#underworld fanfic

[hooked-on-swanics]

Chapter 2 of my Underworld/5b rewrite is up! If you like whump, if you like angst, if you like feels, this is for you.

I hope it hits you in the heart <3

[cosette141]

A Snowball's Chance (OUAT fanfic) | Oneshot

Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Captain Swan Author: cosette141 Words: 3k Summary: After Emma rescues Killian from Hades in the Underworld, David and Snow tend to some of Killian's physical wounds, and end up healing emotional ones. (aka, Snow and David acting as parental figures for Killian) hurt/comfort oneshot

AO3

a/n: This was initially a deleted scene from my Underworld divergence "Hell to Pay". However, it can be read as a standalone moment where David and Snow tend to Killian after Emma rescues Killian from Hades in the Underworld. In that story (Hell to Pay), I'd written it where Emma's magic is weaker in the Underworld, meaning she had to heal his injuries one by one and it took a lot out of her. It also took her a lot longer to get Killian back to safety, for h/c reasons lol. So, right now they're safe in the Underworld version of the loft, Emma is passed out asleep from saving him and Killian is still quite banged up. So, if you haven't read Hell to Pay, then just know that, and you'll be caught up. If you have read Hell to Pay, then this could have taken place right after Chapter 14.

Killian woke to pain.

His torso was a pit of fire.

He couldn't remember what rendered him lying on his chest. The only thing his muddled, pain-ridden mind could put together was that lying on broken ribs hurt, and it was an agony he couldn't take.

He tried to push himself up, get the pressure off his ribs, but the moment he moved, a horrible pain shot through his chest. An unhinged sound escaped his throat, making him fall the inch back down, which did not help the broken ribs.

Hands were suddenly on him, a voice speaking from somewhere beyond the haze of agony. Whoever grabbed him was trying to lift him up, the same way Hades' guards had dragged him up from the floor of his cell countless times for another beating.

Killian panicked.

He lashed out with his hook.

But the moment he did, something in his left shoulder tore with a searing pain.

Killian groaned, feeling his forearm grabbed before it could make contact. Despite the pain, he fought.

He couldn't be taken again.

He couldn't bloody handle any more pain.

"HOOK!"

Killian's eyes snapped open.

David was breathing hard, one hand still holding his left forearm.

Killian blinked in utter confusion.

The prince was on his feet, looking incredibly relieved to have Killian's attention, as if he'd been trying to get it for some time. David slowly released him. "Hook," he said, a little breathless. "It's okay. You're safe," he added, in a sort of gentle voice that Killian had only ever heard directed at the members of his immediate family.

Another stab of pain from his ribs made Killian screw his eyes shut. He tried again to push himself up, but his muscles couldn't handle the strain.

"I'll help," said David, reaching for him again. "Don't try to take my head off, okay?"

In too much pain to reply, Killian just shut his eyes, and tried his best to help as David helped him to his back. He couldn't swallow the pained sounds that escaped his clenched teeth as David moved him, and by the time he was on his back, against what felt like pillows, he was panting. "Thank you," whispered Killian, out of breath.

David sank to the edge of the coffee table. With a shaky smile, David said, "I'm just glad you didn't have your hook."

Killian opened his eyes, giving him a halfhearted wince. "Sorry, mate," he said with difficulty, every breath still feeling like a knife sliding through his ribs.

Killian shut his eyes. His phantom heart was still pounding, just beginning to slow with the relief that he wasn't in that godforsaken prison of Hades'. That realization suddenly dawned the memories from the river to the caves to the woodland and the twisted Underworld version of Storybrooke. He and Emma were safe.

Killian's phantom heart stopped.

His eyes snapped open.

Emma.

"Emma—" he breathed, and without thinking, he jerked upright, only for pain to ignite everywhere, making him catch a cry in his throat. Despite it, he still tried to get up, only for David to push down on his uninjured shoulder, though carefully enough not to press into the broken bones.

"—is just fine," said David with a flick of a touched smile. Before Killian could ask, David nodded his head to his right, and Killian looked.

Asleep in the armchair beside the couch was Emma.

She was curled into a ball, and it would have been adorable if it wasn't because she was utterly exhausted. But Killian could see her breathe, see her chest rise and fall. She was okay.

She was safe.

Killian felt relief settle into his broken bones like cool water.

"She fell asleep about an hour ago," said David, watching his daughter with a glint in his eye like he could watch her forever. He looked back at Killian. He sighed, wincing a little. "This might be a dumb question, but... how are you feeling?"

Bloody horrible.

His torso was the worst of the pain. His ribs were still a fire that hasn't calmed down, and his shoulder was a new pain, searing and feeling like claws were ripping it open all over again. There were more broken bones in his torso than his ribs—Emma had healed most of his ribs, his beautiful lass—and he guessed the damn creature's claws were the culprit of that. His head pounded, and it made the room blur and spin. He felt weak and slightly sick. Above it all, he felt exhaustion so heavy it was determined to pull him back under.

But he suddenly, blissfully, he realized his back was nearly free of the agony it once was, thanks to his time at the mercy (or lack thereof) of Hades' lash. Killian nearly smiled with relief; that pain had quite likely been the worst of it all. But his relief faltered a moment later when he realized his jacket was missing and why the pain was gone.

Bloody hell.

Emma must have healed him.

That was something he didn't want her to see.

"Hook?"

Killian blinked his eyes back open, not realizing he closed them. He blinked, then answered David's question. "About as good as I… appear," he said raggedly, "I suppose."

David grimaced. "I'm sorry we couldn't find you… sooner," he said quietly. "You shouldn't have had to go through this."

Guilt gnawed at Killian, hurting worse than the injuries, thinking about the last time he saw Emma's father. "After…" rasped Killian, wincing sharply through physical and emotional pain. "After all I've… done," he managed, forcing himself to meet David's eyes, "I deserved it," he whispered.

Something shifted in David's eyes. "Hook—"

Killian looked away before he could see what that change was.

Before he could see his own hatred reflected in the other man's eyes.

Because bloody hell he knew he couldn't take any more physical pain, but he couldn't take that pain even more.

"I need…" Killian lost his breath, grimacing as he breathed through fire. "I need to apologize," he said shallowly. David opened his mouth to respond, but Killian didn't let him. "Please," he whispered. "I…" His eyes burned. "I am so bloody sorry for everything… everything I did to your family," he choked out. "If I could take it back, I would in an instant."

"Hook—" said David again, but Killian didn't let him finish; couldn't hear David say what he had been telling himself ever since he bloody died.

"I never deserved your daughter," said Killian heavily, the words scraped out and broken. "I never deserved to play any part in your family. And after what I did…" He shut his eyes. "You were right to hate me those years ago. I—"

"Killian."

Killian opened his eyes, his words dying in his throat.

David hasn't called him by his name since he had to, back when Henry didn't have his memory.

And only stunning Killian more, David didn't have the contempt in his eyes that Killian expected to see.

David sighed. "Do you really think, after everything you just went through here, after sacrificing yourself to save us all, that I could possibly hate you? That any of us could?" Killian blinked, stunned into silence. "We get it, Hook. You fought the darkness your whole life; I can't imagine how hard it was to have to fight it all over again. I…" He hesitated, looking at his daughter's sleeping form. "I'm glad Emma saved your life back in Camelot, because believe it or not… you've… grown on me." He looked back at Killian, saying the words with a slight roll of his eyes, but his eyes couldn't hide the fact that he meant it. Killian listened with utter disbelief. David sobered a little, adding, "But I'm sorry that saving your life had to come to that. I wish neither of you had to suffer that curse. But, you fought it and you were a hero. Are a hero." he corrected. With a heavy, almost exasperated sigh, he said, "Did you really think we'd all come down here to save you if we didn't think that?"

Killian couldn't speak.

Shocked into absolute silence.

"And for the record," said David, rolling his eyes again for effect, "I never hated you. It was more like… a strong dislike for the infuriating pirate who wouldn't stop hitting on my daughter." A glare. "And my wife."

Killian found himself smiling a little, lifting a brow to say, "I would have hit on you if you only asked, mate."

That time, Killian knew the eye roll was real.

But Killian sobered too, guilt stinging more than the wounds, saying quietly, "Apologies for my past behavior as well. I'm… I'm not proud of the man I used to be."

David gave him a meaningful look. "Don't think I forgot about Neverland, Hook. Without you saving my sorry ass, I wouldn't be with my family right now." David lifted a brow. "Back then, you said you did it for Emma, but you and I both know you did it because you're a good, if sometimes misguided, man." Killian opened his mouth to reply, but David beat him to it. "We all made mistakes in the past. Regardless of them, you should be proud of the man you are today." That soft look that Killian would never get used to being directed at him was in David's eyes again. "You've deserved Emma for a long time, now, Killian."

Killian blinked.

Never in his life would he have expected getting such… such approval from David, in more ways than one.

