#Me when Nico finds solace with Solace

[arley-reads]

*incomprehensible sobbing*

[thaliasthunder]

i hope yall r getting prepared in mass to find a pdf the second tsats comes out really

[death-himself]

Something about Will makes me think he's a huge adrenaline junkie. not the kind to seek out roller coasters and stuff but the kind who does horror movie marathons and loves haunted house attractions

And i feel like Nico eventually found out about this and starts taking him on the most unconventional dates, like it's the full moon one night and he just shadow-travels Will into the center of a haunted forest where he has to use the moonlight to follow a trail of dead rose petals to a clearing where Nico's set up a candlelit dinner or something

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

[leaentries]

shield | nico hischier

summary: nico is very protective of his girl, so when someone hurts her, he takes it personally.

warnings: protective nico, physical harassment, swearing, slight violent themes

wc: 1.6k+

a/n: another 3am nico fic 🕺 this one’s a lil bit heavier than most of my nico fics, but don’t worry! i have some new spicy things coming up!

the captain’s girl masterlist

The bar was jammed. Sweaty bodies pressed into every corner of the bricked building, the heat almost unbearable. A door in the back, propped open was your only solace, serving nicely with the winter air wafting in. Although, despite the sticky air and stench of beer, you couldn’t be happier.

You stood by Nico’s side, practically glued to him, not that he would complain. Nico loved the feeling of your body against his, it brought him comfort knowing you were safely tucked away from the world. He was over the moon, still riding the high of tonight’s win. It was a solid win too. Nico got out with a 3-point night, his ego soaring.

Now, you would never admit this sober, but you loved when he got cocky. The way his body demeanor would change and he would have a special swagger in his step. The sexy smirk that never seemed to leave his face every time his gleaming eyes would settle down to yours. It was almost embarrassing the grasp this man had on you, but you loved every second of it. 

His dark shirt clung tightly to his sweaty body, the heat around you two making a visible impression. 

You sat next to him at a table with some of the team, celebrating their win. Seeing the wide smile on Nico’s face made you want to take everything bad in the world and toss it away. That way Nico could smile forever. 

His arm rested on your thigh, corded with thick veins, squeezed slightly, just as reassurance. You squeezed his hand back. 

“You know, I still can’t believe that Merc just left like that! I was in the middle of talking too. What an ass.”

You looked over to where Jack’s voice echoed. His annoyed face set on where Dawson was talking to some girl near the bar. You felt a chuckle rise in your throat, causing you to shove your face into Nico’s arm in an attempt to smother it. 

Nico looked down at you with amused eyes, “What’s so funny, schatzi?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head, “Nothing much, Neeks. Just Jacky.” 

Nico glanced over his shoulder at Jack, who was still complaining to his, very bored, little brother. He nodded his head slowly in understanding. When he turned back to the table, he noticed your tired eyes. 

“You tired, pretty? You’ve been awfully quiet.” 

This was true, but only because you enjoyed watching Nico so much. To you, that was more entertaining than talking. 

“Yep, I’m all good!” You gave him a big smile. Nico searched your eyes for any insincerity but failed to find any. Accepting your answer, he turned back to Holtz, engaging in a spirited conversation about certain plays during the game. 

After half an hour or so, your drink had finally run out, your empty cup now urging to be filled. You nudged Nico’s arm, gaining his attention. 

“I’m gonna go get a refill,” You shook your empty cup, proving your point. 

His brows furrowed, “Want me to come with you?” His eyes flickered to the large number of people, “It’s a bit crowded over by the bar.” 

You smiled at his concern, but denied his request, “No thank you, baby. I’ll be fine.” 

He hesitantly agreed, placing a kiss on your temple and a quick, “Be careful,” as you left. 

Shimmying your way through the dense population proved to be a lot harder than you originally anticipated, getting bumped back and forth violently. By the time you had reached the bar, you could have sworn you had whiplash.

Quickly flagging down a bartender, you ordered your drink and secured a spot to wait. You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by the obvious male gazes from every direction. You could only hope that one didn’t have the balls to approach you, but alas, luck wasn’t on your side tonight. 

A lean man, of about 5’8, approached you, clearly too inebriated to be thinking correctly. His scruff was patchy and gross, the tell-tail signs of a failed attempt at growing a beard. His red shirt loosely hung on his body, beer wetting the sides of it. At least, you hoped it was beer. He stumbled into the slot beside you, almost on top of you. 

“Hey, sexy. What’s your name?” His voice was grating, not a sultry tone to be heard. You found yourself repulsed by his presence, now desperately wishing Nico had come with you.

“None of your business, but thanks for asking.” You gave him a snide smile, hoping he would take the very obvious hint that you weren’t interested. 

“Whoa, attitude, missy. I just asked your name.”

“And I don’t care.” You rolled your eyes, the strange man not making an effort to leave.

“Damn, if you’re this feisty all the time, I know a much better way to put that mouth to use.”  

Fear pitted deep in your stomach at the dark look on the man’s face. Needing toi escape, you tried to make a move to leave, but he blocked your way, now caging you to the bar top. Your breath picked up in a panic, frantically searching for someone to help. It was far too loud to call for anyone and everyone around you was already preoccupied with their own conversations. 

Deciding to fight back, you lifted your arm to slap the man who was rapidly approaching you. His hand came up to grip your arm harshly, drawing a hiss from your lips as pain spiked through your wrist. Tears sprung in your eyes as you tried your hardest to free yourself from the man’s body. You felt helpless as your voice died in your throat, shutting your eyes tightly.

You prepared yourself for the worst until you felt the man’s weight abruptly leave. Your eyes shot open, seeing a blur of the man get thrown to the ground. The familiar figure of your boyfriend towered over the cowering stranger. 

Nico reached down, gripping the man’s collar, dragging him to his feet, and slamming him against the nearest wall. 

“What the fuck, do you think you’re doing?” Nico’s eyes were ablaze with fury, a hard look resting on his once-happy face. 

“I-I don’t know man,” The stranger was gasping, obviously terrified of the much larger man holding him to the wall, “I was just trying to get some pussy, like every other guy in the bar.” His meek words only fueled Nico’s anger. 

“Don’t you ever fucking touch my woman like that again. Don’t ever touch any woman like that. You’re a fucking pussy.” Nico’s voice was laced with disgust as he spat at the man. Holtz and Jack rushed over, attempting to pull Nico away. He dropped the guy, worry for you now seeping into his clouded mind. 

