop."

The old man chuckles. "Don't mention it, Y/N. Enjoy your meal."

"Always do." Before any other words can be spoken, you and Jughead squirt ketchup on your respective plates. He steals the cherry from your milkshake and you plop a straw into his Coke to take a sip. The both of you take a bite out of your burgers, chuckling at each other and how at ease the two of you have become with one another. "So what's up?"

"I'm leaving Riverdale High." You pause in chewing and Jughead refuses to meet your gaze. "I'll be starting at Southside High tomorrow morning."

"Oh."

"It's just- my dad's getting out." When he looks up, the excitement in his eyes at the prospect of his dad coming home makes your exterior soften and you start to feel happy for your friend. "He, uh, he's been doing good. Jail forced him to get sober and he's talking about starting over. I'm going to move back in with him."

"That's good news, Jug. I'm really happy for you."

"Are you?" He grabs a fry and quickly dips it into your vanilla milkshake. You chuckle at him.

"Yeah. I mean we mostly hang out here anyway. That won't change, I hope." He's quick to shake his head, letting you know your weekly hang outs at Pop's would still be on. "I'll just have to toughen up and learn how to throw a punch. Reggie and his goons need a nice swift punch to the throat every now and then, I think."

Jughead exhales with relief. "Please let Kevin know beforehand so he can catch it on video for me."

"No promises."

The two of you go on to finish your food, making small talk and promises to keep in touch. Eventually you have to leave, so before you go your separate ways you decide to give Jughead a ride home. And since he's no longer embarrassed to have you over after the first time you'd been over, he accepts the ride with a shrug.

FP Jones has been out of jail for three days and in those three days Jughead has noticed his dad has been a little paranoid. So one day after school, he's had enough and decides to sit down and talk with him.

"What's going on?"

FP glances away from the paper in his hand. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're acting weird! Ever since you got out of jail it's like you're constantly looking over your shoulder."

Jughead and FP stare at one another before FP sets the paper down, running a hand through his hair. "Someone's coming to town," he says. "Someone you don't ever want to cross."

"Okay. And?"

"It's worrisome," FP says. "Mr. Morningstar, he's the real deal, Jughead. Expensive suits, expensive cars, posh accent.. this man can be very dangerous."

"Well then round up the Serpents. I'm sure they'll enjoy running this guy out of town."

"Nah." Jughead scoffs, confused as to what his dad's deal is. "Mr. Morningstar is the one who sent one of his lawyers to get me released."

"..oh."

"But Mr. Morningstar doesn't hand out favors without wanting something in return. I don't like being in debt, Jug. Especially to someone like him."

"We'll figure it out, dad. He reached out to you, not the other way around. He can't want something too bad if he came to you first. Right?"

"I don't know, son." FP falls silent, tapping his fingers along the tabletop. "And there's something else you should know."

"What?"

"Mr. Morningstar isn't exactly.. human." Jughead scoffs, but FP shoots him a warning look. "I'm serious. This man is capable of things you wouldn't believe unless you see it in person, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. If he comes around, you do as I say. I'll settle my debt with him as quickly as possible and hopefully Riverdale will be in his rearview mirror sooner rather than later."

Jughead doesn't know how to feel at seeing his dad- the Serpent King himself- looking so on edge. He's never seen him so rattled, so it leaves Jughead himself feeling the dread start to seep in.

Every single Serpent inside the Whyte Wyrm was well aware of who Mr. Morningstar was and to be on the lookout for anyone fitting his description. For a week there was no sight or word about him, the same week which Jughead finally decided to throw in with the Serpents and officially become one of the gang. He had texted his friends, some more supportive than others, but he only found comfort in his decision after hearing back from Y/N who held no ill will towards him for wanting to be a Southside Serpent officially.

Jughead is still healing, everyone at the Whyte Wyrm celebrating him completing his initiation.

"Toni," FP calls out, "serve us up some shots!" The petite, pink haired girl behind the bar laughs, she readily grabbing up shot glasses and lining them up along the bar. She fills every shot glass, smiling as her fellow Serpents grab one to await the impending toast. As FP grabs one, he raises it up while staring at his son across the room who's hanging out with a few younger Serpents. "Jughead, while this wasn't the life I wanted for you, it is your decision and you don't know how proud it makes me to have you ride by side. To Jughead!"

"To Jughead!"

The Serpents all whoop and holler, downing their shots in one go.

"Hear, hear," an out of place accent muses. Those closest to the man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere all tense and FP's smile slowly vanishes as he stares at the man who hasn't aged a single year since he last saw him over fifteen years ago. "Well, well. Freedom seems to suit you well, FP."

FP schools his expression. "Mr. Morningstar."

"Call me Lucifer. No need to be so formal."

The Serpents seem to fall silent as FP and Lucifer Morningstar stare at one another. Jughead, seeing the way everyone is holding themselves as the tension amps up, pushes his way through the crowd until he's just behind his dad. "Lucifer," FP says, "why don't you follow me. We'll go somewhere a bit more private."

Lucifer gestures for FP to lead the way. "After you."

FP glances at Jughead over his shoulder, but he doesn't give him any sort of cue to follow. Instead, Jughead follows after them to a table that's not surrounded by any others over by the stage. Once seated, FP stares Mr. Morningstar in the face. "So what brings you to Riverdale? It's been a while since you were last here."

"Ah, yes," he says. Lucifer leans back in seat, smiling. "I originally came to watch a client of mine wreak havoc on your precious little town," at this, FP and Jughead tense, "but someone very important to me made attachments here and I've had to rethink my plans of letting your town burn to the ground."

"A client of yours?" FP's eyes narrow. "Who?"

"I think you know who," Lucifer says. "Annoying little bugger. But as I said before, attachments were made and I had to keep watch over said attachment to see whether or not I approved. And let me tell you, Mr. Jones, I quite liked what I saw."

"Okay?" He drawls. "So what does that have to do with why you're here? Or are you calling in a favor for getting me out?"

Lucifer laughs. "Oh no, FP. You getting out was not my doing." FP freezes. "You see, this someone important to me is my daughter. She's the one who requested you be freed."

"You have a daughter?" FP shifts in his seat. "Why would she want me out?"

"I do. And because one of your little snakelings made quite the impression on her after showing her kindness when he didn't have to." Lucifer raises an eyebrow at FP's completely flabbergasted expression. "This person was and continues to be genuine with my daughter, so I figured I'd step in and help clean up your beloved little town instead of letting it be turned inside out by Hiram Lodge. After all, it seems we're going to be in Riverdale for quite some time now."

FP glances around, but he can't see any of the Serpents being this person in question. Eventually, he asks, "Who?"

Lucifer's gaze darts up over FP's shoulder and lands on Jughead. Jughead's eyes widen. "Me? Who have I-"

"Me, of course." You choose that exact moment to walk out from the back room, ignoring everyone's stare save for Jughead's. You're a bit self-conscious of the black crystallized crown on your head and the skin tight, all black outfit your dad's minions had chosen for you, but you don't show it. The way you're dressed now, Jughead's never seen you this way. "What's wrong, Juggie? Cat got your tongue?"

Your friend gulps as he eyes you up and down. "Y/N?"

"Surprise!" You muse. At his slack expression, your smile diminishes. "It's still me, JJ. No need to be weird now."

FP glances between you and his son as Jughead asks, "Was our friendship even real?"

Your eyes widen. "Of course it was! I was never meant to make friends here," you quickly explain, "but you just couldn't leave me be when Reggie set his sights on me and you- you befriended me for me." Jughead loses some of the tension in his frame. "You didn't talk to me because of who my dad was and what he could do for you. You talked to me because you felt bad for me and then you continued to talk to me because we actually got along."

A beat passes and Jughead eventually sighs. "Don't kid yourself. I only talk to you because you let me steal the cherry from your milkshake." It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you snort. Lucifer chuckles and poor FP has no idea what's going on.

"This is quite fitting, is it not?" Lucifer grins.

FP frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The Serpent Prince and the Queen of Hell. Royalty always seeks out royalty."

You freeze, Jughead's brow furrows, and FP seems to blanch as he comes to a sudden realization. Quick as a snake's strike, you slap the back of your dad's shoulder. "Not here." Then you glance at FP. "Can we continue this talk in a back room?"

He slowly blinks before he snaps out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Let's go."

FP stands and leads the way, and you grin over at Jughead. "Come on. We have some more stuff to talk about."

In a back office, FP and Lucifer have already taken their seats as you and Jughead join them. Instead of sitting, the two of you stand side by side after the door is shut behind you.

"So what exactly is going on here?" FP wonders.

Lucifer glances at you, smirking, and you sigh. You had a feeling he was going to make you explain yourself. "So I noticed instead of scoffing at the queen of hell comment, you blanched." FP hesitantly nods. "So that means you understand my dad is quite.. different."

Lucifer huffs. "I'm the devil, darling. No need to tiptoe around it."

You cringe as he so bluntly puts it out there and nervously gauge the Jones' reactions. Both seem more than a little intimidated and your heart starts to sink. "I'm still me, Jughead. Just a little.. more."

Jughead glances at you. "You're really the daughter of Satan?" You nod. "And this isn't some joke?"

"No. My sister, the one who lives in Greendale, was meant to take the throne," you admit. "But she really does hate my dad and refused it, so it passed on to the next heir. Hell got a little bit stuffy and some of my dad's more important minions were trying to marry me off, so I left with my dad as he dealt with business here. I was supposed to keep my head down until we moved on, but well.." you trail off, smiling softly. "I found that having a friend was quite nice." When Jughead has nothing else to say, you look towards FP. "You've raised a kind son, Mr. Jones. And for that, I'm going to offer you a favor." He seems to straighten up then, glancing worriedly at your dad. "And don't worry, this is a favor from me. I don't do contracts or cut deals like dad does. My favor is a no strings attached type of situation. This is a favor for a friend."

FP and Jughead glance at each other, and you notice FP subtly shake his head. Jughead sighs and looks at you. "Do you promise that me or my dad won't owe you?"

"Jughead," FP warns.

But you only have eyes for your friend as you step towards him and take up his hands within your own. "I swear. You're my friend, JJ. You got Reggie off my back and offered genuine companionship, so let me do something for you."

"You mean like getting my dad out of jail?"

You grin, releasing his hands and shoving at his shoulder. "Oh whatever. I was bored and you seemed like you missed him. Bite me, Jones." Lucifer chuckles and FP looks like he has no idea what's going on. "So come on. Whose life needs ruining?"

Jughead stares at you before shaking his head in amusement. "You're a little too excited to be ruining someone."

"I am my father's daughter."

Jughead stares at you, as if trying to conclude whether you're being genuine or not, and then has a silent conversation with his dad. Eventually FP sighs, cradling his head in his hands as Jughead looks back to you. "I messed up bad, Y/N. When my dad first got put into jail, someone suggested I visit this lawyer- who is also a Serpent- so that she'll guide me on how to get my dad released."

"And the snake double crossed you. Shocking," your dad chuckles.

"Shut up." Lucifer continues to chuckle, mime zipping his lips shut. You look back to your friend. "Go on."

"She gave me advice as a favor and said I'd owe her one someday in the future. I didn't think it through."

"The snake charmer is notorious for collecting favors and blackmailing you into continuing owing her favors," FP says. "She's turning the Serpents into drug runners and using video of my son delivering a crate of drugs as leverage so we don't tell her no."

Lucifer tuts. "That just won't do. Last I recalled, the Serpents were against drug dealing."

"We are," FP says, "but we can't deny her since she has that damn video. It'll be his word against hers."

Expression tightening, you glance between the two Serpents. "Give me a name."

"Penny Peabody."

Immediately you and your dad glance at one another, and you're the first to shout, "Dibs!" At his pout, you grin victoriously. "It's been awhile since I've seen any action. I'll call auntie Maze to collect the guest of honor."

You and Jughead are sitting at Pop's, waiting for your order to be brought out. It's your usual weekend hangout session, as well as a mini celebration for getting the Snake Charmer out of Serpent territory. FP had been a little hesitant around you and your father, but the more he watched you and his son, and you and your dad, he came to the realization that neither he or Jughead would be in harm's way. No one would be less they actually crossed the devil himself, so you were a bit surprised when FP had actually hugged you when you told him Penny would no longer be an issue. Afterwards, he was eager to talk to your dad and figure out a way to get the Southside cleaned up and fix the Serpents' reputation.

Seeing Jug's beanie laying on the table, you grin as you swipe it and quickly put it atop your head. "What do you say, Jones, wanna switch crowns for a day?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head. "I don't think I can pull off your crown." Your nose wrinkles at him as you laugh. "And speaking of crowns, are you going to tell anyone else anytime soon?"

You shrug. "I only talk to you and your dad, and at that your dad already knew about my dad."

"I didn't know anything about you or your dad and you told me."

"You were my friend before you found out about me being Hell royalty. I don't want to just tell anyone and then have them kissing up because of things I could possibly do for them."

Jughead nods in understanding. "I take it, it's happened before."

You touch the tip of your nose. "Bingo, JJ. Demons of Hell are shady assholes. But don't worry, if I befriend more Serpents they'll find out when the time is right."

"Well I think you're going to get your chance now because here come some friends of mine."

"What?"

"Whoa, Jughead, is that you? You've certainly changed from the last time I saw you earlier."

You smile sheepishly as three Serpents come up to your table, the one who spoke sitting next to Jughead while the tall one climbs in between you and the window, and the female sits on your free side. You pull off Jug's beanie and hand it back to him just in time for your food to be delivered. Immediately, Jughead steals the cherry from your milkshake and you take a sip of his soda. Once that's done, you squirt ketchup on your plates before you take a bite of your burgers.

"Well that was freakishly adorable." You glance at the pink haired cutie next to you and she grins. "Toni Topaz."

"Y/N Y/L/N. Well Y/N Morningstar now. I don't have to hide who I am anymore."

"Nice." She then points to the guy beside Jughead. "That's Fangs and the one on your other side is Sweet Pea." You nod at each boy in greeting, bite down on a few fries and steal from Jughead's plate every time he dips a fry into your milkshake. "So how did you and our snake prince become so close?"

Toni steals a fry from your plate and you grin at her. "First of all, I really hope you're not insinuating anything there. Don't get me wrong, Jughead's a cutie but I'd totally seduce Papa Jones before I went after baby Jones."

Jughead groans in disgust, Fangs and Sweet Pea snort, and Toni laughs out loud. "I like you."

"Maybe the sentiment will be returned soon," you say. "And to honestly answer your question, Jug came to my rescue when a few jerks decided I was an easy target at Riverdale High."

Sweet Pea scoffs. "Ugh. How do you put up with those mangy mutts?" It's his turn to steal from your plate, but you merely raise an eyebrow at his audacity before you glance at Jughead as he smothers a laugh.

"By avoiding them at all cost," you say. "Is food stealing a thing with you guys or..?"

"If you're really hungry, I'd hold onto that burger of yours. Fangs is notorious for stealing any and all food left unattended." Toni chuckles as you pull your plate towards you, but that only makes it easier for her and Sweet Pea to continue eating off your plate.

"You're all heathens," you deadpan. "At least Jughead waited a few days before he started eating off my plate."

The Serpents chuckle all around you and you find yourself relaxing in your seat. You knew the Southside Serpents had a bad reputation, but the more time you spent with them the more you realize just how wrong everyone is. The Serpents are some of the most loyal, drama free individuals you'd met and they're only riled up when someone attacks one of their own. And that- that you can respect.

During your lunch break, you're sitting alone and texting back and forth with Toni. Apparently word has gotten out that the Mayor is looking to shut down Southside High because it's unsafe for children, and the plan is to divide every Southside High student between several other high schools. Needless to say, every Southsider is pissed.

You send a text to your dad, asking if he knew what was going on, and he assures you he and Mr. Jones are looking into it.

Your can of Cola gets snatched up and you snap to attention, ready to argue back for your drink. But the sight of a grinning Jughead sitting across from you makes you relax and Sweet Pea straddling the bench right next to you makes you shake your head at them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Southside High is in chaos," Jughead says. He takes a sip of your soda before setting it back next to your books. "We were at the Wyrm when your dad asked us to collect you."

"Toni's been filling me in," you admit. "Does anyone know if the Mayor is for sure going through with this plan of hers?"

"It's such bullshit," Sweet Pea grumbles. "Yeah the school is shit ever since the Ghoulies started pushing Jingle Jangle on everyone, but it's ours."

"Don't worry, Sweets. Dad's on it. He'll figure something out."

He huffs. "Against Mayor McCoy? Doubt it."

You and Jughead share a knowing glance, and you bite back a grin. "My dad can be very.. persuasive."

"And scary," Jughead mumbles.

"Yes, let's not forget scary," you muse.

"What the hell is this?" The stern question is barked from somewhere behind you and you turn towards the voice. "Cooper dropped your sorry ass and now you're trying to lure in Y/N, Jones? I don't think so, you goddamn snake."

You roll your eyes at Reggie and his friends, and at the fact that the others sitting outside are now staring.

"Watch your mouth, you mangy mutt." Sweet Pea moves to stand, but you place a hand on his knee in order to silently tell him to stay put. He doesn't glance at you, but he does remain sitting.

Instead, you stand and step away from the bench in Reggie's direction. "What's your problem, Mantle? I know for a fact you don't care about me, so what is it about the Southsiders that has you so insecure?"

Reggie seems surprised that you've spoken back and it takes him a moment to school his expression back into one of anger. "Who the hell says I'm insecure?"

"Come on, Reggie," you grin. "You obviously have a hate boner going on for them." Jughead and Sweet Pea snort, and Reggie glares at them over your head. "So what is it? Is it because they're cooler than you? That they're so much more hotter than you and you know for a fact us Northside girls would willingly get on the back of their bikes than in the car mommy and daddy bought for you?"

Reggie sneers down at you. "Of course you'd be a Southside slut."

Jughead and Sweet Pea shout in your defense, rushing to their feet as you blink in surprise at the venom in his tone. But then anger quickly takes over and no one sees as your hand forms a fist at your side. When Reggie smirks at your silence, quick as lightning you change your stance so you can send your fist flying into his throat.

As Reggie stumbles back and gasps for air, Sweet Pea grabs you by the arm and then you're running. Sweet Pea and Jughead are laughing as they run for their bikes and you readily climb on behind Sweet Pea since he still had a hold of you. Two engines rumble to life simultaneously and you wrap your arms around Sweet Pea's waist, ducking your face behind his back so the wind doesn't sting your eyes.

When the three of you finally come to a stop, you're not in the Southside yet but you are well away from Riverdale High. The engines cut off and you finally pick up your head, and it's quiet for a few moments before Jughead starts to laugh once more.

"You actually punched Reggie in the throat." He shakes his head in amusement at you. "I did not think you were capable of ever hitting someone."

Sweet Pea chuckles. "You do know you left behind all your belongings. It's gonna be trashed by the time you go back for it."

You shrug. "The only thing worth saving was my phone and it's in my back pocket. A backpack can be replaced, and besides I think it's time Riverdale High and I take a break from one another."

Jughead and Sweet Pea's amusement slowly fades. "Wait. What?" Jughead asks. "You're dropping out?"

"No." You huff a laugh. "Transferring."

"Transferring to where?"

"Southside, you dimwits." You squeeze Sweet Pea when he scoffs at you calling him a name, letting him know you didn't actually think he was a dimwit. "I'm so over the drama of Riverdale High. I need a change. And if I want to go to Southside to be with my favorite people, do you really think my dad will let the school be closed down?"

"You really have that much faith in your old man, huh?" Sweet Pea asks.