He wasn't sure he exactly agreed with him—forgiving himself wouldn't be that easy, if it were even possible—but he smiled nonetheless, because he had the prince's forgiveness and he honestly had worried he'd never even get close to it.

Killian shifted, in an attempt to alleviate the horrible pain in his shoulder. He grimaced, his hand grasping at his shoulder.

David's brows kneaded, seeing the way Killian was clutching at his ribs. David winced a little in sympathy. "Regina and the others should be back in a few hours. I'm sure she can heal the rest of your injuries." Giving Emma a worried look, David said, "Emma seems pretty drained."

"Emma has done enough," whispered Killian, looking at Emma himself, knowing how far she pushed herself to help him. To save him. "I can wait for Her Majesty," said Killian quietly. As much as he hurt, he was incapable of watching Emma heal him at her expense anymore.

Footsteps on the staircase announced Snow, who walked down to the first level with a pile of blankets in her arms. "I found some blankets in the closet that weren't covered in dust—" She stopped, seeing Killian awake. "Killian! You're awake," she said with a smile.

"Aye," he said, giving her a strained smile back, even when it pulled at the split in his lip.

Snow laid one of the blankets over Emma, gently tucking it in around her. Killian watched with a grin playing at his lips. When she was done, she picked up another and turned to him. "I have one for you, too," she said with another smile.

"I don't—" began Killian, but she ignored his weak protest.

"You're shaking like a leaf," she commented with a crease in her brows, draping it over him.

Killian didn't have the heart (literally or figuratively) to tell her that his trembling had nothing to do with being cold.

His shoulder stung sharply again, and Killian sucked in a breath, quickly removing his hand. Fresh blood smeared over the palm of his hand. Killian shut his eyes in irritation, tired of being so bloody broken.

"You're bleeding," said Snow suddenly.

Killian opened his eyes, giving her a strained smile. "I'll—" His words froze, having the word live on the tip of his tongue. And from the way both Emma's parents stiffened a little, he knew they heard it too. "...be all right," he finished softly.

Snow looked carefully at his shoulder. He heard her gasp a little.

Killian blinked his eyes open, seeing an unreadable expression on her face. She looked at him, looking like it took her a moment to find her voice. "Killian… is this…" She swallowed before asking, "Did… did Cerberus do this to you?"

"If that's… the name of the bloody… hell beast," he whispered, "then… unfortunately… aye," he managed.

Snow's face fell in a mix of shock and horror. "Oh, Killian…" she whispered.

"Holy—" breathed David, eyes widening.

Handing David one of the other blankets she'd brought down, Snow said to her husband, "David, rip this into some strips. We can stop the bleeding at the very least." Snow reached for Killian's shirt.

"It doesn't matter," said Killian through a wince. "I'm… in no danger," he said, so quietly he didn't even know if she heard him.

Can't bloody die twice.

Snow's hand paused, hearing what he was saying. She turned a gaze onto him with eyes that held a million sad emotions. "Of course it matters," she whispered, looking heartbroken that he felt it didn't.

David handed her a few strips of the blanket. Snow took them, turning back to Killian.

Something inside him made him try again. "You really don't have to," he whispered.

"I want to." said Snow without hesitation. She smiled, a little wince in her face. "Besides, losing this much blood is going to make you pass out again, and the air can't be helping the pain."

Killian blinked.

He stared at her, like she was an enigma.

He was dead.

Bleeding out wasn't a concern—if it were, he would have bled out ages ago. The only thing bandages would solve would be suffering.

He still, after these past few years, couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he—Captain Hook—had managed to gain the care of people who would bother to stop the bleeding of a dead man.

To think that he would gain even the care of anyone after all he's done in his life, it was like a snowball's chance in, well, this bloody place.

Yet…

That concern in Snow's eyes was for him and him alone. And no matter how much he tried, he didn't know what to do with it. His whole life, he'd looked after himself, patched up his own wounds—even cauterizing his own arm after losing his bloody hand. From a young age, he had to look after himself, wanting to show Liam he could be better, that he wasn't the little brother Liam always referred to him as. Milah had shown him kindness and care but he never really accepted it, always hid his pain from her as much as she could because women were too precious to bear any of his burdens. Emma had been the first person he'd shown his cracks to, his weakness, but he never wanted to. One look at her crumpled in that exhausted form on the armchair made his chest hurt because no one should have to bother with his pain.

Snow's kindness reminded him of something he never had.

Something he hadn't even thought about in decades.

A parent.

He knew Emma didn't grow up with Snow and David, but Killian has watched them attempt to make up for lost time. Seen David's reaction when Emma had been freezing to death in Elsa's ice cavern. Feeling like it was a lifetime ago, he remembered meeting Emma in the Enchanted Forest. Snow had protected her with her life and more.

His own parents were long dead. His father hadn't even loved him. His mother never even knew him.

Something deep inside Killian, a pain that had been buried so far down he thought it no longer existed, hurt.

And right there, in Snow's eyes, was the closest look toward that kind of care Killian knew he would ever see.

So, he let her wrap his shoulder in bandages, holding in a groan when it stung.

Once in place, Killian tiredly opened his eyes, no longer feeling the steady stream of blood dripping down his chest and side, and feeling the fog in his head wane.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Of course," she said just as softly.

"For… everything," said Killian, and in the way Snow's eyes changed, he knew that she knew the extent he was thanking her for.

He shut his eyes.

He had no idea what he did to deserve a second chance at a family.

And he had even less of an idea why they gave it to him.

All he knew was that he didn't have to wait for Regina to heal his pain after all.

tag list: @justanother-unluckysoul @elise-the-writer @kmomof4 @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @confessionsofthemword @killianwhump

[yonemurishiroku]

I know we all love the god/deity Nico. But just consider. Nico mistaken as a god.

Why? Because srsly, just imagine it.

You’re a new camper. You’re 8,9,10,11—idk, and your siblings are giving you a tour around Camp. You guys reach the Big House, and there’s Chiron, Mr.D, and then him.

This kid - not so much older than you’re - who wears all back, a sword by his hip, a distinctly powerful around him, sitting at the same table with Dionysus and Chiron. They have been talking when you arrived. He greets you with a silent nod.

Later that day, you see him again at lunch/ dinner. Still sitting with Dionysus. His plate is empty. They talk through out the meal. Perhaps he doesn’t need to eat.

You notice he has a private house all for himself, not so close to other cabins. Maybe he doesn’t like others trespassing in his place.

He’s also the quiet and reserved type, you figure.

He doesn’t talk much. But when he speaks, everyone listens. Whatever he has to say is usually impactful.

He usually sits with the goddess Hestia during the campfire. Rarely someone joins them. Will Solace does sometimes, probably bc the guy’s friendly with just everyone.

You see him in the Arena. His power is absolutely terrifying. Like. God-tier.

You take note of the fact he sometimes leaves Camp for days on a mission or an errand. Something about ghosts and Underworld. As far as you know, no one else in camp does that kind of task. And you absolutely didn’t expect the Underworld to be so easily in and out of. Not for a demigod, at least, because even the mighty Percy Jackson dislikes going there.

He talks about Cerberus and the Furies and Charon and calls Hades “dad”. He must be a chthonic deity. That explains his attire.

And the name di Angelo. It certainly sounds someone to take souls to the afterlife. The name Nico should be the equivalent of Apollo’s Lester.

When another god, Apollo - or Lester, comes visit. You see how the Olympian playfully jokes around and laughs with the Kid. In response, the Kid acts completely relaxed around him, despite not being one of Apollo’s children, whereas you’re there being like Omg it’s a God!. You figure that’s how fellow gods treat each other.

Nico di Angelo must be a God, right?

[aj-ixsstuff]

Demon Prince

You weren't entirely sure how it happened. You were barely present for the negotiations. All you knew was your family was in trouble.

For centuries your kingdom were making deals with the underworld. Developing and thriving off their continued support. What you didn't know was what they got in exchange. Being a Princess you weren't allowed in council meetings but you understood better than most that nothing in this world was free.

Every three generations in the over-world meant a new ruler must be appointed in the underworld. As a result of your kingdom's contract, the new ruler would get a bride of their choosing.

You were stood beside your father's throne. Dressed in the finest silk your kingdom had to offer. The demon prince would be here any second. Your maid Elaine fussed over you. Ensuring you looked as beautiful as possible.

He arrived in a plethora of smoke. His skin was as red as blood, littered with discoloured scars. His wings expanded to fill the room, they looked heavy yet delicate. But nothing could've prepared you for his eyes. Despite his cold and rugged exterior, his eyes were warm and inviting. His irises were the most intense shade of yellow, dark and mysterious. You hadn't expected to be as attracted to him as you were.

You were warned of what happened to their brides. They were beaten and abused. You had no doubt this would be the fate you would suffer.

"I've come for what is mine."

His voice made you weak in the knees. It was deep and gravely, perfectly matching his jagged appearance.

Your father encouraged you to step forward with a gentle nod of his head. Elaine put a hand on your back to nudge you, ensuring you wouldn't try to run.