Nico was by your side within seconds, pulling your shaking form into his arms. He tucked you under his chin, tightly holding you, “It’s okay, schatzi,” He brought up a hand to cradle your head, “You’re okay. I’m here now, Nico’s here.” 

You let out a slight sob, your arms recoiling into your body as you gingerly held your bruising wrist. Nico pulled away, eyes desperately raking your body to determine the cause of your pain. Once his eyes settled on your wrist, he held out his hand, silently asking to inspect the damage.

Nico felt a new wave of anger take over his body, now practically shaking as he tried his hardest to not go beat the shit out of the guy. The man had hurt you. Hurt his girl. If it were up to Nico, that guy wouldn’t be breathing right now, but fortunately for the stranger, murder is illegal. Nico carefully guided your body to the exit, not bothering to bid goodbyes. 

Only once the two of you hit the cold parking lot and the adrenaline started to wear off, did you fully begin to comprehend the severity of what had happened. A fresh batch of tears formed in your eyes,  sobs rapidly pouring from your lips. Your body shook with the pure force of the cries that pierced their way through Nico’s chest.

He immediately pulled you tightly into his body, making sure to be mindful of your wrist. Nico felt his own tears well up in his eyes at your pain. He hated that he couldn’t help you, but he hated even more that he was in the building when it happened and didn’t get to you soon enough.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Nico sniffed, “It’s all my fault this happened.” 

You shook your head against his chest, slightly pulling away to look into his deeply saddened eyes, “No, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control.” 

“I knew I should have gone with you. If I was there then he wouldn’t have hurt you.” He looked away biting his lip as he tried not to cry. His broken voice stabbed your heart. It was gut-wrenching to see Nico blame himself for what that man did. 

“Stop, Nico. It was not your fault,” You held his face gently, forcing him to meet your eyes, “Please, stop blaming yourself. I chose to go by myself, that’s not on you.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you were too quick, “Don’t say anything else. Please, for me? Stop.” 

He nodded slowly as tears silently slid down his cheeks. Nico reached up, carefully cradling your wrist that was near his face, leaning to place a sweet kiss on the black and blue splotches.

 “Let me get you home, schatzi. Wanna take care of you.” 

[fryingpan1234567]

some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

[winters0689]

I sometimes keep forgetting how chaotic the TOA novels are. Apollo is a simp and also being incredibly self sacrificial. Meg being claimed by Demeter and someone calling her a communist due to the symbol being a sickle. Will Solace being able to glow in the dark and Nico being friends with Troglodytes who love hats. Commodus flirting with Apollo in TDP when they met up in the stadium. Apollo being In servitude to Meg, a twelve year old. Apollo also wearing pink camo pants and peeing himself and passing out quite frequently. Apollo’s internal monologues having him loving himself then hating himself (and ain’t that a mood) and Meg just… being Meg. Dionysus calling Apollo ‘Mr A’ and absolutely loving that Apollo got turned into a mortal. Tauri Sylvestres just camping outside Rachel’s home for a few days… just because? Then most likely waiting for Apollo, Meg, Will, and Nico to arrive before they broke loose and began chasing them and Apollo telling Meg to ‘Jump The Cow’. Apollo getting woozy and kissing Nico on the forehead and smelling his hair and Apollo being healed by Mountain Dew of all thing!

There are so many other moments, but to me the absolutely most hilarious and chaotic scene to me (and also happens to be one of my favorite scenes) is when the fight Nero in his tower.

Like, plants are growing everywhere, Apollo is injured and begins muttering for Mountain Dew as Nero is frantically picking up remotes and trying to find the right one as Stayin’ Alive begins playing and TVs begin blasting and I absolutely adore the scene.

Every day I just find more things that I love about these books I swear. I love them.

[sunflowergraves]

When Uncle Rick called Nico di Angelo and Will Solace soulmates, it made me think back to something written in BOO:

"Nico had once read a story from Plato, who claimed that in the ancient times all humans had been a combination of male and female. Each person had two heads, four arms, four legs. Supposedly, these combo-humans had been so powerful they made the gods uneasy, so Zeus split them in half – man and woman. Ever since, humans had felt incomplete. They spent their lives searching for their other halves.

And where does that leave me? Nico wondered.

It wasn’t his favourite story."

I think this is a really important connection. Rick didn't say what he did about Solangelo just to make shippers happy. He's answering Nico's question by saying he's worthy of love. There is someone out there for him despite what anyone says. And by doing so, he is also addressing every queer person out there who also doubts finding love and companionship in a world that so desperately wants to tear them down.

Not only did we get a book where the tragic main character gets a happy ending, but also one that validates every queer person out there. Anyway, that's my TED talk, thank you.

Edit:

Here is the quote that Rick Riordan made during an interview. I'll leave the link to the website in the comments!

[my--moon]

Will Solace Headcanons

• Dolly Parton reminds him of his aunt

• He had like LONG hair when he was younger, his mother called him Rapunzel

• Doesn't like bananas. No reason, just doesn't like them

• Mom friend and dumbass friend

• loves Nico so damn much

• Has never had chick-fil-a.

• His grandma used to take him to the markets and buy him some candy (his mother was always annoyed at that)

• Mama's Boy.

• Every boy or girl he's dated has either been the exact opposite or the exact same as him

• Nico wasn't his first partner and Nico's low-key jealous about it

• On good terms with all his exes (they're friends) Nico hates them tho

• “Why are you nice to them?” “They're nice back :)” “They're your ex tho?” “I respect whoever respects me”

• theatre kid. Mamma Mia! is his favourite and he low-key doesn't like Mamma Mia! Hear we go again, because Donna dies and he loved Donna

• Can recite most ABBA songs perfectly

• Introduced Nico to basic medical knowledge so he can take care of himself incase he's not around

• He has no preference in gender

• Literally he's like: “Girls 🦋🦋 Boys 🦋🦋 Pretty people 🦋🦋”

• He always followed his mother's command: like if his mother's glaring at someone, he glares with her (he doesn't know they exist)

• Percy and him mutually bond over having nerd partners

• Percy and him have a brother dynamic

• Will used to tease Annabeth for being shorter, then she got a growth spurt and he was just like: 😦

• Apollo and Hermes Cabins are actually really nice to each other

• Because Will forced them to be nice

• He's the type of boy to write: “Fuck around and find out” in cursive

• naturally neat handwriting

• Likes his hair long because little demigods play with it and call it pretty

• the Aphrodite girls randomly come into his cabin to spill drama because he loves to listen like: WILL, HOLY FUCK—!