"I do. And you should too." Jughead glances at you when you say that and you subtly shake your head at him. Soon, you mouth at him. "Now come on. Let's go see what my dad wants. I feel like going out tonight so I need to finish whatever task he has for me and make sure Toni is free."

The small gang of friends find themselves at Pop's diner once again, you being squished between Sweet Pea and Toni while Jughead and Fangs sit across from you. You and Toni share a plate of cheese fries, half of your burger having been stolen by Fangs and you steal sips of Cola from both Jughead and Sweet Pea since Sweets had finished your milkshake. When eating with them, you quickly learned extra food had to be ordered because once a plate was set down it was basically a free for all.

You're laughing at Fangs' affronted expression, from when he tried stealing cheese fries from you and Toni and you both had slapped his hand, when the bell above the door jingles. Your gaze is drawn to the group that enters, your mood souring just a tad when Archie, Betty, and Veronica enter. They glance around the diner for a booth and upon setting sights on your group, Archie chooses a booth not far from yours.

Toni nudges you to show you a message on her phone, lightening up the mood right away. But every now and then your attention is brought back to the Riverdale High group, and you can't help but notice the longing looks Betty keeps throwing at Jughead. And the fact that Jughead keeps glancing over his shoulder until he finally gets up, Betty following him seconds later to join him at a different booth.

"Did I miss something?" You ask when your friend is out of earshot.

Toni huffs. "They're doing that whole on again, off again thing. It's tiring," she says.

You frown as Jughead and Betty start talking, heads ducked close to one another, but then quickly avert your attention back to those sitting with you. You don't really have anything against Betty, but that girl attracts drama like crazy and you would rather not see her drag Jughead into it again.

The four of you left in the booth amuse yourselves while finishing off the remainder of your food, and you make sure that all your plates are stacked with the trash compiled on top so the busboy has little to no cleanup after you leave. But while you're still sitting there and waiting to see what Jughead is going to do, you can't help but overhear Veronica's obnoxious voice filling in her boyfriend Archie about all the great changes supposedly coming to Riverdale soon.

"I mean it's no longer a secret mommy and daddy are buying up property, Archiekins, but can you blame them?" Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs all tense, Fangs trying his hardest not to look in their direction. "The Northside is flourishing under their management and soon the Southside will too. We just have a few more hoops to jump through before we can start tearing down and rebuilding."

Having heard enough, you tap Sweet Pea's arm. "Move." Fangs widens his eyes at you and Toni giggles, she loving your more aggressive behavior. Sweet Pea stares at you for a moment before he grins, sliding out of his seat so you can follow right after him. Then taking a few steps towards Veronica and Archie's both, you stop and address the entitled teen. "Consider those hoops everlasting," you say. "Lodge Industries will no longer be buying up any property in Riverdale."

Veronica scoffs, smirking a second later. "And who the hell do you think you are to have any say so in my family's dealings?"

This time you smirk and you mentally cheer when you see her own falter. "Tell daddy dearest the Morningstars say hello. Lucifer will be in touch soon." You reach forward as Veronica's expression completely falls, stealing the cherry from her milkshake and catching the red, plump flesh behind your teeth and plucking the stem free. Letting the stem drop onto the table, you glance over your shoulder and gesture for your friends to follow. They do, chuckling all the while you walk towards the door. But before you walk out, you look over at Jughead and catch his attention. "Hey, JJ, we're heading out. Call me if you need a ride."

"Oh, uh, I'll come with." Betty quickly glances at him and for a split second you feel bad for her. "We're done here anyway." He slides out of the booth, ignoring Betty's frown as he makes his way towards you and his fellow Serpents.

Sweet Pea jostles Jughead, the two boys shoving each other lightly and laughing as the five of your exit. Everyone piles into your small SUV and it's not until Toni is comfortably seated in the passenger seat does she ask, "How serious were you with that threat back there? Can your dad really stop Lodge Industries?"

You slowly start to grin as you back out of your parking space. "Hiram Lodge is one of my dad's clients," you admit. "They have a.. contract of sorts, and Mr. Lodge is rich because of that. But my dad is starting to cut ties with some old clients of his and I'm pretty sure the Lodge's time up on that little pedestal of theirs is coming to an end."

"Sweet," Sweet Pea says from the back seat. "Hey, if your dad buys the school do you think you can ask him to put doors back on the bathroom stalls?"

You and Toni both snort, and you nod your head. "Sure, Sweets. I'll see what I can do."

- - - - - - - - - -

At the Whyte Wyrm, Sweet Pea and Fangs make a beeline for the pool table. Toni heads for the bar, her shift about twenty minutes from starting, and Jughead gets pulled into a conversation by some elder Serpents. Glancing around the bar, you don't see either man you want to speak with so you head for the hallway near the back wall where you know it leads to an office. A couple Serpents guarding the hall nod at you and let you pass without a word.

When you come upon the shut door to FP's office, you knock a couple of times and wait for confirmation to enter. A moment passes before his gruff voice is calling out that exact confirmation.

Opening the door, you walk right in and aren't surprised to see your dad in there as well. You smirk, happy to know he found a mortal he felt comfortable enough to share his identity with and that said mortal didn't go running for the hills. "FP. Dad," you greet. "Just the men I was looking for."

FP leans back in his chair as you take a seat across from him. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Well first, I need to know your opinion about Sweet Pea, Toni, and Fangs." You then turn to look at your dad. "And depending on FP's answer, I need to know-"

"Your first orgy," your dad coos. "I approve. Especially the tall one. He'd make an excellent consort."

"I'm sorry, what?" FP glances between you and your dad, disbelief in his features.

You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Dad, no. Just no," you say. When your eyes flutter back open, you say, "What did I tell you about speaking of orgies so freely in front of mortals? It's weird. Especially since you're my dad. You're not supposed to approve of these things."

"Well fine. Have it your way." Lucifer leans back in his seat, resting his right ankle atop his left knee and taking a sip of his drink. "Probably for the best anyway. Naamah will be upset if you deny her the chance to plan your first orgy."

"Oh my god."

FP finally laughs, shaking his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. Your dad pouts and you give your attention to FP once more. "The baby snakes are a loyal bunch," he says. "I've had some older Serpents question you and your father's presence here within the Wyrm, but Jug and the others were quick to defend you. Why do you ask?"

Here you look back to your dad. "I want to come clean to them. Jughead knows about me and it's getting tough to censor what I say in front of the others when we all hang out."

Lucifer salutes you with his glass tumbler. "You're the Queen of Hell, darling. You can tell whoever you want."

"Good to know." You push up from your chair, smiling at both men. "Oh and I want Southside High. Veronica Lodge and her family are trying to tear the Southside down and rebuild, but I feel like throwing a wrench into their plans."

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at you. "And how do you suggest going about that?"

"By befriending Mayor McCoy, of course." FP snorts, but you continue on as if you didn't hear him. "She seems like a decent lady when the Lodge's aren't blackmailing her into doing their bidding. Give her a little taste of power, no strings attached and without letting her know your true identity, and show her you're an ally. I have a feeling she'll drop the Lodge's in a heartbeat."

FP grins, shaking his head. "You really are your father's daughter."

You glance at him and smirk. "Duh. Now carry on. I'm going to be with Toni behind the bar."

- - - - - - - - - -

The Whyte Wyrm is as busy as always and you happily find your place behind the bar with Toni. She serves up the drinks as you walk around, cleaning glasses and/or wiping down the bar top. Every now and then you catch your dad or FP's eye, and they signal for a round of drinks that Toni readily makes before walking a tray over to them. You then watch your boys from afar, laughing when Jughead catches your eye and purposefully makes Sweet Pea miss his shot while playing pool. Sweet Pea is apparently a very sore loser, but you can't help to think that he makes a really cute sore loser.

When Toni returns and sees where you're looking, she sidles up to your side while cleaning a glass in her hand. "So, uh, I think I should apologize."

You look at her. "For what?"

"Earlier at Pop's, when I told you Jughead and the Cooper girl were on again/off again, you looked like someone kicked your puppy for a moment there."

"Did I?" You chuckle, shrugging her words off. "It's fine. Jughead has become a really good friend to me and I'm not exactly Betty's biggest fan. They say southsiders are nothing but trouble, but those northsiders have caused a lot more trouble than any of you have. I don't want to see him be dragged into their messes again."

"Oh," she drawls. "Okay. I just thought that you were upset because she and Jughead were together again and you had missed your shot or something."

"No." You laugh. "And besides, I kind of have my eye on another Serpent, but I don't think he likes me that way."

Toni rolls her eyes. "I don't think FP is into jailbait. Sorry."

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. "A girl can dream."

Over the next couple of weeks, you get well acquainted with the power struggle between the Ghoulies and the Southside Serpents within the high school. The school is practically run down, there's no privacy within the graffitied walls of the bathrooms, and a little less than half the student population have no issue taking drugs out in the open while standing in the hallways. Not a single one of your favorite Serpents lets you out of their sight, and though you don't need their protection you welcome it. And their loyalty towards you is what leads you to take that final step in finally telling your other three friends the truth.

Walking up to the Jones' trailer, you stomp up the steps and pound on the door. A few seconds later the door opens and FP raises his eyebrows at you as he's pulling on a leather jacket.

"Y/N?"

"Hey, FP. Is JJ home?"

"Yeah. Come in." He opens the door wider and you step in, heading for the couch. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." You grin. You plop down in the corner of a couch, crossing one knee over the other. "I just finally decided to tell the others the truth and I wanted to see if Jughead would be there for me in case things go south."

A look of understanding passes over FP's features and he smiles kindly at you when he notices your bit of nerves. "It'll go fine. If Jug and I didn't run, neither will these three little shits." You grin at him. "Now I should get going. Will your dad and I be seeing you later?"

"Depends on how well my little bombshell is taken."

"Alright." FP heads towards the kitchen, calling down the only hallway in his trailer. "Hey Jug, Y/N is here so put some clothes on before you come out."

FP smiles at you one last time before he exits his trailer and it's not until his bike's engine outside roars to life does Jughead exit his bedroom from the back. "What's going on?"

"It's time to tell the other baby snakes about my heritage."

He blinks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You nod, momentarily second guessing yourself. "Yeah," you then say more confidently. "I think the longer I wait now, the higher the chance of them being pissed at the fact that I kept something like this from them."

"Okay. Where are we doing this?"

"Quarry?" You wonder. "We need privacy, but not too private that they feel trapped should they not take the news well."

Jughead exhales quietly. "Quarry it is. My bike or your car?"

"Your bike. Text Toni and the guys. I just need to grab my bag from my car."

Jughead is pulling on his jacket as he gestures for you to join him by the door, then pulling on his infamous crown beanie before pulling out his phone to text the others. He heads to his bike while you head for your car, opening the passenger door and pulling out your messenger bag. Draping the bag strap over your head and across your chest, you close the door and lock up before pocketing the keys.

When you sidle up to Jughead, he hands you his only helmet and you readily pull it on before climbing on behind him. He's not normally a crazy driver, so you loosely wrap your arms around his waist and enjoy the short ride to the quarry.

You and Jughead are the first to arrive, walking towards a spot that seems to have frequent visitors. Seats torn out from vehicles and a few crates form a half circle around an unlit barrel just off to the side of the water, and Jughead wastes no time in lighting up the barrel since it's a little chilly out.

Placing your bag on one of the seats, you walk towards the fire and hold your hands over it to warm up. Then about five minutes later, the rest of your friends show up.

"What's going on?" Sweet Pea asks as his gaze darts between you and Jug. As he sees you warming up, he stops by your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders to offer some of his warmth. Toni and Fangs stand on the other side of the barrel, warming themselves up briefly before taking a seat.

"I, uh, I have something I need to tell you guys. It's going to sound incredibly insane, but I need you to trust me when I say I am no threat to you." Sweet Pea frowns down at you and he only takes a seat when you nudge him towards the others. Jughead grabs your bag and hands it to you, and you smile faintly in thanks. Then opening the flap, you remove your crown and let your bag fall before hesitantly putting the crown on. Clearing your throat, you say, "When you guys first saw me, I was wearing this."

Fangs grins. "We thought you were just another spoiled little daddy's girl."

You grin back. "I mean I am," you shrug, "but the crown actually means something."

"Are you trying to tell us you're royalty or something?" Toni chuckles. At your neutral expression, her smile falters. "Y/N?"

You inhale shakily, glancing at Jughead who gives you an encouraging nod. "Whenever people meet my dad, I'm well aware that they think his given name is rather unfortunate." Sweet Pea snorts, grinning. A couple older Serpents at the Wyrm made it no secret when making fun of your dad's name. "But what if I told you that my dad really is the Lucifer Morningstar?" Your serious, yet nervous, expression makes the other three go still. "That I'm literally the daughter of the devil?"

The only sounds you can hear are the chirping crickets and crackling fire until, "You really buying this, man?" Sweet Pea scoffs. You briefly glance at him to see he's staring at Jughead who's still by your side.

Jughead nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "I am. My dad knew something was up with Lucifer before they outright told us the truth. He's known for years, but Lucifer wasn't a threat to him then or now so he didn't make a fuss about it."

Sweet Pea frowns. He doesn't look scared or pissed, but he doesn't look impressed either. "Why are you telling us this now?"

"That first night, my dad let FP and Jughead in on our secret because he saw how I trusted Jug and wasn't planning to leave Riverdale anytime soon. We trusted the Jones' and they now trust us. The circle of people in the know was meant to stay as small as possible, but then you three," you pause, huffing and smiling sadly as you meet each of their gazes, "wormed your way under my skin and I knew I couldn't keep a secret this big from you anymore."

"So your dad really is the devil?" Fangs asks. His gaze is set on the flames just barely dancing over the rim of the barrel, an expression on his face you can't quite decipher.

Sighing, you let your left hand wave back and forth over the flames. "My dad really is Lucifer Morningstar." You hold your hand still then, the flames engulfing your hand. Someone gasps, but you don't look up until you say, "And I'm the Queen of Hell."

"Oh fuck."

Fangs immediately shoots up, stumbling behind his seat. Sweet Pea's expression has completely shut down and Toni stares with wide eyes. Without having to look in a mirror, you already know your eyes have gone pure white and the picture you paint with the crown atop your head can look quite daunting.

"I'm still me- the same girl you've been hanging out with for a while now." You swallow down the hurt you feel at their speechlessness. "But.. I will understand if this is too much. All I ask is that this little revelation doesn't leave the circle." Still your friends say nothing and fight against the burn behind your eyes. "I'm sorry."

As quickly as you can, you bend over to pick up your bag. Shouldering the strap, you turn to walk away when Jughead calls out. "Y/N.."

"It's fine," you say and cast him a small smile. "I'll pick up my car later. I'm going home."

"Let me give you a ride home at least."

You shake your head. "I'll manage." And with that, you turn and walk away, letting a swirl of flames whisk you away.

Maybe you should have waited, dropping hints here and there to ease them in. But as you appear in your room, you drop onto your bed and let the sadness swallow you whole. What's done is done. All you can do is hope for the best now.

#riverdale imagine #riverdale gen fic x reader #riverdale #jughead jones #fp jones #lucifer morningstar #sweet pea #toni topaz #fangs fogarty #riverdale x reader

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

Text

breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

#Jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #pjjg fanfic

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miraculous786 · 4 years ago

Note

I vote Damian to be Mari's Persephone because it would be hilarious to see him making flowers bloom when his wife is happy and when she's sad he brings out the hawthorns on anyone that made his Queen cry.

Note: Thank you so much Nonnies and @loveswifi for the help with this! Hope you enjoy it! ❤️❤️

Masterlist

A Hidden Hades Hunting For (Hopefully) Her Husband

Damian is son to Talia al Ghul, the goddess of harvest, sacred law, and the cycle of life and death. There are rumours that beneath her sweet exterior is a woman of high authority and challenge, but none have been confirmed.

She is believed to have wooed Bruce (Zeus) into having her child, however it is more widely accepted that she used her magic and power over fertility to have his offspring without him knowing. His wife Selina refuses to believe that such a brooding yet faithful man would cheat on her after he rid of his playboy-persona millennia ago.

In this AU, Jason is Ares, Dick is Hermes, and Tim is Athena.

Only those who know her well are aware of her true bubbly personality. They’re mostly the deceased souls of those who’ve died.

Marinette is Hades - goddess of the Underworld. She took visits to Earth in order to experience what life was like for mortals years ago, except stopped when gossip flew about around her being dark, despicable, evil.

Marinette laughed. Her domain didn’t need any worshippers in order to prosper, but she didn’t tell Lila that. She only sat back and watched, a grin on her face as students with glowing eyes accused her of unspeakable acts. It was only when one that she viewed as a sibling of sorts - Adrien Agreste - did as well that she decided to do something.

What happened was that a class of teenagers she came back to frequently were put under the spell of Dolos, or Lila who she took the form of. She sensed Marinette’s ichor and threatened to turn her followers against her if she didn’t conform to her will.

It was only after all of their deaths that they learnt what happened.

With a flick of the wrist, a crack formed in the ground beneath Dolos, soon enlarging into a crater as limbs made of fire pulled her screaming form down into the depths of the Underworld. The class watched, stunned, but then a fog began to clear out of their minds. They seemed to wake up, apologies on the tips of their tongues, only to realise that Bridgette and Adrien weren't there anymore.

Dolos was doomed to having to solve an infinite puzzle, whilst Adrien was allowed to live as an equal to Marinette in hell. The class, now adults, are sentenced to be souls who help them in their duties. They aren’t mistreated, however. On the contrary, they’re viewed as friends to her.

Now, we skip to present day.

Damian is sitting on a bench in one of the gardens that he is confined to on the orders of his mother, when he suddenly hears what sounds like a bark. He turns around, only to be met with something shoving him to the ground.

He whips out a vine, wrapping it around the creature to inspect its species. That's when he realises that it's a dog. A very happy dog that starts to lick his face all over and leave its saliva everywhere.

Despite his cold personality, Damian has a soft spot for nature and animals of any sort. He picks it up, stroking it gently and trying to fight off the urge to smile at the way it leans into his touch.

He's touch-starved himself, to put it simply.

Damian sits with what he realises to be a male dog for a few minutes more. He doesn’t bother to keep an eye out for Talia - he’s too busy creating vines that his new friend bats at with his paws. It explains why he doesn’t realise the person walking up to him until they put a hand on his shoulder.

A polite voice calls for him, asking if he found their pet.

He turns, only to be met with a beautiful face framed by a black hood. The woman smiles at him, then suddenly calls out, “Titus!” with a surprised expression.

The animal in his arms leaps forward, starting to lick her whilst jumping up and down happily. Her laughter causes Damian to freeze, since he starts to sense the magic surrounding her. She’s a diety, he realises. But how did she get in here?

That day is the day that a friendship blossomed between Damian and Marinette.

She convinces him that she’s a nymph of sorts, citing that the reason some plants wilt around her are because of a curse set upon her by Talia. It makes him cautious and understandably distrustful until she assures him that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They keep their meetings a secret for years, though it doesn't feel like that long because of their immortality. Titus is usually the communication between them, and leads Damian to where he needs to go within his mother's gardens to find Marinette.

She has earrings that preserve her identity and prevent nature around her dying - however, plants still wilt and weaken enough to be on the brink of death. They are brought back to life by Damian almost constantly when she is in his presence, meaning she can touch them without worry.

As time passes, the two become closer. Instead of words, they begin to trade flower crowns and daisy chains. They always have blushes on their cheeks when talking to one another, or even thinking about each other.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Talia.

She plans to figure out once and for all why her son's demeanor has changed, at least until she's called to Olympus by the higher-ups in order to discuss something. Something involving Damian.