How could you? You'd be hunted and caught before you even left castle grounds.

Your now fiance slipped a ring onto your finger. It was light but clearly expensive. You'd never seen the material before. Clearly originating from the pits of the underworld. Suddenly, he dropped to one knee, kissing the ring gently before looking up at you with smouldering eyes.

Rising to his full height, he slipped a hand around your waist, pulling you into his bulky form. Your head was tucked under his chin, forcing your face into his chest. It wasn't long before he decided to address your father again. Straining your head to look at your family.

"I'll be in contact when the wedding is arranged."

Would you really be stashed away from society until then? What would you be forced to endure in that time.

Your father gave a nod and your mother waved cautiously. That was the last thing you saw before your world was overtaken by smoke.

---------------------

You awake in a bed that isn't yours. In a house you've never seen. With your skin practically melting off the bone. As a human, you weren't used to the humidity of the underworld.

Raising your hand to rub the remaining sleep from your eye, you noticed a weight you swore wasn't normal.

The ring.

It was as stunning as it was threatening. A promise of sweet words and a heavy future. You were never warned of what your marriage would entail. However, you were told the prince was as vicious as he was deceitful.

He appeared before you, silently. Reinforcing that if you ran he would without doubt find and capture you.

He stepped forward, bearing gifts of jewels and medicines.

"You're awake."

He placed the medication gently in your hand before motioning to the glass at your bedside, encouraging you to take them.

"Inter-dimensional travel is tough for first timers. These will help the recovery process."

He watched you cautiously. You felt hot and heavy under his gaze. It wasn't long before he began bestowing you with various jewels and metals. Attempting to find the best combination to suit your complexion.

Gulping down the rest of your water you asked.

"What are you doing?"

He appeared to be in a dream like state. Completely unaware to your question and gaze.

"I'd rather be damned before letting my wife walk down the aisle looking anything less than perfection."

Humming, satisfied enough by his answer but too hot to think, you began to fan yourself with your hands.

"I apologise. The heat is customary around these parts. Your tolerance will build over time. Once our marriage is finalised, you'll barely acknowledge it anymore."

He kissed your forehead unexpectedly before vanishing. Leaving you to pick up the pieces of your scatter-brained thoughts.

------------

I am very sorry it is not that long!! I was not very well this past week but determined to get something out there! Hope you enjoy!!

[0mythical-bitch0]

You know how there’s a myth that if you die in your sleep you die in real life.

Now apply that myth to a Hypnos kid and the added fact that monsters sleep too.

And then you add the fact that Demi god dreams are essentially premonitions and Hypnos children all have power over dreams and sleep so it’s highly likely there’s a child of Hypnos who could quite possibly be the most powerful seer.

if you really wanna go over powered give the child of Hypnos the ability to hypnotize people, essentially charm speak them.

plus wings if you’re feeling it because please remember Hypnos has wings, is the twin to Thanatos who’s the god of death who also has wings so a child of Hypnos having wings isn’t actually far fetched.

Essentially a child of Hypnos, can be a seer, capable of killing anything without having to do any physical exertion, could potentially mind control people and monsters, and has the capacity to have wings.

Oh and Hypnos is a child of Nyx and Nyx is the most feared deity because of their immense power.

Edit; Astral Projection being a potential power as well, as the Astral plane could be seen as the Dream plane and that something similar can be induced by hallucinogenic’s or hypnosis.

Edit two; Sleep is connected to the subconscious mind so maybe a Hypnosis child is capable of mind reading as well, specifically when the person is asleep they can slip into the “conscious mind” and look around.

[cursednevermore]

Hey, guys please read this link on twitter.

Plush Books on Amazon and Barnes & Noble have been stealing works from fanfic authors and selling them for profit. This is from a wide range of fandoms, some being rather unknown so sharing far and wide for help and to let fellow reads and writers know this is happening. Please take a look as there is over 500 works that have been plagiarized (along with covers being stolen art too, i believe?)

Many are already at work trying to pair the "book" with the orginal fic in hopes of finding the author and then contacting them. These works have been stolen from both AO3 and FFN so please all help is needed even if its just spreading the word. Here are the links for amazon list and the Barnes & Nobles one:

i do apologise for the tags but tryna get this seen as much as possible by everyone

please share and if any covers are reconisged please share with the orginal artist. Anyone who has been stolen from i suggets contacting amazon and B&N yourselves and get a claim (read the twitter thread they tell you best way) also suggest adding in the "i dont consent to this work being reposted or sold" and maybe even lock your fics/privae accs (for everyone btw) You are not alone and the entire multi-fandom has your back!

[aiza-luna]

Watch Dogs Fandom Council... Send help.

I was on my way to write a mf fanfic, and I ended up giving Aiden kids... BIOLOGICAL KIDS.

I MADE OUR FOX DILF A LITERAL DAD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?! 😭

I'LL HAVE TO DEVELOP HIM AS A DAD??? AT THEM SAME TIME I LOVE THIS IDEA I FEAR I'LL RUIN HIS CHARACTER-

SEND HELP, I'M-

[orcusnoir]

If Nico were to get a cane, cause you know chronic pain is a bitch, I don't think he'd get one and then deck it out in stickers and what not. He's the GHOST KING, come on now, that cane is gonna be fancy and elegant while being supportive of course. Oh and a sword. It's gonna be cane sword. I mean this is the guy with an undead butler at his beck and call so it just fits.

I also think he dresses more regally for his visits to the Underworld. Just fully embracing that Ghost King Underworld Prince vibe while also being gay about it. Nico, to me at least, always had this "goth/emo kid but make it royal" vibe to him.

[lizamango]

Cruel World 1/? (Brainwashed HYDRA!Reader x Steve Rogers)

summary: A war between SHIELD and HYDRA rages on in the shadows of the world. You live for the kill as a Black Widow until you discover Steve Rogers, the weapon for the opposing side who makes you question the side you’ve been fighting for. (inspired by Underworld, just go with the lore on this fit pls)

warnings: smut later, cussing, canon typical violence

Wanna join my taglist?

wc: 4384 (ik my first chaps are always insane)

The war between SHIELD and HYDRA had ended when SHIELD’S prize was defeated by Johann Schmidt, the leader of the faction at the time. The prize was killed in a blaze of fire and ice, hope was lost for SHIELD, causing them to scatter into hiding.

Now, HYDRA puppets the world’s leaders, in charge behind closed doors, everyone in their pockets. The superior faction. Made up of Assets and Widows.

7 Decades have passed since the day SHIELD’s beloved prize was defeated and yet pockets of SHIELD would stubbornly attempt to put up a fight against HYDRA. Weapons have evolved since then, as did technology. However, our purpose remains.

Hunt them down and kill them off. A once tireless crusade, now approaching its end as SHIELD nears extinction. A pity for those like me, a Black Widow, who lived for the hunt.

“Sestra, I have eyes on the entrance,” Oksana announces through the radio. “One guard.”

“One guard? Sloppy,” Yelena remarks.

“Terpeniye,” I order. Patience. “I’m going in. Watch my six.” I jump down from my perch on a tree, my legs feeling the jolt of my landing. Our suits are white to blend into the snowy environment.

“Show off.” I know Yelena is rolling her eyes.

“You’re just jealous,” I tease. I always was stronger, faster and more agile than other Widows. Perhaps that’s why Dreykov favours me.

“We got the same training, suka.”

I smirk and pull out a knife from my sleeve. I approach from the side of the entrance and slit the throat of the guard. I use his keycard to unlock the doors.

“Clear,” I announce into my radio. In no time Oksana and Yelena are at my side. Our orders are simple; kill all SHIELD agents and report any new intel.

The facility is surprisingly large for a faction that has been driven to near extinction but I assume it’s an older facility back from when they had larger numbers…

There are floor plans on the wall next to the elevator. This place isn’t heavily guarded at all. “Yelena, take the ground floor, Oksana clear subfloor one then meet me by the north staircase of subfloor two and we rendezvous by the helipad. Clear?”

“Crystal,” they reply.

We split up, following the orders I gave. There were no guards manning the staircases and besides the entrance, no other doors I approach require a keycard.

I enter a room that looks like an office space. I frown, SHIELD isn’t supposed to be this organised. There are files and maps of supposed HYDRA bases… some wrong assumptions while others were a little two close for comfort. I take pictures of the room and some files they have for intel. One file is particularly thick, stamped with a red Classified and is filled with the name Dr Erskine.

“Hey! Identify yourself!” I hear a yell and look up to see a SHIELD agent in full tac gear and a gun. I throw a widow’s bite at him which stuns him for a few seconds then slide towards him, wrapping my whip around his neck, using it as a garrote. With the snap of his neck I let go and pull him into the room, shutting the door to continue with my mission.

The last room I get to requires a keypad but there’s no time to guess a million combinations so I stab my knife into the side to expose the wiring.