• if he had his phone, he'd save everyone's contacts as “[Name] :)” expect Nico, he saves that as “Darling <3”

• “Loves his boyfriend-core”

• His favourite spider man is Pavtir

• Hates Alpacas. (one bit his hand as a kid)

• Loves tea (with honey)

• Favourite Big Hero six member was always Honey Lemon

[marswritesstuff]

piercings & polyamory

a/n: i know this is totally out of my usual niche but when inspiration hits after literal months you gotta take advantage of it yk yk

content: nico di angelo x will solace x reader, they/them reader, reader is a hermes kid

warnings: vague description of a home done piercing, piercer knows what they’re doing but is not licensed

- nico di angelo is as close to a professional piercer that camp has.

- nico himself is covered in piercings- it seems every body part of his that can be is covered in black and silver, and tiny accents of gold.

- you are, by far, nico’s favorite “customer.”

- he always loves piercing will, but there’s something about the way you wring your hands while he marks out the piercing, something about the way his sheets bunch up in your fists when he pushes the needle through.

- nico gives you five piercings over the course of two years.

- will sits in for number four- it’s not uncommon for him to hang around the hades cabin.

- after it’s done, after nico carefully slides the jewelry into your lip and you grab his hands and thank him profusely, after you press a few drachmas into his hands despite his insistence that he doesn’t charge and close the door behind you, will rounds on nico immediately.

- “you like them!”

- nico knew that, of course, he wasn’t that emotionally unaware.

- however, whenever he imagined his boyfriend finding out about the secret he thought he’d hid so well, he’d never imagined the joy currently in will’s voice.

- nico met his boyfriend’s eyes slowly.

- “is that… okay?”

- will looked surprised for a second before sitting down next to nico.

- “neeks- did we- did we never have this conversation? wait, ok- nico,” will grabbed both of nico’s hands in his. “hi. i’m your boyfriend. i’m polyamorous. do you have something to tell me?”

———

- while you were showing off your new nico-piercing to your cabinmates, the door to the hermes cabin banged open.

- will solace entered, calling your name, and your cabinmates (the traitors) laughed and pushed you towards him.

- your heart sped up- you’d been nervous about will sitting in on the piercing, because you always felt like your suppressed crush on the son of hades was so much clearer when you were sat in his bed, pliable underneath his hands.

- it was in the same way that your feelings for will felt like they were being dragged out of your chest and right onto your face when he softly sings to you in the infirmary after you’re injured.

- will led you to an abandoned corner of the yard, where nico stood waiting for both of you.

- nico started talking as soon as you came to a standstill, not giving you a chance to get a word in.

- “ok, i don’t wanna give you the wrong impression. you don’t have to answer right now, and if you say no, it doesn’t change anything, i’ll keep piercing you just like anyone else, but-” nico gently grabbed will’s hand. “i like you. like, romantically. and will likes you too, also romantically. and we wanna know if… you’d go out with us?”

- will just nodded along, letting nico dominate the conversation.

- that… hadn’t been what you were expecting.

- it wasn’t like the possibility of polyamory with the two had never crossed your mind - it had crossed your mind a lot - but only ever as a fantasy! you had never expected it to become an actual possibility.

- but you weren’t gonna let such a good opportunity pass you by- “yeah! of- of course i’d want that!”

- will’s face broke into a grin, and nico had a small smile.

- “cool,” nico muttered, pink slowly creeping up his cheeks.

- will chuckled and grabbed your hand with his free one. “yeah, cool! now, how about dinner? the three of us?”

[2nd2ndalto]

Broken

Here's something angsty. Will loses a patient. Nico comforts him.

___

“Hey Will? I’m coming in to brush my teeth,” Nico calls, pausing with his hand on the knob of the bathroom door.

The boy in the shower doesn’t answer. Nico opens the door a crack.

“Will?” he tries again.

“Yup. Okay.”

Nico closes the door behind him, hesitating. Will sounds… off. But then, he’s allowed. It’s been an especially rough day. Three new campers arrived around lunchtime, all of them badly injured. Two survived.

Will might want to talk about it later, Nico thinks. He sometimes does, once they’re alone, curled together in Nico’s double bed. Guilty sentences choked out in the dark, Will’s breath against his neck. I should have been able to do more. It’s my fault.

Sometimes Will doesn’t want to talk. Sometimes he just wants to be held, no words exchanged. It’s messed up, honestly, forcing a kid to become a field medic at age ten. But that’s the nature of demigod life.

The worst is when Will doesn’t want to stay the night at all. Sometimes he goes back to his own cabin, sometimes he finds an empty bed in the infirmary. Nico aches at the thought of the other boy keeping his hurt to himself - he only does that when things are really bad - but they’re learning to give each other space.

Nico finishes brushing his teeth, spitting into the sink. His heart swells a bit at the sight of Will’s toothbrush in the cup next to his. A spare, for the many nights Will stays over. They’ve shared a bed for months now, many more months than they’ve actually been together.

The being together - that’s new - fresh and green and blossoming, stolen kisses and fingers twined together. Nico’s well aware that most of the camp probably thinks there’s more than that going on. Let them think what they want. He’s never been happier.

Nico pauses in front of the steamed-up mirror, realizing he hasn’t heard any signs of life from the shower for a few minutes.

“Solace? You okay in there?”

Silence.

“Will?” Nico’s pulse picks up speed.

“I can’t - I feel like I can’t get it off my hands.” Will’s voice is cracked, broken, words choked out between sobs he’s clearly been trying to mask under the running water.

Shit.

“What do you mean? What can’t you get off?” Nico steps closer, one hand pressed to the mottled glass door of the shower, as close as he can get to the other boy.

There’s another long pause.

“Will?” Nico can hear the rising panic in his own voice. Should he go get Austin?

“Her blood,” Will gasps out. “It won’t come off.”

Nico’s heart sinks. Will’s hands had looked clean when he arrived at Cabin Thirteen. Will is notoriously diligent about hand-washing.

Nico keeps a hand pressed hard to the shower door, as if he can offer some modicum of comfort that way.

“Hey. Will, it’s - it’s not real, okay? It’s just - it’s just in your head. There’s no blood on you.” Nico can just make out the form of his boyfriend huddled on the floor. What the fuck is he supposed to say?

He stands there in the steamy little room, helpless, just the heartbreaking sound of Will’s sobs and the rush of the water.