This only makes it easier for the two to get away with their escapades.

One day, whilst her and Damian are sitting under a tree, Marinette pulls out a black ring. She shyly offers it to him, making him flustered as he slowly takes and slides it on his finger.

What he doesn't know is that there's magic laced within the jewellery.

They relax for a few minutes in silence, until she breaks it by calling his name. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself as she explains that she's not really a nymph - she's a diety. A diety that he wouldn't like if he found out about the domain that she ruled over.

A soft hand cups her tear-stained cheek. She looks up, only to hear Damian whisper, "I'm sure that's not true, Beloved."

That's all it takes for her to yank him forward into a kiss, which he returns full-force under the watchful gaze of her sibling Adrien in the shadows. It takes all of his will to not jump up and down from joy.

They officially become a couple that day.

Marinette returns to the Underworld in the evening with a dazed expression, causing Alya and her friends to grin and float up to her. She deals with their relentless teasing, trying to cover her face out of embarrassment whilst she hesitantly tells them all what happened.

Adrien is the first to suggest courting Damian, though she immediately shuts it down and expresses fear at being found out. Her reputation was tainted, after all - and maybe he would go back on his promise of still loving her true self.

He manages to convince her of his sincerity by reminding her of all their interactions (he may or may not have watched over them to keep watch and see his ship sail), and Marinette eventually comes to the decision to start courting.

As she prepares lavish gems to gift him in the future, she is unaware of what is happening in the skies way above.

She'd refused to give him up - saying that he was her pride and joy and the perfect soldier for them to use in battle against future enemies trying to overthrow them. That made him even more angry.

Bruce, after a long conversation with Selina and his many children, had decided to have a conversation with Talia about his youngest son not too long ago. He showed interest in wanting to have custody of Damian on Olympus instead of her having him on Earth, making Talia lose her sweet attitude and gain a scowl.

Lightning struck harsh that night, and the goddess of harvest had returned home with her tail between her legs and a newly-formed resentment towards Damian. He was too busy thinking about his 'nymph' friend to notice, however.

In Olympus at the current moment in time, Damian is kneeling before Bruce. The god tells him to stand, his sons and daughters at his side displaying various levels of shock as he begins to explain why he is there, and why he will be in the future.

Everyone had agreed that Talia wasn't a good fit for him, due to her revealed intentions for his birth. He doesn't have time to argue about the situation before he is whisked away into a room fit for a royal, high in the clouds and miles away from his girlfriend.

The next morning, a dinner is set up with all of the gods in Olympus, including Tim, Jason and Dick. Dick is enthusiastic, trying to make conversation with Damian as his brothers are eating (or drinking coffee...). However, he has none of it.

He's too busy thinking about Marinette. How she would think that he'd broken his promise, or had abandoned her, or forgotten about her. His demeanor switches to his defensive one - cold, cruel, uncaring.

Marinette returns to Earth with a crown in her hands the next day, which has a shining jewel in the centre and spikes with the finest of gems at their points. She looks around excitedly, smile on her face as she and Titus wait for Damian.

Hours pass.

Up in Olympus, said diety is being introduced to family friends and other gods, that all coo at him much to his displeasure. He growls under his breath after every new person he meets, only cementing in everyone that he is a child. A young one that needs to be watched over like a hawk lest he attempts to go back to his mother.

Just as he enters his room with a heavy heart, he senses something strange in the mortal world. Large fields of crops near to his old home had just been destroyed - their roots upended and ripped out. His eyes widen.

Damian rushes to Earth, taking a route that is unknown to most whilst trying to keep hidden from his new siblings. He reaches his destination in a matter of mere seconds, but it's too late. He only breathes out a shocked sigh as he gazes down at the crater in the ground.

There's a glint of something gold at the bottom of it, and he picks the item - the crown - up with almost invisible tears in his eyes. The ring on his finger burns as a reminder of Marinette's emotions.

Below him, a frantic Adrien is trying to calm her down, but it's no use. The goddess of the Underworld is hysteric, crying rivers of tears filled with betrayal as souls all around try to ease her too.

Damian spends the next centuries and millennia on Olympus, sometimes returning to Earth when he wants to remember Marinette.

He keeps her a secret from all of the gods except for one of his friends - Jon (Artemis) - though he only mentions that she was someone important that handed him the crown that is always on his head.

He reluctantly begins to view Tim, Jason and Dick as brothers when enough time has passed, but never admits it. Selina and Bruce, however, catch the glints of relief in his eyes when they're in his presence. He finally has someone to talk to without worrying about Talia, excluding Marinette all those years ago.

Speaking of which, she had slowly become closed off and harsher in her treatment of the dead in the Underworld. They see that she's spiraling, hiding her depressed state under a constant frown, but can do nothing about it. Even Adrien is unable to bring back her kind personality in the absence of Damian.

That is, until he catches word from the messenger, Dick, that he is up in the skies on Olympus.

It's a slip-up, of course, but he still manages to catch what Dick says and act like he didn't. He waits until he's gone before he rushes back to Marinette and tells her what he suspects.

A small smile spreads across her face. One that is cruel like the rumours say, yet happy like she once was. Of course he didn't want to leave her, she thinks. He was simply forced into doing so.

Damian is talking to Jon about another recent affair in the middle of a mortal forest, when suddenly, he freezes. He feels a familiar burn at the ring on his hand, along with fields full of nature dying in an instant miles away.

He uses a zeta portal to teleport to the area, leaving behind a confused Jon. He zips around, eyes wide as he senses the plants around wilting slightly, along with some of the nearby animals inching away from him.

Everything becomes quiet. That's when he catches a flash of black darting around in the corner of his vision. He turns there, his eyes widening in recognition when seeing a dog wagging its tail happily.

"Titus!"

Damian takes a step forward.

A large crack forms in the ground beneath him, revealing the depths of the Underworld in all of their glory. Just as he's about to fall down, a chariot of the darkest colours hovers below him, soon speeding off without a second to waste with him inside.

He tries to command vines to capture the person at the reigns of it, but can only muster enough energy to sag back. Strong magic fills the air around him, forcing him to stay seated on plush pillows.

The last thing he sees before his sight is shrouded with nothing is a glint of red at his kidnapper's ears.

~*~*~

More to come!

There will be a second part, which will include general headcannons and what happens after this. Feel free to send in an Ask if you have any suggestions of different legends in Greek mythology that could be included. :)

@northernbluetongue @moonystars14 @soupfilledboots @vixen-uchiha @starsshineandgivehope @professionalfangirl1738 @queen-in-a-flower-crown @pale-lady-dreamer

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #daminette #maridami #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damimari #maribat #adribat #ml salt #lila salt

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salparadiselost · 4 years ago

Note

Hiii!!! I love your demon AU so much. I was wondering if you could possibly write a snippet of an AU where police officer!Dick saves some demons or something as a police officer and he knows how to handle them and uses mimicked demon behavior to calm them and all his colleagues are like "where did you learn that? whaaat are you doing" and he gets to gush about his baby brothers and sister who are all demons?

Sure thing! I love Dick could be a good police officer and help to make a difference in bridging the gap between species.

———

Dick knew that Jason hated him living in Bludhaven. He knew that Jason hated the fact that he was a cop and was putting his life on the line without the protection of a pack or a cape.

But there were some things that Dick needed to do without Jason’s approval.

Surprisingly, Bruce had been the one to understand that the most and helped Dick present his case to Jason.

The demon wasn’t happy, but he relented under the pressure of Head and the Head’s second.

Dick only stayed in Blud four days a week, returning back for long weekends in order to help feed the Incubi and settled pack bonds that got ruffled without one of their own. It was an easy schedule because the drive to Blud wasn’t that bad and Dick was more than grateful for the extra Friday to spend with his baby brothers.

That didn’t stop Jason from grumpily glaring like an affronted cat every time Dick packed his suitcase to return to Blud after his usual 3-day weekend at the Manor, though.

The Incubus was the worst mother hen out of all of them even if he vehemently denied it.

Dick sighed leaning back against the leather of the patrol car, idly watching as cars passed by. He chuckled as speeders suddenly pressed on the brakes in an attempt to pretend they weren’t just going 15 over. Dick wasn’t in the mood to actually pull one over and entertained himself with the panicking drivers.

The radio crackled and Dick listened as another officer spoke into the channel.

"Attention code 45 on East Street. Back up requested."

45... that was...

Feral demon. The highly dangerous kind.

Or, at least the cop who called it in thought the person was highly dangerous.

Dick jolted in his street, scrambling for his radio. "This is Officer Grayson. I'm on my way."

He pulled onto the street, turned on his sirens, and raced to the location.

His tires screeched when pulled up next to an alleyway that already had two other cop cars parked next to it. The lights were flashing and made the alleyway be bathed in bursts of red and blue.

He was too fucking late. He wanted to be the first one here to stop the damage before it could be dealt.

He flung open the door and rushed into the alleyway where four other officers were already huddled around was what he assumed was a demon. Hands were on guns, muscles were tense and there was a low, angry hissing filling the air.

"Grayson, good thing you're here. We have a pretty nasty one."

Dick bristled at hearing the demon get called a "nasty one". They were probably terrified, growling and snarling because they were cornered and outnumbered.

"Species?"

"A Succubus and an Alectos."

There were two of them? Dick only heard the hissing of one.

Dick broke through the group of other officers, shoving his way to the front, and stopped.

The Succubus was crouched on the group, half shoved behind a dumpster and hissing with all the fury her small body could manage. She couldn't be older than Damian, probably only 12 or 13. She hadn't grown enough to get a full, deep growl of an adult demon.

Behind her, a tiny impling shivered and whined in fright. He looked up with his multicolour eyes that constantly shifted hue in the light. He was so young that it hurt Dick's heart. The imp had only tiny nubs for horns, and clung on to the older demon fiercely.

The familiarity meant that they were probably siblings. Maybe adopted. Maybe with one child taking after their Mother and another taking after their Father.

They were definitely pack and the Succubus acted just as any demon would act to a packmate being threatened.

Dick could easily imagine Jason acting the exact same way, making himself as terrifying as possible to protect his implings.

But Jason, a full-grown Incubus with fangs and claws and snarl that could shake bone, was actually terror-inducing.

This Succubus with her high-pitched and stuttering snarl and her adorable baby brother peering over her shoulder, just looked heartbreaking and scared.

"Everyone get back," Dick ordered, sweeping an arm out. "I can handle this."

"Grayson..."

"I can," he snapped, "My siblings are demons. I know how to handle them."

The officer stepped back and Dick heaved a breath before walking forward.

The Succubus's eyes instantly snapped on to him and her growling became more panicked. Dick felt her desperately try to grapple with his emotions and bend them to her will, but her attempts were amateur. Dick was used to sparring with Jason, a highly trained demon who could wield his abilities like a knife, and he was more than capable of shutting down the Succubus's emotion grabbing.

He didn't let her manipulate his emotions, but he did open them, letting her know that he was safe and meant no harm.

"Hi," he said as he watched the Succubus taste his emotions. Some of the tension in her muscles began to ease and she tilted her head in confusion. Humans wouldn't normally know how to portray their emotions purposefully to a Succubus.

"I'm Dick. I'm not going to hurt you."

Her eyes flickered to the officers behind him.

"They want to take my brother," she said, her voice gravelly with a growl. "They want to take me."

An officer stepped forward, her face scowling. "We just want to bring them to the CPS. They shouldn't be out here alone."

Dick agreed, but he knew better than anyone that CPS could be just as dangerous as living on the streets from a young Succubus and an impling.

The Succubus stiffened and horror flashed on her face. Her eyes flickered between Dick and the other officers. She tried to snarl, flashing her fangs at them even as her eyes looked terrified.

"I won't let you take him. I won't."

Dick could see the situation quickly getting out of hand. The Succubus was slowly growing more frantic, the officers were getting tenser because of it. Dick needed to de-escalate.

So he shoved himself in front of the Succubus, breaking her eye contact with imposing officers, and he chuffed.

The Succubus startled at the sound, eye-widening and locking on to him.

Humans didn't chuff. They didn't know what chuffing meant, that it was supposed to call implings and let them know an older, protective demon was there.

But most humans didn't have demon brothers that constantly needed corralling and cuddling to feed.

The Alectos impling was the first to respond, chirping towards Dick and instinctively answering back to what he perceived as an older demon.

The Succubus was slower, but eventually, also let her growling die down and also chirped to Dick.

Dick gave them both his almost-purr and spoke calmly.

"I'm going to help you. You won't be separated. I can get you somewhere safe."

"But, trafficking..."

"I know and I know somewhere you can go where they won't touch you."

The Succubus blinked and Dick slow blinked back, finally easing the last of the tension in her muscles.

"How do you know?"

Dick gave her a soft smile and let her have a peek at the bright packbonds in his chest.

Her eyes widened in shock and she looked at him in a new light. "You have a pack."

"Yes, two of my brothers are Incubi, one is a Luciferean and my sister is a Wraith."

"And you're a human?"

"Yes, and so is our Head of pack."

She wrinkled her nose and it was the first time that she looked like a proper, innocent impling instead of a scared, out-of-her-mind kid.

"That's weird."

Dick laughed and offered her a hand so she could stand up. She hesitantly took it. The impling at her side chirped again and nuzzled into her.

"Yeah, I guess it is pretty weird, but I still love them."

Dick walked with the Succubus, motioning the other officers away and guiding her into the back of his police car. When they were settled, Dick heard her begin to purr for her baby brother and groom the dirt away from his face.

Dick couldn't help but smile to himself as he called to one of the Wayne Enterprises-sponsored demon shelters and told them he was bringing the siblings.

He couldn't save every demon he came across, but it brightened something hopeful in his heart whenever he could help just one.

He dropped the siblings at the shelter, relaxing as they finally got to somewhere safe. There were far too few places that were safe for a demon.

And as he watched the siblings retreat into the shelter, he ached for his own pack and his own siblings. He had the sudden fierce urge to chuff, even though the implings weren't there to hear him.

Maybe he could leave for Gotham a little early? Bruce certainly wouldn't mind having Dick drop by unexpectedly.

Dick pulled his cop car back into the Bludhaven street and tugged at his bonds. Everyone in his family tugged back.

#drabble #though it is a bit long #Dick Grayson #Demon AU #I didn't get to the gushing about his siblings #but this was getting long already lol

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jinxedpanda4life · 4 years ago

Text

Criminal Investigator AU HC

I would first like to start off by saying thank you to everyone.

I honestly did not expect the response I got to my Damirae Hospital AU HC list.

When I first woke up and checked tumblr ~13 hours after posting I had a holy shit moment.

I felt powerful, should I? Probably not.

But! Since I am noticing a lack of AUs in the fandom, whether on Tumblr, AO3 or FanFiction.net, whatever AU comes to my mind I shall jot down some hcs for!

Thank you all once again!

(Also trying format changes for easy reading)

(Also Also, I am thinking the story is less fluid but more episodic)

Let’s get started:

- So I’m thinking this is some FBI, SVU, and FBI BAU mixture or whatever. Basically all the great shows we know in love shoved together. From Bones to Criminal Minds and everything in between.

- Special Agent (Dr.) Raven Roth is a lead interrogator and is the resident psych consult.

She’s been educated in interrogation, behavioral science, psychology, forensic pathology, and criminology.

She has combat training (hand to hand), she carries (for her job) a gun and at all times has a knife/dagger on her person (people have stopped trying to figure out where she keeps them).

Her father was/is crime boss T. Trigon who is currently imprisoned.

Was born in the states but fled with her mother to Romania when she was a newborn.

When Trigon found them he killed Arella and took Raven, she was abut 9 - 10 years old.

She took her mother’s last name when she turned 18.

Knows two languages besides English; French, Romanian, Romani (various dialects but knows multiple), Greek and Latin

On more than one occasion some goon of her father’s tries to recruit her, every time she kicks their ass. (Damian was there for the most recent (he was still green though))

Lives by herself in a decent sized apartment, has a gun safe (gun safety is important!), a cat (Nevermore), and is a regular at a 24/7 bookstore &/ cafe

Can usually be found wearing some kind of jacket, sweater, cardigan

She once helped save some kids (Melvin, Tommy & Teether) and is now their surrogate aunt, she has photos of them at her desk @ work. (Damian assumes/ed that they were her kids)

She also, when she can, hangs out and babysits them on occasion.

Raven is part of a team consisting of Dick Grayson (unit leader), Kori Anders, Garfield Logan, Jaime Reyes, and very recently Damian Wayne

- Special Agent Damian Wayne is a lead investigator (he is still a bit fresh to the unit), translator, sniper and combat coordinator

He’s been educated in martial arts, explosives, hand to hand combat, close range combat, and combat (basically he knows how to kill you 9 ways to Sunday), also, behavioral science, computer science, criminology, linguistics and language.

He can easily translate (into English): Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Hindi, Bengali, French, Polish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, he can also learn any language you put in front of him and know the basics within a day

(Having lived in many places around the world he needed to be able to speak and understand in order to survive) (wow dramatic much?)

His father is currently the director (or deputy director, whatever floats ya boat) of the FBI.

His mother was essentially a secret agent who worked for various agencies around the globe. (deceased)

His grandfather was the leader of a, um, well to be honest, terrorist agency. (deceased)

Was sent to live with his father when he was 15 (when his mother died) and has been in the states ever since

Lives alone, he has an upscale apartment that he truthfully spends little time in, has multiple locations in the home where various weapons are stored, his place has a very cold atmosphere

Is either in proper work attire or in work out clothing, there is no in between

Tries and fails not to take work home with him

He sees a therapist (who says he should probably try investing in relationships with the people at his job)

His only “friend” (he hates calling him that, more like close acquaintance) is Jonathan Kent who was in his class at the FBI Academy, Jon works in a white collar crime department in Metropolis

The only person he actually kind of sort of doesn’t dislike is in fact Raven Roth, she’s a no bull shit person, he likes that

He may know Grayson because of how he’s Bruce’s kind of son but it does not mean he likes him

He finds Logan annoying as all hell, even if he is somewhat useful

He picked a fight with Reyes first day and regretted it (he will never admit that), he respects him

Anders is overly friendly in his opinion, kind of acts like a secretary with all that positivity and grates his nerves, he tolerates her

(Unlike last time I am not going in detail about the rest of the team, this will be brief)

- Supervisory Special Agent Dick Grayson (Unit Chief) is basically Dick Grayson with a big fancy title but all the same skills

He is also obsessed with Slade Wilson and Red X (who is Jason in this)

- Supervisory Special Agent Kori Anders is a lead investigator and is also a go to for undercover work

- Special Agent Garfield Logan is a lead interrogator, is head of the unit’s K-9 unit and kind of has a thing for Roth (which she does not reciprocate)

- Special Agent Jaime Reyes is a tactical analyst, tech analyst and is head of the unit’s SWAT team, he does not do well with talking with people, or change

The Scarab is a computing program that Jaime created himself

STORY START:

- When Damian first joins the team there is another member, Special Agent Terra Markov, she is revealed as a sleeper agent but she aligns herself with the team and sadly is shot and killed in a fire fight

- A couple weeks after Agent Markov’s death everyone is talking about what they are doing for an upcoming holiday, Damian says probably nothing, Raven invites him to spend it with her and her “niece” and “nephews,” he declines

- About a day after the holiday Damian is home looking through case files when someone knocks on his door

-- It is Raven. He asks how she knew where he lived, she says she asked Dick, she also says that she knows how it feels to be alone and that he may be insufferable but it doesn’t mean he can’t have a friend

-- His response is saying he isn’t the kind to make friends with co workers

-- “I’m not asking to be your friend Damian, I am asking you to be his,” She reveals a small black great dane puppy “I know that other people aren’t really your thing, but having someone in your corner and waiting for you is always nice, even if it isn’t human.”

