#do you think he looks at nico and cannot no matter how hard he tries combat the intense guilt that runs through his veins

[happyk44]

Nico’s love for Percy vs Percy’s guilt over Bianca

[blurrycow]

Whumptober day 6: screams from across the hall

yeah I actually love this one. Hello solangelo fandom

tagging @italian-wall-lizard hi hi Ray! Some nice angsty content for you

Nico wakes in the infirmary. 

Again.

Down the hall, someone screams.

Nico looks to the left of him, although really it’s the right of him. There’s a camper, a new kid, maybe twelve? Or fourteen? 

What time is it? A quick scan of his surroundings tells him that it’s eleven fifty-six, almost midnight. 

The kid next to him cries for home, and Nico feels it deeply in his soul.

The screams from down the hallway indicate that someone has died. 

And then there is Will. Will, showered in blood and flowers, Will, bearing the weight of these corpses. 

Will knows he cannot save anyone else, but he still sinks down on his knees, covering his face and his head although that might protect him from the ghosts who tear at his voice. 

Why can’t you save us, they cry. I would have survived if you weren’t useless. 

Will wants to scream. Don’t you think I know that?

There is blood on these hands, the insides of people he could not save, spilled over his feet and fingers in a gruesome puddle. His nails, trimmed and rounded neatly, are stained and caked with a gory shade of vermillion that he cannot get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

He’s not a fighter, he can’t save people. His only talents only hurt people. 

Nico sees this; the boy sinking to the floor, crushed by the painful weight of bearing everyone’s lives on his shoulders. He slips out of the cot, bare feet brushing the cold tile, and treads over to him, sitting criss-cross in front of him. 

“Hey,” he says, softly, so softly, like he might scare off a baby deer. Will blinks at him. His eyes are so blue. “Are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question, guaranteed a stupid answer. Will is so clearly not okay. But Nico brushes his thumb against his jaw, so light, so gentle, and he melts into it, like a cat warmed in the sun, coming home. 

And Nico will gladly bear the privilege of being his home.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Will murmurs in place of reply, soft, soft, soft. 

“You shouldn’t be down,” Nico counters lightly. 

“There’s nothing either of us can do,” Will says. “They’re all going to die eventually. I might as well be the cause of it.”

“That’s the worst way to think ever,” protests Nico, and Will shrugs. “Hey. Do you- do you want a hug?”

He hesitates a second. Nico is about to get up and give him a hand, but then he says, “Yeah, that would be nice, actually.”

Will hates asking for things. He’s supposed to be helpful, healing, always reliable, not the person who needs anyone else. Any favors to him pose a burden. 

Nico’s only wish is to help him carry that burden, and then eventually, they might be able to cast it somewhere else. 

He stands and offers Will his hand, who laces it in his blood-tinted own. 

From afar, it could just be paint. 

But then you look closer and see the thinness of it, how easy it smudges. It’s not crusty. It might wash off, but the stains leave imprinted scars forever. 

“I should go,” he says, and Nico nods. Will looks towards the door where there had been screaming. 

The screams across the hall have stopped. 

[ghosttotheparty]

angel

AO3 // 10,644 words

Nico has a crush on Will Solace.

He’s not happy about it.

If anything, he’s bitter. He finally gets over one boy that he’s had a crush on for ages, finally comes to terms with his queerness, finally accepts it as a part of himself that isn’t awful or evil, finally decided to make an effort to live his life as himself without hiding, and then…

And then the universe drops this boy in his life, right in the way, and no matter what Nico does, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get around him, can’t get over him.

He tries to annoyed with him, to be bothered by how he spends ninety seven percent of his time in the infirmary, by how he forced Nico to stay in bed for days on end, by how he taps his fingers on any surface within reach.

But he fucking can’t.

Even when he’s in the infirmary more often than anyone else, more often than his sibling and even the most clumsy campers, he’s helping people. Even when he forced Nico to stay, he was kind. He only touched him to heal him, left him alone when he wanted to be left alone, made fun of him just enough to get him to laugh, to relax. Even his incessant tapping is cute; soft gentle rhythms that sound like music.

Every single thing makes Nico fall harder and harder and harder, and he isn’t sure how many more times he can fall in love before it’s all too much.

And it makes it all worse that Will Solace is Nico’s best friend.

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“I cannot believe you got yourself stabbed.”

“I didn’t get myself stabbed, I got stabbed. There’s a difference.”

Nico watches Will shake his head, tutting quietly, and smiles fondly. Will’s hair is tied back in a little knot, out of his face, out of the way, exposing the angles of his face. Nico lets his head fall not the bed, shutting his eyes, trying to dismiss the desire to kiss him.

It hurts as Will cleans the would and keeps pressure on it, and Nico is self-conscious with his shirt tucked up to his armpits, but he’s facing away from Will, and knows Will can’t see the blush colouring his cheeks.

“It isn’t too deep,” Will says softly, thoughtfully, like he’s just thinking out loud. He speaks like that a lot. Sometimes Nico doesn’t know whether or not he’s meant to respond to him. “You’ll have a sick scar. And a story to tell, I guess.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Nico says, grimacing as Will applies the butterfly stitches.

“What’s that, Nico?” Will responds with a sigh, resigned to what he already seems to know is going to be some absolute bullshit.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve been impaled by a sword.”

Will snorts, and Nico grins, proud. He hasn’t seen Will smile all day. (Except the soft friendly ones that he’s given to the other patients, but Nico knows those aren’t real. He doesn’t seem to really smile much these days. He always looks so serious. So focussed, even when he’s just staring at a wall, or at his dinner plate. Like he’s too busy thinking, too busy in his own head, to exist with everyone else.)

“No one fucking says that, Nico,” Will says. He gently takes Nico’s shirt, pulling it down over his sides and the wound, then he touching Nico’s back, his hand sliding up his spine for a moment.

“Well, they should.” Nico starts to sit up, wincing, and Will grabs his arms, his other hand pressing to his upper back to help. “I think everyone should get stabbed at least once before they die.”

“You’re a menace to society,” Will says, and Nico finally looks up at him, relaxing against the headboard of the bed. He has an eyebrows raised, his lips curved into a small smile. Nico’s mouth goes dry, and he just shrugs.

They stare at each other for another second before Will looks away, across the infirmary, his eyes flicking around at kids being treated, like he’s searching for something. Nico takes a breath, tangling his fingers in his lap, looking down at Will’s hands as he takes off his gloves. His nails are painted purple, but they’re all chipped and scratched.

“So am I good to go or do I have to stay here for three days?“ Nico asks, looking up at him. Will’s eyes cut to him, and he’s smiling again.

“Well, you’re not in the verge of passing out right now,” he says, facing him again. “So I think you’re good to go.”

Nico sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and looking around.

“Is Joy here today?”

“Wow,” Will says sarcastically, balling up the gloves and tossing them to the bin next to him. “You just wanna hang out with my sister, don’t you.” He raises his eyebrows, pressing his lips together in an I see how it is expression. “Your best friend.”

“Yeah, the superior Apollo kid.”

“Wow…”

Nico snickers, and Will reaches out and pokes him in the side. Nico swats his hand away even though he wants to grab it from the air and hold them close.

“Is she here or not?”

“Yeah, she’s dealing drugs.”

Nico gives him an immense eye roll and kicks him as he stands up. Will pokes him again. Nico sends a glare over his shoulder as he walks away, pretending Will’s little smile doesn’t make his whole body ache.

“Hi,” he greets Joy when he approaches her at her station, and she looks up from where she’s funnelling pain killers into a bottle.

“Hi!” she says brightly, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I got stabbed.”

She stares, her eyebrows furrowing for a moment.

“I’m fine,” he clarifies. “Will fixed it up.”

“Ah.” She gives him a knowing look with a little nod, and his cheeks burn, before her brows furrow again. “He’s still here?”

“Uh. Yeah?”

She sighs heavily and looks past him, looking for Will, and Nico glances back. Will is talking to another camper, looking down at their wrist.

“Gosh.” Joy sighs again. Nico looks back at her questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” She tosses a hand. “He’s been here for days. He only leaves to shower and sleep and eat, and it doesn’t even feel like he does that often, you know?”

“Yeah,” Nico says softly. He knows.

“He’s overworking himself,” Joy says curtly, looking back down and finishing with the bottle of pills. “He’s not taking care of himself.”

Nico frowns, looking back at Will. He’s wrapping the kid’s wrist in bandages, brows furrowed in focus. Nico’s heart hurts.

“Should I tell him to leave?”

Joy twists the bottle shut until it clicks, looking up at Will.

“I don’t know,” she says weakly. “Vinny tried to tell him to leave last week for a day off and Will just got mad.”

“Mad?”

“Snapped at him,” Joy says softly. “Told him to leave him alone and mind his business.”

Nico doesn’t say anything. He’s looking at Will again. The camper thanks him with a bright smile, and Will smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it falls as soon as the kid has their back to him. Then he sighs and looks to the ceiling.

“He insists that he knows how to take care of himself but I don’t think he does,” Joy says, almost to herself, like she’s just thinking out loud.

“Me either,” Nico agrees quietly.

Will smiles again when a kid comes up to him with a bleeding hand. It still doesn’t reach his eyes.

Nico watches him during dinner, and when he sees him mix his food around on his plate for a few minutes before he tosses his fork to his plate and sighs, something shifts. Nico looks down at his own plate, uneaten food, tossed aside fork.

He looks back at Will. Sees that achingly familiar emptiness in his eyes that must echo the emptiness in his chest.

And Nico’s eyes burn, because No. Not him. Please, not him too.

He lowers his head, letting his hair curtain around his face so no one sees as a tear falls down his cheek. He doubts anyone is looking, but he hides anyway. He always does.

He aggressively wipes the tear away, sniffling and hardening his face in a weak attempt to get his eyes to stop stinging, and he grabs his plate, swinging his legs over the bench of the Hades table. He dumps the rest of his food in the fire and leaves his dishes behind on the cart before he leaves.

(He doesn’t see Will watching him go.)

Nico shuts his door loudly behind himself, his angry face finally falling, his tears finally falling. And then he sits on the floor, his back against his bed, his forehead on his knees. He’s crying.

He hates crying.

It makes him feel weak, makes his head hurt and his hands shake. He can’t see when he’s crying because the whole world is swimming in salt water, and it scares him.

It scares him.

He hates himself for it, being scared by something he can’t control. (Maybe that’s the part that scares him.) (He hates himself for a lot of things.)

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Nico doesn’t see Will as much as he used to. They used to have lunch together in the dining hall, sitting across from each other and kicking at each other’s legs and muffling laughter behind their hands. They used to hang out in Nico’s cabin, reading or bickering or playing Mythomagic (which is to say, Will would listen patiently with a little smile while Nico would rant and ramble about Mythomagic).

Nico sometimes likes to lay sideways on his bed, his head hanging off the edge upside down, and Will used to sit on the ground in front of him when he did, close enough to kiss. (They never did.) Other times they’d sit up against the wall together, not touching because Nico couldn’t stand it, and Will was always kind. Patient.

He never said anything about the way Nico would chew on his sleeve or the string of his hoodie or whatever else was convenient. He never gave him weird looks when Nico made noises, quiet grunts or hums with no real purpose other than to lessen the heavy, overbearing feeling on his shoulders, and he never interrupted or told Nico to stop when he paced across the floor over and over or flapped his hands in the air or rocked back and forth. (He only intervened when Nico hit things, his legs or chest, or the floor or wall. He’d take a pillow and put it between Nico’s hands and whatever it was, ignoring Nico’s soft whine of Will… with a gentle, “I know you need it, Ni, but I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself, okay?”)

But he doesn’t really see Will anymore. Except in passing, only if Nico is awake early enough to see him on his way to the infirmary.

So he tries. He sets his alarm clock for a ridiculous fucking hour that he knows Will will be awake at, smacks it off in the morning with a loud groan. Heavily, tiredly gets dressed and brushes his teeth and pulls on his shoes, careful to make sure they’re on the right feet. Ties them messily and too tightly and doesn’t care.

He waits by the infirmary, leaning against a tree, giving Will’s siblings and the others little smiles until Will shows up. He stands up straight, looking at Will and waiting until he seems him too.

“Hey,” Will says lightly, looking up from the clipboard that’s resting on his arm when Dahlia elbows him. “You okay?”

Nico hesitates. Gestures a little come here, stepping away from the tree, and Will goes to him without question, following him to the side of the infirmary, hidden from view. Dahlia silently passes by them, going inside.

The sun is hidden by clouds, and Will looks sad, but he’s still almost glowing. He always is.

“Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of Nico.

“I feel like I never see you anymore.”

His face burns as soon as he says it, mentally cursing his lack of filter when he’s tired. It sounds ridiculous. They’re not boyfriends.

Will’s face falls even more and he looks away, at the ground, at the dead leaves and dirt under their feet.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“You work too much.”

Will blinks. Looks him in the eye.

“You’ve been talking to Joy.”

“I haven’t talked to Joy about you in two weeks,” Nico says almost defiantly. “I don’t need to talk to her to know you work too much. I don’t see you anymore.”

Will blinks again.

He doesn’t say anything, his lips pursing slightly in a tiny frown.

“I miss you,” Nico adds. He knows his cheeks are pink with embarrassment, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I miss you too,” Will says in a small voice. “But I…”

“Can you take a day off?” Nico asks, clenching his fists in the pockets of his hoodie. “Just to hang out.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow, conflicted, and then he’s shaking his head. Slowly, like he doesn’t want to.

“I can’t, Ni.”

Nico looks away, disappointment and angry and frustration and despair tangling in his chest so messily that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The world is underwater again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he hears Will sigh, and he looks at him, watching him toss the clipboard to the ground, and then Will is wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs as Nico is hugging him back, reaching up to wrap his arms around his neck, burying his face against him, and Nico believes him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to absorb the feeling of Will’s arms around him. Tight and warm and safe.

When they finally pull away, Will wipes his tears away gently.

“…I really am sorry,” he says quietly.

Nico swallows, his eyes falling to Will’s necklaces. The string of colourful camp beads, a gold chain with a red heart charm on it.

“I know.”

They part. Will picks up his clipboard, biting his lip, and Nico pushes his hands back into his pockets.

“Will you eat dinner with me?” Will asks after a moment. “Tonight?”

Nico cuts his eyes up to him.

“Will you actually eat?”

Will scoffs, looking away. He’s smiling.

“Yeah, sure.” He sways on his feet, glancing over as more people go into the infirmary. “Will you?”

“…Yeah. Sure.”

Will smiles. Actually smiles. It makes Nico want to eat three meals a day for the rest of his life.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Will says softly. Nico nods. Will reaches out and takes his hand gently, squeezing it once and then releasing him.

Nico goes back to his cabin and falls asleep.

He sits across from Will at dinner, and kicks his legs under the table when he notices he’s not eating. Will kicks him back, and he begrudgingly picks up his fork, watching Will do the same.

Joy sits next to Nico. He knows she notices it all, the sneaking, smiling glances he and Will send each other, the little kicks and later on, the way their ankles lock, but she doesn’t say anything.

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It’s bright in Nico’s cabin when he wakes up. It’s not a pleasant thing to wake up to, ever; the knowledge that most of the day is gone, that the rest of world is passing him by. But it’s especially horrible when he wakes up like this: cold, sweating, gasping for breath, throwing his pillow across the room like it’s attacking him.