“Will, do - do you want me to get someone?” Nico’s own voice nearly breaks and he frowns, swallowing hard. This is not the time.

“No, don’t.” Will’s answer comes immediately. “I don’t want - please don’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, but - Will, tell me what to do,” Nico pleads. “Please tell me how I can help.” He tries to keep his voice steady, tries not to blurt out, you’re scaring me.

“No. I’m fine,” Will chokes out, and Nico would laugh if it wasn’t all so awful. Will’s always fine, isn’t he? That’s his job. That’s the problem.

Nico can only manage another moment pressed against the shower door before he’s in motion, because gods, he can’t bear another second. All he wants to do is pull the other boy into his arms, soothe him any way he can. Offering platitudes with a door in between them isn’t helping anyone. He spares only the briefest moment for embarrassment before he’s pulling off his pajamas and letting them fall to the floor.

He pauses then, hand on the shower door, because they haven’t ever done this. And though he can’t stand to be separated from Will for the space of another breath, he still needs the other boy to have some say in the matter.

Moving to the bathroom door, he flicks off the lights, plunging the little room into complete darkness.

“Nico?”

Nico stumbles back to the shower. “I’m coming in,” he says, doing his best to hide the way his voice is shaking.

“No, you -”

“Please, Will.” He pauses, fingers tight on the door handle.

There’s a long silence and then, “okay.” Will’s voice is just barely audible over the water.

Nico steps into the steamy little space, dropping to the floor and reaching for his boyfriend in the darkness. His hand finds Will’s shoulder, and in the next second Will scoots into his arms, pressing his face into Nico’s neck, clinging, his body shaking with deep, aching sobs. Nico gathers him in, desperately hoping that maybe if he holds on tight enough he can fix this. One of his bare knees is pressed into the pebbled floor of the shower and one arm bent at an odd angle, but he doesn’t loosen his hold. His own tears fall fast and silent, washed away in the spray of the shower.

It’s several minutes before Will’s tears begin to ease and he takes in a gasp.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I thought I could hold it together. I wanted to see you, but I should’ve -” The words fall out in a rush, desperate, like Will’s trying to push them out before the tears start again.

“Will. Stop. I want to help. I want you here. Please let me help.”

“I don’t think anyone can help me.” Will’s voice breaks again, and he pulls in a gasp, convulsive

“Then let me hold you,” Nico says, trying for sure, steady. He doesn’t think he manages it.

Will doesn’t answer, but Nico thinks he softens a little further into the embrace. He’s pulling in sharp, quick breaths, his shoulders heaving.

“Hey. Breathe with me, okay?” Will nods against his head and Nico closes his eyes, counting, doing his best to calm his own breathing the way Will taught him to do back when he first arrived at camp three years ago. It’s pure relief when he finally feels Will match his breaths, and they spend the longest time wrapped together in the dark under the falling water. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Finally Will’s hold relaxes the tiniest bit and Nico pulls back enough to kiss him, desperate, again and again. It’s not heat, not passion, just love. Wrenching, bone-deep sadness for the other boy. He cradles Will’s face tenderly and Will kisses back just as hard, melting into it. They finally part, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you,” Nico tells the other boy. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but he tries to pour his whole heart into the words, this time.

“I love you too,” Will whispers. “You - I - I’m such a fucking mess. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m too much, I know I am, you shouldn’t have to deal with this, I just don’t want to lose you -”

Nico’s stomach twists. “Will, what?” He pulls back enough to look Will in the eye, though it’s really too dark to see anything but the vaguest silhouette.

“I don’t - I can’t -” Will’s voice breaks again.

“You are not gonna lose me, okay? Is - is that what you’re saying? You think I’ll leave when I realize what - how fucked up you are?” he asks, incredulous.

Will doesn’t answer.

“Will.” He pulls the other boy closer again, rubbing his back, his shoulders, anywhere he can reach. “Will I already know who you are. You’re not - I already love you. I know who you are and I love who you are, okay? All of you.”

“Are you sure?” Will gasps out between hiccuping sobs.

“Yes, you idiot,” Nico half-laughs. “I can’t believe you thought you were hiding anything from me.”

Will laughs too, a short, relieved sound.

“Idiot,” Nico repeats softly, sliding his hand into Will’s wet hair, stroking. He rocks them back and forth as best as he can until Will’s breath starts to settle again.

“I’m sorry I made you get in the shower,” Will murmurs.

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Nico says. “Now. Just hold on. Don’t move.”

He rises carefully, cautiously feeling around on the shelves in the shower stall until his fingers encounter what he’s looking for.

“Here.” Nico sits back down. “Give me your hand.”

Will does, and Nico takes the other boy’s hand between both of his, soaping carefully over each of his fingers, then reaching for the nail brush, gently, methodically scrubbing around Will’s nails.

“Nico.” The other boy’s voice is soft, sorry. “You - you don’t have to. I know there wasn’t really blood, I just -”

“I know you know,” Nico says, continuing his gentle scrubbing. He sets down the nail brush after a moment, turning Will’s hand to the spray of the water, carefully washing off the soap. “Give me your other hand,” he instructs, quiet, and Will does. Nico thinks he can feel some of the tension drain from Will’s body along with the water and soap. He carefully washes Will’s arms, up to his elbows, soaping, rinsing. He can’t see what he’s doing, but he imagines he can, running his fingers tenderly over freckled skin, soft blond hair. Firm muscle, familiar scars.

Will sighs. Nico finally brings Will’s hands to his face, pressing kisses to the back of his hands, then his palms. He leans in to press his lips to Will’s forehead.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. Will nods, taking a shaky breath.

“I’m gonna get the shampoo,” Nico tells him. He’s not sure how much cleaning Will managed to do before Nico entered the shower, but Will doesn’t protest, just sits there quiet and compliant as Nico carefully shampoos his hair and rinses, then reaches for the conditioner. He touches the other boy with all the care and love he deserves, hoping Will can somehow soak it up in these moments, that maybe it will help him in harder moments tomorrow. Nico massages the conditioner through Will’s wet curls, fingers careful on his scalp, finishing with a wet kiss to each cheek before leaning back, guiding Will into the spray of the water.

They hold each other afterwards, still sitting on the floor of the shower, until the water starts to cool. Will is quiet, his breath slow and even. He must be exhausted, Nico thinks.

“I’ll grab towels,” Nico says, standing and pulling the door open. “I’m gonna turn the light on, okay?”