-- Damian invites her in, names the dog Titus and thanks her

-- “Just make sure no one tries to kidnap and kill you, we don’t need you to go full blown John Wick.” Damian has no idea who that is. Raven tells him it is an action movie series that he should watch. She leaves. He does watch them that night with Titus on his lap. (after having gone to the local pet supply store to get everything he needs) The action is inaccurate but he enjoyed the movies none the less, and decides that he probably would go into John Wick mode if someone hurt Titus.

- SA Roth and SA Wayne are sent to a high security federal prison to interrogate a prisoner, who refuses to speak

-- When they get into the interview room the prisoner does start to speak, but not in English and not in a language Damian is fluent in

-- Raven on the other hand immediately responds to the prisoner (shocking the prisoner and Damian) “He is speaking Romani though not the dialect of those overseas, he learned it here.”

-- Damian is fascinated by it and they are essentially switching roles the entire time

-- They leave having successfully interviewing the prisoner, and Raven leaves behind a written list of common words in Romani so that they can possibly communicate with the prisoner better

-- As soon as they are on the plane back Damian asks her a myriad of questions from “How many languages do you know?” to “When did you learn that?” and even “Are you a spy? Sleeper agent? Part of a terrorist cell?”

-- “Not as many as you, when I was a child, if I was part of any of that you wouldn’t be asking.” The rest of the trip is spent with her teaching him Romani and even some Romanian

- Dick & Kori eventually get together and after a while they break up. Kori takes some vacation time. At the same Dick has been temporarily reassigned to another unit.

-- Chaos ensues

-- Garfield thinks he should be the interim unit chief, Jaime thinks the same, as does, you guessed it, Damian (Raven doesn’t want to she is comfortable with her role on the team)

-- In the end they are assigned an interim unit chief, SSA Jason Todd, who usually works overseas on covert op missions (not gonna lie this could easily flow into a Jayrae thing)

-- Everyone kind of falls into line, except Damian, Damian doesn’t like him for two reasons

1) He doesn’t act serious about the job 24/7

2) He has been flirting and hitting on Raven the moment he stepped into their sector

-- Damian hates the names he gives her; “Little Bird,” “Sunshine,” “Princess,” “Rae,” (no one calls her Rae, not even Garfield, at least not after the incident) etc.

-- (Little does Damian know, Jason and Raven have worked together before and are actually friends)

-- This all comes to a head when Damian and Jason are the only ones still in the office after a tiring case.

“You shouldn’t do that you know.”

“Do what? All I am doing right now is contemplating where Grayson keeps the liquor.”

“Call Raven all those names, she doesn’t like it.”

“Really? Because if you haven’t noticed she hasn’t exactly asked me to stop.”

“She gets uncomfortable, maybe not to the extent of asking you to stop, but she tenses up and her body language becomes slightly more agitated.”

“You seem to pay a lot of attention in how she reacts to thinks baby brat. Seems to me that you like her.”

“Of course I like her, she is a good friend and reliable teammate.”

“No, you like like her.”

“That presumption is juvenile.”

“But you don’t deny it.”

“Tch.”

-- If anything after that conversation Jason seems to doubled his advances. Which confuses both Damian and Raven. Damian because it is inappropriate and HR will be hearing about this. Raven because she was under the assumption that she and Jason were just friends. (Jason actually does have genuine intentions but is like 60% just egging Damian on)

-- Eventually (far too long for Damian’s tastes), both Dick and Kori return. At first it is sooooooo awkward. Like mom and dad divorced have shared custody but don’t hate each other but also cannot look each other in the eye. ((Was that a mouthful? Good)) No one can really look at each other the same? Though they do have a meeting to sort it out, get everything out in the open.

- Raven’s annual kidnapping/attempt to convert her/torture comes almost exactly one year after Damian joined the team (this is his 2nd time dealing with this)

-- This time Damian is prepared. By prepared I mean Raven doesn’t even leave her apartment before she is taken to safety.

“Damian what is going on?”

“Christmas came early this year that’s what.”

“Christmas? What in gods name are you talking about.”

“God has no dealings in this matter.”

“You do realize you are sounding like a bad action movie? It is not even 6 am and I am in your car going somewhere, I have had little to no sleep and I am barely dressed. What is going on?” Damian hadn’t payed attention to what clothing Raven was wearing. His mind was on one goal. Find Raven, keep Raven safe. His eyes glanced off the road enough to realize she was indeed not properly dressed. Her body was merely adorned with an oversized tee-shirt, tiny barely there shorts and a pair of fluffy socks.

“I apologize, it appears in my haste I did not leave you time to properly clothe yourself. As to why you are here, it seems your father and his people have shortened their waiting time this year from one year to a little more than ten months.” Ravens hands fisted her shirt. “This time I was prepared,” last time he was still new to everything, last time he made mistakes, this time there will be no mistakes. “Since our last encounter with your demon, so to speak, I have been setting in place precautions and safety measures to ensure Nevermore and yours’ safety. I have also been tracking the movements of his big players. If any came close I would mark it down. Multiple are entering the city at this moment. Seeing as you we taken last time I have made plans to ensure that will not happen again.” The car made a snap turn down an unfamiliar street pulling Raven from her clouded gaze.

“So I am going to be okay this time?” Her voice was faint and restraining against hope.

“You’re going to be okay.” His hand lightly held hers. Only to stop the shaking, they told themselves, only to make everything better. “Nevermore is with Titus at my place being watched by a friend of mine. I have already walked Grayson through everything we will not be expected at work this week, but we can work remotely.”

“We?”

“I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

-- ((Sorry for the blocks of text))

-- As Raven finds out they are at one of Damian’s safe houses. The one least likely to be tied to her. It is fully stocked with food, has security cameras and if needed weapons. The only problem is that the only clothes there are Damians.

“Thought of everything huh?”

“I was following their pattern, I expected to have more time to acquire clothing for you.” (he was looking away and blushing, you cannot tell me he wasn’t)

-- Raven just resigns herself to wearing Damian’s clothes, yes his brain does stop working for a hot second when he sees her in only his clothes.

-- All attempts to try and retrieve codename: Gem of Scath are foiled (like some good math)

-- So many bonding moments happen. Cuddling (pure accident *rolls eyes*), eating together, inside jokes, etc. At one point Damian answers her phone (he disabled and disconnected the tracer) to one of the mob guys after them.

“Hello?”

“You can hide the gem but we will find her.”

“I’m sorry, is there a jewel you are looking for? I don’t think I have and any jewels that I am coveting.”

“We know you are with her! It is but a matter of time until we collect her.”

“I hope you do eventually find whatever you are looking for sir, but I haven’t the slightest idea the gem you speak of. If you could give me a physical description? Is it a ruby, diamond, onyx? Is it round or more of a pear shape?”

“...”

“Well, I will look for it here, but I do not believe I possess what you speak of. Will you give me your number so I can call you back?” (The line cuts dead, and Raven can be seen laughing in the background, the phone was on speaker)

-- Once the team tracks down, arrests and interrogates all of the parties working for Trigon; Raven and Nevermore can go home. Though both are reluctant in their own way. Nevermore has grown attached to Titus, and Raven well Raven has feelings. Sadly, as Raven knows, feelings are dangerous to have in their line of work.

-- Look at Dick and Kori they were together and then they fell apart and the team almost imploded.

-- What about Trigon if he finds out about Damian and how she feels towards him? What kind of danger will he be in then?

-- Like all of her feelings Raven puts them in a box and locks the box away. Not just figuratively, in her safe there is a box with: post its, torn papers, journals, etc. That box has a lock on it. Whenever she has a new feeling that she cannot ignore, like her feelings towards Special Agent Wayne, she takes out the box and writes her feelings down. They can range from a single sentence to pages worth. (Her feelings towards Damian fill a small notebook she has on hand). Once she has written all of her feelings out she places them in the box, locks said box and then places the locked box in her safe, which she then locks.

-- Is this a healthy way to cope with her feelings? Maybe not. But, it is way better than how Damian deals with his. Violence. Also art but violence comes first.

- At this point both Damian and Raven have caught the feelings (highly contagious I hear), which makes this a little awkward and a little not awkward. For one everyone but Raven knows how Damian feels towards her. He does things for her and with her that no one else gets the privilege to.

-- To list a few:

--- He brings her tea whenever he gets himself coffee or tea

--- He talks to her about what he does outside of work, even about his kind of friend definitely not enemy, Jon.

--- They socialize outside of work. Watching bad movies (some of them are not that bad), going to the park with Titus (they once got Nevermore in a leash and walked her), meeting each other before and after work to get breakfast or dinner.

--- He doesn’t glare at her

--- He allows physical contact between the two

--- He worries about her (hello he created an entire plan so that she wouldn’t get kidnapped, with contingencies and everything, garfield would be lucky to get a plan)

--- His eyes light up when she talks, or enters a room, or you know exists in his vicinity

--- He actually smiles around her (Dick caught him smiling once at Raven and he though Damian was having a stroke)

-- Even though everyone knows Damian likes Raven, very few know that Raven likes Damian back. (this only includes; Kori, Dick, Jason, Titus, Nevermore, and Melvin) She does do certain things that give herself away just like Damian.

--The list:

--- When Damian gets frustrated or angry she puts a hand on his arm, or holds his hand

--- She laughs at things he does (light chuckles, or little giggles)

--- She will talk to him about his interests and actively tries to have conversations with him about things unrelated to work.

--- She blushes when he does something unexpected (like a compliment)((Mostly she tries to hide it until he isn’t looking at her))(((Kori has caught the blush before)))

-- Luckily for them it does not take some cliche ‘One suddenly becomes in danger and the other one saves them only to be close to death and then they admit their love for one another and promise to go on a date when the other is healed’ situation.

-- Damian actually asks Raven out after being tipped of by Jason and Dick that she may like him back. Damian finds out when they have days off at the same time and asks her while leaving work.

“Raven, you have this weekend off correct?”

“Yeah I do. I wasn’t planning on doing anything though. Did you have something in mind?”

“Um, yeah, heh, I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of going to dinner with me tomorrow.” *Awkwardly rubs back of neck*

“Like a date or two friends going to dinner?” *Thinks she sounds harsh* “I am honestly fine with either since we are friends.” *nervous smile*

“Like a date if that is okay with you of course.”

“Yeah, yeah totally that is totally okay with me.” *Starts sounding like a teenage girl who only knows about 10 words, because she’s nervous*

“Good, I’ll be by your place around 1830, if that is okay?” *nerve central, the central nervous system could never*

“Yup that is totally fine with me.”

“Great.”

“Good.” The elevator opens in the knick of time.

“See you tomorrow evening Agent Roth. Have a good night.”

“You too, Agent Wayne, you too.”

-- When Damian does pick her up he feels like his brain is going to explode. She looks absolutely breathtaking. This is just like all the other times they’ve gone to dinner, except this restaurant is slightly fancier and they are on a date.

-- Raven feels as though all her emotions are leaking out at once, she has no idea what she is doing.

-- In the end they have a good time and decide to do it again. Damian does bring up that all of the breakfasts and dinners they regularly do could now be considered dates. Raven does not oppose that switch at all.

- Fast forward a handful of years (like 3?), Damian and Raven are moved in together (Nevermore and Titus are happy about this, they even allow the humans to adopt another pet, a cat named Alfred). Damian is now Supervisory Special Agent Wayne and is in charge of their unit. Raven has retired from field work and now works at the FBI academy and at Virginia State University. In about 6 months Damian is going to propose and Raven will say yes. Their wedding will be small but happy and full of life.

Once again I would like to thank everyone and all the support the previous post got.

Like last time if anything is disjointed, out of place or seems wrong, please go ahead and tell me. I have been working on this since the last one, but have finally had the time to finish it.

I hope the new year will bring us all some good. Possibly more head canons to come.

#damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #Rachel Roth #damian x raven #Teen Titans #Headcanon #How do tags work #dc #demonbirds

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watchtower-feed · 5 years ago

Text

Shoulds and Coulds

SSA AU ✧ Damian Wayne ✧ Timer

Notes: This is my favorite trope hybrid. Does a lot of emotional damage. I also wanted to move away from Y/N-centric narrative and try the soulmate’s POV.

Words: 3,615

When you live in a world full of superheroes, there are worst things than meta human villains, invading aliens, and psychotic clowns. One of them is having a soulmate.

Some say it’s better because your other half is easier to find, but they’re not the one who has a hero or a villain for a soulmate. You do

Damian Wayne was raised to believe in destiny. That it’s his fate to one day lead the League of Assassins and continue to change the world for the better. Talia would talk of his future feats while massaging the glowing numbers on his arm. As a young boy, he’s noticed how his mother would always avoid looking at his timer.

But destiny proved to have its own plans when Slade attacked the League and murdered his grandfather in front of him. His mother safely stole him away and brought him to his father. When she whispered her bittersweet goodbye, she kissed his timer for a long time. And it was the last time he ever saw her.

His father and Alfred dedicated a grave to Talia in the family cemetery, a few meters away from Bruce’s own parents. There was no body beneath the ground but Damian had no trouble shedding tears on the gravestone etched with her name.

Damian Wayne was then raised in a family where his choices decided his fate and those around him. Every split decision in a fight could lead to injury or death. Every word uttered turned arguments into thirst for blood. There's no way of knowing what will happen until it does.

Every action he makes, consequences follow. Nothing is given freely and nothing is asked of him. Suddenly, he no longer has a clear destiny.

But when he looks at the changing numbers on his arm, the inevitable countdown that comforts his loneliness, he’s still sure of one thing. No matter what happens, what turns he takes, or mistakes he makes, he has you.

It’s the last day of summer before Damian goes back to high school for his senior year. He’s spending it much like every other night with his brothers: in costume.

“Just a few more minutes,” Dick grins at him while he peers at Damian’s covered arm, making his youngest brother rub it under his sleeve and hide it from Dick with a scowl.

Jason snorts through the comms and Damian can hear him breathing loud and the wind trailing behind him, “Do you think-- it’s going to be-- a damsel-- in distress?”

“We’re out and about and Ivy is busy turning the Narrows into her new garden. Of course, she’s going to be a damsel. She’ll probably be trapped in Ivy’s vines and Damian’s going to be the one who’ll cut her down and save her.” Dick swoons towards Damian who harshly shoves him away and jumps off the rooftop to leave his eldest brother behind.

Tim’s voice filters in his ear as he glides over rooftops, “Or it could be a bad guy. Probably out looting and taking advantage of the chaos just like these guys.” They all hear Tim grunt as he kicks and punches.

Damian groans and glares at the night sky. They’re damage control while Batman handles Ivy by himself. From what they’ve been hearing through his comm, Ivy’s trying to find new territory after the mayor sold her greenhouse to an out-of-town developer.

“You’re always such a party pooper, Tim.”

“At least I’m not narrating R-rated romance novels.”

“Hey! Those are quality gol--”

Damian stops in an alley and turns off his comms. He hides in the shadows. Stands still in the darkness, holding his breath before releasing it through his shaky lips. He loosens the collar of his tunic and breathes out of his mouth slowly.

Finally, he rolls up his sleeve and the glowing red numbers light up his face.

9 minutes.

He remembers his mother kissing the last digit after she said goodbye. After expressing her distaste for his link all his life, why did she kiss it so gently? What did it mean? Why did she look so sad? Was she worried? Scared?

Damian Wayne has grown up waiting for the day when his timer would stop, when all the waiting would stop, when all the uncertainty and guesswork would finally come to an end.

“Robin!”

His comms are overridden and Batman’s voice blares through. “There’s another stray headed to your location.”

“On it.”

Damian’s running. Heading toward the screaming.

“Damian, how many more minutes?”

“Dick, focus!”

It’s too late. Damian’s already staring at his still exposed wrist.

7 minutes.

When he reaches the chaos, he sees a monster shaped like a bulb with its vines swinging wildly around, smashing into buildings and wrapped tightly around civilians.

Dick’s words suddenly haunt him and he wonders if his soulmate is one of them. His eyes roam each victim. Damian wills himself to focus. There’s still a lot of time.

He unsheathes his katana and cuts away at the animated vines. He catches each civilian as they fall and takes extra care when he lets them down onto the ground. An ambulance arrives when he lays down the last victim. The medics pour out and attend to them. He steals one last look at his wrist.

2 mins.

Damian turns his full attention to the monster. He cleans his katana on his sleeve and charges forward. He hacks and slashes at each vine it sends his way. But one vine hits him and sends him flying back. He braces himself for the impact and hits the windshield of a car.

He groans, back aching, and notices the moving numbers on his arm.

36 seconds.

The monster is advancing. Damian grits his teeth. His lips are quivering. He grips the hilt of his weapon and waits. With the monster just a few feet away, Damian yells in frustration and leaps. He comes down to its side and slashes the monster’s head off.

Its limbs flail in the air without an entity controlling it and one of the larger vines whips around and slams Damian against a building.

His head smashes against the brick wall and his body slides down to the ground. He feels warm blood drip down his face. It slowly covers his eyes and he sneaks one last look at his wrist.

3 seconds.

He feels a gloved hand wipe off the blood on his face and pull on his eyelids. When his eye opens, he hears the three continuous beeps while locking eyes with you.

“Are you okay? Do you know where you are?” Robin is staring at you through his mask while you flash light into his eye. His pupil constricts and then dilates when you move away the flashlight. “Talk to me, Robin. I need to know if you’ve got a concussion. Do you remember where you are?”

You watch him blink both eyes and slowly his mouth moves, “Gotham.” You give him a long look before you finally release the breath you’ve been holding.

Robin is your soulmate. After 27 years of waiting, you finally meet him. But work comes first.

Your hands move and part his hair to look at the wound. It’s a small gash but it’s going to need stitches. For now, you need to stop the bleeding.

Damian’s hand covers yours and he brings it down to his face. You watch him stare at the now faded mark on your wrist and slowly he brings it closer to his lips before pressing a kiss against the faded string of numbers.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Y/N, how many casualties?”

You’re still not used to having Batman addressing you by name. You clear your throat and stare at thepiece of paper you brought with you to avoid looking at any of them. “7 DOAs and 12 in critical condition but quarantined. Hospital records show that 42 are already in recovery.”

“Red Robin, how many missing persons reports?”

“23 but there’s no more ground to cover.”

“Where else can we look? The rest of the area is still ground zero, Bruce.”

Batman glares at Jason. He’s still not used to having his name mentioned in front of you. But it’s not like you want to be here. You want to help but you’d rather be out there in an ambulance, reporting to doctors. You’re only here because of Damian.

He nudges your shoulder with his and waits for you to turn to him. You hide half of your face behind your paper and give your soulmate a deep frown. Damian replies with a quick smile before turning his full attention back to Batman.

“--still some debris here. Red Robin, Batgirl, and I will look into it. The rest of you take the rest of the night off.”

Dick and Jason are already getting ready to argue with Bruce when Damian tugs on your hand and leads you to the elevator shaft. When he closes the door, you slump against the scaffolding and sigh. You’re exhausted. It’s another long night in Gotham as usual.

Damian’s tall form stands next to you, leaning against your shoulder, sending electricity up and down your spine. He’s bowing his head in thought. You eye him curiously and watch his brows meet at the center.

“You’re sneaking out, aren’t you?”

Only his eyes turn to you and he smirks. It doesn’t take much for you to decipher what he’s thinking. All you have to do is look and everything is written plainly on his face. Even when his family is around, the stoic demeanor he wears with them is very telling of what calculations he’s making and what he plans to do next.