He looks around frantically, searching for something, but he doesn’t know what, his throat dry with gasps, his hands shaking, his eyes burning. He shrinks into himself, hiding, drawing his knees to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

And then he’s throwing himself out of bed, throwing clothes off the sofa across the room until he finds a hoodie, pulling it on quickly and searching for his shoes.

Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will

He barely closes the door behind himself, adrenaline coursing through his veins, every cell consumed by fear.

He bursts into the infirmary, his eyes scanning around the room, breathing hard.

“Nico?”

He turns sharply at Dahlia’s voice. She’s staring at him, wide-eyed, hands raised as if in surrender, close to his shoulders.

“Is Will here?”

“Uh, no?”

A pit grows in his stomach. It almost consumes him.

“Where— Where is he?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“I kicked him out,” she says. “He put up a hell of a fight but he should be in the Apollo cabin.”

“I…”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently. “Can I help you?” She says it kindly. He’s reminded of why he likes her.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice sharper than he intended, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He goes.

The door to the Apollo cabin is open like it always is, and he steps inside. Joy is sitting on the floor, a painting in the floor in front of her, half-finished. She looks up when she hears him.

“Are you okay?”

“Is Will here?” he asks, ignoring her question.

“He’s in bed.” She straightens her back, wincing as it cracks.

“Oh.” He looks up past her, at the doorway to the bedroom. He knows where Will’s is, in the corner against the wall, bottom bunk. He takes a breath. “I can… I can come back later.”

“He’s not asleep,” Joy says. “He’s just laying there.” He looks at her. Her eyes are wide, earnest. “He’s having a really rough day. Maybe seeing you will make him feel better.”

He exhales. And then goes, passing by her silently and pushing through the beaded entryway. It’s dark inside, all the curtains drawn.

“Will?”

Will is facing the wall, his arms wrapped around himself, but he sits up when Nico speaks, lifts his head and looking at him in the dim room. His brows are furrowed, his hair messy and tangled, his cheeks red and sleep warm, but Nico exhales, relief swallowing him whole.

“What’s wrong?”

(His voice is rough, and Nico almost shivers.)

“You’re okay?”

(His voice is shaking, and Will nods.)

“I’m okay.”

Nico nods, taking another breath that trembles on its way out. Will stares up at him for another moment before he lifts his arm.

“Come here.”

Nico deflates. He melts. He collapses onto the bed beside Will, pressing his face to his chest and taking a shuddering breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

“What happened?” he asks when his heart finally slows down.

Will’s hand runs down his back, over the folds of his hoodie.

“Got in a fight with Dahli.”

Will’s voice is small, clipped. Nico shifts so he can reach a hand up, run it over Will’s hair.

“I feel like shit about it,” Will continues. “She was just telling me to take today off because— because nothing was working out for me, and I—“

Will cuts off, choking on his words, and Nico shifts, moving up so his face is buried in Will’s neck, their chests pressed together. Will’s arms tighten.

“I wanna apologise,” Will says softly after a moment. “When I see her tonight.”

Nico nods against him.

“She’ll understand,” he whispers.

Will sighs. Nico feels his chest rise and fall against him.

“Why did you come looking for me?” Will asks quietly, one of his hands pressing to the small of Nico’s back. Nico squeezes his eyes shut at the pressure holding him down, holding him in place, wishing he could feel it everywhere.

“Had a bad dream,” he mumbles.

Will’s hand rubs back and forth. Nico aches.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Nico takes a careful, slow breath, his heart pounding. Will must notice, because he rolls onto his back, pulling Nico on top of himself, his hand still rubbing his lower back, his other hand on his waist.

“I… You were gone,” Nico summarises shortly. He skips all the details, not wanting to see them flash in his head again.

“Gone?” Will whispers. Nico nods. Will takes a deep breath, squeezing Nico, pressing him against himself. “I’m right here, Ni,” he murmurs softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nico wants to ask him to promise. To swear. To stay forever.

He doesn’t.

He nuzzles his face into his neck and stays there until Will’s hand stops moving, until his breathing is heavy and slow, and Nico knows he’s asleep. He shifts after a while, moving to his side and watching Will, still asleep, roll to face him, a hand still resting on his waist. Hair falls in Will’s face. Nico carefully moves it away.

Even in the darkness Nico can see the freckles scattered across his face. There’s one on his upper lip. Nico wants to kiss it.

He closes his eyes.

Moves closer, curling a hand against Will’s chest, smiling when Will’s arm tightens around him and pulls him close. He’s drifting off. He knows he is. But he presses his face into Will, taking a deep breath. He smells like oranges and lemons, like fruit that’s been sitting in the sun, sweet and like summer, and like nothing Nico would ever have imagined himself finding home in. But here he is, letting Will surround him.

He falls asleep.

He wakes up to voices, but he’s too tired to even open his eyes. He hears Will’s voice, soft and rumbly across the room, and his body aches.

“I just want you to take care of yourself. Will,” Dahlia’s voice says softly. “You can’t do that if you’re… working to the point of exhaustion.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I do, it’s just…” Will sighs, the sound muffled by what Nico assumes is his hands. He wants to sit up, wrap his arms around him. But something tells him he’s not supposed to be hearing this conversation. “If I’m not working, I— I don’t know, it’s like my brain won’t shut off. I need…”

“You need to prioritise yourself.”

“…It’s hard.”

“I know. Will you just—“ She pauses. “Will you just listen to me now? When I tell you it’s time for you to take a break?”

He’s quiet.

“…Okay.”

“Come here.”

Nico shifts, pressing his face into Will’s pillow. They’re still talking indistinctly, their voices muffled by what Nico assumes are each other’s shoulders. He’s still almost asleep, his body too heavy to move.

“So are you gonna tell me what your boyfriend is doing here?” Dahlia asks when they part. Nico’s face flushes with heat.

“Dahlia.”

“I know,” Dahlia says in a teasing tone. “He came by the infirmary earlier, looking for you. Is everything okay?”

“He, uhm. He had a nightmare.”

“…And he came to you for comfort.”

“Well, he said… I think something happened to me. In his dream.”

“…Will.”

“Fuck off.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Nico can just imagine them staring at each other, communicating telepathically the way Will communicates with Joy sometimes, until Will speaks again.

“…If— If he spends the night…”

“Nobody’s gonna snitch, Will. You’re everyone’s OTP.” (Nico doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t really care.) “Don’t worry.”

“Jesus,” Will mutters.

“Alright, go back to bed, lover boy.”

“You’re so annoying.”

The bed dips, and Nico finally moves, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his face into the pillow as Will lays back down. The beads move in the doorway, and Will sighs.

He shifts again, and then Nico’s insides are lighting up as Will’s hand lands gently on his lower back. A moment passes before his hand moves again, rubbing across his back, and Nico’s eyes squeeze. He shifts, moving closer to him without facing him, and Will’s hand runs across his waist to his stomach, gently, carefully pulling him against himself.

He slides his arm under Nico’s neck, and Nico lifts his head enough for Will to move, letting his head fall again when he stills. Nico rolls back onto his side, sighing, his back pressed to Will’s chest, his cheek against Will’s bare bicep. Will’s breath is against the back of his neck. Nico wants to cry.

He cracks his eyes open, sees Will’s hand in front of him against the bed. Reaches out and slides his own hand into it, letting their fingers lock. Will’s hand is warm against his. He’s always warm.

Will falls asleep again, his arm around Nico’s waist, his hand pressing to his chest, and Nico drifts, floating somewhere between asleep and awake. He’s conscious of people coming into the cabin a while later, talking under their breaths.

“Is Will finally asleep?”

“Oh my gods, he’s sleeping.”

“Who’s that with him?”

“Is he allowed to sleep in here?”

“Who gives a shit? Look how cute they are.”

Will’s hand tightens on Nico’s. Nico squeezes back, smiling against his arm.

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The curtains are drawn. Nico is huddled on his bed, against the wall in the corner, a blanket around his shoulders. His eyes are trained on a light across the room, a lamp next to the small sofa. The lampshade is purple, emitting a soft glow throughout the room.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here. His joints ache, his knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, gripping the blanket in his fingers tightly.

His eyes are tired.

He can’t sleep. He knows it would be good for him to leave, go get dressed her some sunlight and talk to someone, but he doesn’t think he can deal with the genuine gentleness of people’s Are you okay?s and What’s wrong?s. Just thinking about it makes his skin itch.

He drops his head to his knees, tightening the blanket around him, trying to ignore the overwhelming, all-enveloping nothing inside of him.

He only lifts his head when there’s a knock on the door, and he squints over as it cracks open, sunlight pouring inside.

“Will?” Nico says weakly, his voice rough with disuse.

“Yeah,” Will says, shutting the door.

“Are you okay?”

Will scoffs lightly, kicking his shoes off and crossing the room quietly.

“I’m fine,” he says, his voice soft. “Dahlia kicked me out for the day.”

He sits on Nico’s bed, crossing his legs and looking at him, and Nico suddenly wants to find the nearest cliff to jump off of it. He must look pathetic, sitting in bed and wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the day, while other people are working and training and playing and laughing.

But Will just looks. Lifts his chin.

“What’s up?” he asks casually. Nico wants to cry.

He looks away, at the bed between them. He has too many blankets on his bed. They’re all bunched and bundled into an odd sort of nest.

“I keep having nightmares.”

Will is quiet for a moment before he moves, taking a blanket and spreading it out, sitting up onto his knees and swinging the blanket around his shoulders. He sits next to Nico against the wall. Their shoulders press together.

“About what?” he asks quietly.

Nico looks back at the lamp, wondering what to say, remembering.

Every dream has been different over the past few days. (Or maybe it’s been weeks. He doesn’t know.)

He was surrounded by glass one night. There was nothing outside of the glass, just a dark void, and he was running out of air. The glass wouldn’t break under his fists, and he woke up to a bruised hand and a dented wall. Another night he was being followed. He doesn’t remember where he was, or who (or what) was following him, just the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the way he couldn’t quite catch his breath, but he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop to breathe.

Another night he was trapped in an elevator. All the buttons lit up when he pressed them, glowing red, but it wouldn’t move. When he pressed the emergency button, the elevator filled with this awful staticky screech that made him clap his hands over his ears and cry. The next night he was in the elevator again but it was slowly filling with water.

In one dream he was freezing. He could see his breath in the air in front of him, and every breath hurt so bad it almost burned. He’d fallen to his knees, shivering and trembling, his teeth chattering, his upper body bare and covered in a thin layer of ice, shining blue and purple. When he woke up he put on two sweaters and covered himself in every blanket he has.

In another dream he had to watch Hazel be swallowed by a hole in the ground. He was too late to catch her hand, and he’d been left to stare at the ground where she’d been, at the dead grass and dirt.

In another, Will left.

“Everything,” Nico says quietly.

Will doesn’t say anything. He holds a hand out expectantly. It hovers between them, and Nico looks at it, at the chipped nail polish and callused palm, knowing exactly what Will wants.

His own hand slowly emerges from the blankets and reaches for Will’s. Their fingertips touch, and Will tugs his hand closer, their fingers curling around each other. Nico watches his face.

His brows furrow slightly, and he frowns, and after a few quiet moments he runs his thumb over Nico’s knuckles, looking into his eyes.

“You need to sleep, Ni,” Will says softly.

Nico exhales, swallowing, his eyes burning.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “They keep coming back.”

Will sighs softly, moving so his other hand comes out of the blanket around him, holding Nico’s hand between his. Nico closes his eyes, trying to memorise the warmth.

“Did you… Did you have any nightmares when you spent the night with me?” Will asks quietly, looking at their hands.

Nico shakes his head slowly.

“No.”

Nico watches him. Watches his tongue slip across his lip, watches his throat bob as he swallows.

“If I…” Will pauses, hesitating, twisting his fingers with Nico’s and tracing his knuckles. “If I stay, would you be able to sleep?”

Nico deflates, falling against Will’s shoulder and exhaling. Will laughs lightly, and the sound makes Nico feel like everything will be okay.

“Is that a yes?” he asks softly, tilting his head to rest on Nico’s.

“Please.”

“C’mere.”

He tugs Nico’s hand and legs go of it, moving against the wall as Nico sleepily moves up onto his knees and crawls to sit on his lap, the blanket still around him. He lays against Will’s chest, and Will wraps his arms around him, one arm around his back, the other across his lap.

Nico takes a deep breath, relaxing against him, tucking his face into his neck.

“I’m scared,” he whispers.

“I’m right here,” Will tells him softly. He runs a hand across his waist to the small of his back. (Nico must be really obvious that he likes it when Will touches him there.) “I’ll be here if anything happens, okay?”

Nico swallows anxiously, gripping his blanket tightly.

“…Promise?”

Will rubs his back gently, his other hand pushing under Nico’s blanket to hold his thigh gently. Firmly. Nico squeezes his eyes shut.

“Promise.”

(He doesn’t have any nightmares. He doesn’t seem to have any dreams at all, his mind blissfully and mercifully blank until he wakes up again to find that his hand is pressed over Will’s chest, over his heart.)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Nico ruffles his hair with his towel. He thought maybe a shower would make him feel less like shit. It didn’t really work that much. But at least he smells good now.

He throws the towel into the hamper in the corner, and it falls from the overflowing pile of laundry to the floor. He ignores it. He doesn’t have nearly enough energy to do his laundry.

He finds a sweater on his desk chair and smells it before pulling it on and leaning against his desk, looking at his cabin. It’s messy. Too messy for him to do anything about it. Blankets and pillows all over his bed, tossed aside and scattered on the floor below it, clothes around the hamper and around the room, along with scrap, discarded paper. Incense ashes and sticks are covering a small table.

Nico scans the room, imagining all the dust that must cling to every surface and every random object he’s collected over the years; jars, bottles, lamps, candles, stacks and stacks of books. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes and dropping his head, rubbing his face harshly in disappointment.

He only looks up when there’s a knock on the door, and then he’s headed to open it before remembering he’s wearing a sweater and boxers. His face flushes with embarrassment as he swings the door open to see Will, but then he doesn’t give a shit about what he’s wearing, because Will’s eyes are shining and his cheeks and nose are red, and he looks about ready to fall over.

“What’s wrong?” Nico asks, a hand on the door. It’s grey outside. He usually likes this weather, but he didn’t even realise what colour the sky was until now. “What happened?”

Will looks at him desperately, taking a shuddering breath, choking on his words.

“I— I’m having… a really fucking shitty day,” he says, his voice wavering and breaking. “And I can’t fucking do it anymore.”

Nico looks up at him, his heart hurting so much he thinks it might be splitting apart at the seams.

“Do you want a hug?“ he asks softly, his eyes stinging, and Will squeezes his eyes shut, nodding. “Come here.”

He reaches out and grabs the front of Will’s t-shirt, pulling him inside and standing up on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around his neck and kicking the door shut. Will sways, hugging him back. His body is shaking.

Nico whispers to him, holding him as tightly as he can as he cries, as sobs wrack his body.

It’s okay. It’s okay, baby, I got you.

He closes his eyes, tears falling down his own cheeks as he listens to Will, whose voice is rough as he sobs, his throat becoming raw as time passes. He pushes a hand into Will’s hair, combing through it and shushing him gently. Will presses his face into Nico’s neck, and Nico feels his tears against his skin.

Will finally stops sobbing after a long while, and Nico pulls away enough to look at him. To wipe his face with the sleeves of his sweater, his cheeks and under his eyes and nose, as gently and carefully as he can, still murmuring under his breath.