He quickly dries off, wrapping a towel around his waist. The shower door opens and Will’s hand reaches out. Nico pushes a towel into his grasp and Will emerges a moment later, similarly wrapped. His gaze flickers to Nico and then back to his bare feet, his eyes puffy and red.

Nico can’t imagine he looks much better himself. He steps forward, winds his arms around Will’s neck. Will lets out a long sigh as he returns the embrace, his hands warm on Nico’s bare skin.

Nico pulls back after a long moment, reaching for another towel to rub over Will’s shoulders, his chest. He lets his fingers linger over Will's tattoo, then carefully presses his hand to the other boy's chest. Warm, damp skin, steady heartbeat. He glances up to meet Will’s eyes. The intensity in the taller boy’s gaze makes Nico want to cower a little, but instead he rises on his toes, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s lips.

“Hair,” Nico instructs, raising the towel to Will’s head, and Will ducks his head so Nico can reach. “You’re so fucking tall,” he complains under his breath, hoping for a smile.

He gets a half-one at least, Will’s eyes welling a bit with the action.

“Thanks,” Will says, his voice hoarse.

Nico shrugs. “Any time. How many times have you put me back together, Solace?”

Will swallows, nodding mutely.

Nico gazes at him. He looks particularly vulnerable, barefoot and towel-clad in the little bathroom. Tired. Defeated. It makes Nico's heart ache.

“I’m glad you came here,” Nico says.

Will nods. “Me too,” he whispers.

“You’re staying, right?”

It’s weirdly not awkward at all, both of them standing here in this tiny room in only towels. Nico can feel an echo of warmth - Will’s bare skin pressed to his own. It’s just comfort. It’s just them. He wants them both to curl up inside the feeling and forget everything else.

Will glances away. “I don’t know.”

Nico’s heart drops.

“I should - I should probably… I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have nightmares. I don’t want to bother you with that.”

Nico scoffs. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Will won’t quite meet his eye.

“Hey.” He grabs Will’s hand. “Do you really need some space? Because I get it if you do. But if you want to stay - I want you here. I don’t need any space from you right now, nightmares or not. I’m gonna wrap around you like velcro and cuddle you all night,” he threatens.

Will smiles, a real one this time. “Okay. That sounds nice.”

Minutes later Will joins him in bed and Nico tucks them both in, cozy under pajamas and blankets. Will curls into him, tucking his head under Nico’s chin the way he only does when he’s feeling particularly broken. Nico holds tighter.

“Do you… do you wanna talk about it?” Nico asks after a long moment.

There’s a pause and then Will shakes his head.

“Okay. That’s okay,” Nico murmurs. At least he’s here.

“Hey,” Nico says after a long silence, nervous. The thought has been lingering on the edges of his mind, and he suddenly realizes he wants to get the words out before they both succumb to sleep. “You, um. You remember when I went to see Reyna last week?”

“Yeah?”

Nico presses his face into Will’s damp curls. “She um. She started seeing like… a therapist. In New Rome.”

Will doesn’t answer, but there’s a certain tension in his body that tells Nico he’s listening.

“She said it was really helping her, and she thought - well. She thought it might be good for me to try that. Too.”

Nico hasn’t allowed himself to think about it too deeply. The prospect is terrifying, honestly. But maybe something does need to change. Maybe he and Will can do a bit better than spending the rest of their lives patching each other up.

“And what do you think?” Will asks. Nico can feel the words breathed out against his sternum, the movement of Will’s jaw.

Nico lets out a soft laugh. “I - I dunno. It sounds… kind of awful, actually. But I was thinking maybe… maybe I should… look into it.”

There’s a long moment of quiet.

“If you go…” Will says eventually, soft, “maybe… maybe you could tell me how it is.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Well, I guess I’m going to therapy, Nico thinks to himself.

Nico shifts a bit, tries to make them both a bit more comfortable. He tucks his nose against the crown of Will’s head.

“Look,” he murmurs, because he wants to make sure he made himself clear, earlier, “it’s always cool if you need space, okay? But don’t stay away because you think you’re too much for me. You’re not. We can be fucked up together. Or we can take turns. Whatever. I just wanna love you.”

Will nods. “Okay,” he says, his voice breaking just a little.

Will falls asleep almost immediately, his breath slow and steady against Nico’s chest. Nico’s mind spins for a while longer before it finally settles into the now-familiar comfort of the boy in his arms, their shared breath, the smell of Will’s hair.

He wishes he could do more for Will. None of this is easy. But they’re here. And they’re together. And maybe that’s enough for tonight.

___

Thanks for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated and I love reading the accompanying tags - I never know how to respond to comments in tags, but I do read them & appreciate you taking the time to write them <3

[thaliasthunder]

does these two remind you of someone.......☀️💀

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

It was 6 in the morning when Nico received the phone call from Lou Ellen.  

"Whaaaat" 

"It's Will, Nico. He's in a coma" 

The words crashed into him like a tsunami. Fear and worry made a home in his chest 

"Where are you?"  "Hospital"  "… what?"  "Ambulance go there before I could call anyone. And our chariot crashed bad, it's basically disintegrated" 

"I'm going to wake Jason and Kayla and meet you there"  "Can you get Annabeth and Cecil, too?"  "Why?"  "Annabeth 'cause I'm gonna need brains here. Cecil because- just- because"  "Fine. Where?"  "Carra Hospital, Room 304, I'll send you a picture"  "I'll be there in 10"  He hung up  

Waking everyone up was… mixed.  

All Jason and Kayla had to hear was 'Will' and they got up immediately. 

Cecil only came when she heard Lou was there. 

Annabeth insisted they take along Piper and Percy. 

So it was a party of seven that turned up in room 304. 

Cecil wrapped Lou in a hug from behind as Lou talked to Annabeth, who was holding Percy's hand. Kayla and Piper went to see if they could charmspeak a nurse to bring another IV for the nectar Kayla had brought, and Jason went along just in case there were monsters. 

Leaving Nico standing by Wills bed, staring at his wounds. 

He counted each and every nick and scratch on Will's face and arms (37) and took in the propped up, bandaged leg. 

Suddenly he couldn’t bear to be so far away from Will.   He climbed into the bed and tucked himself between Will's side and arm, nesting his head on Wills chest, closed his eyes and let the tears come 

~*~ (Will) 

It was dark 

He felt around 

There was a fuzzy silence  

He couldn't remember anything 

Except that he was a boy 

Chink 

He looked up. Something, a piece of light hung in the air. He touched it. 