You smirk back. “Where to?”

The shaft doors open automatically when it reaches the top. Damian places his wide palm on the small of your back and guides you out of the secret door. He stops by the wall and leans on it to cage you in with his arms. “If you’re tired, beloved, we’ll stay in.”

He leans down and kisses you. His lips are chapped from the cold night but his breath is warm like the sun. You find yourself inhaling and tasting all of him without another thought. He pushes you back against the wall with his body molding into your curves. Your breath hitches when his leg presses against your crotch. You push him back gently.

“Let’s… Let’s sneak out…”

Damian hasn’t turned 18 yet and you’re ten years older than him. You’ve found it so easy to just lose yourself in his touch, his warmth, his taste. But you have principles. Your rules. Boundaries you’re not willing to cross. He clenches his teeth like an animal baring his fangs.

Damian doesn’t understand these rules. You’re soulmates. You shouldn’t be bound by such trivial legal matters.

You slink away but hold his hand. You pull him away from the wall and toward the garage. “Come on. Lives to be saved, my boy wonder.”

But he tries to be good. Tries to be as good as you. Good enough for you. So he respects your rules, the high standards you’ve set for yourself. Just like how you never try to talk him into a more honest life, knowing that being Robin is what makes him him.

But destiny is nothing like karma. It plays by its own rules.

It’s the early morning of Damian’s birthday when Alfred hears the house phone ringing. Damian and his siblings walk in from the cave while Alfred answers it. The boys are loud but exhausted, stretching their limbs and rolling their shoulders to shake away the fight from the night.

“You excited for the big day, buddy?”

“Kids finally gonna lose his V card. What do you think?”

“Takes a special kind of stupid to lose it in an alley, Todd.”

Tim’s the only one who notices Alfred’s stiff posture and desperate grip on the phone’s receiver. “Alfred?” The others stop and watch Alfred slowly turn to them, gaping, the receiver slowly slips from his grip. “What’s wrong?”

He’s staring at Damian. His voice breaks when he utters your name.

They break every speed limit and run every red light on the way to Gotham General Hospital. The emergency room is in chaos and the lobby is filled with people all waiting to see the victims of the accident. The wailing and the sobbing is forcing Damian to hide his head between his knees so he can think.

The hospital didn’t call Wayne manor. One of your colleagues did. He was about to clock out but as soon as he saw you on the gurney, head bashed in with blood all over your face and in your hair, his knees went weak. He and a few of the other nurses knew you were involved with Damian Wayne and someone had to tell him.

Four hours ago, a building collapsed near the hospital parking lot where the ambulances are parked. You and your colleagues were headed home when it happened. They’re only letting immediate family members in and no one in Damian’s family is listed as your emergency contact.

“Is anybody in there with her?”

“We can’t divulge that kind of information, sir.”

“We’re her only family in Gotham!”

“Unless you’re listed in her contacts, we can’t let you in.”

“Check again! We should be in there--”

“Stop!”

Damian shouts in the waiting room, making all the chatter and buzzing cease. He stares at Bruce, Dick, and Jason before marching toward them and grabbing his brothers by the collar. “Just stop. Let them do their job.”

You’ve told Damian enough stories about the hospital and the different types of behavior the nurses had to deal with. You don’t blame them because it’s their loved ones in question but you just wish they’d understand that wasting the nurses’ time helps no one.

Damian lets go of his brothers and waits for them to take a seat. Bruce looks at his son. “I thought she would put one of us as her contact.”

Damian’s mouth stretches into a line, “I knew she didn’t. Y/N was sure I’d be the first to respond if something happens. She believed in me.”

“Thank you,” the nurse says to him. “I’ll call you as soon as Y/N’s ready for visitors.”

Damian nods at her and sits down with his brothers. He did the right thing but he feels sick to his stomach. He suddenly gags and Cass is quick enough to shove a trash can under his head. His retching echoes in the still quiet room.

By the time they’re called them in, the waiting room is half empty and Damian’s birthday is almost over. They stand in front of your hospital room door with Damian’s hand on the handle. He’s staring at the timer’s faded mark on his wrist.

His siblings turn to each other but neither rushes him in. Bruce gently places his hand on his son’s shoulder. After a sharp intake of breath, Damian finally turns the handle.

The artificial light is glaring hard at your heavily bandaged head. Your open mouth is covered by a nebulizer and IV packs hung beside your bed.

“Why…” Dick’s voice is breaking and almost a whisper. “Why does she need so many?”

Bruce purses his lips when he answers, “The building collapsed from neglect over the years but the Joker was using one of the empty apartments for storage.”

“What was in it?” Tim asks, making Jason elbow him and shush the rest of them.

“Do you really think this is the time?” he nudges his head toward Damian who’s standing right next to your bed and holding your free hand.

Damian has tuned them out the moment he saw you. He lowers himself and lays his chin near your shoulder. He watches your chest rise and fall and hopes your eyelids would open.

“Y/N. Please.”

It’s almost sunrise when you finally wake up. The room is quiet but the repeated beeping of machines helps stir you into consciousness. You blink and wait for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You’re in a hospital room crowded with hunched sleeping forms littered about.

You feel someone’s fingers intertwined with yours and your eyes land on a small mop of black hair lying on your bed. Instinctively, you reach out and ruffle it out, the tips of his hair feel familiar on your fingers. The boy wakes slowly and then his eyes widen as he stares at you.

“Y/N.”

He stands up quickly and hovers over you, unsure of how close he could get but you can see that he wants to embrace you. Slowly, the others start waking. The two eldest men quickly run out and you can hear them calling for a doctor.

You unclasp the tube from your mouth with one hand and release it from your mouth with a pop. You cough a few times and the boy gently helps you sit up and rubs your back until your breathing eases. You turn to him, curious.

“I feel like… I should know you.”

The others are halfway up at this point. Your words made them stop. They all watch Damian’s eyes stare deeply into yours with his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle.

“What do you mean?”

You stare at him, studying his face and trying to place where you’ve seen him. “You’re… Damian Wayne, aren’t you?”

You feel Damian’s fingers let go of your hand and his body takes an involuntary step back.

The doctor comes in and realizes what he’s walked into. He asks to speak to you alone. Everyone slowly filters out and crowds the hallway in front of your room.

Tim’s the first one who approaches Damian, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just retrograde amnesia. There’s a good chance Y/N will get her memories back.”

Damian looks at his brother before he nods to him.

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Jason.”

“No, seriously. What if.”

Damian glares at Jason who’s not letting up. The others aren’t intervening because it’s one of those rare moments where Jason could be right. “You gotta be ready for the worst here, kid. What are you going to do?”

Damian turns away from him and peers into your room. Even in your condition, you look as bright as you always have to him. Suddenly, you catch Damian looking at you. He quickly tenses and stands up.

“Are you running away?” Jason blocks his path, acting like a real brother even though he isn’t. “Aren’t you her soulmate, huh, Damian Wayne?”

“That name doesn’t mean anything to her right now!”

The doctor steps out into the hallway, forcing the boys to shut their mouths and glare at each other. He coughs and turns to Damian. “Excuse me. Y/N’s asking for you.”

Damian stares at him but doesn’t move. Jason slowly pushes both of his shoulders toward the door. You see him and make a small wave.

“We’ll wait out here,” Jason whispers to him before gently pushing him into the room and closing the door behind Damian.

You wait as he slowly walks up to you. “So, Fred tells me you’re my soulmate.”

Damian stops just a foot away from your bed. It takes a moment but his demeanor changes. He presses the soles of his feet firmly on the ground and it lets him look you in the eyes with more ease. “I am.”

He says it with such intensity that makes you turn away when you feel a warm blush coating your cheeks. You try to cover them with your hands and breathe out a shaky laugh. “Wow. I mean-- just wow. How long have we been…”

“9 months.”

You feel your cheeks heat up even more. You press your palms on your face, trying to hide yourself. “Phew… 9 months. And I actually-- But you’re not even 18 yet. Gosh.”

Damian’s hands touch yours, making you flinch. He slowly pulls your hands away. You open your eyes and find his face so close to you. “I’m 18 now. It was my birthday yesterday,” he whispers, his warm breath blowing on your face, a familiar feeling that makes your fingers itch to reach out and touch the back of his neck.

“Oh… Happy birthday, Damian.”

Damian’s gaze drops to your lips but they look back up just as quickly. When he looks into your eyes, dilated and roaming his face, he remembers the first time you met. He can almost hear those three beeps.

“Hey…” You watch big tears drop from his eyes. When you wipe them he seems shocked they’re there. “Come here.” You pull him close, making him climb onto your bed and curl up beside you. He rests his head on your shoulder and you hold him tighter when he shakes. “It’s okay,” you rub his head and your fingers untangle his unkept hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Why…” he chokes out. “Why aren’t you questioning any of this? Why do you believe it so easily? Your timer’s run out. There’s no way to know if I’m really your soulmate.”

You sneak a look at his arm and touch his faded marks. “I think… my soulmate wouldn’t be the type of person who would take advantage of an amnesiac.”

Damian lifts his head and looks at you. “You’re too…”

“Gullible?” you laugh.

“Good.”

You go still. “Does that mean I changed?”

He looks at you. Your head is completely wrapped with bandages but your eyes still gleam when you watch him, pupils roaming to look for little tells hiding beneath his face. That small hidden smirk on your lips that slowly emerges when you finally piece something together, a mystery he didn’t know you were unravelling.

Damian looks at you and all he sees is his beloved.

“No,” he answers. “You’re still you.”

You smile at him, “See? If I fell for you once then I’ll do it again. Especially now that you’re legal.”

Damian snorts when he laughs. Unable to control it he hides his face on your shoulder, making you laugh along with him.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#Damian Wayne #DC imagines #Robin #superhero soulmate au #ssa #Damian Wayne imagine #Robin imagine #DC fanfictiontion #damian wayne fanfiction #robin fanfic #DC reader insert #Damian Wayne x reader #Robin x reader #watchtower-feed

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chickenmuffinsoup · 4 years ago

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baby talon dick au + more jason

It was strange, Jason decided, being twice the size of his older brother. He was exactly as Jason remembered him—except, of course, the glowing yellow eyes and blue veins that criss-crossed tan skin unnaturally paled. But it was him, impossibly, miraculously. And he was, perhaps more impossibly, still himself. He still flitted around any given space like an acrobat—Alfred had caught him up on the chandelier three times already. He still laughed riotously at the dumbest jokes, still rambled on and on about whatever he was currently passionate about.

It was only little changes now. Now, Dick couldn’t stand to be cold, wrapping himself up in every blanket he could find to prepare for every night. Now, his speech was stilted, and there were still moments he’d forget himself, and call himself ‘Talon.’ And before, Jason really didn’t remember Dick doing what he was told quite so often.

That, and he hadn’t so much as touched a single person other than Jason. He kept painful distance between himself and everyone, stiffening the slightest bit when someone—even Alfred or Bruce—got too close. He remembered them, that much was clear, but his memory was spotty, and they’d been beginning to suspect it might’ve been tampered with. But with Jason, it was different. With Jason, Dick was his usual tactile self. He leaped off the banister into Jason’s arms, he climbed around onto his shoulders, he even held Jason’s hand sometimes. It had weirded Jason out at first, but he’d gotten used to it quickly. Truth be told, Jason himself was a tactile person, it had just been so long since he’d allowed himself such easy contact with another person.

Speak of the devil, Jason felt a light weight slam into his back and wrap tiny, undersized eleven year old arms around his neck.

“Jaybird!” Dick exclaimed, clinging to his back like a spider-monkey.

“Watcha doin’ there, buddy?” Jason asked, pausing from the sandwich he was making. Another strange thing: apparently now he talked to Dick as if he were a child. Dick was a child, but he was still technically Jason’s older brother, and that was still a trip.

Dick hooked his chin over Jason’s shoulder. “I dunno. Do you wanna play a game?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Jason said. He didn’t call Damian “buddy” or “kiddo,” despite Dick and Damian being the same age. Technically. “Just give me a second to eat this.”

“One Mississippi! Your second’s over, let’s go!” Dick tugged on Jason’s neck, trying to get him to start moving.

“Asshole,” Jason laughed. Dick didn’t stop tugging as Jason shoved his sandwich in his mouth. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, mouth full. He carried Dick into the living room, where Dick jumped off of his back and went running to the cabinet under the tv that they kept all their boardgames in. In finding what he wanted, Dick pulled every single other game out of the cabinet as he went, tossing them beside him carelessly.

“Tt. I hope you’re planning on putting that back.” Jason almost (almost) jumped. He hadn’t noticed Damian, buried in an armchair with a sketchbook in his hand.

Dick didn’t even look up, and Jason suspected he’d clocked Damian immediately. “Do you want to play, Dami?” he asked, now with a deck of ratty old Batman cards in hand.

Damian glanced imperiously down at where Dick was kneeling on the floor. “Play what?”

“Go Fish!”

“Go…what?”

Dick was scandalized. “You don’t know what Go Fish is?” At Damian’s continued confusion, he turned to Jason. “He doesn’t know what Go Fish is?”

“Don’t look at me,” Jason said, shoving aside some games to make room for him to sit, perfectly aware Dick would not be putting them away anytime soon. “He came like that.”

Dick pursed his lips and looked at Damian. Since Dick had come home (after nearly killing Damian, Jason should probably add), Jason honestly couldn’t tell if he and Damian were best friends, or if they hated each other.

Damian glared at Jason. “Whatever the game is, I’m sure I can beat you, Todd.”

“It’s a luck game, Damian.”

“No it’s not!” Dick exclaimed. “It’s skill!”

“Sure it is, buddy,” Jason said. He and Dick, back when they were both kids, would play an inordinate amount of card games. They definitely played Go Fish the most (funnily enough, Dick did win most often, which Jason supposed would lend credence to his idea that it was about ‘skill’), but they’d generally played a lot of different card games. Jason had come to find Dick couldn’t remember how to play anything but Go Fish. “Damian, are you playing or not?”

Damian slunk down from the chair, closing his notebook as he went. “I’ll play, only so I can beat you.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and decided to pick his battles carefully.

“Yay! I’ll explain how.” Explaining Go Fish was more of a joint-effort. As Dick fumbled with the cards he was attempted to shuffle (which was so unlike his usual grace), he attempted to explain, only he frequently lost track of what he was saying, and Jason had to jump in. It was...a little concerning, to Jason, and it confirmed his suspicion that most of Dick’s ability to do things like play Go Fish relied on muscle memory. Once he was required to think it though and explain it to someone else, he faltered.

“Go Fish!” Damian declared smugly, towards the end of their second round. He had one card in his hand, and was taking far too much pleasure in repeatedly saying “Go Fish!” when anybody asked for a card.

Jason sighed and grabbed a card from the pile. “Oh,” he said. “I’m out.” He laid down his new pair of eights along with his other pairs. Damian leaned over and Jason had to hold back a laugh to see him counting under his breath. “And I win,” he said with a smirk, knowing Damian had just come to the same conclusion.

Damian scowled. “You probably cheated.”

Dick giggled, dropping his ten remaining cards, none of which were matches. “Jay always cheats.”

“I played this one fair and square. Like I play every game of Go Fish.”

“Whatever,” Damian said.

Jason had absolutely no reason to antagonize Damian. So, naturally, that was exactly what he did. “Don’t be upset you lost to ‘the superior Robin.’”

“Tt. You are not the superior Robin. Only Robins that manage to stay alive can be superior.”

Jason happened to glance back at Dick to see the playful smile drop off his face. Jason’s retort died on his tongue.

“What?” He looked between Damian and Jason, eyes wide.

“Nothing,” Jason said, kicking Damian lightly to try and give him the message.

Damian kicked him back, much harder. “Did Todd not tell you? He managed to get himself killed.”

Dick was staring at Jason now like he’d never seen him before. “What do you mean?” he asked, with a kind of dawning horror.

“Todd got tricked by the Joker and ended up exploding,” Damian said blithely.

“Damian, shut the hell up,” Jason said. Could the kid really not pick up on the mood, or was he, as always, being purposefully belligerent?

“He came back, eventually, but he’s the only one of us dumb enough to die for real.”

Dick stood suddenly. Damian seemed surprised by the motion.

“Dick-” Jason began, but Dick took off running. Jason glared at Damian. “What the fuck did you say that for?”

Damian blinked quickly, trying to wipe the bewildered expression off his face. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You know what you did,” he said, although in reality, he wasn’t sure that Damian did. He stood up now too, and cast Damian one last angry look before leaving the room. He jogged up the stairs, and stopped on the second floor instead of the third. The third floor was where Dick’s current room was. It was situated between Alfred’s and Bruce’s, with everyone else across the hall or not much further. That wasn’t where Dick went. Dick would have gone to the second floor, to his old room. His old room was a mausoleum, completely untouched and exactly the same as Dick had left it. After Dick’s “death,” no one could stand to look at it, but no one could bear to change it. So everyone simply relocated to the third floor, leaving a messy eleven year old’s room like some kind of memorial no one had the heart to visit.

Jason stepped into the darkened room to the sound of sobbing. Something tight in Jason’s chest tugged him over to the bed, and when he sat on the edge of it, Dick’s breathing hitched and his sobbing stopped suddenly. He hadn’t moved, his face was still buried in the pillow he was gripping.

“Hey buddy,” Jason said. Dick didn’t respond. Jason couldn’t remember if Dick liked to be comforted when he cried, or if he would want to be left alone. There were so many things he didn’t realized he’d forgotten about his brother, so many details the years had washed from his mind. “Are you okay?” he asked, and hoped his voice didn’t betray just how lost he felt.

Dick shook his head, not looking up from the pillow. For lack of anything to say, Jason slowly reached out a hand to place on Dick’s shoulder. When he first made contact, Dick stiffened, just for a moment, before he relaxed and suddenly he was crying again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jason said desperately. That wasn’t the affect he’d wanted. “Is this about what Damian said? Because I’m fine. We’re all fine now.”

Dick clutched the pillow tighter and if anything, sobbed harder.

“Dick, please, I’m okay-”

“No!” Dick exclaimed, shoving himself upright violently. His golden yellow eyes gleamed unnaturally in the low light, glistening with shedding tears. “No, it’s not okay, you’re not okay!”

“Dick…”

“I was meant to protect you. I was meant to keep you safe. I was meant to! And you—you died, for real.”

“I’m better now,” Jason tried.

“You died. And—and I know you died in my colors. You died in my colors with my name and I couldn’t keep you safe.”

Jason tried to swallow down the pit in his stomach. He did die as Robin, but it wasn’t Dick’s fault. It was Bruce’s fault, it was the Joker’s fault, it was Jason’s fault, not Dick’s. “It wasn’t-”

“Now I get it.” Tears started streaming down his face again, but this time, they were silent. “Why you’re so different. Why you’re not the same anymore, why you’re angry all the time. You’re not my little brother.”

Jason stared, dumbly, mouth open, unable to formulate a response. He wanted to say yes, yes I am, I’m still Jason, I’m still your little brother, but that wasn’t true? Was it? He wasn’t the same person anymore, and he certainly wasn’t Dick’s little brother. They couldn’t be who they were before. Time and circumstance irrevocably changed that, for both of them.

Dick’s breath hitched again, and he barely choked out his next words. “My little brother died, and I didn’t save him.”