It’s okay. Don’t worry, baby.

Will lets him, his eyes falling shut as tears continue falling down his cheeks. It makes Nico’s heart swell, that Will is letting him do this, letting him take care of him.

Will is taking stuttering breathes, and Nico presses a hand to his chest firmly.

“Slow,” he directs. “In all the way.” Will looks into his eyes, pressing a hand over Nico’s, breathing in. Nico nods, running his other hand over his cheek and wiping a tear. “Out, slow.” Will exhales, his breath on Nico’s face. “You’re okay.”

When Will’s breathing is finally under control, it’s darker in the cabin, and Will sighs heavily, letting his head fall against Nico’s shoulder. Nico presses his cheek against the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. “Promise.”

Will takes another breath, lifting his head and sliding his hands down to Nico’s legs before he pulls them up, lifting Nico off the ground. Nico gasps, his hand tightening in Will’s hair in surprise before he wraps his legs around his waist. Will sets him on his desk, pressing his hands to his waist and burying his face in his neck.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks softly after a minute, and Will nuzzles into his neck for a moment before lifting his face. He looks exhausted, his eyes almost closed, his lashes wet, lips chapped, cheeks flushed. Nico aches. Will leans forward, setting his forehead against his. “What happened?”

“Just…” He takes a breath, closing his eyes. “Everything’s been going wrong,” he says softly. “And I’ve been breaking things, and forgetting things, and I’ve been so— so angry, with everything, and I feel like shit.” He looks at Nico, eyes watery. “They just wanna help me,” he chokes. “And I’m such a dick to them. And I don’t know what to do.” He takes a sharp breath, looking at Nico desperately. “I’m so fucking tired, Ni.”

Nico wipes his tears again.

“Baby,” he breathes. “You need to rest.” Will squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I know you don’t want to, but, Will.” Will opens his eyes, filled with tears and anguish. “You’re not taking care of yourself.”

He carefully wipes another tear and finds one of Will’s hands with his own, pulling it to his lap and holding it tightly.

“I bet if I could do that thing you do, I’d be able to tell that you need it.”

Will laughs weakly, his fingers curling around Nico’s. His nail polish is almost gone.

“Will you take the weekend off?” Nico asks, looking down at their hands. “With me?”

He looks up when Will doesn’t answer.

Will is staring at him, biting the inside of his lip anxiously.

“Please,” Nico adds.

“What will we do?” Will asks after a moment, and Nico smiles.

“Uhm.” He looks back at their hands, twisting his fingers around Will’s, thinking. “I’ll let you wake me up for breakfast,” he says finally, looking up at him to see a soft smile. “We’ll eat three meals,” he adds, squeezing his hand and raising his eyebrows, and Will nods.

“What else?”

Nico holds Will’s hand. Runs his finger across his nails.

“We can paint your nails,” he says softly. “They look naked.”

Will laughs lightly again.

“You wanna do my nails?”

“No promises that they’ll look good, but…”

Will’s smile widens. Nico reaches out and touches his face, just because, setting a palm on his cheek.

“Can I do yours?” Will asks, turning his face into Nico’s hand. Nico raises his eyebrows.

“I guess.”

“Any colour?”

“Within reason.”

Will grins, and Nico melts, his eyes falling to his smile, to the freckle on his lip. He doesn’t realise he’s staring until Will’s smile falls slightly.

“What?” Will breathes, and Nico’s suddenly overly conscious of his palm on Will’s cheek, of their hands joined in his lap, of the way Will’s eyes are flicking down to his mouth.

“I love it when you smile,” he says softly.

Will’s eyes soften, and he exhales, leaning forward until their foreheads press together. Nico shifts, eyes closed, to press his lips to Will’s forehead.

——————

Will leaves to find Dahlia a while later, after Nico handed him a bottle of water and made him drink at least half of it.

While he’s gone, Nico forced himself to tidy up a little bit. He finds the laundry around the room and tosses it to the hamper, finds a bag to shove all the scrap paper into, to dust the ashes of the incense into. (And then he washes his hands after hanging the bag on the doorknob of the bathroom.)

He’s sorting his pillows and blankets when there’s a thud on the door, and he swings it open to find Will with two plates of food.

“Uh. I brought dinner.”

They eat on the floor, Nico’s back against his bed, Will’s back against his desk, their plates on their knees or between their legs.

“How did it go with Dahlia?” Nico asks between bites.

Will sighs.

“Fine.” He pushes some food around on his plate. “We talked for a while, us and Vincent, and I apologised to them, and they… forgave me. But I…” He swallows, looking at his plate. “I still kinda feel like shit.”

Nico gazes at him. Takes a bite of his food.

“You’re really nice, Will.”

“I’ve been an asshole to them.”

“And you’re self-aware,” Nico points out. “You actually feel bad about it, and you actually apologise for it. A lot of people just… pretend it’s all fine. But you know it’s not.”

Will looks back at him.

He takes a bite of his food, sighing.

“Doesn’t really make me feel much better,” he says with his mouth full.

Nico watches him, watches his jaw flex as he chews, watches the way he dejectedly pushes food around.

“You need to forgive yourself,” Nico says softly. Will looks up at him, listening, and Nico looks away, his eyes too intense on his for the moment. “Everybody has. If you don’t… forgive yourself, give yourself a break, then you’ll just…” He shrugs. “Spiral. …End up hating yourself.”

He looks up at him. Their eyes meet, and this time Nico stays. Looks into the shining blue that Nico sees in the skies, in the seas, and he sees that it’s too late for that. He wants to throw up. He wants to cry and scream and break everything in the room. He wants to fight the gods and the wind and the fucking universe for ever convincing Will fucking Solace that he’s anything less than everything. He wants to hold Will until there isn’t a single thought of self hatred in his mind, until he can see how perfect he really is.

“Speaking from experience?” Will says softly.

Nico looks away.

“Yeah.”

They eat in silence, until Will breaks it.

“You’re one of my favourite people,” Will says abruptly, his cheeks flushing red when Nico looks at him. “You really… You’re my best friend.” Nico starts to smile, watching him. “Even if you hate yourself, I… I don’t hate you.”

Nico’s face flushes with warmth.

“I don’t hate you too.”

He falls asleep that night with his face presses to Will’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He’s completely wrapped around him, legs around his hips, arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and he feels Will’s hands on his back, on his hips and his legs. Soft. Gentle. Sleepy.

Will wakes up first. Of course.

Nico wakes up to Will’s fingertips tracing his face, brushing over his eyebrows and cheeks and down the bridge of his nose. Nico’s eyes flutter open, squinting at him weakly, and he smiles. (He’s never smiled this early in the morning. He doesn’t mind it.)

Will’s fingertip runs over Nico’s lips, tracing his smile.

Nico closes his eyes again.

He usually hates mornings. They’re always too bright, too full of possibility and chances. But if they’re like this…

Maybe they’re not all awful.

“Breakfast,” Will says quietly, and Nico’s smile falls promptly. Will laughs, dropping his hand to the bed between them. Nico groans, moving forward until his face presses to Will’s chest, smushing his cheek against him. “You said,” Will says, still laughing, and Nico groans again.

“I know, just…” He finds Will’s hand, pulls it close, smiling again when Will presses his hand to Nico’s back. “Just wait a minute.”

(He falls asleep again. Will lets him.)

——————

“Okay, here’s what I brought.”

Will hops up onto Nico’s bed, sitting cross-legged, dropping some things onto the bed between them: some bottles of nail polish, two nail files, a pale pink, translucent bottle, and cotton swabs. He cracks open the window as Nico looks.

“I don’t know what to do with any of this,” Nico says, staring.

“That’s okay.”

Nico watches as Will demonstrates the nail polish remover (the pale pink bottle), taking off the tiny chips of polish that are left on his nails, shows him the nail file, warns him that it’s going to feel funny. He’s right; it feels like vibrations running through his fingers, up his arms, and he has a full-body reaction, tightening. Will stops right away, looking up at him.

“Okay?” Nico nods, wide-eyed, moving to kneel in front of him. “Here, this side is softer.” He flips the file over and runs its across the edge of his nail carefully, looking at him. “Better?” Nico nods.

He files his nails slowly, carefully, and Nico watches as the rough, bitten edges of his nails become smooth.

He watches Will do his own nails next, watches the way his brows furrow in focus, the way his lips purse.

“I brought this colour for you,” he says when he finishes, holding up one of the bottles. Nico takes it, analysing it. It’s a deep red, almost purple, the glass of the bottle sleek and smooth, fitting nicely in his hand. “I thought you’d like it better than, like, yellow or something.”

Nico looks up at him with a smile.

“Is it okay?” Will asks, and Nico nods.

“Yeah, I like it.”

Will takes the bottle and smacks it against his palm, smiling, and Nico moves back to sit with his legs crossed. Will opens the bottle, setting it on the windowsill next to them, by Nico’s rings and candles holding his hand out, and Nico holds out his own.

Will takes his hand, carefully moving it so he can drag the brush carefully over his thumbnail. The paint is translucent, a lighter red than it looked in the bottle.

“This one needs like two layers,” Will says, like he can hear Nico’s thoughts. “But this brand dries really fast.”

“It’s cold,” Nico says softly, watching, engrossed.

“Is it okay?”

“Yes.”

They’re quiet as Will paints, expertly wiping away excess polish. The second coat of paint makes it much darker, almost black, only red when Nico really looks. It’s shiny, and Nico smiles, watching the light shift on it as Will moves his hand.

“This one will make it last longer,” Will says, picking up another bottle. “But you can take it off later if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Nico says, too quickly. Will looks up from his hand, pausing. “I like it.”

Will looks back down, smiling.

When Nico paints Will’s nails, he’s more careful than he thinks he’s ever been in his life, hunched over with Will’s hand close to his face, dragging the brush over his nails and feeling Will’s eyes on him. The polish Will uses is a nice pink. The bottle reads Vintage Rose.

While it’s drying, Nico holds his hand and stares at his work, at the way the dark red of his nails looks next to the pink of Will’s.

“Can I try something?” he asks, looking up. Will is looking at him fondly, and he nods.

Nico releases his hands and scrambles out of the bed, his sweater falling just below his boxer shorts because it’s a few sizes too big. (It’s his favourite sweater, soft and cozy and the perfect kind of warm.) He opens the drawer of his bedside table, bending down to search through it, knowing that Will is watching him. He rummages through the papers and lighters and pens and tiny glass jars and bottles that he’ll think what to do with someday. At the back of the drawer, hidden in the corner, he finally finds a hair pin, left behind by Hazel during her last visit.

He holds it up triumphantly, standing up and using his knee to close the drawer.

He climbs back onto the bed, unfolding the pin, sitting cross-legged and grabbing the bottle of red polish as Will watches. He tucks his hair behind his ear before opening the bottle and touching the end of the pin to the brush and taking Will’s hand.

He moves so he’s holds Will’s thumb, and he carefully, meticulously paints a smiley face with the end of the pin.

The eyes are different sizes, and the smile is crooked, but he grins, letting go of Will’s hand so he can look.

Will looks at it as Nico closes the nail polish and drops the hair pin on the windowsill, and when Nico looks at him again, his lips are pressed together.

“Is it okay?” Nico asks. Will nods, swallowing.

“I love it, Ni.”

Nico beams.

He watches as Will looks at the smiley face again, smiling, watches as his hair falls in his face and he rocks back and forth happily. He looks at his purple shorts and his worn and faded tye-dyed shirt and the woven strings around his ankles and wrists and the tiny gold hoop at the top of his ear. He looks at the freckles covering his face and the bridge of his nose and then he’s looking into his eyes, and Will isn’t smiling anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Will asks softly.

“I have to tell you something,” Nico’s mouth says without his permission.

“Okay?” Will says, dropping his hands to his lap. “What is it?”

Worry paints his expression, and Nico takes a sudden breath, like a gasp, his heart pounding.

“Uhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nico says breathlessly. “I just…

Will blinks at him, tilting his head. Nico takes another sharp breath.

“I— I really like you.” Will blinks again, straightening. “As— As more than friends, like in a gay way.” His hands are shaking. “I have a crush on you.”

“Really?” Will says softly, his voice small.

Nico hesitates, then nods.

“You’re my best friend,” he says, almost hyperventilating. “But I’ve liked you for a really long time, and I tried so hard to get over it, but I— I couldn’t, because everything you do makes me fall harder for you, and I—I didn’t know how to tell you, and I was so scared that you—“

Will leans forward, shutting him up by grabbing his face and crashing their mouths together.

Nico’s eyes widen, and his hands fly to Will’s wrists, holding him tightly before he jerks away.

“What?” he says breathlessly, panting. Will’s eyes are wide, and he’s breathing hard too, his hands pressed to Nico’s face.

“I like you too,” Will tells him. “I like you so much, I thought— I thought you would hate me if you found out.”

“I don’t hate you,” Nico says quickly, shaking his head. “I could never hate you, baby, I couldn’t, I—“

He cuts off with a gasp, still shaking his head, and Will furrows his brows, exhaling. And then he pulls Nico back in, kissing him.

Nico squeezes his eyes shut, moving his hands to hold Will’s face, pulling back to lick his lips and tilt his head before kissing him again.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But he doesn’t really care, because Will is holding his face almost tenderly, and his hair is soft between Nico’s fingers, and he’s so warm that Nico doesn’t remember what it feels like to be cold.

When they part, Nico is breathing hard, his eyes shut, and he wraps his arms around his neck, lifting onto his knees and grinning when Will grabs at his sweater and pulls him closer.

He lowers himself on Will’s lap, wrapping his legs around his waist, letting out a soft groan when Will presses a hand against the small of his back. Will laughs lightly.

Nico pushes his hands through Will’s hair again, revelling in the way Will sighs and presses his face into Nico’s neck. They stay there, wrapped around each other, until Will’s hand rubs his back gently.

“Ni,” he says softly.

“Mmhmm.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and Nico lifts his head, looking at him. He has that worried expression again, eyebrows furrowed, face tense. Nico pulls his hands away from his hair, touching his cheeks lightly.

“What is it?”

“I, uhm.” Will swallows, sliding his hands to hold Nico’s waist. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Nico says softly. He leans in and kisses him again, slowly and intently, holding his chin, before moving back so their legs around around each other still. “What is it?”

Will takes a deep breath. It shakes as he exhales, and Nico runs his hands down his arms, finding Will’s hands with his and pulling them away from his waist to hold between them. Will takes another breath.

“I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. Swallows. Lowers his face. “I’ve been wanting to tell to for— for a while, because you’re my best friend,” he says, glancing up at him. “And I really want you to know, if we’re…” He swallows again. “I just never knew how to… Say it.”

“Say what?” Nico asks softly, running his thumbs over Will’s knuckles.

Will’s hands tighten on his, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, looking away.

“I’m, uhm.” He squeezes his eyes shut, laughing lightly. “Jesus.”

“It’s okay,” Nico tells him, squeezing his hands. They’re shaking. “Just… Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“I really don’t want you to hate me,” he says weakly, and Nico tugs his hands roughly.

“Will.” Will looks at him, his eyes shining with fear. “What did I say? I’m never going to hate you.”

Will squeezes his hands again, taking a sharp breath.

“Promise?”

Nico exhales, his chest aching, and then he leans in, kissing Will softly, tilting his head and gently sucking on his lower lip, listening to Will sigh, feeling him relax. He pulls away, just far enough that their lips brush when he speaks.