"Boy"  "7 boys, two girls"  "Hey, boy-o" 

Oh. 

These were memories. 

So he had to piece himself back together. 

He could do that. 

He will do that. 

Chink 

Another shard of light, right next to the first. 

"Will"  "Hi, Will"  "Will?"  "William!" 

His name was Will 

There was solace in knowing his own name 

Chink 

This time, only one voice rang out 

"Solace"  The voice sounded annoyed, slightly raspy with a slight Italian accent.  

This time it was accompanied by a picture. 

Two dark brown eyes, so big and beautiful, yet so dark and knowing they looked like they were staring into your soul. 

The image hung in the air, away from the other chinks of light. Like the beginning of a picture. One he would figure out. 

~*~ (Nico)     

"Should we wake him up?"  "Nah, leave him. You know he can't live without his Will"  "What if he never wakes up, though?"  "He will. He has to. Besides, Nico wouldn't let him die"  "But-"  "No buts. We'll contact Hades, Hypnos, Apollo, anyone that can help. We're not losing him" 

Nico drifted in and out of sleep, not wanting to confront the waking world, but scared of the nightmares that threatened to take him. 

Finally he opened his eyes to find Jason sitting in the visitor chair. 

"Hey, Neeks."  "What time is it?"  "A little past-"  He checked his watch 

"- one in the afternoon. Listen, we're gonna get Will outta here."  "how?"  "Piper'll be here in a few minutes with the van, Kayla and Annabeth. She's gonna charmspeak him out." 

Nico looked down at Will and grabbed his hand.  "We're getting you out of here, Will. So don’t you dare go dying on me."    ~*~ 

My name is Will Solace  I am 17 years old  I am one of Apollo's children  My home is Camp Half-Blood  I'm a doctor, medic, head councilor 

I have siblings, family, friends.  And I will get out of here. 

~*~ 

"Careful!"  "We are being careful!"  "… sorry" 

They loaded Will into the back of the van 

Piper had, quite literally, worked like a charm. Within ten minutes they had Will on a transportable gurney and out the hospital. 

It was a silent drive back to camp 

~*~    He'd done it. 

The door was nearly complete. A door of light, of memory. The chinks of light had formed the rectangular shape as he'd gathered more and more information. 

All that was missing was a doornob. 

The picture was done too. 

A picture of a boy with raven black hair framing milky white skin and big brown, almost black eyes. Dressed in a leather jacket with ripped black jeans and a black shirt that read Camp Half-Blood 

But it felt wrong. 

Like there was something missing. 

The boy's name. 

He began looking though the memories of the door, each piece a word with memories attached to it. 

Then he remembered. 

There was one that only had one memory attached 

Maybe it was longer? 

Hesitantly he touched it. 

"Solace" 

Silence. He waited  "Fine." The Italians voice again. 

"There we go. See, it wasn't so hard, was it?" His own voice now.  "But just three days, you hear me?"  "Sure, unless I need to keep you longer"  "Solace, I swear-"  "C'mon, Neeks."  "Do not call me that"  "Alright Death Breath-"  "Or that"  "Zombie Lord?"  "Absolutely not. It's Nico, full stop"  "Alright, Sunshine"  "… that's okay too, I guess" 

Ding 

The picture of the boy - Nico - suddenly seemed vibrant, alive. 

And the door had a doornob. 

Hesitantly he reached for it. 

Back home. 

Back to Nico 

If there was any chance the son of Hades could love him back. 

~*~ 

It had been a week since Will had gone under the coma. 

Five days since he'd been moved to the infirmary 

Jason had given up on trying to get Nico to leave Wills bedside, except to shower every so often. 

So it was just Will and Nico and silence. 

Silence that was broken with a raspy voice coming from the bed 

"Nico?" 

Nico looked up into Wills brilliant blue eyes that were open and he was awake. 

A sob wrenched from his throat and he flung himself into Wills arms. 

"Hey, Sunshine. How long has it been?" 

Nico sniffed and buried his head into Wills shoulder. 

"A week"  "oh."  Nico sniffed again and looked up into very much open celeste blue eyes  "But your back now, right?"  "Yeah, Sunshine. I'm right here. And I always will be." 

~*~ 

[mediumgayitalian]

The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.

[leaentries]

Sauna | nico hischier

summary: a little dose of a cabin vacation with nico and his girl

warnings: smut (18+), breast-worship, boobjob, nico being obsessed with reader's tits, swearing

wc: 2.4k+ (holy balls)

a/n: ngl i felt naughty writing this. this might, arguably, be my fav smut ive written thus far.

Sunlight beamed through the flowing curtains in your and Nico’s room. You stirred slightly, the light waking you from your deep slumber. Taking a moment to fully comprehend your surroundings, you roll over, expecting Nico to be lying in his usual spot beside you. Upon feeling the cold, empty sheets, you peek one eyelid open. His phone was missing from the nightstand, along with his running shoes that typically find home by the closet door. You dig your head deeper into the soft pillow, more at ease now that you know Nico must have gone for an afternoon run.

His scent still lingered on his pillow, bringing comfort to your senses. Your breath slowly evens back out, slipping back into your sleepy state. It wasn’t long before you were awoken once more, this time to the sound of the front door closing. Still too tired to react, you remained cuddled into Nico’s pillow. Nico, on the other hand, was less stoic. His chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath from the run. Sweat glistened on his toned skin, as he pulled the bottom of his shirt up slightly to wipe his face. 

The water bottle on the counter served as a solace to his worn body. After chugging down the cold liquid, he placed the bottle in the sink, remembering to rinse it out. He began to walk back to your bedroom, tugging off the sticky shirt that clung uncomfortably to his body. He threw the shirt into the laundry hamper, thankful that your rented cabin came with a washer and dryer. A soft smile made its way onto Nico’s face as he saw you clutching onto his pillow. He quietly walked over to you, unaware that you were awake. You felt the bed dip beside your head, as he bent down to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you, schatzi.”

You waited until he moved from the bed to peel your eyes open. With the sun almost completely set, the light didn’t give your eyes a hard time adjusting to the room this time around. Nico’s firm back muscles contracted as you watched him get ready to take a shower. You admired the way his body moved, the ripples in his semi-sweaty skin. It made your thighs clench together as a familiar heat crept its way over your body.

“I can feel you watching me.” Nico echoed over his shoulder. You sat up in surprise, furrowing your brows in confusion. 