There was nothing left to say. Jason didn’t know which of them moved first, but the next moment Dick was sobbing into his shoulder and Jason had his arms wrapped around him. He felt his shoulder getting wet from Dick’s tears and felt his own eyes start to water. It felt like finally admitted the truth he hadn’t wanted to face: their roles were reversed. Jason’s older brother may have miraculously come home, but Jason had grown up. It was time to face the truth, and stop running from his responsibilities. He was the oldest now, with the specter of Dick lifted (more or less) from the house. His younger siblings, Dick included, were his to take care of now, and it was time to do a better job of it.

#dick&jason #talon au #part 2 I guess #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #robin #damian wayne #talon!dick #sort of

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thepartyresponsible · 4 years ago

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this fill is for @missonthemoon (who cannot be tagged? idk, tumblr), who asked for a soundtrack fill for jason todd to “shake it out” by florence and the machine. somehow this became a frank castle/jason todd game of thrones au.

i do not possess an extensive knowledge of asoiaf canon intricacies, but neither does david benioff, and look how far he got.

anyway, here’s some angst. i might crosspost this one to ao3, because it’s almost five thousand words long.

---

The Wall is a long way north for a King’s Landing bastard, but Jason fits here as well as he’s ever fit anywhere. He liked the Dornish heat better, but he never quite acclimated to the clothes. And he certainly belongs with these men more than he ever belonged with anyone in Harrenhal.

“Going ranging again, Jay?” Roy Harper was a lord’s son once, too. They have that in common, although they don’t talk about things like that now.

Jason keeps his eyes on the saddlebags he’s packing. “Frank Castle is needed in King’s Landing.”

Roy huffs out a breath, and it hangs in the air, frosted fog that fades slower than Jason likes. “Needed now?”

Jason looks around them at all the hallmarks of late autumn. The summer left them months ago, but the South is only now starting to feel it. “Needed now,” he confirms.

“Well, Rumlow,” Roy says. “Or Stryker. There are others who could go.”

There are others. Of course there are. But Jason’s the only one who knows where Frank Castle lives. “I’ll be fastest,” Jason says. “And I’m going alone.”

“The wildlings will eat you,” Roy says. “They’re starving.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “If I get killed by a pack of starving wildlings, they’re welcome to boil me into their stew. A few more months of this, and we’ll be eating our dead, too.”

The southern lords have been miserly with the Wall’s supplies. Bruce will feed them if Jason asks, but he hasn’t asked. He won’t ever ask. He’ll write to Grayson if the youngest of the Watch start to show their ribs, but he won’t ask Bruce Wayne for anything at all.

“I’ll go with you,” Roy offers.

The wildlings like Roy. They tug at his red hair, call him lucky. In the summer, in peaceful times, Roy outshot every single one of them, and they had been so enamored with him that Jason had stayed awake all night to make sure none of them snuck into their tent to steal Roy away.

“Stay here,” Jason says, because he’s nobody’s lord, but he looks after those who look to him. “Keep watch.”

Rumlow left him for dead the first time they went ranging north of the Wall. Jason didn’t blame him for it, not then and not later. His horse tripped on an unlucky stone, and Jason’s leg broke in two places when the mare landed on top of him.

Rumlow killed her before he left. It was a mercy Jason had been working up to doing himself.

He offered to kill Jason, too. “They’ll come at night, otherwise,” Rumlow said, as he sorted through their supplies, leaving Jason with the food he could spare. “Better to die in daylight, I think. Cleaner.”

“Who’ll come?” Jason asked, sick with pain, tasting vomit and copper with every inhale.

Rumlow shrugged, looked up. There was some vague apology in his eyes, but nothing heavy enough to leave a mark. “The wolves,” he said. “The wildlings. It’s the same.”

“Leave the sword,” Jason said. It was Bruce’s once. Jason never did give it back.

“I could send it to your father,” Rumlow offered. His hand was wrapped around the hilt like he meant to keep it. Well, he was a soldier, before the Wall. He had to know its worth. “You could keep mine.”

Jason reached for his sword, and, after a long pause, Rumlow returned it. “I don’t have a father,” Jason said.

But the weight of the sword in his hand reminded him that, once, he did.

Frank Castle lives in one of the old forests, among trees so tall and quiet that Jason can almost feel them breathe. Jason’s horse shies at shadows, and he doesn’t blame her. He can feel something pressing against him, a magic he doesn’t know enough to name.

It’s been two years since he was last here, but he remembers the way. He walks it every night before he falls asleep, pictures the path in his mind.

If the Watch wants to speak to Frank Castle, they send brothers to camp on a rocky hilltop outside the woods and build a smoky fire. It may be a day or so before Frank appears, but he always answers in the end. Any of the brothers could have made the trek; any of them could have set the fire.

But only Jason knows where he lives.

And the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch believes that, out of all of them, only Jason can lure him out.

Jason knows he can’t lure Frank Castle anywhere. He knows what the brothers believe, what his Lord Commander believes about those months he spent with Frank in the woods, about why Frank is in these woods at all, but he doesn’t have any power over him.

If he ever did, he gave it up. That’s all Jason knows to do with power. Give it to him, and he’ll give it away, always.

He always gives every piece of himself away.

It wasn’t wolves or wildlings that found him, delirious and half-dead, propped against a tree because he could no longer sit up on his own. It was Frank Castle, appearing in front of him like a thing from a dream.

Jason didn’t even lift his sword when he saw him. He didn’t know who he was. Not a wildling. He knew that much. Dark-haired, stern, and serious, still wearing the trappings of a Riverlands knight. But Jason was too far gone to recognize him then, even when Frank put his fingers under his chin, lifted his eyes to the light.

“I should have left you in Dorne,” Frank told him.

And then Jason did recognize him. And it felt like the gods were laughing at him, so Jason laughed too.

When Frank lifted him onto his horse, the pain swelled so black and hungry that it ate Jason alive.

There’s a fire in Frank’s hearth, and Jason watches the smoke rise through the trees. He didn’t mistime his departure from Castle Black, but the sun rises and sets so quickly these days that it has already been dark for hours. He walked the last hour or so, leading his horse carefully through the trees.

Frank must know he’s here. Frank knows everything that happens in these woods.

Jason ties his horse to a tree near the cabin. He walks up to the door. He wants to push it open and step inside, claim a space that used to almost belong to him, but he knocks, and he waits. Frank answers a full minute later.

“Jason,” he says. It’s not a greeting. It is barely an acknowledgement. His eyes move across Jason in quick, cursory flicks, like he doesn’t want to look at all. “Come inside,” he says. “You’ve been out too long.”

“I’m not going to freeze to death,” Jason says. He’s suitably outfitted for the weather. The Lord Commander, after all, is invested in this mission. “The Watch does--”

“Inside,” Frank says, shoving the door open wider and shouldering his way past Jason. “I’ll see to your horse.”

When Jason was young, when he still wore the bat of Harrenhal, he believed himself in love with Frank Castle. Bruce Wayne hadn’t approved of him, considered him unnecessarily brutal and cruel, but Jason hadn’t minded the blood.

Frank Castle was kind to everyone who couldn’t lift a sword against him. All the servants, all the smallfolk. If Bruce had looked past the battlefield, past the ruthlessness, past Frank’s history of slitting throats to stop sieges, he would have seen it, the same way Jason saw it.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Bruce, for all his good intentions, only ever saw justice as a chess match: straightforward, with rules and players and endings. He minimized harm; he spared every life he could, and he didn’t seem to notice the way the scales always dripped bloodier for it.

Jason grew up on the streets of King’s Landing, with a mother who was taken from him piece by piece and then all at once. He knew how wolves were. They ate. It was their nature. And sparing a wolf was only an act of mercy if the lives of sheep were worth nothing at all.

Frank killed wolves. And lions, and eagles, and dragons, and bears, and anyone and anything. Frank was some kind of wolf himself.

And Jason, when he was young enough to think he could love anyone at all, loved Frank for showing him that there was nothing wrong with the way he was. For being like him, where it mattered. In the heart of him, beating always, hungry always, no matter what sigil he stitched into his shirt, no matter how faithfully he fed himself from Bruce’s table of mercy and chivalry.

Frank showed him that wolves could eat wolves. And Jason feasted for years until it got him sent to the Wall.

Jason sits by Frank’s fire and lets the warmth seep into his bones. Snow melts on his clothes and drips onto the floorboards, and Jason ignores it. In the years of his absence, Frank has erased all traces of him from this place. Jason intends now to leave more permanent marks.

“Are you hungry?” It’s the first thing Frank says, long minutes after he comes back inside. He’s still standing by the door. He must have been standing there, staring at the back of Jason’s head all this time.

Is he hungry?

“No,” Jason says. He hasn’t eaten well in weeks. He splits all his meals with the younger brothers, feeds the ones who seem to need it the most.

Frank should have seen him in summer. He was so much more impressive then.

But he saw him in Dorne, and that was probably the wildest and most dangerous Jason’s ever been. Certainly, it was the most beautiful he’s ever been, a fact Talia saw to with the amused, condescending regard of a child just on the verge of outgrowing her favorite doll.

Frank sighs. Jason doesn’t even have to look at him to know what that sigh means. It means he’s tired, frustrated. Exhausted by the way Jason lies to him. He’d sighed like that when Jason lied about his leg, too. When he pushed himself too far.

What right does Frank have to be irritated by a thing like that? All Jason’s life, showing vulnerability has been, at best, a humiliation. Usually it’s regarded as a challenge. Or an invitation.

If it was different with Frank for a while, it’s not any different now.

“Why are you here?” Frank asks. “Who sent you?”

Jason could lie to him, but there isn’t any point to it. The truth is the only excusable reason for him to be here at all. “There’s an army,” he says. “Some Free Cities bastards are funding an invasion of Dothraki. They’ll make landfall, burn the fields. It’s still harvest time in the Reach.”

Frank doesn’t say anything. The silence stirs between them, a restless, twisting thing, serpentine and fanged.

“Your lord called his bannermen,” Jason says.

“I am no one’s bannerman,” Frank says.

I am no one’s son.

After all of it, after the Joker, after the run to Dorne with knights hounding after him, after years of sitting beside Talia and letting her handfeed him the names of men who needed to die, Frank Castle arrived at Sunspear with a letter from their lord.

“Your father wants you home,” Frank told him.

“I have no father,” Jason said. “I am no one’s son.”

Frank stared at him for so long that Jason grew restless, shifted impatiently at Talia’s side. And then, with a sigh, Frank relented. “Your lord wants you home.”

Jason was a dangerous thing when he fled King’s Landing, but he was a deadly one after years with Talia. He dealt in poisoned drinks and poisoned blades. He could shrug in and out of courtly affectations, could slip into a window as a lord and out as a servant. At Harrenhal, he wore a mask, and it suffocated him. The trick, Talia taught him, was to remember to take it off.

Jason laughed, sharp and angry, even then, even after years to dull the sting. “The last thing he wants,” he said, “is for me to come home.”

“If you stop this,” Frank said, “if you stop killing these men, if you--”

“Have you stopped?” Jason asked. Talia smiled, soft and amused, half-hidden behind her hand. She had never tried to make him into something he wasn’t. She never attempted to re-forge a knife into a trowel; she only directed the blade.

“I kill criminals and soldiers,” Frank said. And then, when Jason opened his mouth, he continued, louder, harsher. “I kill the men who are mine to kill. You’ve been killing men you have no claim to.”

But Jason was born a bastard. He belonged to no one, and no one belonged to him. He was the world’s, and the world was his, and he had learned to kill anyone who needed killing. If the Seven Kingdoms allowed its powerful men to go rancid, Jason burned bright enough to cauterize the wound before the infection spread further.

“If you don’t make amends for this,” Frank told him, “if you don’t answer for these deaths, something will have to be done about you.”

And Jason knows what will have to be done about someone like him. He knows who will do it. Wolves eat wolves.

“Nothing will be done about him,” Talia said, leaning forward, smiling even wider now.

Frank looked at her. He wasn’t afraid of her, not for a heartbeat. Jason looked between them, measured it out. A snake and a wolf made for interesting enemies, but it didn’t seem like the kind of fight that ended in a clean victory for either.

“If you come home,” Frank said, looking to Jason, “and beg forgiveness, it will be given to you.”

So Jason went home. But he didn’t beg. He wouldn’t ask forgiveness for good work. He wasn’t ashamed of anything he’d done.

Bruce banished him to the Wall.

Frank followed and then went farther, left Jason behind.

Frank gives him stew, and bread, and some drink, sweet and spiced, that the wildlings must have brewed. Jason takes all of it. He can’t waste food even when he’s eating regularly. There are lessons learned in childhood that work their way to the bone.

“Why should I go?” Frank asks. He’s crouched in front of the fire, too close to it. He’s staring at the embers, like he’s divining something in the way they fall to ash. “They won’t come up here and fetch me. If some Dothraki screamers burn a lord’s fields, what does it matter to me?”

Jason pushes the bread around the inside of the bowl. It’s neatly carved; Frank no doubt did it himself. He’s taken well to domesticity for a man whose name can clear a pub of Southern soldiers.

Or could, anyway.

Who knows what Southern soldiers are scared of now? Dothraki, no doubt.

“Because it won’t just be the fields burning,” Jason says. “It’ll be the farmers.”

The farmers and their sons, and then their daughters and their wives, and whole villages of smallfolk who may fight if cornered but won’t fight well enough to save themselves. It won’t be the Reach’s lords who burn. Just as it won’t be the king and his court. It’ll be the servants and the whores, the less lucky bastards of King’s Landing.

“Are you going?” Frank turns toward him. It’s the first time he’s looked at him like he knows him at all.

Jason moves his spoon around in the bowl, follows the fine lines of the wood grain. “I’ve been told my exile will be lifted until the invasion is over. If I bring you back with me.”

Frank doesn’t make a sound, but he doesn’t need to. Jason can read his skepticism in the flat slash of his mouth. “And if I don’t go, you’ll stay at the Wall?”

Jason can’t hold back his laughter; he’s too surprised by it. “Of course I’m going,” he says. “They’ll just kill me for it, after.”

He doesn’t care about an invading force of Dothraki, financed by some Free Cities bankers. He doesn’t care about any lord’s fields. He doesn’t care if every vineyard burns and all the wine cups go empty. But it’ll be the smallfolk who suffer most, the way they always do.

Smallfolk are taught to swallow blood from a very young age. Jason developed a taste for it, learned to hunger for it.

But not every sheep can shed its skin to find teeth and claws beneath.

Not every sheep should have to.

It took months for his leg to heal. Frank made sure it healed well.

He cooked for him, cared for him, gave Jason the only bed in the house and slept on the floor until Jason threatened to join him. Even when Frank climbed in next to him, he was careful to leave a respectful space between them.

Jason loved him once, when he was young. It would have been easy to love him again. But what would be the point?

“I swore an oath,” Jason told him, when the worst of the delirium faded away. “I have to go back to the Wall.”

“When you can walk,” Frank replied. And then, “When you can ride.”

In those months, it was easy to remember that Frank grew up a farmer’s son. He was knighted when he was barely twenty, rose steadily until he hit the limits of Bruce Wayne’s respect.

Jason was at the knighting ceremony. He was thirteen, freshly scrubbed clean from the slums of King’s Landing, and he liked Frank, even then, because the slow drag of his vowels made him the only person in Harrenhal who Jason could speak to without hating the sound of his own voice.

Frank made a life north of the Wall that felt like the life he’d given up when he took up a sword. Jason was a stranger to it. He’d never known anything like it. There had never been a peaceful life for him to trade away. If he’d stayed in King’s Landing, he would’ve died young and alone.

“You could stay,” Frank told him, the day Jason hauled himself up into Frank’s horse’s saddle and rode around the clearing, barely flinching at all. “For a while longer. For as long as you like. You could stay here.”

Jason looked down at him and wondered what Frank was doing here. Why he left, why he followed Jason to the Wall, why he went beyond it.

“I could’ve stayed in Dorne, too,” he said.

But he swore an oath. And he carried Bruce Wayne’s sword.

And maybe he could never change what he was, but it was in an orphan’s nature to hope to become something better.

“Why did you leave?” Frank asks. Jason grimaces, biting back a flinch, and Frank shakes his head. “Not here. Harrenhal. After the Joker, why didn’t you come home? Bruce would have forgiven you then. Why in the seven hells did you go to Talia?”

Jason doesn’t know how to answer that. It had seemed inevitable at the time. It still does, looking back, like a thousand forking paths that all led to the same place.

“As soon as you taught me to fight,” Jason says, “I knew I was going to kill the Joker.”

And maybe he’d known before then. Maybe he knew when he was twelve, when Bruce Wayne, the Lord of Harrenhal, was offering him a new life, a chance to go away and grow strong and tall, come back angry and armed and fully grown. Maybe he knew when he went to Frank, when he was fifteen and still growing into his shoulders, when he asked Frank to teach him to fight.

Not like his father taught him. Not like Grayson taught him. He didn’t want pretty. He didn’t want honorable. He wanted it to hurt, and he wanted it to be ruthless. He wanted merciless. Brutal. Fatal.

What the Joker did in King’s Landing, the ways he hurt people, it flared too brightly to look away from. Jason couldn’t live in a world where things like that happened. When he went back to the streets that ate his mother alive, he fed them the Joker’s blood.

He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. The Joker was the second richest man in King’s Landing, but he died the same as the poorest. Death was an equalizer, but only when equally applied. Jason found his worth by learning to tip the scales by whatever means he could.

“But why did you go to Talia?” Frank asks. “Why didn’t you---” He cuts himself off, looks away.

“Why didn’t I go begging to Bruce?” Jason asks. “Or the king? Bend the knee, beg for mercy? It was right to kill him, Frank. For what he did to me, for what he did to my mother. I won’t ask for forgiveness. They should’ve begged me. Bruce, and the king, and all of them. They should’ve begged for my forgiveness. They should’ve begged all of us.”

Jason twists away, stares into the fire. Frank is silent at his side.

“They call themselves good men,” Jason says. “Talia understood. When people like the Joker walk free, clean hands are cowards’ hands. She taught me how to kill them.”

She made him an assassin. And what a betrayal Bruce must've thought that was.

“I didn’t mean Bruce,” Frank says. “I don’t care about him. Why didn’t you come to me?”

Jason was eighteen when he killed the Joker. He did it with his father’s sword. It felt blasphemous until the Joker’s blood was seeping into his boots, and then it felt righteous, and holy. No one else would die to that laughter. No one would hear it ringing, drowning out their last ragged breaths. No one else would cry, shaking and small, while their hearts raced with that mad chattering laughter.

He wiped the blade clean on the Joker’s shirt. And then, to be certain he was dead, Jason took his knife and stabbed the Joker in the chest until his arm shook.

He was always going to become this. He stole Bruce Wayne’s horse when he was twelve, and he led him on a chase through King’s Landing, and there was something in him then that might have been better, but he gave it up. The anger and hate built up like smoke inside him, and it smothered out whatever better thing he could have been.

He stared at the blood, and he thought about Bruce. And he thought about Dick Grayson. And he thought about Frank Castle, who taught him to fight in ways better suited to his nature. He knew how to duel like a knight if he needed to, but the cuts that brought the Joker down were cruel and ugly and base.

There was no reason to cry and no one to care if he did. He was what he’d always been. He’d done what he was always going to do.

The Joker was dead. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

But killing the Joker killed the part of him that belonged to Bruce, to Harrenhal, to Frank Castle. Talia, he knew, would understand. She’d known what he was since the moment she met him.

“She’s an assassin,” Frank had told him. His tone had not implied that it was an insult. He’d watched her carefully, this Dornish princess who arrived, unannounced, to visit Bruce.

“Is she here to kill Bruce?” Jason had been halfway to drawing his knife, and Frank jostled him, shook his head.