“I promise.”

He pulls away, looking at Will, whose cheeks are flushed.

“Tell me,” Nico prompts gently. “What is it?”

“I’m…” Will takes one last breath. “I’m trans.”

His eyes are flicking anxiously back and forth between Nico’s, but Nico just blinks blankly.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I don’t… know what that means, but…”

Will exhales in despair, dropping his head and laughing lightly.

“All that build up…” He looks up at the ceiling, blinking.

“It’s okay,” Nico reassures him, moving closer. “Tell me. I’m here to learn.”

Will laughs again, sliding his hands up to hold Nico’s wrists loosely, pushing under his sleeves.

“Okay,” he says, nodding like he’s trying to prepare himself. “So.”

“So.”

“Trans is short for, uhm. Transgender.”

“Okay,” Nico says softly, listening.

“It means I was… When I was born, everyone said I was a girl.” Will’s hands are trembling against Nico’s wrist, and Nico shifts, moving so he’s holding Will’s hands tightly, firmly running his thumbs across the backs of his hands. “Because I had female anatomy. But every time… Every time people referred to me as a girl, or as my mom’s daughter, it just felt wrong. Like— Like it made viscerally uncomfortable.”

He pauses, and Nico nods, looking into his eyes. Will looks away.

“And I didn’t get why no one could see that I was a boy,” he continues quietly. “And then my body… started changing, and it made me…” His lip trembles. “Miserable. And I would hide, I’d wear these giant hoodies in the middle of summer, and I’d use medical tape and bandages to bind my chest, and it fucking sucked, because no matter what I did, no one ever saw me.”

Nico lifts Will’s hand to his lips, kissing him gently.

“I told my mom when I got a little older,” Will continues. “And I was really lucky, she— she accepted me, and respected me, and she…” He smiles softly, looking at the bed between them. “She took me shopping for new clothes and let me donate and give away everything I didn’t want. And she helped me pick a new name.”

Nico smiles.

“She paid for me to start hormone replacement therapy.”

“What is that?” Nico interrupts quietly, and Will looks up at him.

“I take, uhm. Testosterone injections,” he explains nervously. “It makes my voice deeper and everything.”

“Okay.”

Will exhales, smiling softly, and he looks like he’s going to cry.

“I came out to Mr D a while ago, and he was really nice—“ He cuts off with a little laugh at Nico’s expression. “I know, weird. But he, uhm. He sorted out my top surgery, which…” He must see the blank look in Nico’s eyes. “Which made it so my chest is flat.”

“Okay.”

“Most of my siblings know, like— like Dahlia and Vincent and Joy, and… Most of them have seen my scars while changing and stuff, but I haven’t told… most of my friends.”

“Okay,” Nico says again. Will looks into his eyes. He still looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

Nico lifts his hand again, kissing his knuckles.

“Will,” he says softly. “I don’t care.” He blinks, sitting up straight. “No, I do care, of course I care, I just…” He searches for the words he needs, and Will waits for him. “It doesn’t change anything,” he settles on. Will stares at him, a crooked smile appearing on his face. “I really like you. I don’t think anything is ever gonna change that.”

Will closes his eyes, falling forward until his head rests on Nico’s shoulder, and Nico laughs lightly, releasing his hands and reaching to comb through his hair.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Will lifts his head, nodding, and Nico smiles, thumbing under his eyes before he leans in and kisses him. Will runs his hands over Nico’s thighs, his fingertips slipping under the hems of his boxers, his hands warm against Nico’s skin, and Nico hums, moving one hand to hold the back of his neck, his other hand pressing lightly to his throat.

Will’s tongue slips across Nico’s lip, and Nico lets out a whimper, furrowing his eyebrows as his hands tighten on him. Will pulls away with a smile, his eyes trained on Nico’s parted lips as he gasps for breath, and then he’s leaning back in, sucking on Nico’s lip and pressing his tongue into his mouth.

Nico groans softly, pushing a hand into Will’s hair, kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him.

A rush goes through his body when he realises that he’s kissing a boy. That he gets to kiss a boy. That a boy wants to kiss him, too.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” he gasps when they part.

“Will you be mine?” Will asks, smiling, and Nico melts, nodding.

“Yours,” he breathes.

He leans in, kissing Will desperately, his teeth closing on his lip, before he kisses across his cheek, down his jaw, along the side of his neck. Will’s head falls back and he sighs, his fingers spreading over Nico’s lower back. Nico kisses over his throat slowly, lingering over his pulse, and then he’s reaching to pull at the collar of his shirt, tugging it out of the way so he can kiss his collarbone.

“Will,” he breathes, and Will hums back. “Can you take this off?” He lifts his head to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

Will nods, out of breath.

“No, I want to.” He hesitates. “Can you… take yours off too?”

Nico nods, smiling, and they release each other just lost enough to tug their shirts over their head. Nico gets tangled in his sweater for a moment, and he hears Will’s soft laughter through the fabric before he finally gets it off and tosses it away like it’s offensive. Will leans forward, catching Nico’s face between his hands and kissing him slowly.

Nico runs his hands over Will’s sides. He’s almost hot to the touch. Nico worries for a moment that his hands might be too cold, but Will just hums breathily at him, smiling.

“We shoulder probably shut the window, right?” Nico says softly when they part to breath, and a small laugh bursts out of Will.

“That’s probably smart.” He keeps a hand on Nico, resting on the side of his neck, and reaches with the other for the window, pulling it shut. Nico leans in as he’s tugging the curtains closed, kissing the side of his neck carefully and slowly. “Ni…”

Nico hums back, patting his lips and slipping his tongue over Will’s skin softly, smiling when a ragged breath escapes Will.

He kisses over his collarbones, nibbling the skin lightly the way he chews the strings of his hoodies and his forks when he’s not eating. Will buries his fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, sighing, his other hand landing on his hip.

“Will,” Nico whispers after leaving a lingering kiss on the hallow of his throat. “Can you lay back for me?”

Will nods, eyes closed, releasing Nico and falling onto his back promptly. Nico giggles, leaning over him and catching himself, hands on either side of Will’s head, careful not to land in his hair.

“Thank you,” he breathes, nuzzling into his neck, and Will lets out a soft Uh-huh.

Nico grins, moving down to kiss his chest, biting and licking to his heart’s content because Will is letting him. He baring his neck, tilting his head back against the bed, sighing, draping his arms over Nico’s shoulders and trailing his fingertips over his spine. Nico reaches his scars, and he pauses, looking.

“You know your scars are golden?” Nico asks, tracing one lightly. Will shivers.

“Are they?” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Nico breathes, gazing in awe.

They’re almost shimmering gold, standing out against his skin. He looks like something holy, divine, so beautiful that Nico almost whimpers. He want to cry.

He leans down and presses his lips over one side, leaving lingering kisses across it before moving to the other side.

When he swipes his tongue over a scar, Will whines, pushing a hand into Nico’s hair.

“Okay?” Nico whispers.

“Yeah,” Will breathes. “Yeah, angel, it’s okay.”

Nico’s body flushes with heat, and he beams so brightly it almost hurts. He leans down and does it again, and again, and again, across his chest and collarbones and shoulder and neck, over his golden scars and silver stretch marks, the freckles covering his shoulders like stars in the night sky, the soft bruises already blooming on his skin.

And then he’s licking into Will’s mouth, sighing blissfully as Will tugs his hair and presses against his back and entwines their legs.

Will rolls them over so he’s above Nico, and Nico groans, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck.

Will pulls away, panting, grinning, and Nico gazes at him, at his messy hair and flushed cheeks and lidded eyes and glistening lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Nico murmurs. Will looks at him. “Don’t argue with me.”

Will laughs, looking away. His hair falls into Nico’s face. It smells like oranges.

“There’s one more thing I have to tell you,” Will whispers after kissing him again. Nico wraps his legs around his waist, holding the sides of his neck gently.

“What is it?”

“…I don’t just like you.”

Nico tugs him in, tears sparking his eyes, his breath stuttering in his chest, hitching in his throat, and kisses him deeply, their tongues sliding together.

“Say it,” he gasps when they part, still close enough that their lips brush, their foreheads press together. “Tell me, baby, please.”

“I love you.”

Nico whimpers, feeling the words wrap around him like a tight bandage, his eyes squeezing shut. Will is kissing him again, peppering soft kisses over his lips and then his cheeks and chin and nose and forehead. Over his closed eyes. Down his neck and collarbones.

“Will,” he says desperately, and Will raises to his level, looking into his eyes. “I love you— I love you too, I love you so much.”

Will lowers to kiss him.

“Promise?” he whispers when he pulls away, and Nico laughs tearfully, pulling at Will’s back so their chests press together.

He can almost feel the heat of Will’s heart against his own.

“Promise.”

[regina-del-cielo]

Immortal Siblings AU | Four, then three, then four again

I mentioned that the bulletpoint post describing how the Guard from the Immortal Siblings AU found Joe had totally run away from me. It has, in fact, become a study on them grieving over Lykon and then finding Yusuf. 

I have, somehow, reached a sort of natural end to the amount of bullshit my mind can add to this list/fic draft. So, if you want to give it a read... grab a snack. It’s long. I’m sorry.

Warnings for Wikipedia levels of historical accuracy - I added links to the relevant pages when quoting historical events, but since I was just trying to work out a timeline (famous last words), the research wasn’t extensive. There’s a lot of hand-waving.

By the end of the 11th Century, I think Andy, Quynh and Nico haven’t been in Europe for a while, not really. They moved south, and then east, after the sack of Rome of 410 CE. Seeing the great cities fall has become hard for them, especially for Nico, who is a nomad at heart but has a soft spot for cities, together with Lykon, the true city boy in the group. He’d seen it happen to Athens, he wasn’t sure he could deal with seeing Rome wilt.

For reasons I cannot fathom, my mind is settled on them having been in India when Lykon dies (possibly sometime around the middle of the 6th century, in the mess that was the crumbling of the Gupta Empire???)

Seeing him die destroys them, and they take a break from any battlefield to grieve their friend and brother. They wander, occasionally helping but almost never raising their weapons, too leery of injuries and of losing each other.

(Quynh, who was the first to notice Lykon’s wounds, has nightmares that make her cry in her sleep. Andromache holds her so tight Nico can feel the tension on her muscles against his back. He and his sister barely sleep, scared of the open spaces of Asia as they’d never been before. Lykon was the youngest of them and he died, what if they stop healing too?)

(If Nico stands guard over his sisters and feels an ache in his chest seeing how they hold onto each other, he’s never going to say it out loud. His Mache deserves the love she shares with Quynh. But sometimes he wishes he had someone to hold him like that, one he can call his heart.)

The first time they go to battle again like in the old days it’s almost the end of the 10th century, and they’re helping Quynh’s lands gain independence from China. They have a reason and a specific side to root for, and it’s the kind of cause Lykon would have approved of. They find purpose again.

They are distantly aware of how things are holding up in the west – they know Constantinople has crowned itself capital of the Roman Empire (what is left of it anyway); they know of the new religion, Islam, and how it was brought further east with the armies conquering Persia. They met the Varangians on the Northern Plains of the Rus’, when Andy insisted on going back to their steppes for a while.

They acquire new swords, repair the old weapons, make improvements on their bows. They travel, and help, and listen. They learn new languages. They heal.

They’ve just spent the winter in Samarkand when they hear merchants newly come from Constantinople talk about the Frankish armies that took Antioch and making their way further into Palestine. 

The words ‘freeing Jerusalem from the infidels’ make Andy sigh in exasperation and twist Nico’s guts. The three of them don’t really understand the point of going to war for a god, but Jerusalem is old, and she’s been coveted by many throughout their long lives. Things like this never end well, they know it intimately.

But they’ve been away for a long time, centuries at this point. Things are very different from when the Romans had the power. They are less eager to throw themselves into the battlefield now, and there’s much they don’t know about the dynamics of Europe and the Levant. Still they’re worried, and decide that they’ll move west to see if something can be done, for the civilians at least.

At first they travel slowly, keeping an ear out for gossip spoken by the caravans coming from the west. Things radically change, however, when they dream of a new immortal (a man, with a curly black beard and shining dark eyes) dying on the walls of Jerusalem and reviving to an unprecedented slaughter – said man is, obviously, absolutely terrified and they feel it.

He’s also woken up surrounded by living enemies, with high risk of being killed or injured multiple times, and of being seen.

They are still too far away to do anything more than hope that the new guy is clever enough to keep himself alive until they can reach him, but now Nico is all for moving west at full speed to get him out.

“What the everloving FUCK is happening over there?!” is the common theme in their thoughts; nothing about this war they’re walking towards is making any sense.

Yusuf al-Kaysani is, in fact, clever enough to keep himself (and a few other civilians to boot) alive and get out of Jerusalem when it becomes clear than no matter how many Franks he kills he can do nothing to stop them alone. (It’s a fucking carnage, and he’s so tired). He walks away from the battle and tries to reach some sort of safety in the desert.

When he’d decided to stay in Jerusalem and fight instead of escaping the siege, Yusuf had considered the possibility of dying. He had not accounted for waking up from a fatal wound with no sign of having been hit in the first place.

And then there are the visions. Or dreams, he���s not sure. They don’t seem to make any sense? Who are those people?! Is his mind so addled by the war that he’s conjuring scary warrior women and a stupidly handsome man, armed to the teeth and camping in the desert?

(fantasizing about handsome men in his sleep isn’t exactly news for him, but there were never women in those. And none of his usual dreams involved weapons. Something is definitely off)

For the following days, Yusuf makes sure to stay away from human settlements while putting as much space as possible between Jerusalem and himself – the last thing he needs is to become a potential target for any invader that may cross his path.

But he’s alone, having nightmares, constantly on edge, and in a body that suddenly doesn’t feel like his own anymore, since he doesn’t even have the scars to prove that the injuries he sustained were real to begin with.

After a couple of weeks, the appearance of the strangers in his dreams starts feeling safe and comforting; they seem to operate like a little family, and God knows how much he misses his own.

(should he try to go back home? Would news of the siege reach his family before he does? Would he be able to go back to his previous life in the state he’s in? Could he keep this secret from them? Would they still love him or think him a monster?)

Despite their impressive warrior appearance, they feel... kind. And gentle. Sometimes, it feels like they’re trying to reassure him, even. Especially when he dreams from the perspective of the man.

The sensation those dreams leave on his skin is like a cape. You’re not alone, it whispers. Wait for us.

Andy, Quynh and Nico have just left Baghdad when the dreams change, and not for the better - Yusuf was passing through a village when a band of marauding Franks started harassing the locals. He moved to defend the villagers, but was overwhelmed and what’s worse, the Franks saw his wounds close too fast. Their reaction was vehement: they called him a demon, incapacitated him and then brought him back to their garrison, with every intention of ‘properly getting rid of him’.

Nico wakes up screaming and Andy has to sit on him so he doesn’t just sprint ahead without actually knowing where the fuck he’s going.

“We can’t just raid every single Frankish encampment in a twenty mile radius around Jerusalem, Nico!” “TRY ME” *Aggressive Sibling Bickering follows* *Quynh doesn’t bat an eye and just rolls out a map of the area she purchased and starts mapping out the fastest routes*

Yusuf is having a Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week at the hands of his captors, who are getting disturbingly creative in their tortures, but whenever they let him fall unconscious he sees the people of his dreams travelling much faster than before, looking Royally Pissed Off, and the surroundings are... starting to look familiar too? 