“Wha- How? I was pretending to be asleep.” 

Nico chuckled before turning to walk back over to where you had your legs draped over the side of the bed. 

“You’re not as sly as you think you are, schatzi. You were literally smiling when I came over to kiss you.” He placed his warm, calloused hands on your soft thighs, gently caressing the skin underneath. Nico tilted his head as he looked down at you, “Did you have a good nap? You slept for a while.” 

You leaned your head into his bare chest, nodding at his question.

“Mhm. Although it would have been better if my boyfriend was beside me when I woke up.”

Nico moved his hands to cradle your face, “I told you before we even layed down that I was going for a run.” He kissed your nose, causing you to scrunch it slightly, “It’s not my fault you decided not to listen.” 

You rolled your eyes in return, shoving his body away playfully. “Well, sorry for loving you and wanting to be around you.” 

His head leaned back with laughter. He grabbed your arms, circling them around his waist as he walked in between your thighs. “I know, it’s a hard life you live, baby.” He mocked with fake sympathy. 

A deep sigh left your lips at his teasing, “Whatever, Hischier.” 

He pouted at your scowl, “Aww, don’t do that face. You know I hate it when you do that face.” His hands began to lightly jab into your sides, tickling you in the process. You tried your best to act mad, but the bubbling laughter escaped anyway. 

"S-stop!” You tried your best to refute his attempts but to no avail.  “Oh no. Not until you say sorry for calling me Hischier. That is not my name to you, liebling.”

You shook your head violently, refusing to give in to him. “Over my dead body, Hischier.” Nico abruptly halted his attack on your body, opting to grab your wrists and pin them above your head. With you now under him, he leaned over your soft figure. His face was so close to yours that you feel each small breath leave his lips. 

“Are you sure you want to go down this road, baby? I wouldn’t advise it.” His loose threat fell on deaf ears as all you could focus on was the way his body pressed deliciously into your own. Nico wasn’t oblivious to the way you reacted to him, he easily picked up on the way your breath hitched and your thighs clenched around his waist. 

Still choosing to challenge him, you shoved your chest further into his, “Try me.”

The Swiss boy’s resolve snapped as he crashed his lips feverishly into your own. Your arms remained pinned above your head as your nails dug into Nico’s hands. The kiss was hot and desperate, filled with equal need between the two of you. 

Nico began to trail his lips down your jaw, no doubt leaving red marks to find later. He traced his tongue down the column of your throat, stopping just as he got to the base, focusing on the spot just above where your “13” necklace lay.

Fuck, did he love that dainty chain. It was a way to show everyone that you were his. Only his.

Lifting his head, he brought his bruised lips back to your swollen ones, placing a much softer kiss on them. He chuckled as you attempted to chase his lips when he pulled away.

Your chest heaved as Nico brought your wrists back down, rubbing soothing circles into them, finishing with placing a kiss to each. “Neeks,” You croaked, “Why’d you stop?” 

Nico flashed his dimples sweetly at you, “Because I think it’s time to get in the hot tub.” With that, his warm body left yours, quickly making work to change and walk out to the balcony of your room. You remained on the bed, regaining your composure before also changing and joining Nico in the hot tub. 

Nico watched as you walked out of the door, drinking in your bathing suit and thrown up hair. As you turned back from sliding the door closed, you noticed Nico’s dark eyes bore over your body. You couldn’t help but get shy. You quickened your pace to the tub, carefully climbing in with the hockey player’s assistance. You sat across from him, draping your legs into his lap as you sunk lower into the hot water. 

Nico’s hands came to rub tight patterns into your feet, “Feel good, schatzi?” 

You nodded eagerly, closing your eyes to relish in the bliss.

You and Nico partook in light conversation, before ultimately deciding to move to the sauna next to the hot tub. Now, the sauna wasn’t very big, with just enough space to fit 2-3 people max. Once Nico had helped you out and down the tub’s stairs, he led you into the already-preheated wooden structure.

“Planning to get me in here, Hisch? Wanna get me all sweaty, huh?” You sent him a coy smile. He rolled his eyes with a slight grin. 

“Again with that name. You know, baby,” He backed you slowly until your legs hit the warm wood bench behind you, “I can think of other ways to help us work up a sweat other than this sauna.” His eyes swept down your figure once more, licking his lips. His gaze was almost primal. 

He gripped your hips, switching positions with you, enticing a gasp from you. You grabbed onto his biceps for support, looking into his deep brown eyes. “You gonna show me, or what?” 

A wicked smile formed on Nico’s face. He sat down, pulling your weight to straddle his lap. Your skin already easily sticking to his as the heat began to affect you both. You brought your hands to tug into his shaggy hair. 

Nico’s lips began to attack your neck, making sure to pay extra attention to the spots he left earlier. His hands traveled up the expanse of your back, moving to untie your top. Thankful to be rid of the uncomfortable material, you threw it to the side as your breasts were displayed in full view. 

“Oh, fuck.” Nico mumbled. The feeling of his hardening cock pressed into your clothed core. He brought one hand to your left breast, tweaking your nipple into a peak. Lowering his head, he took the bud in his mouth, swirling his tongue in skilled circles. His other hand came to cup your other tit firmly. 

“Neeks,” You whined loudly. Your eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through your body. Unable to hold back, you began rocking your hips into Nico’s, causing a low groan to escape his occupied mouth. The vibrations on your nipple created jolts of fire straight to your aching cunt.

He switched his attention to your other painfully peaked nipple, taking it gratefully in his mouth. “Such pretty tits, schatzi,” He muttered into your boob, “All f’me.” 

A pathetic moan echoed from your lips as you threw your head back. The feeling of Nico’s throbbing cock made you drool. Nico lifted from your breasts, moving back to your lips. It was messy, filled with need and clashing teeth. He swallowed the whimper that left your lips as your sensitive nipples brushed against his chest.

You began to squirm, wanting something more, wanting to help the tightness in Nico’s shorts. “Neeks,” You mumbled into his lips, “Wanna make you feel good.” 

He pulled away, breathless from your make-out. His spit-covered lips were red and swollen as his chest rapidly rose and fell. 

“Yeah?” Nico cocked his head to the side, “Ya wanna make me cum, beautiful?”

You let out a desperate noise, nodding embarrassingly fast, but you didn’t care. Not in that moment, not when Nico looks so fucking good covered in sweat and your spit coating his lips.