“You are not clear yet?” Oksana teases. I roll my eyes.

“Shut up, I’m working.” I use my knife to strip the rubber casing of the thickest wire and short circuit it with one of my widow’s bites. The door opens to reveal a laboratory. We walk in, on guard. Suspiciously, the lab is empty save for a puddle of water on a gurney and a heart and vitals monitor in the centre.

“What was going on here?” Oksana wonders as she surveils the lab. I find more files, one with wet marks, indicating someone had flipped through the pages with wet hands recently.

Subject woken. Vitals normal. Natural suspended animation.

A photo of a man, a handsome one at that, is stapled to the report. Blonde hair, long lashes and chilled jawline. STEVEN GRANT ROGERS.

I frown.

I pull the photo from the staple and pocket it. I turn to Oksana and hear it before she does. Gunshots. I duck under the gurney and see a flash of black helmets and blonde hair rush toward another exit. I run to follow them, passing by Oksana’s lifeless body. Fuck.

“Yelena, Oksana is down, SHIELD agents headed down south.” I report while following them.

“Oksana?”

“Go through the lab at the end of the corridor and the back door!”

I see that two Agents seem to be protecting the blonde man. I frown and shoot at one of the uniformed agents. As I set eyes on who I assume is a civilian, he enters a submarine with the help of an agent before I shoot that one down too.

I feel Yelena arrive next to me and hear her fire off shots too.

“What the fuck happened?”

I shake my head. “We have to go back to headquarters.”

We run up the stairs to the line of trees where we left our snow mobiles and ride towards our rendezvous point; a helipad atop a now abandoned hospital.

I speak into our radio, “Tac team 12 requesting extraction, one Widow down, medical assistance not necessary, over.”

“Extraction order received, arrival in T minus 16 minutes. Out.” The other line briefly responds.

“What happened to Oksana?” Yelena asks again.

I shake my head. “Shield agents shot at us. I got both of them back but someone else was there. He got away.”

“A civilian?” Yelena raises a brow.

“I don’t think so.” I look through the classified files again. “An asset.”

“SHIELD has no assets.”

“We have to take it up with the council.”

“That means bringing it through Rumlow,” Yelena says.

I sigh. Rumlow. He’s, for lack of a better term, obsessed with me. And not in a good way. I don’t know who to trust. Johann Schmidt is the Hydra high command of the decade and he has claimed for 70 years that he had been the one to take down Steve Rogers. To take down SHIELD’s organisation. How could I possibly bring this conspiracy to the attention of my faction?

The sound of the chopper interrupts my thoughts.

“You could bring it to Melina?”

One of Dreykov’s older Widows and importantly, trusted.

The chopper lands and we enter. It takes us swiftly back to the Red Room.

To no one’s surprise, Rumlow is waiting for us. We walk right passed him.

“What happened? You lost a Widow?” A Widow hasn’t been lost to this war in 7 years. That’s how weak we believe SHIELD to be. Not anymore it seems. Having the prize back may just be the turning point they need to gain an advantage over us.

“Oksana was shot down by SHIELD agents,” Yelena answers.

“What?” Rumlow spits out. “How is that possible?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” I say, choosing to avoid telling him the whole story or whatever part of the story I have.

“Where are you going?”

I stop and turn to face him. “I’m going to Melina. We need better weapons if SHIELD is firing at us.”

“You’re not going back out on a hunt tonight.”

“That’s not for you to decide, is it? Your orders don’t extend to the Widows.”

“The succession is in two days, we need everyone of importance to be here, at the stronghold getting ready for the ceremony. Even this mission was a risk, clearly I should have trusted my gut because now a Widow is dead!” He’s lucky the Succession is for Pierce and not Dreykov who would go to the ends of the earth to avenge a fallen Widow. Coward. I almost say it out loud.

Rumlow scoffs at my silence and stops following me.

“Wow, you know how to rile him up,” Yelena comments.

“6 years of his obsession, I know how to handle it by now.”

“Yikes. I would have just killed him.”

I laugh but roll my eyes. “Did you find anything on your sweep?” I ask, realising I didn’t get a debrief from her.

“Just four agents but it didn’t look like they had any sort of planning, sure organisation because that was the most we’ve seen in such a big location but…” Yelena shrugs.

“No lab?”

“Nope.”

I nod. “How are you dealing with Oksana?”

“I’m fine,” she responds in the least convincing tone. “I’m going. There’s that gala tonight.”

“There’s a gala every night,” I scoff, not keeping up with the social calendar. I continue to make my way to Melina’s lab.

“Come in,” she says before I can knock, though the glass doors make it pointless. “What do I owe the pleasure, detka?”

“We have a problem.” I pull out the photo from my pocket.

Melina frowns. “What am I looking at? The newest supermodel? He’s a bit too muscular for fashion, isn’t he?”

“This is serious, Melina.”

“Elaborate, detka.”

“I found files on him at the SHIELD facility we were sent to. I think it’s the prize.”

Melina cackles. “That means nothing. The SHIELD faction were fanatics about their Captain America,” she says in a mocking tone. “Star spangled banner propaganda bullshit. Look at them now, rats just trying to survive a burning ship. What has their Captain America done for them?”

“Could it be possible that he is still be alive? Maybe-Maybe Schmidt missed something.”

“Izmena,” she scolds. Treason.

“I saw them protecting someone. The agents I killed. He got away.”

“The succession is days away. You can wait that long.”

No. Right now, who ever that blonde man is, he’s disoriented and that means careless. He must be the one in the picture, why else would they have his file in a lab if not to do research?

“You cannot confront the council with this. It is a death sentence to question Schmidt, even for you.”

“Dreykov would believe me.” I take the photo and go to my room. I wash off the grime and dirt from my hair and stand under the shower for a while, thinking. Where would this prize go? If I was believed to be dead all these years… home would be my first stop. I get chills just thinking about it. Home. The warmth I used to feel as my parents came home from work, surprising us with food or toys. My sister…

I turn the shower valve and dry off. I opt for a casual black leather suit, not the attire for the gala Rumlow will no doubt be hounding me about. All we know about SHIELD’s prize is that he was from New York.

I leave discretely as the decadence of the gala distracts everyone else. I make my way up to the hanger and get into a quinjet. They won’t miss one…

I’ve flown a jet before, just never alone and outside of a mission. It feels forbidden. I turn off tracking and communications before anyone can sense my disappearance. I land the jet in a clearing outside the city of New York and activate cloaking.

I walk into a library and find the American history section, also known as works of fiction with the lies they spread and infect their people with…

World War II. Captain America.

The text reads.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers grew up in Brooklyn, suffering from numerous health problems for which he was denied from enlisting five times before he was recruited by Dr Abraham Erskine’s Project Rebirth as the only person in the world to receive the Super Soldier Serum.

What made him so special? I think as I flip the pages, looking for a clue.

In 1943, Rogers single-handedly liberated 150 captured troops from a Nazi base in Austria.

A raid on a Nazi transport train led to the capture of Nazi scientist Arnim Zola and the unfortunate death of Howling Commando and best friend of Steve Rogers, James Barnes.

There is a passage on James Barnes and his relationship with the prize along with a photo of the two, dated at 1935. They were outside of a brownstone.

“Fan of Captain America?” a young boy asks.

I smile, “pretty awesome hero, huh?”

“My favourite.”

My smile turns into a smirk. A child. Easy to manipulate. “What do you know about his past? Y’know, before the serum and stuff?”

“Well, he was the best guy ever like the only reason he was picked to have the serum was coz he was such a good guy!” I smile and nod along. “His old apartment, in Brooklyn where that photo was taken was turned into a museum! Like that Anne Frank house in Amsterdam.”

“Oh really? Do ya mind telling me the address? I’d love to visit it.”

“Sure!” Did I mention kids were easy to manipulate?

I took a cab to the address and sure enough the apartment was there with a sign going on about America’s glorified hero. I refrain from rolling my eyes. It wasn’t busy, a passerby would pay it no mind if they were just going about their day. I walk up into the apartment. It isn’t anything too special, two bedrooms, a kitchenette, a couch and bookcase as the living room. There are plaques with fun facts about the items. I walk into the second bedroom, smaller than the first. This must’ve been his. There are comic books and photographs on the desk. The plaques explaining who were in the photos and that the comic books are replicas of what he would have entertained himself with because he was too sick to go outside and play with the neighbours. What a sad life. I think back to the space I had in my family home. A mansion, really. The outdoor playground my parents built for us.

An album of the Captain’s drawings is on the bedside table. I flip through it and there are portraits of everything, skyscrapers, people, a park with a bridge in it. Brooklyn Bridge. Next stop.

I spot him immediately. He seems to have acquired some new clothes as the Captain sports a brown worn leather jacket, a tight black shirt and loose fit jeans and boots. He’s sitting on the bench overlooking the bridge and park from the exact angle the sketch seemed to be from.

“You were at that base in Russia,” he says as I sit beside him.