If he tries to pay more attention to the conversations his torturers are having with each other outside of the tent he’s in and hoping the dreams go both ways, so the maybe-real trio can find him easier, now that’s nobody’s business but his own.

(spoiler: it works)

When they are in sight of Jerusalem, the immortals find a drunk “pilgrim” boasting about his band capturing a ‘pagan demon’ while coming back from their victory at Ascalon, follow him back to his camp, and as soon as it’s feasible they attack.

(Andy will later gripe that Nico didn’t leave her anything to do because he just paved his way through the Franks like he was harvesting wheat.)

seeing the Stupidly Handsome Man of his dreams standing in front of him covered head to toe in blood, with a double-bladed axe in one hand and a sword in the other, staring intensely at him as if to peer directly into his soul is... an experience for Yusuf.

(he may have composed a lot of poems about that first vision of Nico through the centuries. The words ‘avenging angel’ have been used quite profusely, too)

The protective instinct that Nico has felt for the newest immortal since the first dream clutches at his throat when he finally sees him, chained to a pole and so thin his clothes barely cling to his body, but with the softest dark eyes staring back with a glint of recognition when he comes closer.

(he could cry with relief at the knowledge that he’s not scared of him. Nico has seen the faces of the men that were keeping him captive, he knows he looks a lot like they did, and that he paints a gruesome picture.)

“Are you alright?” Nico asks first, in Greek. (He knows, from the dreams, that his captors prayed in Latin. He wants to make sure that the other knows that he’s not like them.)

“You were in my dreams. You came.” Yusuf answers back in the same language, although his sounds much newer than Nico’s.

“Of course. We’re not meant to be alone… and no one deserves to be in a cage”.

Nico uses the axe to break the chains, and by the time he’s done Andy and Quynh have reached them and his sister throws the keys at him to open the shackles.

“Couldn’t take a moment to get them yourself, little eagle? You wanted to show off your skills to the new one?” Quynh teases, just to see Nico blush. Andy stares at her brother and their new companion for a few beats, before finally asking his name.

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad Al-Kaysani, known as al-Tayyib” he answers, letting out the first smile in weeks at the raising eyebrows of his saviours. “Just Yusuf is fine.”

“You have a sense of humour, brother. I like you!” Andy snorts, before cutting her palm with the edge of her axe, and showing him her fast healing.

“We are like you, Yusuf. That’s why you dreamt of us, and we of you” Nico adds gently, while Quynh offers her waterskin to Yusuf. They also offer their own names.

“We need to clean up this mess and move away from here” Andy says, while Nico helps Yusuf up. “One of those fuckers was boasting about an undying demon with others in a tavern, the last thing we need is to fight our way out against their whole army because someone else decided to come check if he was saying the truth.”

“It’s been a long time since we were in Kush” Quynh whispers, and Yusuf sees their faces open in a look of affectionate grief he remembers seeing on his Baba’s eyes when he talked about his own mother.

“We can talk about it more when we’re somewhere safer” Andromache suggests, before moving to set up the stage of an ‘accidental’ fire.

As they’re riding away, Yusuf turns slightly to watch the camp burn, leaving no trace of the invaders that hurt him. Jerusalem looms in the distance - lost, and wounded. If he were a little less exhausted, he could  easily work out a metaphor about his own situation.

But then he looks at the three people of his dreams – Quynh, Andromache, Nikolaos – that came for him. Who are the same as him, immortal.

His world has turned upside down, and there are so many questions to ask, and he could sleep for a month straight – but one thing is certain. 

He’s not alone anymore.

[thebluesideofmyworld]

What Nico Remembered

Summary:

The five things that Nico remembered about Will. And one thing that he would never forget.

Word count: 3400 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3

Notes:

1. My small contribution for the Nico di Angelo Birthday Event 21, held by @solangeloweek ​ on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy this one :)

2. One of the scenes in this one-shot, the (#5) is inspired by a fanart created by @anxiousstar that you can see here.

(1) This was what Nico remembered:  the feeling of skeletal butterflies doing some stupid dancing in his stomach. It felt so foreign, but if Nico had to be honest, it wasn't unpleasant.

As he sat on the cot in the infirmary, he tried telling those butterflies to calm down. Will was sitting on the chair next to the cot, jotting things down on the writing board that he had.

“So what is it that I have to do during this three-day stay, then?” Nico asked, trying to keep his scowl while at the same time, trying not to get distracted by the way Will’s golden curls fell over his head.

“Rest, of course,” Will answered, and lifted his eyes up from the board. "Sleep is, of course, our first priority. A well-balanced diet is next on the list."

Nico raised his eyebrows. “You have a list?” He asked in disbelief, this time managed to hold his eyes at Will’s blue eyes.

(That was another thing that Nico remembered: Will’s blue eyes)

Will’s lips curled up a little into a small smirk. “Of course I do, Death Boy.”

“What’s next on the list, then?”

“Well,” Will tapped his chin with the pen that he was holding, pretending like he was thinking hard about something. “Considering that based on your answers, you were practically an old man-“

“And thus you have to show me more respect that you’re doing now”

Will ignored Nico’s remark and continued. “And those years that lost on you while you were in The Lotus Casino means you have a lot to catch up with some cultural stuff.”

Nico snorted. “What, you mean like fine art and paintings and stuff?”

Will laughed. He leaned forward just a little. “Well, I’m not talking about that kind of art.”

There it was again. Those stupid skeletal butterflies were doing that stupid dance again in his stomach, as Nico stared at the ink of freckles on Will’s face.

“What are you talking about, then?”

“I’m talking about Star Wars.”

Nico scowled. “Isn’t it the movie with the… the light swords and that dude in a black robe?”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? So you have watched it?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “No,” he said. “But I think I’ve heard about it.”

“Well, then,” Will leaned back on his chair. His grin was wide and there was this excitement in his eyes. “It is decided then. The next thing on your to-do list while you’re here is having a Star Wars marathon.”

So the fact that Will loved Star Wars was one thing that Nico remembered. But the thing that he also remembered, was the way some stupid skeletal butterflies danced in his stomach, when Will fell asleep with his head on Nico’s shoulder, in the middle of Attack of The Clones.

***

(2) This was what Nico remembered: Nico didn’t ask Will to stay.

It was December. Nico had always dreaded the cold that December brought. And ever since Bianca passed away, December felt like the epitome of misery for Nico.

It was December. Nico lied down on his bed. It’s way past breakfast time, but Nico just didn’t have the energy to get up, let alone go out of his cabin.

When he heard the knocking, he wasn't exactly surprised. He had a pretty good guess on who's knocking and why. Also, he knew that the person knocking on the door would stubbornly refuse to leave anyway. So Nico sighed, and forced himself to sit down on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard.

“Come in,” he said and closed his eyes. He heard the door opened, and a second later it closed again with a soft thudding sound. He could hear Will’s footsteps but he kept his eyes closed. The footsteps stopped right next to his bed.

“Hey,” Will said, voice much gentler than usual.

Nico opened his eyes but stared at the dark wooden wall in front of him. He took a deep breath and sighed.

“What do you want?”

Will didn’t say anything for a while. The silence hung heavy between them. Nico turned his head to Will.

“What do you want?” He asked again.

Will slipped his hands into the pocket of his jeans. He bit his lower lip and looked hesitant for two seconds.

“Listen. Annabeth told me that this… this particular day might be hard for you.”

Icy cold feelings stabbed Nico’s chest. He could feel tears formed in his eyes. He turned his head away from Will, trying to blink away the tears.

“And?” He asked sharply, as he turned his head back at Will. “What you are going to do about it?”

“I want to make sure that you know that it’s okay-“

“No, it’s not, Solace! I lost my sister, do you think it’s okay? Do you think I’m okay with it?”

Will didn’t say anything. He didn’t look like he wanted to say anything. He just kept his eyes at Nico’s, with a look that Nico couldn’t understand.

Nico looked away again, hating himself for starting to cry again. Hating himself for shouting at Will. Hating himself for…everything.

“It’s not okay…” he whispered to the silence of the room, this time letting a tear fell down from his eyes.

“It’s not.”

Nico turned his head again, staring at Will.

Will slid down to sit on the floor, right next to the bed. He folded his arms on the bed.

"It's not okay. It hurts. To lose the people that we love. And it feels so unfair, isn't it?"

Will paused for a moment. “But, I mean… It’s okay to feel that way. To think that it’s not okay. To think that the world sucks.”

It's unexpected, to say the least. To hear those words coming from the Apollo's son who always seemed to see a silver line in everything. But at the same time, it made a thought cross his mind.

Maybe Will would understand.

Nico chewed his lower lip, still staring at the dark blue sheet covering his bed. He took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky breath.

“I miss her,” he whispered. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Will nodded.

“I’m sure you do.”

Silence again. But this time, it felt just a little bit lighter.

“Can you tell me about her?”

Nico turned his head slowly to Will. “What?”

There was this soft, gentle smile on Will’s lips. “Tell me about her. About your sister.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s an important person to you. Because you love her. Because I want to know about her, more than just a name.”

It didn’t make sense to Nico. It didn’t make sense and Nico didn’t know how to.

Then again, when Nico closed his eyes, he could see her smile. He could almost hear her voice, laughing as they ran through the alleys back in Venice.

Nico slowly opened his eyes back. “Bianca’s favorite color was green,” he started.

He didn’t know why and how but he kept on talking. He kept on talking about Bianca and pieces and fragments of memories that he remembered. He kept on talking to Will, who was sitting on the floor, arms folded on the bed, listening to every single word tumbling down from Nico.

At one point, Will’s hand crept down to hold Nico’s hand.

Nico didn’t hold his hand back. He just kept on talking about Bianca and the song that she used to sing and her favorite gelato in Venice.

But Will kept on holding his hand and he kept on listening to Nico’s words.

And that was what Nico remembered. Nico didn’t ask Will to stay, but Will stayed anyway.

Nico also remembered another thing: he didn’t hold Will’s hand back. But Will didn’t let go, and kept on holding his hand.

***

(3) This was what Nico remembered: Will Solace cried in silence.

Nico stood at the doorway to the emergency room in the infirmary. Will was there, totally focusing on the girl lying on the cot.

But now, Nico had his eyes on Thanatos, who was standing in the other corner of the room.

He stared at Thanatos, with pleading eyes.

But he knew it was useless.

Thanatos shook his head, a grim expression on his face.

Nico took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened his eyes again, Thanatos already stood just two steps away from him.

“I’m sorry, My Prince,” Thanatos said, bowing his head a little.

“Well...,” Nico said. “You’re just doing your job.”

“Some death-“

"Cannot be avoided. Yes, I know that, Thanatos," Nico cut him sharply. His eyes quickly darted to where Will was. The healer didn’t seem to hear their conversation though (nor did he seem to care about anything else other than the girl on the cot, for that matter).

Thanatos’s lips thinned into a line, but he gave Nico a single nod.

Nico let out a small shaky breath. He knew that. He already knew that death was a certainty, anyway. But knowing how much it hurt Will to lose another patient? That’s another thing.

Nico made a small dismissive gesture with his hand. “Just… do what you have to do. Please make sure that it’s…in the least painful way for her.”

“She will no longer be in pain, My Prince,” Thanatos assured him. And with that last remark, he disappeared, leaving only a small trace of black smoke.

Nico took another deep breath and slowly let it out. Carefully, he made his way to the cot. When he was only a step away from Will, he stopped.

He watched the way Will’s chest moved heavily for a few silent moments. Then Will leaned forward, to gently closed the girl's head with the pale blue blanket.

Nico carefully placed his hand over Will's shoulder, squeezing it just a bit.

“We lost her,” Will said in a shaky whisper. “I lost her,” he added, voice even lower.

A steel fist clenched Nico’s heart. He squeezed Will’s shoulder again. The blond still had his eyes fixed on the body on the cot, now covered with a blue pale blanket.

“It’s not your fault, Will,” Nico said. There was a growing lump in his throat, but he forced himself to say it again. “It’s not your fault.”

Nico felt Will’s shoulder trembled as he took a deep, shaky breath. He kissed the top of Will’s head, mumbling against the curls again, “It’s not your fault, Tesoro. It’s not.”

Oh, how Nico would keep on saying it again and again, until Will really, truly believed in those words.

They burned the body the next morning, so early, the sun was nothing but pale purple light in the sky. Nico watched the fire burned the black and green shroud, Will stood silently next to him

And that was what Nico remembered: Will cried in silence. He didn’t weep, not even a sob. He cried by schooling his face into a blank canvas. Will shed no tears, but the color of his eyes turned into a dull shade of blue.

***

(4) This was what Nico remembered: Will tasted like strawberries with a touch of mint.

“Here, eat some,” Will shoved the bar of Kit Kat into Nico’s hand.

Nico raised his eyebrows but quickly unwrapped the chocolate bar. Will took a seat next to the cot, where Nico was sitting with crossed legs.

“Wow,” he said. “So McDonald’s chicken nugget is bad so you’re telling me to eat chocolate bar instead? Are you trying to give me a sugar rush or something?”

Will huffed. "McDonalds' gives you high blood pressure and a bigger risk of stroke and heart diseases. Kit-Kat, and chocolate bars, for that matter, are quick sources of energy. Exactly what you need after shadow-traveling."

Nico nodded, mouth still full with chocolate.

“You know what? I am not complaining. And maybe we should do more research on that.”

“On what?”

“Which kind of chocolate bars is the best one to give me after shadow-traveling,” Nico proposed, and took another bite of the Kit Kat.

Will chuckled, but his eyes softened. “Yeah, that sounds like a very intriguing research indeed.”

Nico continued eating the chocolate, but the way Will was staring at him almost made him squirmed.

“What?” Nico asked.

Will blinked. “Huh? What?”

Nico huffed. “You’re staring at me. Do I have chocolate on my face?” Nico’s index finger flew to his cheek and rubbed it.

Will smiled. And somehow, it’s not that brilliant smile that he usually had. This was different. This was a soft, gentle smile. A smile that made Nico forgot how to breathe for a second.

“You’re cute, do you know that?”

Nico’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel heat rushing into his face, burning the back of his neck.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Will insisted. He leaned forward a little, bringing his face closer to Nico’s. This time, there was a glint in his eyes, the smile turned into a playful smirk.

Nico huffed, trying his best to look annoyed. But inside, his heart was beating so fast, so fast with something he faintly recognized as a mix of nervousness and excitement.

“Oh yeah? So what?”

“So maybe it makes me want to kiss you.”

It wasn’t like Nico has never imagined this before. It wasn’t like Nico has never spent too much time wondering whether he read it all wrong. Then again, really hearing the words coming from Will instead of just some imaginary dialogues that he had in his mind still caught Nico off-guard. Nico inhaled sharply but he couldn’t seem to look away from Will.

“So maybe you should,” he said, half-whispering. He was almost proud that his voice was just a bit shaky, even though his heart was jumping like crazy in his chest.

For just a second, Will seemed surprised, like he didn’t expect Nico’s reply. But then the soft smile returned to his face, his blue eyes like a clear morning sky. He leaned forward even closer.

“Well, then maybe I will,” he whispered.

Nico closed his eyes as Will leaned even closer, his breath warm and light, a faint tickle over Nico’s skin.

The next second, he felt Will’s lips over his, a warm, sweet pressure that lingered for a short, fragile moment.