“She kills bad men,” he said. And then, after a moment, “And inconvenient ones.”

Talia smiled when she met him. She stole his knife from its sheath, spun it in her hand. “If you poison the blade,” she told him, “you could kill so much faster.”

“I kill fast enough,” he said, although, back then, he hadn’t killed anyone at all.

She laughed and leaned closer, patted him like a puppy. “Well, little bird, if you ever find they aren’t dying aren’t fast enough, Dorne is kind to people like us.”

People like us.

Even Bruce had never claimed him as he was. Had wanted, always, to remake him into something more similar to himself.

Jason knew by then that there were very few people like him. And even fewer who embraced it.

After the Joker was dead long enough for the blood to stop running, Jason cleaned his knife and headed south.

The sun burned so hot in Dorne that it felt like all his sins boiled away, like the heat left him pure.

Jason doesn’t know why he didn’t go to Frank after the Joker, except there will always be some part of him that can’t ask anyone for anything. He was a tool for Talia, a knife offered, hilt-first, for her to stab into the hearts of troublesome men. He could be that for her, could offer himself up in trade for her protection, but, at eighteen, he had nothing to offer Frank.

He still has nothing to offer him.

“Frank,” he says. “I’m going. I told them I would ask you to come with me. I’ll leave in the morning.”

For months, they slept together in this home. They worked, and they hunted, and they lived alongside each other. Jason fell asleep with Frank beside him, woke up with Frank’s arm curled around his waist.

Jason’s never known a peaceful life, but those handful of months come closes. Close enough, anyway, to finally know its worth. Close enough to teach him the value of what was taken from him by his father’s violent drunkenness, by the Joker’s mad menace, by the king and his callous court, by every little lord who lived so sweetly while the smallfolk starved in the streets.

His whole life, Jason’s been angry. Rootless and wounded, scrounging in the dirt even when Bruce washed him clean or Talia dressed him in silks. Bruce couldn’t cleanse him, and Talia couldn’t soothe him. It was Frank, in the end, who did both.

Frank, who showed him what it was like to live beside someone who didn’t ask more than he could give. Frank who shared a quiet cabin in a lonely wood, where Jason never had to beg or earn entry, because he already belonged inside.

Jason had that. He couldn’t keep it. Maybe, after everything, he has no right to peace.

“And do you think I’ll stay here?” Frank asks. He’s looking at Jason like he’s asking for something, but Jason would give him anything, if he had anything at all to offer. “Stay here and wait to hear how you died?”

Jason shakes his head, swallows the rest of the honeyed drink Frank gave him. “I don’t know what you’ll do,” he says. Because he doesn’t, and he never has.

Frank followed him all the way to Dorne, all the way to the Wall. But he’s never once stayed with him.

Frank stares at him, and time stretches out between them, brimming with pain and distance. Jason feels, somehow, that they have always just missed each other, that the paths they’re on run parallel but never overlap for long. Those months, in this cabin, were the easiest, kindest months of Jason’s life.

But they are not peaceful men. And Jason can’t say, in this moment or any other, whether that’s something they’ve earned or something they’ve suffered.

Frank reaches out to touch him, and the callouses on his fingers are rough against Jason’s skin, catch on the edge of the scar tissue on his face. His touch is impossibly gentle as he traces the long-healed J that the Joker carved into his face, when he was nine years old and his mother was late paying her debts.

“Frank,” Jason says. Because he has no right to ask, and nothing to use as leverage that he wouldn’t happily offer up for free. But he’s heading south in the morning, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be back. Not to this cabin, and not to Frank.

But Frank’s hand drops suddenly away from his face, and the silence that builds between them is suffocating and familiar.

“Well.” Frank looks troubled when he stands, eyes the sword hanging over his hearth with some bittersweet expression, like hope or resignation. “I suppose I’m someone’s bannerman after all.”

#writing #fic #fill #soundtrack fills

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notfeelingthyaster · 4 years ago

Text

Imagine (Son of Hades! Percy; Godswapped! Big Three's kids) Son of Neptune AU (2/7) or (7/12)

Hello! Before reading, check the PJO AU and the TLH AU - the links are on the masterpost - because they are essential to this one. Don't forget to check the warnings before reading. Review and make suggestions! And have a good reading :))

TW: This post in special has sexual harassment, racist slurs, and mentions of whipping.

Perseus wakes up in a semi-destroyed building full of wolves with a black ax in one hand and a Warhammer in the other. And that's just the beginning of the worst months of his life - or the only months of his life he can remember.

Then everything hurts - too much, like his skin is melting from his bones and his eyes are being gouged out. His skin feels like it's melting, and he promptly passes out.

He has no idea of who he is - except his name, but he might just know it because the wolf woman told him - and the talking wolves don't know - or can't tell him anything else. Either way, Perseus is getting nowhere.

Oh yes - he is also pretty sure wolves aren't supposed to shapeshift. And rope you into training - which, he must've been a bodybuilder or something because he is pretty good at wrestling.

Shoving the wolves into the ground and destroying the monsters that try and defy Lady Lupa's pack are the highlights of his week.

Lady Lupa is... - Lupa is everything he knows. She is the one who, for some reason, let's him stay. She tells him about the gods and the monsters - about how she found him in her doorstep after her home was sacked by Earthborn.

How he must be the sign of the Olympus that Lady Venus promised her. The one who comes to help.

Perseus doesn't know her - he doesn't know who she is or if she is telling the truth. But he has well-trained powers that he has no idea how to utilize, nowhere to go and no way of searching for his family - no one knows who he is, except for his first name (which sounds wrong).

And he tried to run away once - it didn't end well, because monsters are immortal - and everywhere.

Lupa tells him he had a curse upon him, so he has to train himself all over again now that it's gone. It doesn't sound like the truth, but he prefers Lady Lupa's carefully crafted half-truths than sleeping in the streets.

Lady Lupa teaches him - and tells him to expect the signal of the gods. They will guide him - even if they give him no answers.

Perseus doesn't like the gods much. They've left him here - which is a good place, but not his home, wherever it is - with no idea of who he is or what to do - except train and learn.

Mother Lupa - as most call her in the Wolf House - educates him like one would an unruly puppy. She corrects everything - from the way he addresses the gods at evening prayers to the way he sits - and he obeys.

Because in the midst of all those wolves? Perseus is just another puppy. So he sits and read hours of Vergil, Ovid and Horace in ancient Latin out loud - even if he would prefer not to.

Sadly - he does not have an opinion. Lady Lupa won't hesitate on using her whip on him. Oh yes, she has a whip - a black whip, which she uses to educate them. His back hurts sometimes when he rests upon the cold floor.

He prays to anyone - his godly parent - who is some Underworld God if his hold on shadows and stone means anything - or a friend, someone who's missing him, anyone really, for them to come and gives him answers.

It doesn't happen.

So he trains and he trains. He has no idea how much time has passed - how much time he has been slashing and cutting and killing, how much time he has heard every detail of Julius Caesar crusade through Europe.

It's still cold when the gods send their signal - they send him a maiden. She holds her hand to him like he is an old friend - and he goes.

She makes him only one question - "Do you want peace or answers, Perseus? Choose carefully, for no path will be easy, but the harvest comes for those who plant the seeds" - and when he answers, she climbs to his back and flowers create a path in the ground.

She doesn't talk anymore. He follows the trail and the girl threads her fingers through his hair, humming to herself a melody only she is able to hear.

In the way, there are two gorgons. Lady Lupa taught him about them. It's an easy battle - until he discovers that they just don't die. They keep reforming, like evil pottery.

They attack again and he picks up his ax to continue racking them into bits, but she tightened her fingers in his hair - like one would steer a horse.

So before they reform, he runs. Perseus runs - with a beyond beautiful maiden on his back (which would be really uncomfortable, if he wasn't so pissed with the gods for giving exactly no answers) doing nothing but play with his hair and eat granola bars - and he gets to a military outpost.

At least, it's what it looks like. There's a wall who must be at least 20 feet high. Its not a normal wall - because he can see eyes in its crevices, looking at him.

Perseus is really tired. There are people there - he is seeing them, do they think he is stupid? - and he has a person in his back.

So he kills both gorgons again with his stone spikes - he is pretty sure the guys that aren't opening the doors can deal with them when they eventually reform - and shadow travels inside.

He doesn't do this often - it takes a lot out of him and he might end up stuck in the wall if he is too tired, but he is too angry to care.

Perseus could've destroyed their door. He should've, really. It might have stopped those people from surrounding him with weapons.

These people - the people looming over him now that he crossed the barrier, who are using togas just like him, so different but so familiar - would've let him die for nothing. Perseus growls - a bad habit he picked up living only with wolves for an undetermined amount of time.

He should kill every single one of them. He should open the ground - and let it swallow them, let their bones turn to dust, return their weapons to molten metal.

But the maiden tightens her fingers in his hair, and he obeys - because Perseus has been well trained, and he doesn't bend.

"Who are you?!" A boy with a bow asks harshly, and Perseus wants him to rip him apart - he is so done. Perseus is a Roman - is what Lupa taught him - and Roman wolves don't roll over.

"Lady Lupa sent me." They don't look like they believe him, but they take him to their leader.

He feels like an alien - behind the wall, there's a whole new world - hundreds of people stare at him with a mix of fear, disdain, and curiosity. It feels familiar.

Perseus is reluctant to leave his weapons with a statue - specially while entering the territory of people who won't protect him and might try to kill him, but he is not one for scandals - so he thanks Lord Terminus, and goes on.

They enter the Senate after walking for about an hour - his head held high, even with the extra weight in his back - in the middle of the session. Lady Lupa would find this appalling.

Everyone turns to them - the tall black muscular man, dressed in a dark red toga, with a woman in his back also clad in a toga - they look like normal citizens, and yet, somehow, completely foreign.

Their escorts - a black girl no older than fourteen and the archer, that must be around his age - kneel to the Praetor - but as soon as they start explaining, they are interrupted.

Their promagistrate - a man Perseus will later learn is named Justus - looks at them once and shrieks.

"Lord Pluto!" They call him, and the whole Senatus knee down "Lady Ceres!"

The goddess he didn't recognize comes down of his back, chuckling to herself. All gods are mad - Perseus thinks, but keeps stoic in front of the government of this Rome copycat, else they kill him for disrespect or something.

"Rise!" She starts "You're almost correct, child of Justitia. For I am Ceres, but this is not Lord Pluto."

The promagistrate seems offended with Perseus somehow - like it's his fault the man is an idiot.

"This is his only mortal son and my daughter's champion, Perseus of Styx. He has been under Lady Lupa's tutelage in her command." This was new.

So his father was the king of the dead himself - which was not surprising. But he was apparently Lady Proserpina's champion - a goddess who left him with Lady Lupa, apparently with his father's, Lady Venus' and Lady Ceres' approval.

Perseus (apparently, of Styx) wants to tear Olympus apart. He wants a lot of things - but for now, he shall observe and do what it's told of him.

Ceres leaves him under the "care" of the Romans. Immediately, the Praetor takes him to be interrogated.

He tells her the truth - or at least, what he can bender: He has been with Lady Lupa as long as he remembers. Yes, he is trained. He can control earth, shadows, metal. Sometimes, vines and skeletons. No, he doesn't have a last name. No, he doesn't know Jason Grace.

In return, the woman (a daughter of Bellona with brown skin that he feels he should know) explains where he is.

This is Nova Roma - and they are in Jupiter's Capitol, also known as the First City of Twelve, where is localized their Forum Romanum - which is composed by the Comitium (where the Senatus is localized), the Pluton Denar Domum (their bank) and a temple for all the gods - decorated with gardens and founts mainly used by the politicians in session and augurs.

The other non-military districts are Juno's Urbs, where most families live; Minerva's Scientia et Quaerere Centrum, which contains schools, colleges, libraries, and research centers; Phoebus Apollo's Salutem Receptum, a whole district for health care and who mainly takes care of cleaning the city; and Vesta's Forum Boarium, where the temples reside, including the Hearth of Rome, with their sacred fire.

Then there the indirectly of military nature; Ceres' Agris, fields who produce all food of the city; Mercury's Via, where communication and post are handled - also, the main place for entertainment; Vulcan's Caminus, the forges and armory; and Neptune's Militiarum Equestri, battle horses, pegasi, hellhounds, elephants, wolves and hounds.

There's also the military ones: Venus Victrix's Feminam Lorem ad Bellum, the training camp for girls; Mars Ultor's Masculum Lorem ad Bellum, the training camp for boys; and Diana's Venari, a forest they use to hunt monsters.

Praetor Arellano shows him around. The praetor shouldn't be doing that, but he seems to be important enough - he got here with a goddess in his back after all. His step-grandmother?

"Everyone is involved in the war effort - Everything for Rome. Everyone capable is obliged to join the training as soon as they're eight. When you're ready, you join the Legion, for fifteen years, in any capacity. Some - the ones with specific talents - join the field healers or the forges."

"Most join the legionnaires. Later in life, some go to college - training to farm, teach, own business, plan buildings, weave, research, write, go exclusively into politics, or become doctors - for either animals or people. Some never leave until they absolutely have to - it's an honor to serve Rome."

"You are neither a son or legacy of any construction or any health deity, so you'll go directly to be tested by Mars Ultor's Masculum Lorem ad Bellum - to see if you are qualified to be a soldier or if you need to undergo more training, and how much."

"A fight, Praetor?" He asks, as respectfully as Lupa indoctrinated in him, even if he hated this situation from the start.

"It's part of it, yes. But a fighter is not a soldier - you'll be expected to know rhetoric and show resilience, to be able to think and strategize. Put on a good performance - the Centurions choose which Cohort you go."

Then, she explained the Legion and its Five Cohorts - and the Centurions - before leaving him with one of his escorts from earlier. He doesn't think it matters much - if one of the Praetors is from Third Cohort and their last Praetor, from Fifth, while the Consul himself was from Fourth - what does it matter?

The guard seems uncomfortable in his presence - as if she knows exactly who he is. She introduces herself - Hazel Levesque, daughter of Jupiter. And part of the Fifth Cohort - mainly because of the previous Praetor - the one who's missing.

Her buddy, the archer, - Frank Zhang, unclaimed - is also part of the Fifth Cohort. But it's not him they meet - it's a boy way too familiar to be a coincidence - three times today.

"You know me, don't you? You know where I come from?" He snarls, and the boy denies it.

Shadows start curling at his feet - and he's told later that his eyes darken to black from their usual forest green. Perseus is a second away from killing the little lying gremlin when Praetor Arellano shows - and he immediately reverts to parade rest.

She doesn't ask - and he doesn't volunteer an answer. He leaves the guy trembling - and flustered, for some reason - and goes with the Praetor to his "test".

Hazel is having a very bad year. A very bad life, to be true, but mostly, a bad year.

She died, and she was walking aimlessly for years - until she met a boy. She thought, initially, that was a god - for his beauty was insurmountable.

He talked with her - he was named Perseus Jackson. He was powerful and kind - but still a mortal, so she latched into him. Hazel isn't a good person - her mother always told her that - and she used his kindness to drawn just a little of his powers. Just enough.

When the Doors opened, she was strong enough to escape - even if she left Perseus drained for a week, apparently. Hazel didn't go far - she got caught by Ceres.

Ceres - who was in her greek form - took pity of her and brought her to Hazel's father and stepmother, pleading for her usefulness in the war to come. The dead aren't their domain - but as long as Pluto didn't discover it, they would turn a blind eye.

Her brother - who was the first bridge between the two demigod settlements - took her to Nova Roma. She adapted - she learned about the ending of segregation and the world they now lived - and made friends - Frank and Jason.

But she never forgot the boy who gave her the chance, the chance to be more than the cursed child Marie Levesque told her she was. Her curse is supposed to be washed away by a descendant of Pluto.

Perseus gave her a chance, and now he is probably her salvation from this poisoned existence. He is in Nova Roma, and both Hazel and Nico are too ungrateful, too proud, too involved in the gods' plans to help him.

Her father's curse rang true - for children of Zeus aren't supposed to control unaltered energy through minerals. Metal is not theirs to use - and Hazel is paying the price.

Perseus does well in his test - so well, the First Cohort wants him. He is not generally rude, but the way Octavian - their apparent Centurion and Leader of the Augurs (the priests of Apollo) - calls him "Excellent, for a colored one with a graecus name" makes him mad.

So he rejects Octavian - no one gets to mock his name, the slur for greeks matched with the blatant racism almost makes him clock the guy in the face - and, since no other Centurion wants to go against the white supremacist, he joins the Fifth Cohort.

"Well, there's the place for filth, anyway. What could you expect from a nigger ape, like that one?"

If in the training that followed, he left Octavian unconscious - well, everyone turned a blind eye. Perseus saw the Praetor laughing discreetly from where she was polishing her spear.

He is given a bunk to sleep on, a probatio tablet and a date - it's March 18th, 2012. He remembered that, when he ran away from the House of the Wolf, was still January's first week.

Almost three months for the gods to bother with him, and he has no guesses how much time he is missing. Did his family give up on him? Did he have a family?

Perseus doesn't know. He spends the next weeks following the army's routine - wake up with dawn with the horn, muster, morning prayers, then the morning drills - stretching, an obstacle circuit of three miles with a lake in the middle and running five times around Ceres' Agri.

After the drills - which Perseus and Hazel bond over hating, because there's a lake - they go to breakfast, then classes - for the younger ones. Perseus is old enough (and did well in the school tests), so he has a free slot where he allots his power training - under Praetor Arellano's watchful gaze, as she tries and brings him to his full potential.

Reyna (as he is allowed to call her during free time) also does power training - she has a different kind of charmspeak - the kind that makes people motivated or defeated. She can make armies have a burst of energy, or drop-down with exhaustion - possibly. Nova Roma has very few wars nowadays.

There's lunch, then weaponry training - where he kicks Octavian's (and all of his little friends who look down on Perseus because of his name, his lack of family or his skin color) ass with pleasure every single day - followed by weapon cleaning - which always takes forever because Perseus has both an ax and a giant Warhammer.

On Wednesdays, they have horse and pegasi riding. Both Perseus and Hazel have it slightly different - she mounts a venti, Tempest and he mounts a hellhound, Spot. On Fridays, they have hunting lessons in Diana's Venari - which always end up with some Apollo's child or legacy waving their victory in everybody's face - except for that one time where Frank and Perseus joined forces and won in an hour.

At four p.m. every day, those who did well enough get to have two hours of free time before evening prayers, which can either be followed by dinner or competitions - wrestling and gladiator games are really popular on weekends.

Then, if it's Sunday, they are allowed to go to Mercury's Via to drink, party, dance, go to karaoke - whatever, if they're over fourteen. It seems young - but Perseus has seen younger kids, at the training camps, sneaking in wine.

If it's not Sunday - they are free to do anything if they don't drink and are in bed by 21h30. You are only excused of the routine if you are escalated for border patrol - generally twenty different people every day. Perseus's patrols are on Thursdays - because Reyna loves him. Octavian's are on Sundays - they're just not on Saturdays because he has Augur functions and is excused of everything on Saturday.

Saturdays are days of prayer - there's no training and no feasting. They go to the temples and see the Vestal Virgins - a custom Perseus though would be outdated by now - and do basic chores - like washing their togas and sheets, mending their leathers, or airing the blankets.

When Hazel's brother leaves, he actually bonds with the girl - over being a child of the Big Three, of having big expectations thrust upon them - and consequently, with Frank - who is also his bunkmate. They spend their free time on the small fountain that overlooks the aqueduct, just in front of the Vesta Temple.