“You weren’t supposed to be there.”

“You killed those agents.”

“They were my orders,” I state.

“Are you here to kill me?” he asks calmly.

“I’m not. I need you to come with me.”

“Oh now you’re asking nicely?”

“You don’t know this new world, I do.”

“I’m supposed to trust you?” he raises a brow.

“Do you see anyone else trying to help you, Captain?”

He chuckles. He’s too… confident. It makes me uneasy and I don’t get uneasy.

“Fine. But you should know, if it comes to a fight… you’ll lose.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. “A threat? Hardly golden boy material. Is this what the American dream entails?”

“There’s something I wanna grab from my apartment first.”

I look at him sharply.

“Just a couple photographs. Memories. I didn’t get a chance to stop by yet. It was full of people.”

“If you try anything…”

He doesn’t. He’s an honest enough man, I think as I watch him look through the photographs on his desk. What must it be like to visit his home after being away for so long? Having strangers pick through and dissect every little thing they find… Something comes into my peripheral vision and I duck as the bullet hits the wall behind me. That’s why you don’t stand in front of open doorways, tupitsa. I throw a widow’s bite at the assailant’s neck and then go down. Another charges towards me but I kick the desk chair towards him and as he topples over I knee him in the face.

“We have to go.” I grab his hand and lead him through the stairs but there are agents waiting for us. I jump up on the railing and kick one agent in the face then jump down to the flight below wrap my legs around another agent’s throat until they passed out. I look up to see the Captain fighting off another two agents. We make our way down, removing anyone from our paths. But as we do this I can’t help but wonder how SHIELD has enough troops for an attack like this?

We get to the alley but there are still agents of SHIELD in our way. One takes out a knife and attempts to slash at the Captain. I throw a widow’s bite at him.

I don’t feel it until the Captain reacts, picking up a trash can lid and throwing it at the shooter. I look down and see my suit darken with the wetness of blood. Fuck.

“Come on!” the Captain puts his arms around me as I press down on the shot to my side, the bullet went straight through. “Keep pressure on it.”

He walks me toward a black car, SHIELD’s. Putting me into the passenger’s seat he rushed to the driver’s side and hit wires the car to start.

“Where did Captain America learn to steal a car?”

“Shut up, we’ve got to take you to the hospital!”

“No. No hospitals. I don’t need-“

“Don’t need?! You’ve been shot!” he shouts frantically.

“I’ll be fine, just t-take me to the safe house.”

“Listen ma’am, you need medical att-“

I take out my hand gun and point it right at him. “Safe. House.”

I give him the address and he reluctantly agrees.

I’ve never actually been shot before… stabbed? Yes. An arrow? Yes. Throwing stars? Definitely.

But never a bullet. I guess I’m usually better at dodging them. Or I usually don’t go out of my way to look out for someone other than myself during battle.

“Captain?”

“Yes?” he answers quickly. Worriedly.

“Never call me ma’am again.”

His chuckling is the last thing I hear as I pass out.

***

Embarrassment is what I would feel if I was conscious enough to. Passing out? The other Widows would never let me hear the end of it.

“You’re awake,” the Captain says and I hear a smile behind his words. “We’re at your safe house… doesn’t look that safe to me.”

“It’s not exactly a safe house. It’s an old interrogation and research facility.”

He frowns. “How’s your wound? I cleaned and dressed it.” I notice that he changes the subject.

“How long has it been?”

“About 14 hours.”

“And you didn’t run out on me?” I ask, in shock.

“How could I when you’re hurt?” he asks back sincerely. This man. He’s supposed to be the enemy.

I straighten myself up and he rushes to my side.

“You’re not supposed to be moving.”

“I feel fine, trust me.”

“You said that then you passed out,” he scolds.

I roll my eyes. “Actually I told you not to call me ma’am before I passed out.” I sit up and he puts a hand on my back which sends a jolt through my spine. I ignore it and lift up my shirt to look at the bandage. “I don’t… I don’t feel anything,” I say slowly, trying to make sense of things.

“What do you mean?”

“When I got shot I was in pain but now it’s like…” I slowly unwrapped the bandage.

“That’s- that’s impossible, I saw it myself, I cleaned and wrapped it up myself. You had a hole in you. Straight through.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve never- I mean I heal fast but not like this.”

“So that’s not the reason you wanted to come here instead of a hospital?” I shake my head. “Have you ever been shot before? Major traumatic injuries?”

“No, I mean I’ve been stabbed and had an arrow hit me before but that still took a couple days.”

His brows furrow. “Now your healing… is like mine.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I unravel the rest of the bandage from me and put it in the sink, lighting it on fire to get rid of any trace. “No one can know of this, okay?”

“So you’re just gonna deny that you’ve got the serum too?” he challenges.

“Captain, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never had the serum and I’m not some jacked up, glorified super soldier, understand?”

“Fine,” he relents. “And my name’s Steve by the way.”

I scoff. “Don’t get too familiar.”

He gives me a pointed look and I give him my name.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You’re too polite, you know that?”

Steve chuckles. “So, what are you planning on doing with me?”

I sigh. “I have to take you back… The people who had you, SHIELD… they want you for your abilities. My people, they can keep you safe.”

“And who are your people?” he challenges. It seems he doesn’t even know what SHIELD is, I realise. Odd because our history states that he was SHIELD’s weapon.

“I’m from the Red Room. We call ourselves Black Widows... We’re tasked with taking SHIELD down. Every last one of them.” I say with such malice I can tell he’s taken aback.

“Why do you hate them?”

“It’s a war, Steve. You would know about those, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve had my fair share… But you’re avoiding my question. The way you said that… it was more than just a soldier following orders.”

I take him in. His face, his posture. His eyes. The most sincere eyes I’ve ever looked into. Eyes that make you feel safe because they’re on you. I see his jaw clench.

“Fine,” he goes to turn away.

“I had a nightmare that night.” He slowly turns back once I find my voice. “I went to go into my parents’ bedroom but they weren’t there. The bed was unmade, as if they’d gotten out in a hurry. I went to find my sister, she was older so she got the bigger room down stairs. I remember the thunder, it was so cold. The door was wide open, there was paper everywhere. Then I noticed all the blood.”

Steve whispers my name.

“I felt someone wrap their arms around me. At first I thought it was my father. But it was too late for that. The war had spilled into our home, they wanted something my father had but they couldn’t take it. So SHIELD decided that no one could have it. He killed the agents that they had been tracking and saved me.”

“Who did?”

“Dreykov. He founded the Black Widow program. That night, he made me what I am now. He gave me the strength to hunt down SHIELD and avenge my family.”

“He didn’t give you a serum?”

I shake my head. “He trained me. Taught me everything I know. Combat training, tactical knowledge. As he did all Widows.”

“But he treated you differently?” Smart.

I nod. “Like a daughter.”

I can tell he has more questions but he lets the silence hang as I shared the deepest part of myself with him. Essentially a stranger. No other Widows know my story. Most of them didn’t come from such tragedy. Many were given up by families without the means to raise them, others simply abandoned. They don’t know the love that they’ve missed out on. The Red Room is the only home they know.

“I um, I went out to get some food for us while you were passed out.” He’s really good at changing the subject, whether it’s for my comfort or his.

I smile softly. “What did you get?”

“Fruits - strawberries, apples. Stuff to make sandwiches from. I actually-“ he opens up the fridge. “I actually made you one already.”

I raise my brows in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. You should be grateful.” He pulls out a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich.

“Oh, believe me I am.”

I sit at the counter and start to eat. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.

“Iced tea,” he rolls the bottle towards me. “Tried it. Tastes amazing. Think everything tastes good now… we used to boil everything.”

I scrunch my nose and he laughs.

For a moment it feels like there’s no mission, no responsibilities, no problems. Just this. Having lunch at 4am with a handsome, charming man.

“I saw the photos… read your history books. You had a best friend?”

Steve nods. “Bucky. He was all I had. He was my brother. We grew up together, both really hated bullies so we got along. I never had anyone believe in me like he did. He’s saved my life more times that he knows.” He looks solemnly at his hands which are restless. “We were on a mission on the alps and he saved me at the cost of his own life.”

“There’s nothing you could have done for him. You should know that.” I know the look on his face; the look of guilt and regret. The thoughts of I should’ve done more.

He nods though I know it’s still on his mind.

“You’d think after 70 years I’d be over it.”

“Well, it was only a couple of days for you. Technically.”

He smirks in amusement. “Technically.”

“Steve. We should get going…”

“Yeah, gotta follow through your mission, don’t ya?”

We leave the safe house and get into the car Steve stole.

“I have a quinjet in a clearing outside of New York. We can take it and get back to the Red Room.”

I start the engine and I can see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“Who started the war?”

“It’s a war for power so SHIELD did. They take everything. So we stop them. That’s all we know. Digging into the past is forbidden.”

“What will you do when we get to the Red Room?”

“I don’t trust the current powers in charge… Dreykov will know what to do.”