Will pulled away, and Nico opened his eyes. They stared at each other in silence, both breathing heavily. And it was Nico who spoke first.

“Hey, Will?”

“Hm?”

“Can you kiss me again?”

Will smiled and leaned forward again. He cupped Nico’s cheek in his hand that felt warm on Nico’s skin.

“Do you want me to?” He asked, his blue eyes gentle, sparkled with glee.

Nico hummed, and gave him a single nod. He didn’t even realize that the tips of his lips curled up into a small smile.

“Okay, then.”

Will kissed him again, and this time, Nico kissed him back. He let his fingers buried between the soft curls of Will’s golden hair and he let himself lost in the kiss.

Will slowly pulled away, only to gently pressed his forehead against Nico’s.

“You taste like Kit-Kat,” he said.

Nico chuckled. He pulled himself a bit from Will, and carefully traced Will’s lips with his finger.

“And you, Solace. You taste like strawberry and mint. Must have been your toothpaste.”

And that was what Nico remembered. Will tasted like strawberry, with a touch of mint.

***

(5) This was what Nico remembered: Will felt like home.

Nico walked out of the shadow to the coolness of his own cabin. He put his sword under his bed, and with wide steps, he made his way to the door. The afternoon sunlight was warm on his skin as he walked to the tree near the strawberry field.

Will was sitting under the tree, sitting cross-legged with a book on his lap. It was probably one of those medical textbooks that Will strangely enjoyed so much, as he didn’t seem to hear Nico’s footsteps. Nico stopped, and took a moment to stare at Will. It was almost ridiculous, that even with that hideous orange t-shirt that he was wearing, the sight of Will still made Nico strangely breathless.

“Hey,” Nico called.

Will looked up. When his eyes met Nico’s, the blue eyes sparkle as a smile light up his face.

“Neeks! You’re back!”

“Hmph.”

Will closed his book and put it aside.

“I’m tired,” Nico said, half-whining as he plopped himself down to sit right next to Will.

Will opened his arms invitingly, his eyes as warm as his smile. “Rest, then. Just lay down here on me.”

“Say no more, Solace,” Nico said. He scooted even closer to Will, and rest his head against Will’s chest. He closed his eyes as Will wrapped an arm around him. Nico let himself melt into the familiar warmth of Will’s embrace. As he started drifting off to sleep, he felt Will’s fingers gently going through his hair.

“Welcome home, darling,” Will whispered softly, and Nico felt Will’s lips gently pressed on the side of his head. “Now rest. You’re here now. You’re home. With me.”

And that was the last thing that Nico remembered before he fell asleep: He’s home now, in Will’s embrace. Will felt like home.

***

(+1) This was what Nico would never forget: he loved Will.

It was dark inside Cabin 13. A sliver of moonlight sneaked in from the window and fell on Will's hair. With the soft moonlight illuminating it, the golden curls looked more like silvery strands between Nico's fingers.

Playing with some strands of Will's hair, Nico let himself enjoyed the sight of his boyfriend, lying peacefully next to him. Will's eyes were closed, but there was a small, barely-there smile on his lips. And Nico knew that behind those eyelids, Will's blue eyes were smiling too.

Will opened his eyes, and shifted so now he’s lying on his side, facing Nico.

“It’s past midnight now,” he said softly.

Nico hummed. “And?” he asked, pulling his finger away and started tracing Will’s jawline.

“And it means that you’re officially 18 now.”

“Technically-“

Before he finished his sentence, Will already pressed a finger on his lips, shutting him down.

“Nope. None of that born-in-the-30’s shit now. Let me just enjoy the fact that it’s my boyfriend’s birthday now.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Will pulled his finger away, then leaned forward to place a soft, gentle kiss on Nico’s lips. He pulled away just a little, and placed another gentle kiss on the soft skin near Nico’s ear.

“Happy birthday, love,” he whispered. Nico shivered. The genuine sincerity in Will’s voice made him felt warm and giddy and just so inexplicably happy.

He cupped Will's cheek. Will was staring at him like Nico was the only thing in the world that he cared about. But he knew that he's also staring at Will in the same way.

“Kiss me again? As a birthday gift?”

Will smiled and even in the dim, soft light of the moon, that smile made Nico’s heart skipped a beat.

Will leaned forward again, kissing him again. Nico kissed him back, fingers buried between Will’s soft curls. And for a while, the whole world was reduced into just the two of them and the kiss that they were sharing.

For a while, there were only the two of them and nothing else mattered. Nothing could hurt them as long as they’re together like this, lost in the kiss.

Nico pulled away. Slightly panting, he stared at Will. Will smiled, and placed a quick, chaste kiss on Nico’s nose.

“What else that you want for your birthday?”

“More birthday with you. More days and years to spend with you. More memories to be made with you.”

Will laughed. He wrapped an arm around Nico, and pulled him so Nico was half-lying on his chest. He kissed the crown of Nico’s head.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?”

Nico looked up. “And I love you too. You know that, right?”

Will hummed, and wrapped his arms around Nico, enveloping him in his warm embrace.

There were a lot of things that Nico remembered about Will. And there was this one thing that he would never, ever forget: he loved Will. And Will loved him back.

***

Author’s Notes:

1. Thank you for reading :D

2. Any notes (likes, reblog, replies or a message to me) are cherished so much

[amiramorozova]

Dual Summoner x The Darkling pt. 17

Looking around we were alone still so he leaned down and kissed me as I kissed him back. I didn't want people to find out about us right away. While we were in our moment we heard someone suddenly walk up and clear their throat. Pulling away from each other we saw that it was Baghra. I knew the next few training sessions she wasn't going to go easy on me.

"I hope you had fun because you'll be working twice as hard until you make up your time." Baghra said, "and you will meet me out at night by the lake to train what we didn't for years." 

"You don't have to be so hard on her, you know she's dedicated to her studies. Everyone deserves a break." Aleksander said, "She is my soldier, I get to tell her what to do." 

The tension between the two of them was clear as day to me being they were both shadow summoners. I could see he was tense and I put my hand on his arm as he looked at me, the conversation we had was clear. Baghra insisted I come with her instead of staying there with him.

"I'll find you later." Aleksander said to me

"Of course." I said 

Walking over to Baghra I saw her take a look at me, her eyes stopping at the necklace around my neck. She didn't directly say anything when we started walking together to her training area, I knew that there was a lot to do. The fold was on my mind and the options of making it a weapon or destroying it lingered with me. I knew if I sided with him on making it a weapon I could be branded a heretic like him. Once inside the area Baghra had me sit and sat across from me as she waited. 

"Call the water." She said

I put my hands together following her orders as I had water come to my hands and it was a big ball in between my hands. I had done some training while I was there when I was with Nico. Just the thought of Nico and that fight made me falter and I lost it as I covered my eyes. 

"You aren't focusing enough." Baghra said as she hit my arm.

"Stop it." I said, "I had a bad day yesterday." 

"How could you have a bad day? You went out with the general. A week of freedom from this place." Baghra said 

"I ran into an old friend, he's in the first army." I said as I removed my hand looking at her "He was pressing his opinions at me and I got angry. We had a fight." 

"Is that why you have a darkling's symbol around your neck?" Baghra said "You are becoming like all the other Grisha girls." 

I stood up knowing she knew how much I hated the idea of her comparing me to the other girls. I was holding strong on not being anyone's pet. Aleksander had promised I wouldn't be his pet but something more. I put my hands together and brought the water back as I had it the same size then I expanded it as she watched and nodded. Then I let it go and I put my hands together as I called forth the light. Her surprise at how strong it looked made me wonder what happened and I just held it.

"Were you training over there?" Baghra asked

"He told me I didn't have to but I did. When you literally see the fold in close distance it kinda fuels you to want to get better." I said 

She had me show a few of my father's techniques which I still struggled with but I managed to form them. I was glad this Kefta was able to let me move and when we were done she had me sit. Thoughts were going through her head I could see as she got up and got something to drink bringing it over to me and I took it. We both sat quietly drinking as I waited for her to lash out or say something.

"I must confess something." Baghra said 

"What is that?" I asked

"Your father made a deal with me." Baghra said 

"I'm aware, you promised to keep his child safe if anything happened." I said 

"Well that was the deal we made after the first deal." Bahra said 

I looked at her curiously now because she'd never mentioned this before on what was going on. I started to think of what else they could have made a deal on besides everything that had happened. Still, I waited to see if her answer was going to be as I took another sip of my drink.

"When Aleksander was a boy, I traveled a lot when I came across your father for the first time. He was cold and trying to use so little of his power to maintain warmth. So I offered to train him but I wanted something in return." Baghra said 

"What?" I asked

"I told him I would train him to control his power and hide them. In return, if he had a daughter, I wanted her to marry Aleksander to form a unity between the two families as I had a feeling she would be like him." Baghra said, "I knew Aleksander would be eternal so it did not matter how long he would have to wait for her to be in his life...this was before the fold was ever created and before his healer was killed. Now we are here and I have tried everything to keep you from Aleksander but you are a dual summoner. Grisha Born of two bloodlines who can use two kinds of the small science and it feeds you every time you use it." 

I had taken another sip of my drink when Baghra had told this story about my father. It went down wrong and I had to cough a bit to clear my throat, not the first time someone has shocked me with information. Aleksander and Baghra were good with catching me off guard but I looked at her knowing that at first I considered she was lying.

"You arranged this but now you don't want me to be with him." I said 

"I don't want him to use you Amira. He has had enough time to manipulate naive girls." Baghra said 

"Well he isn't manipulating me. He knows I know the truth about him, all the names people called or call him." I said "I asked him about the fold this morning." 

"Merzosts was a forbidden science, but he used it." Baghra said "I wanted a Grisha daughter-in-law who would not die so easily." 

"stop interfering Baghra, you made this arrangement you cannot back out of it. Maybe I can do more than you're thinking. We can make Grisha safe and maybe the fold can help in some ways. I can't do it alone, I know that already." I said "Wait did you know my grandparents?"

Baghra seemed shocked at my words and I hadn't decided whether I wanted to destroy the fold or help expand it. "Yes Amira, I know your father's parents. They're alive and in hiding." Baghra said. Knowing she knew them surprised me and they were alive but where were they? I knew I needed to talk to Aleksander about what Baghra had done and the arrangement she'd made with my father. I left without saying a word after I set the cup down and walked back into the little palace. So much going through my mind at the moment and not enough time to process it all. 

As I walked around I came across Marie and Nadia as I waved to them to get their attention. I noticed Marie was distracted by a heartrender and I watched as they were talking, getting a little closer just in case any help was needed I waited. I saw her accidentally light him on fire and I put my hands together and used water to help extinguish the fire as they both saw me.

"Amira, welcome back." Marie said, then I saw her eyes go to my necklace "Oh"

"Thank you, it seems you uh were about to hurt this heartrender." I said 

"I am Sergei Beznekov, I was asking Marie out." Sergei said 

"So you set him on fire by accident?" I asked Marie

"I panicked, no one has asked me out before." Marie said "But you clearly have been asked out." 

I touched my necklace knowing that it was a symbol of protection but a symbol of claim on me too. I couldn't tell Marie that Baghra had arranged for us to be together, not until I could tell her everything. 

"Yeah, sort of. Happened last night." I said 

"Well take things slow, if you can." Marie said

"Of course." I said nodding

I needed space so I walked away from them and headed off to figure out what I was going to tell Aleksander. I knew that there was so much more than I could possibly do at this moment, but the fact remained that I had free will. If I chose to turn my back on him one day he would be hurt but at the same time I was falling for him.

Once he knows the truth will he try to insist we get married right away? I thought

I shook the thought from my mind quickly. Marriage was a big step and I was nowhere read to have that commitment. I needed time to think about all of what I knew and what I had been told. Most of all I knew I had another task at hand which would be finding my grandparents to meet them for the first time.

[blackrose343]

Hopeless - Chapter 5: The Consequences

Warnings: Angst, Language and PTSD

I am not a medical professional so I cannot say if this chapter accurately portrays PTSD. I did research it and compared it to what I have written. From what I saw, it looks like the reader is going through something along the lines of PTSD. So to be on the safe side, I decided to put PTSD in the warning.

Devil May Cry - V x Gender Neutral Reader

Fanfic summary:  You have been kidnapped by a Soul Snatcher clan that used to reside within Red Grave. They’re torturing you for more information about the one who helped you kill their leader. While being held captive you begin to think about how to escape, how this all started, and if someone will find you. Then again, what would happen if you escape?

Hopeless Masterlist

Sorry this took so long.

Part of the poem V reads is  Auguries of Innocence by William Blake.

Present Day

Vergil returned with you to Devil May Cry not too long after the others. Everyone gathered around, excited to finally meet you. (Although, they wished it was under better circumstances.) Nero covered Nico’s mouth, quieting her before she exclaimed her excitement about meeting you. Vergil reminded everyone you’ve been through a lot and needed rest. A lot of it. He also stressed the importance of giving you space once you regain consciousness. Vergil didn’t want you to become overwhelmed by everyone bombarding you at once. You would need time to readjust to your life; to relearn what you have forgotten.

“Try not to wake (Y/N).” Vergil left the room as V approached you. A big sigh of relief left him. You were okay just like Vergil promised you’d be. Lovingly, V stroked your hair. He got onto his knees, then placed a tender kiss on your forehead. A tiny smile graced your lips. To not disturb slumber, V took his leave.

Vergil was sitting outside enjoying the night’s cool breeze. No, he was still trying to figure out how to tell V the decision he made. Ever since he made the decision he has been trying to find the best way to tell V. Vergil knew V wouldn’t take it well. Especially since he didn't know if all or some of your memories were sealed.

It wasn’t hard for V to find Vergil. He recognized Vergil’s agitated sigh anywhere. V’s expression showed Vergil he wanted to know what happened. Vergil chose to explain to V what the healer explained to him. V’s grip on his cane was so tight his knuckles whitened. He was furious Vergil made the decision of you possibly forgetting him. But, he understood why. V expressed to Vergil he wanted you to be okay no matter what. And that’s what Vergil achieved. Before V said anything he shouldn’t, he left.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, then you observed your surroundings. You had no idea where you were. After further inspection, you realized you were in someone’s bedroom. The room more than likely belonged to the man next to you. You studied the sleeping man. A book with a “V” on the cover was on his face. Pale, slender, covered in tattoos and some bruises. You wondered who he was. That thought soon vanished. Silently, you freaked out when you saw a panther by his feet. Even more so when you saw the bird next to him. Does that bird have three pupils?!

“Hey Shakespeare, wake up! (Y/N) is awake.” The bird ruffled his feathers, then flew around the room. The panther lazily yawned then looked up at you. It would have pounced onto you but the man commanded it not to. His sultry voice soothed you yet you don’t know why. You’ve never met him. Or at least you didn't think you did.

Heartbreak filled V’s eyes when you told him you didn’t know who he was. You could tell he was restraining himself from approaching you. V wanted to hold you; to do whatever he could to make you remember him. To make him feel better you mentioned his voice was familiar to you. V’s saddened eyes lightened with hope. He knew you would remember him in due time.

To get an idea of how much has been sealed away, V convinced you to tell him about your life. You briefly babbled about your childhood. Nothing too unusual about it. You glossed over your demon hunting training. You didn't have many friends because of it. You slightly elaborated your demon hunting career. Honestly, you enjoyed it and would never leave it. When you reached recent events, nothing came to mind. All you could remember was meeting with a gentleman for a job. You couldn’t remember the conversation or what the job was.