“Alright, schatzi, get on your knees f’me.” You obliged immediately, placing your hands on his knees. You peered up at him through your lashes, ready to please him in any way he wanted. 

Nico struggled to create a coherent thought at the sight of you on your knees with your tits rubbing against his legs. He swallowed harshly, trying not to bust in his shorts before you’ve even touched him.

“I want you to squeeze those gorgeous tits together, kay?”

You didn’t reply, only removing your hands from his knees to push your plushy breasts tightly together. Nico almost whined at the amount of cleavage you had, wanting nothing more than to bury his twitching cock between them. 

“Holy, fuck me.” He cursed, “So pretty, baby. I need you to scoot a bit closer to me, right in my legs.” Nico patted his lap as he spread his legs to accommodate your body. He pulled his shorts down until his cock popped up tall and proud against his bare abdomen. It was visibly red and leaking precum as Nico spit in his hand a slowly pumped himself. 

He shuddered in his grasp, aching to be in your breasts. At this point, you had caught on to what Nico wanted as his hungry gaze never left your cleavage. You thanked the gods silently that you were in a steaming sauna, your sweat mixed with Nico’s precum and spit serving as a lubricant.

As soon as you lowered your tits onto his cock, Nico was gone. His head hit the back of the wooden wall, eyes clenched shut. You began to move up and down, letting a trail of spit leave your mouth and drop onto his swollen tip. With the extra slick, you squeezed harder, quicking your pace. 

A loud moan left Nico’s lips as his hips began to buck up into you. “Shit, baby. So good, f’me.” He let out another guttural moan, “That’s it, just like that. Always know how to make me feel good.” 

Encouraged by the praise, you tilted your head down, letting his tip dip into your mouth with every upward thrust. With the added suction, Nico knew he wasn’t gonna last long. His hips lifted off of the bench as he desperately fucked your tits. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, schatzi,” He panted, “I’m so close. Gonna let me cum all over those pretty tits like the good girl you are, right?” 

You bit your lip at the sight of his fucked out face on the edge of his climax. “Mhm, cum for me, Neeks. I want you to cum for me.” You rasped. The burning sensation in your arms increased, but the look on Nico’s face was worth it. His muscles contracted as his body began to converse. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, coating your breasts and lower face. His head was thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing violently as he came. 

His hands gripped the bench, veins popping deliciously, making you want to trace them with your tongue. You continued to slowly pump his shaft until every drop of cum was milked from the tip. Nico hissed as overstimulation began to set in. You gently released your breasts, his softening cock falling out. 

Nico sat for a moment with his eyes closed, catching his breath. 

“You’re so amazing to me. You have no idea” He finally broke the silence. You chuckled slightly, not moving much due to the cum still dripping from your face and breasts. Nico readjusted his shorts, pulling them back on. “I’m gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, baby. Stay here.” 

You shook your head, “Right, like I’m gonna go anywhere with your cum covering my body.” You remarked. 

Once Nico came back with a warm, damp towel, he gently wiped down your body. The brunette placed a sweet kiss on your lips, showing his love for you. He picked up your bathing suit top, handing it to you. As you began to put the ties back around your back, his hand came up to stop you. 

“I wouldn’t bother, schatzi. We aren’t done yet.” He nipped at your neck once more, “It’s your turn now.”

[aphroditeinthesea]

can you do a solangelo fic please? where maybe will comforts nico after a nightmare?? (just a prompt if you wanna do anything else that’s great too I just want solangelo) thank you!

“ hold on to this lullaby ”

nico di angelo x will solace 💀☀️

will finds comfort after a nightmare

i haven’t read trials of apollo or the sun and the star so i hope this makes sense??? also i added a little twist to the original prompt

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Last thing Will knew was that he had said goodnight to Nico and made his way into cabin 7. So he couldn't figure out why he was now in an overly crowded infirmary. Every bed was filled with a dying patient and whenever he healed one, another appeared in the same bed. It was just endless work and nothing and no one was improving.

He went into a full panic when he saw an all too familiar face in the bed. Lying there half dead was Nico Di Angelo. He was freaking trying to cut bandages but found that he just couldnt get his hands to even move. In fact, his entire body wasn't moving, he had to stya completely still and watch his boyfriend slowly die in front of him.

“No, no, no!” he exclaimed as he saw one last breath come out of the boy. His felt his voision get hazy until he was lying on the floor, completely shell shocked.

But now, he was sitting in his bed in his cabin. He looked around at the darkness surrounding him in the night. He let out a deep sigh, knowing that everything had just been a dream. But he still couldn't shake the fear he felt as he remembered the last part of the dream. Nico. How was he meant to get back to sleep after what he had witnessed? Witnessed being used lightly. After all, he had to remind himself that it was just a dream. But what if it meant something?

It wasn’t often that Will found himself so uneasy about something like this, even when he did have nightmares, it wasn't too hard for him to fall back to sleep. He didnt know why now was different. He could only decide on one reason.

He soon found himself sneaking out of his cabin. He quietly closed to door behind him and walked on the dewey grass to cabin 13. He couldn't tell what time it was as the sky was still dark and stars were up. He assumed it must have been at least three in the morning. -

He finally reached the cabin, stepping inside softly, trying not to wake up Nico.

“Will?” He heard whispered.

He froze and shut the door, “hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he spoke. He began moving to now be sitting at the end of the bed, “just had a nightmare.”

Nico made room next to him for Will to lie down. He laid his head on Nico’s chest, feeling the comfort of the sound of his heartbeat. It was the same routine they always went through. Although, normally the roles were reversed. Everyone knew how often the son of Hades had nightmares. No one batted an eye when Will would be missing from cabin 7, or even at times when Nico would wake up in Will’s bed.

He wrapped his arms around the blond, “do you wanna talk about it?”

He hesitated, “yeah, I, uhm, I was in the infirmary,” he breathed. He explained the rest of the dream. The neverending patients, the way his hands froze, and the death.

“Oh,” Nico sighed. He combed his fingers through Will’s hair, not knowing what else to say.

Will understood, letting himself close his eyes. His mind and anxieties had finally cleared. His breathing steadied and he spoke again, “it was the last part that got to me the most.”

“Really?”

He breathed out a laugh, “yeah, Neeks,” he paused, “there was nothing I could do, and I just had to…” he couldn't finish as the images flashed through his mind.

“I get it,” Nico whispered. He pulled Will closer to him, “love you, tesoro.”

The son of Apollo felt himself begin to drift off, “love you, too.”