🖤🖤🖤

Was this too fast pace, pls lmk!!

part 2

[happyk44]

The world froze as a dog’s howl pierced the air somewhere behind the Titan’s army. It was too much to hope but Percy called out, “Mrs. O’Leary?”

The enemy forces stirred uneasily. They began to part, clearing a path through the street like something behind them was forcing them to. Soon there was a free aisle down the center of Fifth Avenue. Standing at the end of the block was Percy’s giant dog, a small figure in black armor and a slightly larger figure crackling with electricity.

Percy’s heart stumbled in his chest. “Nico?”

“ROWWF!” Mrs. O’Leary bounded towards him, ignoring the monsters on either side of her. Meanwhile, Nico continued forward. The enemy army fell back as though he radiated death. Jason was at his side, becoming more and more recognizable as he approached. His mouth was matted with golden blood. It stained his skin.

Through the face guard of his skull-shaped helmet, Nico smiled. “Got your message. Is it too late to join the party?”

Percy’s heart skipped a beat as he glanced at Jason, growling low. “I thought Jason was supposed to be doing something else?”

Nico drew his hand up to Jason’s face. “He completed his task in record time.” He turned to Kronos. The tone of his voice was chillingly breezy. “You remember your brother, Grandfather? Krios. Jason eviscerated him just moments ago.”

At the sound his name, Jason turned his bloodstained body to face the Titan still on his chariot.

The shock that slid over Kronos’s golden eyes was almost funny. His lips turned back into an ugly sneer. His hand tightened on his scythe. “Son of Hades,” he hissed. “Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?”

Jason growled. Lightning licked the earth around him. For a moment, Kronos almost looked worried. It sent a shock of confidence through Percy’s core, even as the campers behind him, even as Annabeth at his side, faltered nervously at the sight.

Nico held a hand out. “Your death,” he said, “would be great for me. And as Jason’s already proven, you and your kind will easily perish.”

He withdrew his sword - black as a nightmare. With the motion, the ground rumbled. Cracks appeared in the road, the sidewalks, the sides of buildings. Skeletal hands grasped the air as the dead clawed their way into the world of the living. There were thousands of them, and as they emerged, the Titan’s monsters got jumpy and started to back up.

“HOLD YOUR GROUND!” Kronos demanded. “The dead are no match for us!”

The sky turned dark and cold. Shadows thickened. A harsh war horn sounded. As the dead soldiers formed up ranks with their guns and swords and spears, an enormous chariot roared down Fifth Avenue. It came to a stop next to Nico and Jason. The horses were living shadows. The chariot was inlaid with obsidian and gold, decorated with scenes of painful death. Holding the reins was Hades himself, Lord of the Dead, with Demeter and Persephone riding behind him.

Hades wore black armour and a clock the colour of fresh blood. On top of his ink-black hair was the helm of darkness, a crown that radiated pure terror. Just looking at sent chills down Percy’s spine. It changed shape as he watched: a dragon’s head to a circle of black flames to a wreath of human bones. It reached into his mind, pulling forth his worst nightmares and fears. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. It was only obvious the enemy army felt the same way from the way they were shuffling, only remaining in place by Kronos’s power and authority.

Behind him, Demeter and Persephone were decked in armour as well, though Persephone matched her husband more closely. Where her mother’s armour was as gold as wheat, Persephone’s was blacker than sky. A silver diadem of roses laid across her head. She carried a wicked sharp sword, Stygian Iron like Nico’s, but it glinted bloodred in the sun. In Demeter’s hands, she held a scythe. Something about it made the air cold. Like winter was coming.

Hades smiled coldly. “Hello, Father. You’re looking… young.”

“Hades,” Kronos growled. “I hope you and the lades have come to pledge your allegiance.”

“The ladies?” Demeter snapped. The air within the first few feet of her dropped by several degrees. A light layer of frost rose slid across the pavement under her chariot. “I am your daughter, you body-stealing cretin. This is why I helped kill you last time.”

Persephone grinned wildly. The flowers on her chariot bloomed. “Hello, Grandfather! We’ve never met before, but I’m excited to watch you die!”

Hades’s laugh was chilling to hear. It resounded loud across the air. The enemy army shuddered at the sound. It broke right down into Percy’s veins. Even Kronos stilled. Persephone only beamed wider.

 “I’m afraid we are not here to join your side,” Hades said. “My son here convinced me that perhaps I should prioritize my list of enemies.” He glanced at Percy with genuine distaste. “As much as I dislike certain upstart demigods, it would not do for Olympus to fall. I would miss bickering with my siblings. And if there is one thing we agree on, it is that you were a terrible father.”

“True,” Demeter huffed. There was a cold glint in her eyes. “No appreciation for agriculture.”

“Mother!” Persephone groaned, but Hades’s lips quirked upwards.

Hades drew his sword - the same double-edged Stygian blade Percy remembered presenting to him months before, although now it was complete, etched with silver and haunting. “I will say, I’ve always envied our youngest brother. Watching you die has always been my dream.”

Demeter raised her scythe. “Then we’ve been having the same dream, brother.”

For a moment, a genuine flash of fear showed in Kronos’ eyes. Quickly he steeled himself, snarling, viciously, “I don’t have time for this!”

He slammed the ground with his scythe before either of his children could finish their attacks. A crack spread in both directions. It circled the Empire State Building. A wall of force shimmered along the fissure line, separating Kronos’s vanguard, Percy, and those closest to him from the bulk of the two armies.

“What’s he doing?” Percy muttered.

“Sealing us in,” Thalia whispered. She turned to where Jason was hunched over low to the grounds, hands clawed. “He’s collapsing the magic barriers around Manhattan, cutting off just the building, and us.”

Outside the barrier, car engines revved back to life. Pedestrians woke up and stared uncomprehendingly at the monsters and zombies all around them. No telling what they saw through the Mist, but it had to be plenty scary. Car doors opened. At the end of the block, Paul and Sally emerged from their Prius.

Panic spiked Percy’s chest. “No. Don’t…”

From Sally’s expression, she understood how dire things were. Percy hoped she would have the sense to run, but instead she said something to Paul and began running straight towards him. His voice trapped in his throat. A positive, he didn’t want to cause Kronos to divert his attention to her. But fear clawed its way, ugly and heated, throughout him as he watched her dodge crevices in the pavement and guide Paul around weapons and monsters.

Lightning slammed the earth. Percy snapped to attention, eyes flicking to Thalia then past her at the barrier where Jason had just thrown himself at the barrier. He stumbled back, but, undeterred, threw himself at the barrier again. It was almost enchanting to watch. Winds stormed around him like a mini tornado. Electricity crackled against his skin. With every slam, the sky thundered.

And Kronos seemed that much more worried.

Hades blasted the wall with black energy and roared, “ATTACK!”

The armies of the dead clashed with the Titan’s monsters. Fifth Avenue exploded into absolute chaos. Mortals screamed and ran for cover. Demeter waved her hand and an entire column of giants turned into a wheat field. She spun her scythe towards a group of cowering mortals and blew them out of danger with a blast of winter wind. Persephone laughed, delighted. She changed the dracaenae’s spears into sunflowers. Nico slashed and hacked his way through the enemy. He guarded fleeing pedestrians as best he could. Meanwhile, Sally and Paul continued to run towards Percy, dodging monsters with every step.

“Nakamura,” Kronos said. “Attend me. Giants.” He looked down at Percy and sneered. “Deal with them.”

Then he vanished into the lobby.

For a second, Percy was stunned. He’d been expecting more of a fight. Not a blatant dismal. Like he wasn’t worth the time. Rage hit him like a storm. When the first giant smashed at him with his club, Percy rolled between his legs and stabbed him in the ass. He shattered into a pile of ice shards. The second giant breathed frost at Annabeth, but Grover pulled her out of the way, while Thalia sprinted up the giant’s back like a gazelle and sliced her hunting knives across his monstrous blue neck. 

Outside the magic barrier, Nico was fighting towards Sally and Paul. Hades barked an order at Jason that Percy could barely hear under the thundering fall of the giant Thalia had slaughtered, but whatever he said, had Jason sprinting, faster than light, towards Nico’s side. He grabbed a monster and ripped it apart with his bare hands.

Thalia landed by Percy’s side with heavy breaths. She followed his line of sight and exhaled sharply.

Jason was his own mess of violence. Monsters and friends alike cowered before him. Mortals screamed more in terror at the sight of him than anything else that was happening. Once he reached Nico’s side, he was like a guard dog. He darted around Nico and caught an enemy demigod’s throat between his teeth. Blood spurted as he tore out their jugular, then threw them away with one hand. Their sword clattered to the ground as their body slammed into the barrier.

Thalia’s breath hitched.

Percy was so mesmerized by the horror of a one-man killing machine he almost didn’t notice that his mom had arrived, Paul at her side. Paul grabbed the sword from the demigod Jason had murdered and stabbed an oncoming dracaena in the gut.