V meticulously chose his words while explaining what happened to you and how you met him. He also kept some details to himself. You took it as him not wanting to offend you. V did not want to be the reason you regain your horrid memories so soon. He knew you would remember eventually yet he will try to prolong it for as long as possible.

Few Years Later

You were surrounded by darkness. The sound of your breathing was interrupted by an agonizing scream. A familiar scream. You couldn’t remember where you heard it from. But you knew it. You instinctively followed it. The scenery changed as you made your way to the scream. The scenes varied from a bar to chaotic parts of  Red Grave. It felt as if you were a part of each scene. As if you were reliving someone’s life. 

The screams were muffled when you spotted an out of place door. The same door you’ve been seeing for too many nights. You banged on the door. Its barrier forced you away once again. You stared at the door, cursing at it. Each time you approach the door, the same thing happens. You didn’t know why you let yourself repeat this scenario so many times: banging the door non-stop till your hands bleed and the screaming abruptly stops. You wanted to say it was because you wanted to save whoever was behind the door. For some reason curiosity was more of a reason. You were unsure if you were curious to see who was behind the door or what was happening. There was no doubt you would find out soon. The barrier was significantly weaker than when you first saw it.

The muffled screams were non-stop. Whoever was screaming seemed to be in more pain than before. Desperately, you kicked the door while reassuring whoever was on the other side you were there to help. Nothing seemed to be working. It made no sense. It was a simple door. Nothing special about it besides the barrier. It didn’t matter. You had to get through it. 

The door's final attempt to keep you away woke you. Your eyes shot open. Your mind felt hazy, then it was racing. Your heart was beating frantically. Sweat rolled down your body as you sat up. You growled from irritation when you realized you were in your room.

“(Y/N), are you alright? It seemed like you were having another nightmare.” V’s worried voice relaxed you. He softly caressed your face then kissed your forehead.

“The dream with the damned door...like almost every night now…” You were so frustrated with it. At first, you didn’t mind not opening it. You can’t always achieve something on the first attempt. After a couple weeks, well...It started to become frustrating. You tried to stop yourself from going near the door. The temptation of seeing what was behind it grew stronger with each attempt to open it. Not only did it create the most interesting scenarios the closer you got to opening it. It also seemed to be calling you to it. You were too close to give up on it now.

You yawned as you rubbed your temples. Lazily, you kissed V on the cheek then made your way to the bathroom. Whispered curses could be heard through the bathroom door. 

V’s eyes followed you until the door blocked his view. His worry for you grows each time you mention the door to him. Ever since you started to dream about that door, you slowly started to become different. When the door made its first appearance, you became more irritable. V thought the irritability was from difficulty sleeping. He read poetry to you before bed but it didn’t always work. 

The next thing V noticed was your interactions with everyone changed. Most of the time you would secretly observe them as if you were on a mission. Sometimes, you would barely talk to them or get lost during a conversation. V knew you were listening. It just seemed other stuff was on your mind. Other times you put up your guard when around a crowd of people.

Attempts to discuss your behavioral changes were made. Each time you yelled at V, confirming nothing was wrong. When you realized you were yelling at him, you automatically apologized. You explained to V you had no idea why you were acting the way you were. V would try to get some sort of explanation out of you. Eventually, you explained it was your dream with the door. The weaker the door got, the more realistic the dreams from it felt. 

V was certain the door in your dreams was the seal to your memories. V brought up his concerns for you with Vergil the first chance he got. Solemnly, Vergil explained to V once the seal was released it cannot be remade. V was furious but hid it well. Instead of dealing with his feelings about this, he focused on you. Whenever you needed him, he was there. Whenever you were feeling down or anxious, he would do everything he could to make you feel better and safe.

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

You and V were on a double date with Nero and Kyrie. Kyrie wanted to have dinner at a new restaurant on the other side of Red Grave. The subway ride there was like any other subway ride. Nothing exciting to see. All of you chatted with each other, trying to decide where else to go besides the restaurant. You were excited to see a whole new part of Red Grave. It took the government long enough to start rebuilding it after what happened. Yet for some reason an uneasy feeling started to consume you.

Kyrie and Nero got off the subway with V following behind them. They’re voices faded as they neared the exit. You sat in the subway, staring at the advertisement on the station’s wall. The advertisement seemed familiar to you in a way. Yes, you’ve seen this advertisement in many places but that wasn’t it. It was as if this specific advertisement contained something. You were convincing yourself it was nothing and to catch up with the others. You couldn’t think of any reason as to why you didn’t want to get off the subway. You forced yourself to get off when the last call was announced.

A flash from a faulty light took you to a destroyed version of the subway station. The advertisement you were looking at before was torn. Not from age but from claws. As you turned your head, you saw the subway was no longer on the tracks. It was stuck in the wall on the opposite side of the tracks. Chunks of the station were around you, along with corpses. Broken electrical wires and pipes were above you. You turned your head again. Your eyes focused on the claws about to strike you. Your instincts screamed at you to defend yourself. “Get away from me!”

“V, are you okay?!” Kyrie’s voice rang through your ears. Your eyes shot open. The station was intact. Not one thing was out of place. Nero was helping V get up. V reassured Nero he could get up on his own. You could see a bruise forming on his chest. You were petrified. Nothing could explain what just happened or why. I attacked V? No, that’s not right. I punched something else. I was being attacked.

“V, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You examined V’s chest while apologizing to him over and over. V continued his reassurance. He didn’t want to ruin anyone’s mood, especially yours. He kept quiet about how much your punch hurt him. He gently wiped your guilt ridden tears. He kissed your hand, then led the way to the restaurant. You squeezed his hand, pouring your emotions into it. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

V kept himself composed the entire time. Within himself, V was more than worried. He felt your fear through your punch. Your eyes were filled with fear and yet they had determination. The last time he saw you like this was when you almost died. V had no doubt your memories will be freed soon. 

V and Nero froze as you and Kyrie crossed the street. Disbelief filled them. They couldn’t believe the shitty luck today was presenting. The restaurant was on the roof of the building you were held captive at. Nero was spitting out excuses for V to get you away from here. There was no way either of them could let you enter that building, let alone let you eat dinner exactly where you were almost murdered. Before either of them could get to you, they watched Kyrie pull you into the building. Nero muttered “fuck” as he and V made their way to the restaurant.

Nervously, you laughed as Kyrie pulled you to the building. The uneasy feeling from earlier strengthened the closer you got to it. The feeling continued to worsen as you reached the roof. Your stomach was in knots. Your breathing started to become shaky. Your mind screamed for you to get away. You couldn't understand what was going on with you. You noticed Nero and V were a bit hesitant about coming to this place too. So maybe it wasn’t just you freaking out over nothing. 

You wrapped a few ice cubes in napkins then placed it on V’s chest. You kept apologizing to him. You couldn’t understand why he wasn’t mad at you. All you saw was his concern for you. You wanted to explain to V what happened earlier. Just not with an audience. Everyone would think you lost your damn mind. 

You couldn't stop yourself from figuring out why the events from earlier happened. Your mind conjured up so many reasons. You tried to figure out which one was a plausible reason. You didn’t want V to hear it was because of your damned dreams again. You’ve been using them as an excuse for too long. You could only conclude work may be starting to become too much. Maybe you needed a vacation. Who knows? 

“(Y/N)”? You looked at Nero like a deer in headlights. Was he reading your mind? You weren’t sure. He was giving you a questioning look. Sheepishly, you apologized for not listening then asked him to repeat himself. You found out everyone was discussing the changes made when this part of town was rebuilt.

“What happened here? I know the Qliphoth was here. It just seems something else happened too.” Nero threw V into the spotlight. V’s explanation was vague. It barely gave you the answer you were looking for. You gave Kyrie a look, silently asking her if V was hiding something from you. Kyrie’s reply was a subtle shrug. She had no idea what was going on.

Dinner continued normally. It was as if everything from earlier never happened. Nero and Kyrie acting lovey dovey. You and V were trying not to tease them. It scared you how easily everyone was able to push something like that aside. 

V glanced at you, looking for any sign that you were well. Ever since you entered the restaurant he noticed you were shaking. He knew you were attempting to hide it. The shaking appeared so strong, everyone thought you were freezing. He noticed you barely touched your food even though you claimed you were starving earlier. V thought it was best if you and him went home after dinner.

You and everyone else walked along the edge of the roof to exit the restaurant. V used his cane to deviate your wandering eyes to him. He made absolutely sure you didn’t look below or beyond. He had to. He wanted to prevent you from feeling worse than you already are. He feared you would remember what happened here.

Kyrie managed to find enough room to take a couple of pictures. Nero tried to get out of it by saying he didn’t look decent enough. V attempted to convince Kyrie to wait since the restaurant was crowded. Kyrie asked what was the harm of taking a couple pictures. It’s been too long since Kyrie got to take group photos. Also, the sunset would be the perfect background. The guys sighed in defeat.

You and Kyrie gushed over the pictures as you continued to leave the restaurant. Nero pleaded with Kyrie to wait until she was out of the restaurant to look at them. Kyrie showed Nero the picture she was currently looking at. Nero made a quick comment, then placed his hands on her shoulders. You and V watched Nero guide Kyrie. It was entertaining, even impressive. Nero had Kyrie dodge everyone coming through the door.

Your laughter at Nero and Kyrie was abruptly interrupted. Someone forced their way between you and V causing you to slam into the railing. As you situated yourself, you caught a glimpse of a black haired figure below. For just a second, the figure looked like a beaten V. You knew V wasn’t down there, he was next to you. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking. You saw V, then someone strangely familiar looking at the table behind him. Briefly, you tried to remember how you knew him.

“Are you ok-tell me who killed Carmilla!” The calm voice evolved into an aggressive demand. You couldn’t figure out who was talking to you. The demand was repeated. You kept quiet. You had no idea who Carmilla was. You don’t remember any mission involving anyone with that name. The harshness of the demand escalated until it evolved into yelling in your ear. You covered your ears but it sounded like it was coming from all over. Even from right next to you.

“I’m not telling you shit. Give up.” The haughty voice was yours, but you didn’t move your lips. The sound of powerful strikes, along with your whimpers followed.  Frantically, you searched for help. Nothing. No one. It was just you and the one asking about Carmilla. You closed your eyes preparing for the next strike. You started to take deep breaths. It was the only thing you believed would put everything back into place.

Few people asked if V wanted them to call an ambulance. V persuaded everyone to leave you be. He reassured them you would be fine and needed to be left alone. He knew the best thing for you was to have as much space as possible. To have as much time as you need to gather yourself. He knew you needed him too, but there was no way to physically calm you without possibly making the situation worse.

You stood still, gripping the rail for dear life. V studied the rhythm of your deep breaths and heaving chest. It was obvious you were trying to calm yourself. Even more obvious you were currently reliving your time while held captive here. Nightmarish thoughts raced through V’s mind. Nothing he conjured could be compared to what you actually went through. He wanted to understand but couldn’t come close to. In hopes of helping you and calming himself, V recited poetry from his book. “To see a world in a  grain of sand…”

“WHO KILLED CARMILLA?! TELL ME! TELL...poor souls...dwell in night...does…” Softly, the harsh demands transformed into V’s poetic voice. You completely focused on V’s voice, hoping he wouldn’t stop. The man in front of you morphed into V. Tears cascaded your face as you tightened your closed eyes. You begged V to stay with you. You wanted nothing more than for this madness to end. 

Gingerly, you opened your tear ridden eyes. You were back at the restaurant. For the most part, everything was back to normal. It was darker and people were failing to not steal glances at you and V. V was still standing next to you. He gently closed his book, then turned to you. Concern and worry were radiating off of him. V pulled you into a hug as soon as he saw your tears. You gripped V’s hand for dear life as he led you out of the restaurant.

As soon as V opened the door, Griffon flew around the house. You headed to your bedroom with Shadow behind. You collapsed on the bed, burying your head in your pillow. You released the anxiety and fear you have been holding. You screams and cries could be heard throughout your home. To help calm yourself you cuddled with Shadow, letting her fur catch your tears. Shadow’s purring was the perfect lullaby to fall asleep to, especially after today.

“...H-HE-LP!...HELP!...He-help...” Those pleas were all the encouragement you needed to continue to get through the door. Nothing was going to stop you this time. You mustered your strength then delivered one final strike against the door. The barrier dissipated, as it pushed you away one last time. The door became ajar. 

Regret consumed you as soon as you stepped through the door. A blinding flash brought you to an abandoned building. Someone similar looking to the man from the restaurant was interrogating someone who looked like you. The person being interrogated was severely beaten. It was obvious the man was doing whatever he pleased. No one was around to stop him. It wouldn’t be long until the person was dead. In an attempt to stop him, you jumped on his back. He threw you across his back. Somehow you merged with the one you were trying to save.

The man deeply slashed your abdomen. He was merciless. It felt as if he was never going to stop until he got what he wanted. Not once did his sinister smile disappear. If anything, it grew with each of your screams, your pleas. You screamed for help but no one came.

The strike to your head was excruciating. You gripped your head, screaming, as your mind released every single memory that was sealed away. Meeting V at the grocery store. Tracking Carmilla. Working with V. Your fight with Carmilla. Your captivity. All of them. It was too much for your mind to process at once.

V raced to your bedroom as soon as he heard you scream. Quickly, he studied the room and determined nothing was amiss. V attempted to loosen the ironclad grip you had on your head. V winced from pain when you grabbed his hands. It was possible you may have sprained his finger or two. V didn’t care. He stayed with you, reminding you how strong you are and how you can get through this.

Once you were calm V asked if you were hurt. Hysterically, you described your nightmare. The torture, the pain. The rush of other dreams within it. It felt so real to you. As if it happened to you as you dreamt it. V tried to explain that even though you were attacked in your dream it doesn’t mean the attacks actually happened. You were having none of it. You described every attack explicitly while tracing each one on your body.

V tried his best to calm you. Nothing he did relieved you. Not one bit. Your mind was frantically processing the memories it released. You couldn’t think straight. V tried to hug you but you pushed him away. His hurt expression made you feel worse, but you had no choice. You needed to stay away from him. You weren’t sure if the one in front of you was V or a Soul Snatcher; friend or enemy.

“Who the fuck are you?” Shakily, you cocked your gun, indicating you weren’t playing around. Shadow immediately placed herself between you and V. Griffon babbled about you not recognizing V or them. You didn’t care. You just needed to know what was going on.

“(Y/N) put the gun down and I’ll answer all of your questions.” Your defensive aggressiveness from before your memories were sealed has returned. There was no way V could weasel his way to convince you nothing was going on. To V this situation felt like he was reliving his very first encounter with you.

Your eyes narrowed with suspicion. Would he attack once you lower your gun? Will he actually tell the truth? What if this was a Soul Snatcher? Too many questions raced through your mind. You had no idea what part of yourself to listen to. Fuck it. You needed answers. “Lie or attack, I’ll make you regret it.”

For your sake V had to prove he wasn’t a Soul Snatcher. He recalled when he gave you the ring you were wearing. Hearing your argument made V realize it was pointless to retell the time you spent together. He was determined to prove he wasn’t a Soul Snatcher. No matter what. The only thing he could think of that a Soul Snatcher couldn’t do was summon Nightmare. Doing so caused quite a scare for your neighbors.