It's weird to see the Vestal Virgins - they are six girls between 8 and 24, wearing white stolas and veils, of incredible beauty and vowed to modesty and chastity. They spent their days tending the fire and giving blessings, cleaning the temple, and visiting the Senatus.

They didn't choose to be priestesses of Vesta - Vesta herself chooses them, and they have to leave their families and vow their lives away for thirty years. The other priests are there of free will - they never join the Legion, if they choose to serve a specific god.

Perseus goes to his father's, Lady Proserpina's and Lady Ceres' temples regularly - if only to ask for answers. His father's priests treat him as royalty - which, to them, he probably is. There are not even legacies of Pluto, as far as they know.

Every Sunday, Perseus goes to the Comitium - while people don't generally like him, he is good in rhetoric, and well respected for a probatio - so they hear him. He is good at politics. Reyna looks like he is measuring him, when he rises to debate - like he can be the next Praetor instead of the campaigning Octavian - who the Senatus is divided into loving or hating his guts.

Perseus is happy - or something. He hates not having memories - not knowing who he is, who his mother is, pains him. He has friends - Frank, Hazel, even Reyna and Dakota, his Centurion, who lives half-drunk in wine most of the time - and a life.

It doesn't feel like his life. By the third week of his staying in Nova Roma, he starts having dreams - a blonde boy, doing everything Perseus is doing now. He is afraid of telling anyone. Perseus is already called slurs by Octavian and his hateful friends - he doesn't want to attract attention now that he is settling.

By Reyna's pictures, he finally names the blonde in his dreams. It's Jason Grace.

Jason Grace is, for lack of a better word, graceful. He is loved by everyone - so different from Perseus, who is more feared then liked - and a troublemaker - if the vision of him being whipped in Mars Ultor's training camp is to be believed.

Romans don't hesitate in corporal punishment on children. Nor in adults, either - misdemeanors are punished harshly. Perseus is lucky Octavian has no direct authority over him - the number of times he put him on his ass would get Perseus bleeding on the floor for days.

However, he didn't escape the whip completely. In his fourth week on Nova Roma, Hazel is disrespectful to one of Octavian's friends - he called her a "good piece of monkey meat" and touched her ass, so she kneeled him in the balls. Reyna is out on a mission - and the guy just happens to be Questor Cicero.

Questor Cicero is twenty-eight - and everybody believes him when he tells them Hazel kneeled him without reason - a grave offense because it can affect his descendants. Hazel gets sentenced - by the Consul, in absentia of the Praetor - to a hundred lashes.

Everyone is obliged to watch - and neither Perseus nor Frank can last after she sobs. They rise from the crowd and volunteer to take the rest of her punishment. The executioner of it - a girl named Domitia - is surprised and asks why when they rise up to take Hazel's place - not a lot volunteer, generally older siblings or partners.

Hazel protests, while she is taken by a daughter of Aesculapius, Lavinia - "No, Perseus, no, it's my fault, Frank, I can take it, please!" - But he doesn't care to hear. Hazel is a child, and something stirs inside of his memory - No child shall suffer under his watch. - He wants to stop Frank - the boy is only sixteen - but there's no stopping the guy about his best friend.

"She could take it. I just don't want to see her, or anyone I care about, do it. She is too young. A child - one that shouldn't feel the injustices of life."

"That's my best friend. I won't let her pay for something she didn't do, and I won't let Perseus do this alone."

It's rational enough that no one will see weakness when she starts whipping them. Domitia is a good girl - they become a sort of friends after it, but Perseus can never understand why the daughter of Nemesis would dispense unfair punishments.

Perseus endure the whole thing awake - the forty-five lashes, under the jeers of Octavian and his friends - and they walk out of the stage supporting one another, before collapsing in a pool of their own blood, in the arms of Caelius - the youngest of Apollo's offspring working on the hospital.

They take both of them to the UTI - he doesn't remember a thing. He wakes up three days later - they aren't allowed to use any magic to heal him, or anesthetics to numb his pain. He suffers for a week, while his godly blood slowly heals him.

Hazel sits by their bedside - he and Frank are in the same room - her own back fully healed by now - and tells him stories about how Dakota kicked Octavian's ass in training in their name, or just plays with his hair. Sometimes, when she thinks he is asleep, she cries - it's heartbreaking.

Reyna comes back by the time Frank is out of the hospital - Perseus moved to much and his stitches came out - and is fueled by rage. This kind of punishment is hers to give - and with through interrogation before - and she has been trying to eradicate them for years.

She does insist on an interrogation with Aurum and Argentum - perhaps because she knows what a sweetheart Hazel is. She uncovers the whole story - how Cicero called her names and sexually harassed her - and the guy is stripped off his post and exiled - sexual harassment is a crime punishable by lashing, but together with lying to a court of law and supplanting his direct superior - oh well, he is not coming back for the next five years.

With Hazel's absolving, the doctors are allowed to heal them with magic - but it's too late. They can repair the nerves and muscles, take away all the pain - but the flesh will remain scarred.

Their backs are now a crisscross of scar tissue - it's a reminder of Nova Roma's failings - and he revels on taking his shirt off to drills, even if Frank is ashamed of it, for some reason.

Praetor Arellano thinks "Perseus' loyalty to the Roman Law and his Cohort" is enough to give him an SPQR tattoo instead of his probatio tablet. He didn't cry when they put the mark of his father on his arm - just later, in his bunk, for the eleven-year-old that was tattooed together with him.

After the tattoo, Perseus discovers he has money. Like, really, lots of money in the bank - which is named after his father, who is their patron god - and apparently filled his account with denars. Perseus solves to donate part of it - and part of it he keeps because his wages as a foot soldier are meager.

Hazel, on the other side, is brimming with remorse - and protectiveness. She will do her absolute best to protect Perseus Jackson - this is the second time he saves her. She can't tell him anything - but she can make his life as easy as possible.

Hazel dreams about Frank - Frank, and a terrible price that is a piece of wood - and she thinks she likes him, even if he is older and braver than she'll ever be.

It's June 18th - and Perseus has been in Camp for three months when the war games take an unexpected turn.

Frank is leading the Fifth Cohort - Dakota is hangover somewhere - and their battle formation is impeccable. They also have the two biggest powerhouses - Perseus and Levesque.

Hazel - while a child of Jupiter - is unable to fly - or any air or climate control. Her power lies on energy - publicly, she controls lighting and thunder - and can get bolts to basically incinerate whole canons or dismantle phalanges.

Perseus, however, can raise skeleton soldiers to fight for him - and stone spikes to block his enemies. His vines are of no use - the First Cohort has two sons of Ceres who out-do him any day. He can also use the shadows to confuse their rivals or make the ground tremble - under the cost of their own stability.

Frank is very proud of having such powerful and amazing people as friends. He didn't expect Perseus of Styx, the boy who didn't have to fight to be recognized - the one who came with a goddess at his back and muscles in his arms and a father on his blood - to be friends with Frank.

He is a very okay guy, you see. Frank had - has - three best friends, but no one openly dislikes him. He doesn't have someone - he has no use for quick tumbles under the cloak of darkness, and that is all people like him can ever have.

But he is not like Perseus or Jason. He doesn't defy Octavian. He was too anxious to muster the courage to volunteer to take Hazel's punishment alone - Perseus had to do it first.

He is not like them. He isn't anything like his mother. Frank feels happy, at least, that at those little things like war games he has better strategies than anyone else. It was Perseus who motivated him to take the lead while Dakota is otherwise incapable - under Hazel's cheerful applause.

This time, there are elephants involved - Perseus loves elephants - and they burst through their rival's doors - the 12th consecutive victory for the Fifth Cohort since Perseus arrived.

Gwen - the only openly ficatrix girl that Perseus knows, a Jewish daughter of Venus Genetrix - dies probably by Octavian's hand - and doesn't stay dead.

This evokes Lord Mars Ultor - who claims Frank, gives him a quest to find Letum and ropes Perseus into it - "Your father's domain, your responsibility" - so they choose Hazel as a third member - because who else - and get in a car to go to Alaska.

Before that, for Dakota's negligence, the Fifth Cohort is passed to newly-coined Centurion Frank - with Hazel as his second in command, while Gwen - who is not respected because of her preferences - steps down the second position to go study - apparently, she wants to be a teacher.

They have to be back by June 24th - or die. That gives them six days - it's at least two days going and two days back from San Francisco to Alaska, so they have two extra days to localize and rescue Letum.

Hazel, Frank, and Perseus battle the karpoi in Mendocino - this time, they're easily defeated, because no one leaves Hazel alone. Frank actually kills a lot of them - under the sheer appreciation of both his very supportive friends.

They see Polybotes army - and run away in their car, which crashes in the front of the R.O.F.L.

Perseus IM's Reyna - he thinks it necessary, for she is their Praetor, their leader. Hazel is right by his side - and then goes to call her brother - which he doesn't stick around for, examining the drachmas - the weird graecus' coins that Perseus recognizes

Iris remembers Perseus of someone. He doesn't know who, or why, but that night, for the first time in months, he doesn't dream of Jason Grace. He dreams of red hair spilled into the snow, blond curls around his fingers, a mechanic leg whirring in his ear, a spear coated with blood, shoes with wings and pan pipes - and wakes up crying for a past he doesn't remember.

He hugs the tie-dye bag against his chest - and cries. Perseus doesn't care - his chest literally aches with missing, for someone he doesn't know.

Frank doesn't ask questions when he finds Perseus crying. Frank cried a lot when he first got to Nova Roma.

"Are you missing someone?"

"I'm missing everything" And that's how Frank discovers Perseus doesn't remember anything at all.

Everything spills up - Lady Lupa's house, the dreams about Jason, the way he just dreamed of what could possibly be his friends, and what if he was a graecus like Octavian said - and Frank does not judge him.

He knows what it is to have a gigantic secret pressing upon his shoulders - and he has known Perseus for three months now. He knows Perseus is a trustworthy person.

"We'll discover who you are - but if you don't like it, we won't judge you. It doesn't matter what your past life has been like, it doesn't matter if you're a graecus - you're one of us now."

Because Frank is the absolute best - Perseus can't think of a friendship he deserves less than Frank's.

They trade stories about their rage against the gods - things they would never be able to utter at home. Their lives, their insecurities, their shared hate of Octavian's racist ass - everything they can share.

Frank tells Perseus about the piece of wood - which is very important when Perseus tells Frank that, sometimes, he can conjure a weird green fire of which he has little control over, so is better to keep that wood far away from him.

Some things are kept in secret - Frank is not sure Perseus will be repelled by his preferences, by the way, no woman ever caught his eye - and Perseus is afraid of telling Frank about the way that, sometimes, he wants to see the world burn, skeletons beneath his feet and blood coating his hands.

They travel through Portland - which means half the journey is done - and meet Ella - which Perseus immediately wants to take away from the creepy old dude because that's a child.

Ella is hungry and cold and in pain - and neither Perseus nor his quest mates are having that.

So he does a gamble with Creepy Old Dude and Lady Terra - which he isn't sure is in their side - and kills him. Because he is not dealing with a creepy old man who is trying to capture children, even if those children are monsters.

They take Ella with them - she's such a small, innocent girl-bird. They can't send her to Nova Roma alone - they would either kill her, hunt her or use her as entertainment - and they can't stop the mission, so there's that.

Hazel and Frank are sharing memories - with each other and Perseus. Perseus himself has no private memories to talk about - except for his dreams of Jason, which he already told Frank and now relays to Hazel.

Ella says is because their destinies are connected - says that their curses will be gone by their hands. Frank gives Hazel his piece of wood - "I would give it to both of you, but your fire is weird" - And Hazel tells them about being dead.

Perseus has an inkling of suspicion - that maybe - just maybe - he brought Hazel back. Maybe that's why his memories are gone. Either that - or he has a sibling, and wouldn't that be amazing? Siblings, cousins - a giant family. Just for him.

He doesn't ask though - because Hazel is sad and he is not an insensitive ass.

They head to the Amazon Headquarters - where Perseus has the amazing idea of going in, even if he knows Amazons just have one utility for men - sex.

They get caught - just this time, while Hylla does recognize Perseus, she is grateful. Perseus did kill Circe, yes, but he didn't free any pirates - Hylla and Reyna sailed away and never got any trouble.

Hylla is grateful for Perseus - but she cannot help him or Frank - Amazons are misandry warriors, and they are too young to be lovers, but too old to be reliable to let go. So they lock them up, and Hylla and Hazel make a plan to free them.

Otrera is dangerous - because the Amazons will follow anyone, they aren't connected to any goddess. So, when Perseus shadow travels from his cage with Frank, Hylla helps Perseus - who is way too tired - to mount Tempest - Hazel's venti - so that they can reach Letum - or, how Hylla calls him, Mors.

They go North - then further North - to the house of Frank's Grandma.

Everything goes the same - Frank's Grandma is cryptic, Mars appears, the house catches fire, they flee. A bird is seeing flying out of the window - but if it's her or no, they don't know.

Frank and Perseus discover they are related - by a lot of generations, but does it matter really? They are shield brothers - and fight in the same Cohort, for the same Rome.

Hazel feels lucky - both her best friends are related to Pluto. Both can be the one to save her - and she really hopes is not Perseus, for she can't own him any more debts.

Frank tries to control his abilities - and between Perseus' own training and Hazel's unwavering belief on him, they get him to shapeshift. Some. He is not good at it at all - but he'll get there.

They don't fear Hazel - not even when gold slips between her fingertips. Perseus calls her sister, for their connection shall be forged on metal and fire.

They fly to Alaska - this time, Perseus entrusts Ella to a General skeleton and tells him to take her somewhere safe.

During the travel, they cuddle together - all three of them - to share body warmth. Hazel is flushed - for she never had such close contact with a boy, least a boy she really likes, like Frank.

Frank, on the other side, has never been so close to a boy as he is to Perseus now. Perseus is just a brother to him - but he can't help but blush like a virgin maiden.

Perseus observes the situation with confusion - for he doesn't understand Hazel's flustered expression - which makes her look a lot like her brother any time Perseus even glances at the guy - nor Frank's blushing cheeks - which must be because of the cold.

Perseus almost drowns on Earth - the single thing he fears the most, in his own element. It pains him, and he wants to destroy Lady Terra for her trickery and mockery.

They stay in a little motel, just out of the way. No way that Frank nor Perseus would make Hazel go back to where she was abused and mistreated.

They shared basically everything in the past few days - they know almost everything about each other. Hazel tells Perseus she knows him - but is under oath to not tell anything.

Perseus is frustrated - but that is Hazel. Soft, trustworthy Hazel. She isn't doing this to hurt him. Her brother, on the other hand, can go to hell. He obviously knows Perseus - but lies to him. Explicitly. Nico Di Angelo is as bad as the gods are in Perseus' eyes.

He can't sleep - he keeps dreaming of the Earth swallowing him like it did many of his enemies - and Frank hugs him as Hazel inches closer to their shared embrace - it feels, for the first time since he woke up, like family.

They fight against Alcyoneus. Frank frees Letum - waisting part of his life on it, literally - Hazel takes on Alcyoneus - vengeance for herself - and Perseus raises an army to fight against the Undead Roman one - it's easy to defeat them, and then turn them against the giant once he has the Twelfth Legion Eagle.

Perseus - and his army that is getting harder and harder to maintain - helps Frank (who has finally managed to shapeshift) and Hazel to drive away Alcyoneus - and finally kill him, once he is out of Alaska.

They head back to Nova Roma - Hazel on her venti, Tempest, with Frank as an eagle and Perseus mounting Spot - the hellhound he was able to call from Nova Roma - pushing a chariot of Imperial Gold weapons - something rare and essential.

They meet Mrs. O'Leary - another hellhound - Blackjack - a hellhound that can speak with Perseus - Ella - who apparently found safety - and Nico Di Angelo with the cyclops Tyson - which immediately spark Perseus memories, even if he has no time to think about it.

Perseus leads the Romans - they look at him, and see the boy that has spent three months with them and three months with Lady Lupa, the boy who has been invaluable for Nova Roma's safety - their own Julius Caesar, their Augustus.

He fights against Polybotes one on one. Polybotes may be the bane of Neptune - but Perseus is also an earthshaker. He makes the Earth - Lady Terra's earth, who they are oh so proud of, the earth that swallowed him - fight against her own son.

With help from Terminus - and lots of backup from the army, his army - Polybotes is gone. The monsters - defeated.

There are thirteen dismemberments and fifty-three gravely injured. These are rushed to the hospital, while the other 184 soldiers rest and prepare for the burials.

Thirty-eight dead - men and women alike - plus nine that succumbed to their injuries. They do the procession - followed by cremation and the burial of the ashes in the temple of Pluto.

What follows is the eulogy - and the laurels. The families who have dead members are given money and prestige - it bothers Perseus. Is not enough - it won't fullfill their childrens, siblings and friends places.

Then come the laurels of the living. Frank, Hazel, Di Angelo, and Reyna are awarded Civic Crowns - the second biggest award any commander can win for battle. Everyone else is rewarded Golden Crowns - the fourth-highest decoration of battle, for their bravery.

Perseus himself is the most celebrated - he not only wins a Grass Crown (Corona Obsidionalis) for being credited for saving the whole Legion - he charms the Senatus with his acts of heroism - enough that they give him the Praetor Peregrinus title - for he also has a reputation of a good politician, as he often spoke on the Forum - while Reyna holds to the Praetor Urbanus one.

Frank himself also gains a promotion - he is now Legatus Legionis - the overall Legion commander - a title that was vacant since Jason Grace rose to Praetor, but with him missing for six months - it is time to fulfill both positions. Hazel raises to be Centurion of the Fifth Cohort.

The Consul holds the ceremony for both of their awards - where they vowed to serve Nova Roma with their lives, to put Nova Roma above their personal lives and interests - and later, they feast.

Perseus is happy with his new position - While Reyna is in charge of all judicial matters - the matters of the law - he is in charge of all defense, war and foreign matters.

That's why - when Lady Juno gives back his memories - he is infuriated. Not only he has a whole life waiting for him - one that conflicts directly with his new life - he has now a giant pile of paperwork.

The first thing he does - still in his toga praetexta, the worst garment to ever be done, even if he pities Reyna for having to use a stola on most occasions - is to punch Nico di Angelo in the face.

Then he hugs him. The boy apologizes - stuttering through words - promise to make up for it - and promptly leaves to not be seen again.

Perseus goes to the Senatus, and tell the truth: Lady Juno has sent him a vision - and in the war to come, they have to fight alongside the greeks.

Octavian wants to discredit Perseus for being a graecus. It doesn't work - for the Romans love their new Praetor - and Octavian wasn't even in the battle.

That night, Perseus doesn't even remember Jason Grace - he is just a shadow of some dreams he had for two weeks, more nightmarish than not. He dreams of Nico di Angelo - who is walking around ruins - and fears for the life of the boy who betrayed him.

He doesn't think much about it.

Perseus shadow travels to his mother - not yet to Camp, he is not ready to see them yet, and Hera/Juno told him they are coming, so it would be a waste of his energy - and hugs her for about four hours before his duties call him back.

She is happy to see him alive and well - even if she doesn't like he is fighting in yet another war for the gods. He doesn't like it either - after this, he is retiring and making them promise to never bother him again.

Perseus spends the next days preparing - for his friends, for his two lives to collide - and working his very difficult political job - Nova Roma is a homophobic and racist place, and he won't stand for other people like Gwen to be killed for it - he isn't tolerating "ficatrix" instead of lesbians or the clearly prejudiced priests anymore.

He has a long way to go. But it's fine - he and his friends are the government. Talking about his friends...

"Call me Percy"

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