“Paul?” Percy said bewildered.

So many things were happening right now - Hades had arrived with reinforcement to turn the tide of this battle, Kronos had just run off, a wolf child was tearing monsters and people with his teeth, Paul had just expertly killed a monster. 

Paul grinned as he turned to Percy. “I hope that was a monster! I was a Shakesperian actor in college! Picked up a little swordplay!”

Percy could’ve laughed, but a Laistrygonian giant was charging towards Sally at top speed. Her bac turned, she was rummaging through the open door of an abandoned police car. Fear vomited through Percy’s mouth as he screamed, “MOM!”

She whirled around, just as the monster was almost on top of her. But instead she cranked the pump and a shotgun blast blew the monster twenty feet backwards, right into Nico’s sword. Enraged, Jason howled and launched himself at the next one, eviscerating it, before quickly returning to Nico’s side. 

“Nice one,” Paul said, a little distant as he glanced down at Jason nervously.

“When did you learn to fire a shotgun?”

Sally blew the hair out of her face. “About two seconds ago. Percy, we’ll be fine. Go!”

“Yes,” Nico agreed. “We’ll handle the army. You have to get Kronos.” He lifted up his sword and grinned. “We got this, Percy.”

“Okay,” Percy breathed as he stepped back, stopped only by Thalia grabbing his hand.

She was watching Jason with wide watery eyes. Nico followed her gaze and shook his head. “He’s fine!” he insisted. “He can handle himself.”

Jason proved as much by shredding an entire group from the enemy army with one decisive wave of his hand. The air pressure slamming down exploded them into bits. An unbothered air rolled about him. He crouched low to the ground and growled.

“He’s fine,” Nico repeated. “Please. Thalia.” She turned to him. “You have to go.”

Percy pulled on her hand. For a moment, she refused. And then, quietly, she went. As Percy ran after her, he called out to Mrs. O’Leary to search for Chiron in the rubble. And as he, Thalia, Grover and Annabeth ran into the building, they paused in the destroyed doorway to look behind them at the war ensuing. Sally was blasting away at monsters. Paul was hacking and slashing. Nico was shouting orders to skeletal soldiers.

And Jason was a force of blinding light, tearing everyone else to pieces like they were nothing but toys to play with.

Thalia shivered. Annabeth and Grover glanced at Percy but he just grabbed Thalia’s hand and turned, racing towards the elevators. They could get into who and what Jason was later.

–

Percy watched his dad walk towards his throne, with an amused grin and little wink. Before she ascended to her throne beside her husband, Hera waved her hand. A simple stone guest chair appeared at the foot of the hearth. Hades brustled past Percy towards it but didn’t sit on it yet, gazing past Percy through the open doorway of the throne room.

With a gentle smile, Hestia glanced up at her little brother. Demeter passed him on her way to the throne and gave a quiet acknowledging nod. Even Poseidon patted his shoulder brotherly before he sat down on his throne. However, Zeus only looked annoyed.

“Do you wish to continue standing, brother?”

Hades rolled his eyes. “I’m waiting for my son. The rest of your brood are here. Only seems fitting mine should be as well.”

A floral scent emerged from nearby. Percy glanced over his shoulder to see Persephone walk in, looking slightly frazzled. She grimaced and mouthed an apology. Behind her, he could hear Nico arguing with someone. The acrid stench of electricity filled everyone’s nose. The other gods paused in what they were doing as Nico approached, his lips thinned. Alongside him, Jason fussed over him. For the most part, he was clean. There were still stains of blood in his blonde hair, but it was gone from his clothes, hands, and mouth. Strangely, he was devoid of any wounds. But he was trying to lick at Nico’s healing cuts and growled every time Nico swatted at him.

He kept walking towards his father, but his footsteps shook with every beat once he passed through the doorway. Attuned to the change, Jason’s posture turned as well. He bared his teeth at everyone they passed by, tensed and angry.

“I’m sorry,” Nico said to his father. “I tried to get him to go home with Persephone but he was refusing.”

As though on instinct, Jason dropped to his butt by Hades’ chair. Hades ignored Nico’s apology to sweep his hair back from his face instead. Then he pushed Nico down by the shoulder. Nico crossed his legs over one another, settling beside Jason who was laying down on the ground, watching everyone else warily, but less tense now that Nico was with his dad. Hades himself sat down.

It was clear he was pretending he didn’t notice Zeus staring down at him in abject horror. A mixture of anger and disgust flustered across his face.

Voice thin, he pushed himself up. “Hades, why do you have my son with you?”

Not looking at him, Hades glanced down at Jason and pet his hair absentmindedly. Jason leaned into the touch, rumbling low in his chest. “I would argue that he is with my son, rather than with me.”

“Jason?” Hera said faintly.

The situation was tense as could be. The air around them all was supercharged. They had just exited one war, and it seemed like another was fast on the horizon. Zeus descended from his throne to approach. A thunderous rage built like a storm in his eyes. Jason tensed, rising up to all fours, beside sliding back onto the tips of his toes. A low growl rolled from his throat, a warning.

Hades’s eyes flickered up to face him. Then he stood quietly and shifted to the side, shielding Nico from view. Percy couldn’t blame him. Zeus had already tried to kill Nico once.

He’d be damned if he tried again.

“He,” Zeus began, quiet and testy, “is not supposed to be here.”

“And yet he is,” Hades mused. “He could be dead, if you’d prefer.”

This time it wasn’t Zeus that spoke, but Hera. “What?”

Hades didn’t turn to her when he responded. His gaze remained firmly on his youngest brother, his stance hardened, protective. “They asked me to help kill him, I offered him a home instead, they accepted, and here we are.”

Zeus laughed, bitter. “They would never-”

“When has a child raised by wolves ever been returned to the human world in a way that doesn’t breed fear?” Hades snapped before Zeus could finish. “A child of yours is no more special than anyone else’s. He was a terror. They wanted him gone.” His voice lowered. “I found it quite funny, actually. All that talk about how my children were a danger to everyone else, best to be culled-” The word stung the air with a tremendous force. “-before they came into themselves, and it was yours who proved to be as such.”

It was so fast, Percy almost missed it. Zeus had raised his hand - to slap Hades or blast him. But Jason threw himself forward in such a blinding rage that Zeus stumbled back. Shadowy tendrils emerged from Hades’s cloak. They snapped forward and caught Jason before he could sink his teeth into his father’s throat, before he could sink his outstretched hands into his father’s bare skin and rip.

To his credit, Zeus had the sense to take a few steps back. Hades clicked his tongue and Jason relaxed. The shadowy leash dispelled as Jason eased backwards, crouched low all the while. His eyes never strayed from his father. He let out a loud snarl, almost like a bark. Lightning glowed across his skin. Faint winds whipped across his hair. His teeth remained bared.

Stay back, he was saying. Or I’ll kill you.

Percy remembered how he’d appeared, covered in golden blood. It was meant to be a thought, kept quiet to himself to speculate aloud later when the situation wasn’t so charged, but instead his seaweed brain faltered and he blurted out, “Who’s Krios?”

Zeus whipped to face him, face reddened with fury, and he wished he’d said nothing at all.

Hades sat down with a quiet laugh. Poseidon clasped his hands together. “He’s our uncle,” he said slowly, as though picking his words carefully.

Percy was content to keep it at that, ready to just get this meeting over with and go home. But Thalia stepped forward, breathing shakily. Zeus looked more pissed off. Thalia ignored him. “Jason killed Krios. How come we didn’t see him do that? Where was he?” She gripped her hands into tight fists and steeled her voice. “Where has he been?”

The gods glanced around themselves. Artemis cleared her throat. “Thalia-”

“There is a Roman camp,” Hades said. Everyone’s gazes snapped to him. Their eyes were wide with shock. Hestia giggled and he grinned at her. Quickly, Persephone crossed the room, glaring briefly at her father, before settling herself on Hades’s knee. “For Roman demigods. Jason is not the son of Zeus. He is the son of Jupiter. Same person, different priorities.”

Zeus’s entire body was trembling now. “You-”

“Me,” Hades agreed. He shrugged. “I always thought it was dumb to separate the two. The problem didn’t come from petty rivalries but the idea that they were different to begin with. I am no better than Pluto and he is no better than me. Jason is no better than her-” He gestured at Thalia. “-and she is no better than him.” He placed his hand on Persephone’s hip, steadying her. “If anything there’s value in the differences.”

Thalia bore no mind to her father’s shaking form. “And the wolves?”

“The Roman children are taught by wolves, by Lupa. Jason was too young, stayed too long. It changed him as it would any child his age. When the camp received him, they couldn’t manage him. They wanted him gone but failed to do so themselves. I was summoned as a next step. I didn’t see the value in killing him. Besides, I quite like dogs.” Thalia bristled but didn’t react. “I did agree to hand him back when requested. 

“While you fought here, they fought their own battle. He killed Krios as requested, and when he was done, he came home.” His lips twitched. “As you can see, he’s quite attached to your cousin, as well as myself and my wife. Refused to stay behind if we were going. Since he’s here, there’s really no sense in hiding his origins any longer. He completed his great purpose, after all, the reason behind his secrecy. And as much as certain people in the room enjoy trying to kill their nephews-” He turned his gaze back to Zeus, voice incredibly bleak. “-I have little interest in killing mine.” He glanced at Percy from the corner of his eye. “Well, it depends on the nephew, I suppose.”

Percy ignored the flash of fear that squirmed in his stomach like flopping fish.

A Roman camp…

He supposed it made some kind of sense. Greco-Roman was the name. Didn’t they go hand in hand, written in and out of each other? And they’d met Janus the year before, hadn’t they? He was Roman, and Percy hadn’t questioned his existence.

“So! Little brother.” Hades leaned forward, gave a roll of his hand. “I believe there were things you wanted to say.”

“Yes, Zeus,” Hestia chimed in. “Please get started.”

Her voice was so soft and kind. Zeus softened with every word. His gaze hardened as he raised it back to Hades, but without further complaint, he rose to his throne and sat back down. Thalia took a step back, exhaling shakily as Zeus called the Olympian Council convened and began his long-winded speech. Persephone smiled from Hades’s lap and ran her hand through Jason’s hair. He laid his chin on Hades’s other knee, keeping a careful watch on Zeus all the while.

A fact that did not go unnoticed by the rest of the people in the room.

–

“So. A Roman camp, huh?” Percy leaned against his cabin wall. “How much do you know that no one else does?”

Nico screwed up his face. “It depends. What do you know?”

Percy snorted and glanced up to where Jason was wandering around, taking everything in. He didn’t stray too far from Nico, constantly looking back to make sure he was there and that Percy, standing a good couple feet away, wasn’t hurting him. Thalia was watching from closeby. Her face was carefully guarded. However, every time she would try to get closer to Jason, he’d snap at her and a flash of distress would cut over her eyes as she stepped back.

Percy sighed. “I don’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine what she’s feeling.”

Before they all left Olympus, Hades had called Thalia to the side and spoke with her. When she returned, she said that he had explained briefly the reality of how Jason had gone missing in the first place.

Why

their mother had abandoned him. Which was news to Percy. After Jason’s introduction during that whole sword quest in the Underworld, Thalia had chosen not to explain anything about him in the aftermath. Percy had thought he’d run away or something.

But no. He’d been abandoned to wolves at two years old. By his mother.

She didn’t go into much more detail, but obviously whatever Hades had told her had hurt her. Instead of following Artemis back to the Hunters, Thalia tagged along with Nico. Then continued to follow them as they chased after Rachel. They all overheard yet another prophecy being written into the stars, ideally nothing for the next century or so, when Percy was long dead and didn’t have to deal with any more godly madness. But in the softening madness, Thalia was hanging back, observing her wolfish brother.

Dinner would be starting soon. Percy wondered if that meant Nico would be taking Jason back to the Underworld. If Thalia would lose her brother for the third time.

“Pain,” Nico said. “And hope.” He fiddled with his fingers. “I didn’t know about the Roman camp until I met Pluto, my father’s Roman form. He prefers Hades, but sometimes, when Jason is too rowdy, they fall into what he would know them as.” Nico chewed his lip. “I don’t think he can tell much of a difference. Mostly because there really isn’t one. It’s not like dual sides, or different aspects, like with Egyptian gods.”

“Wait, Egyptian-”

“I mean, there’s no wild or calm variations. It’s like Dad said,” Nico continued, breezing past Percy and this new revelation with ease. “It’s just slightly different priorities. Pluto is more wealth than my father but they’re both still kings of the dead, in charge of the underworld, owners of all the jewels beneath the earth. They’re both still my father. Same as Jason will always be Thalia’s brother, even if he was born from a different name.”

Percy considered what to say. Then, “I didn’t know you were rich.”

Nico’s lip twitched. “My father’s rich. I’m just his son.”

Percy shrugged. “Well, he’s gotta die some time, right?”

Nico laughed, gently. “He would agree with you on that actually.” Ahead of them, Jason, finished examining the exterior of all the cabins, turned sharply on his heels and began jogging back towards them. “Nothing lasts forever.”

[theblognameistaken]

Y'all, my darling made a crossover fanfic of Percy Jackson and Odysseus the epic, It's good LIKE SERIOUSLY SHOULD READ RN

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55807744/chapters/141686800

[mrsoftthoughts]

One Time, Hazel and Nico tried those haunted mansion attractions that are everywhere at Halloween

The people said it was good, legends said that the house was actually haunted ( even if nobody has seen paranormal activity there in the last 30 years) and the thematic was set up around the 20's and 30's, so why not give it a try?

...

It wasn't boring actually, but also wasn't scary, not even a bit, at least for them, because even the staff end up running for their lives as if they just see a demon or something ( Gods, they swear that even a girl fainted after all that)

Turns out that half of the spoky ass feeling, metal sounds, mirror doing things that it shouldn't be doing, ghostly touch, shadows or lights that seem out of place wasn't meant to be there.

It was all fault of those two presence and their exitement towards the decorations or laughs about how poorly something was retreated

The metal sounds? Just some little cursed jewels that were trying to cach up Hazel as it's princess by any method even if it's with the light that reflects upon it, all because she got excited of see something .

The shadows?? the same as hazel but instead was Nico the one that got excited about something alongside the fact that those things just like to wrap around him.

Ghostly touches? Just some ghost that after decades chooses to do they work, because being lazy in front of his king and the princess who has the approval of their goddess¹??? no thanks, they dont wish to die again.

The mirror and the spoky feeling all around?? Thas just some collateral effect of having two demigods Childs of the underworld around

Oh, and that creepy person that everyone except them noticed, that was staring at the distance or out of the windows??? That was just Alecto, the poor fury once again was doing the non-paid babysitter job for hades.

¹ ( and yeah, how I've said previously at this post melinoe loves Hazel, as everyone should, I'm not changing my mind)

[yonemurishiroku]

Hades, you spoiled Nico.

[sincerelyrushwriter]

On hiatus

Fuck it.

This is no longer okay.

I am in a hole of depression. I have spent a week trying to get out of this hole, but I am too tired now. I hope I will post again someday, but for now, I am done.

Prelude (Underworld Fanfiction) is on hiatus for the first time in 16 years.

And on that note, well done, FF.net Guest Reviewer #800. I call you out for your good work. You found a depressed writer who has spent sixteen years keeping their mental state afloat by writing in a dying fandom, and you set fire to my boat.

Good for you.

I am tagging the hell out of this in case someone sees it and thinks twice next time about leaving a shitty comment, particularly in a fandom that rarely receives them. They do matter. And they will stop people from writing.

[bookish-library]

Yall I am nearly vibrating with how excited I am to explore a concept in "no longer you" and "monster"

Vision: fog machine backstage is working overtime, and it's so thick you can hardly see anything on stage and then as Tiresias starts the chorus BOOM projections appear in/on the fog

[aeoni-sw]

since i have art block, im making use of my lack of art with story :D

So, uh, spills story on your page

Hot tears sting their eyes, trailing down their cheeks as they murmur, "I'm not a monster."

His eyes widened as he sees the first few tears pour down their face. He turns away, muttering, "You are a monster."

"BOSS, I COULDN'T DO ANYTHING I!..."

"Shut up, Boss! Look at Eugene, they're in such a pathetic state!" River interrupts, releasing her chokehold on them to throw her arms up in the air in exasperation.

They cough, stumbling to their knees. They wince, keeling over and curling up into a ball on the floor.

The pair argued with each other, though the sound was muffled, their mind screaming and buzzing in their ear. River whispered something in Boss' ear before untieing Charlie from his robes, wordlessly dragging them out of the room by their neck as they let out muffled cries of help.

Someone puts a hand on Eugene's shoulder. They flinch away from the touch, their shadowy tendrils threatening to attack once more, though they're too weak to do so.

Boss kneels down to the monster, placing a gentle yet firm grip on their shoulder. "You understand that... if you become a monster, you cannot live nor escape and wander around in pain," he states, his other hand lifting up Eugene's chin.

Tears threaten to escape from their wide eyes, though they hold them back from the icy stare from above. "I know," they sigh, then quickly retaliated, "I'd—I'd rather be a... a monster... than to turn a blind eye on a criminal." Eugene stammers like before, an all too familiar feeling flooding their already cloudy thoughts.

"Do you still regret your decision?" Boss questions, to which a silent tear trailing down from Eugene's eye gives the answer.

It feels disgusting to feel Boss' cold aura chill their core, watching them as they can't say anything but cry. "I... I'm sorry... I just—"

They quickly get embraced by the ghost, their head in the crook of Boss' shoulder. He puts a hand behind Eugene's head and wraps his arm around them, shushing them as he pats their head.

"You are my sin son."