Your neighbors panic soon turned into silence. Irritated tension was all either of you could feel. Both of you wanted to say something. Neither of you knew what to say or where to start. So you both stayed quiet, trying to figure out what to say. The silence was unbearable for Griffon but he managed to stay quiet. God knows what either of you would do if Griffon said anything.

You took one deep breath, then decided to tell V everything about your time in captivity. The torture, the Soul Snatchers involved, your thoughts. Everything. You turned yourself away from V when you started crying. V attempted to reach over to comfort you but you indicated for him to stay where he was. You didn’t want to be touched by anyone. 

V wanted to hold you. He wanted to do anything and everything he could to remind you you’re safe with him. But he fought himself from doing anything that would make you uncomfortable. He knew you would fulfill your promise if he did anything you saw as a threat.

If V had to be honest, he didn’t want to explain what happened when he found you. Besides the fact he was like you; not wanting to show weakness or vulnerability. He isn’t proud of how he reacted. That night was a tornado to him. It was fast and destructive yet it was a blur. Still. It was no excuse to not tell you. You told him everything. Now it was his turn. V sucked it up and reluctantly told you what happened.

You listened to V, unsure how to take it. At first, you were terrified to hear you almost died. (You remembered you made the choice but it was frightening to think about.) Soon fright turned into anger. You blamed V for having your memories sealed. Not long after, you questioned if being with V was the right thing for you. You even questioned if you would be with V after everything that happened. 

V sat across from you, waiting for you to say anything. He was aware you were angry. He knew you would need time to process everything. It could take a long time, but V was more than willing to do whatever he could to help you. Except for one thing.

“I-I...I don’t know how to take in all of this...I-I think I need to sp-spend some time away from y-you. To absorb everything I just remembered..a-and what we just talked about...I also have to think of what’s be-est for me.” V’s heart broke in two. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was at a loss for words. He was unable to argue with you.

“Don’t.” You froze. V’s hand was hovering above yours. Without touching you, he guided your hand to lower itself, then release the clothing you were holding. Was V going to convince you to stay with him? You couldn’t tell. You knew he was going to say something. He was close to you but stepped away. “You should stay here. I’ll leave.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. Why would he leave? You should be the one leaving. You whipped your head around to see if V was really leaving. He was. Already he grabbed his bag, then his book. It didn’t take long for him to gather the rest of what he needed. Once he was packed, he approached you. You anticipated him doing some gesture to say goodbye. Your heart broke when he did nothing except say his goodbye. With each step V took away from you, you felt more alone than ever before. When he was completely gone you believed you made the wrong choice.

[alostsock]

With me.

Summary: Andy and Nicky get kidnapped. Post-movie.

TW: kidnapping, starvation, dehydration, weight loss, temporary character death (I mean it’s The Old Guard?), a bit of blood, mentions of violence.

AN: I didn’t know you could get cut off in the tags that’s never happened to me before apparently there’s a length limit.

For all her years, Andy cannot remember having felt purpose like this before. Knowing that her body no longer heals does nothing to dissuade her - if anything, it motivates her further. She may break, she may hurt but she now sees, as she hasn’t in centuries (maybe ever) that it is worth it.

Nile seems to accept her leadership, and follows it without question.

Nicky and Joe, however, draw on almost two thousand years of combined stubbornness trying to keep her from harm.

Nicky researches nutrition and tries to serve her balanced (boring, bland) meals despite her protests. Joe finds her the best available body armour (never mind how it moves). They both throw themselves in front of her at every possible opportunity. (This isn’t to say that Nile doesn’t, in the face of real danger - just that Nicky and Joe don’t seem to understand that she doesn’t need protecting from traffic or raccoons or hot oil on the stove).

She doesn’t think she’s been particularly careless - they vet jobs as they’ve always done, and now they have Copley to help. She’s not reckless, just filled with purpose, with vigour, with the need to do right. Besides, all her years have taught her that sometimes, despite best efforts, jobs go wrong.

It doesn’t entirely bother her that they’ve been locked up in a cell. It’s hardly the first time, after all. Besides, she has every faith in Nile and Joe and Copley to track them down.

What she does hate with every fibre of her being, is that Nicky is locked up with her.

He reassures her, because of course he does, that it isn’t her fault, just as she reassures him that it isn’t his.

They’ve been captured together before, they all have, really, and they know the routine. They have exhausted their options for escape, have tried at every opportunity, and have failed. All they’ve managed to do is maybe piss off their captors a little more than was strictly necessary. It isn’t in them to just give up and accept their predicament, though - they need to try everything first. Once they’ve done this, however, all that’s left to do is wait.

It’s all standard procedure, as far as standard procedure goes for a bunch of immortal warriors. Andy finds the way that criminals haven’t really changed the core of their modus operandi in decades more than a little tiresome. There’s an angry kingpin (with his fingers in many increasingly unconscionable pies) who doesn’t believe that nobody hired them, who scoffs at their insistence that there aren’t more of them, a selection of cronies and hired hands who are all too happy to try to beat the answers out of them, and a general limited amount of food, water, and warmth to make them extra miserable. Frankly, she’s bored with it.

Joe is coming. Nile is coming. They just have to bide their time, like every time this has happened before.

The one difference - the only difference - is that this time Andy is mortal.

Nicky (and Joe, her boys, her beloved boys) have always hated it when she put herself in danger, and even more so when she did it to protect them. But, until this point, they recognized her leadership and would defer to it. They accepted that this sometimes meant letting her take the brunt of their latest opponent’s anger if she felt it necessary to keep them safe, or to get them out of a sticky situation.

This time, however, there is no dissuading Nicky. No command, no proposed strategy will change his mind. Andy still puts up a fight, but eventually he turns those big, plaintive eyes on her and admits in a soft voice that the best way she can keep him safe right now is if she lets him take care of her - if she lets him stop them from doing something to her which cannot be undone.

Andy has never been able to say no to Nicky when he looks at her like that, and this time is no different.

So, she agrees. When their captors come in to see if they’re ready to talk, Nicky is the one who goads them, infuriates them. When they’re delivered pitiful meals, he refuses his half, begging with his soulful eyes.

I can starve, he says. You can’t.

I don’t need water, he says. You do.

Andy hates it. She doesn’t feel mortal, she feels the same as she always has. She feels strong, she feels enraged, she wants to protect her Nico. She wants to shield him from the world. She knows, logically, that after nine hundred years there isn’t much innocence left, but still he feels so young to her. They both do. They all do.

She thinks of the plea in his eyes, though, the desperation in his face as he silently begs her to stay behind him, to stay silent, to let him take it, and so she does.

She suspects it isn’t entirely quick tempers or even benevolence that has their captors keep taking Nicky’s bait, though - she suspects that the brighter among them recognize the look in her eyes - they see that by hurting Nicky they hurt her more than they could by beating her.

---

They lose track of time. There is no natural light in the room they are in, so they don’t really know how many days have passed. Andy isn’t sure if the room is getting colder, or if they’re maybe just getting weaker with lack of food. Perhaps both.

The first few days their captors try violence, but when neither of them cracks (and also as they seem to take out no small number of henchmen every time they are in the same room as them) they seem to settle on trying to starve the answers they want out of them. Nicky continues to insist on giving Andy his share, so while she doesn’t know exactly how many days it’s been, she knows it’s been long enough for Nicky to start looking grey with dehydration. She suspects he will die from it soon, but when she brings this up to him he just gives her a tired smile and reminds her that it’s fine if he does - he will come back. The only thing that seems to matter to him is that she doesn’t.

She’s miserable - cold and damp and hungry - but what hurts the most is watching Nicky waste away beside her.

---

They talk - or, at least, at the beginning they talk. As time goes on and Nicky grows weaker, it mostly becomes Andy talking while Nicky dozes (or lies unconscious, or dies and comes back) tucked into her side. It starts as discussions of possible means to escape (always in oldest languages they share, just in case anyone is listening), but when that seems to become increasingly hopeless, and as Nicky starts to lose the energy to hold his head up, Andy starts spending most of her time telling him her favourite stories of years gone by.

They (he - Andy reminds herself) might be immortal, but they are still human. Their bodies will heal, will regenerate but they need food and water to do so, so as Nicky fades and starts to die not only from lack of water but from starvation the deaths start to come closer and closer together. He will die from malnourishment, come back, and then, when his body realizes it still has no stores to draw from, still has no energy to heal itself with, he will die again.

Sometimes, when he is too out of it to protest, she tips small sips of water into his mouth. This tends to end up with him waking up enough to realize what she is doing, at which point he will turn tear-filled eyes on her and remind her that while he will come back from whatever physical trauma his body is put through, he will not be able to handle waking up to find her permanently dead beside him when he could have prevented it.

---

They move them once during their captivity. Having learned early on that entering the room while either of them is awake is dangerous, both times they accomplish the move by knocking them out with gas and transporting them while they’re unconscious. Andy comes to in a shipping container, bound with rope and alone. She makes quick work of the bindings before exhausting herself trying to find a way out. Nothing gives, no matter how hard she tries. 

She loses time again. Perhaps more gas? Maybe her body just gave out? She isn’t sure, but when she wakes she and Nicky have been tossed in the same room again, carelessly dropped on the cold floor. There is blood on Nicky’s temple that wasn’t there before.

She wonders if their captors have realized that, no matter how much he bleeds, none of the marks linger on his skin. She hopes that the mess of dried blood he’s covered in is enough to mask the fact that he isn’t actually bleeding where he should be, because she doesn’t want to think about how their situation could get messier if they figured that out. Luckily, they seem to prefer keeping their distance (or perhaps they have just realized it is best for their own safety to not get too close).

Andy frees herself from her new bounds. Nicky stirs but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fully wake, so once Andy has repeated the process of checking their cell for potential means of escape (she doesn’t find any) she drags him to a corner of the room and, leaning against the wall, pulls him to her chest.

---

Someone comes to check on them what Andy assumes is once a day, with a bottle of water and some stale bread, or sometimes a can of soup and a demand for answers that they both don’t have and would never give anyway.

Nicky is barely more than skin and bones, a painfully fragile warmth (and sometimes lack thereof) in her arms. She is hardly any better, the food they get absolutely pitiful, but at least she hasn’t died of starvation. She isn’t the one who keeps coming to in stuttering huffs of air before inevitably going limp again - over and over and over.

---

Andy rouses from sleep. She’s hungry - hungrier than usual. She thinks they haven’t been fed in a while. Nicky is still slumped against her, his soft breaths puffing against her neck. She tiredly runs her hands through his dirty hair, brushing it back from his face as she wonders if they have given up on them entirely. She feels like it’s been too long, like they are overdue for food and questions, but she has no way of being sure. Maybe this day has just felt longer than the others. Maybe it’s been more than one.

The door opens with a clang. Andy doesn’t bother to look up, keeping her face buried in Nicky’s hair and keeping her own thin arms wrapped around his frail form as she holds him close on her lap. Even when she senses someone letting out a breath and dropping hard onto their knees beside her, she doesn’t look up. She would fight, but she doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe she could knock out this one with the remaining dregs of her strength, but then what? She doesn’t think she has it in her to fight her way out all while carrying Nicky, frighteningly light as he is at the moment.

Joe is coming. Nile is coming. They just have to wait.

A shaking hand meets hers where it is buried in Nicky’s hair. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. The hand reaches across Nicky to tuck her own hair behind her ear. Initially she recoils, but then she takes a deep breath and tries to muster the reserves of her strength. The person is close. Maybe she could take this one out. She takes another breath, steeling herself. Her eyelashes brush against Nicky’s greasy hair as she blinks, her face still tucked down onto his head. She moves to look up but then she realizes that she knows that hand.

She knew that hand for millennia, but she hasn’t held it in hundreds of years.

She blinks, raising her head.

The world swims in front of her, and she blinks a few more times before it comes into focus.

She must be dreaming.

She hears shouting, sees the mouth in front of her moving but her brain doesn’t connect the sight with the sound. There’s the sound of running footsteps and Joe - or her mind’s conjured version of Joe - comes skidding around the corner, making a beeline for the three of them when he enters the room.

Suddenly, there are inexplicably warm hands pulling Nicky away from her. She clings tighter, clings with all the strength she has left as dream-Joe tries to take Nicky from her.

She huffs out a disgruntled protest, complains that this is my dream, why can’t you do what I want. I want him with me before burying her face back into Nicky’s hair and trying to let the dream take her somewhere else. Perhaps her subconscious can take them somewhere warm.

She doesn’t get the chance. Moments later, hands are prying Nicky from her arms and she finds that she doesn’t have enough strength to keep fighting back. She opens her eyes again to see the arms pick Nicky up, cradling him against a broad chest. She sees Nile enter the room, coming up to her with her hands raised before pausing in front of her and giving her a brief relieved smile before hauling her to her feet and pulling her arm across strong shoulders.

She doesn’t see anybody else.

Just Joe and Nile.

Joe and Nile have come.

---

She vaguely remembers stumbling through hallways, Nile hauling her uncooperative body along. Joe is just ahead of them, Nicky held close.

Their path out is clear.

Some of the guards have been cut down, some have been shot, others, inexplicably, have been struck with arrows. Nicky hasn’t used a bow in decades, Joe in even longer. She didn’t realize Nile knew how.

When they reach the getaway car Nile helps her into the backseat before climbing in after her, taking her hand tightly in both of hers. Joe gets in on the other side with Nicky still in his arms, maneuvering awkwardly, trying to avoid bumping Nicky against the door.

Andy leans her head on Joe’s shoulder, leaving her right hand in Niles’ as her left buries itself in Nicky’s hair. She breathes in the smell of Joe’s shirt, finally allowing the last remnants of tension to leave her body. She sees Booker get into the driver’s seat. They must have needed to call him in for backup. The passenger seat is empty. She supposes they’re a little cramped in the back, but she doesn’t want to let go of Nile and she isn’t sure she would be able to handle Nicky or Joe moving away from her. She relaxes completely against Joe’s side, and relief so strong it makes her want to cry overcomes her as he presses a kiss to her hair.

She sleeps.

The passenger side door opens and shuts.

The wheels squeal as the car pulls away.

[forgeandgredimagines]

Dating Percy Jackson would include...『 Percy Jackson x Hades! Reader 』

Request: "hi friend! i was wondering if you’d be able to do a percy jackson x daughter of hades headcanons where they’re dating :’) love ya" (Anon)

"hi love! if you’re still doing requests may i please ask for a percy jackson + daughter of hades type thing where it’s a “dating this person would include...” thanks a bunch! hope that made sense :’)" (Anon)

A/N: I have come back from the dead, hurrah! I've disappeared again, as usual. I just lost all motivation and energy to write or do anything for a long time and I apologize for that, I should be more consistent and productive. I'll try harder this time!! ❤️💕

Anyway, I thought that these requests would be easy to finish but for some reason I struggled so much with coming up with good headcanons! I don't have any idea why but I still had a lot of fun making this. Also, I mention Nico a lot because he's my favorite character and I just couldn't help myself :'))

Warnings: None I think??

Masterlist!!

First things first, ya'll are the ultimate power couple

Both of you are children of one of the big three gods, you guys are powerful af

One of you on your own is intimidating enough as it is but the two of you together can be borderline scary...at first

Those who really do know you two know that you guys aren't as intimidating as you may seem, in fact you guys can be the total opposite of intimidating

As a child of Hades, you were never a people person, not because you didn't like people, it was just that your heritage tended to make people hesitant to approach you

Percy would be lying if he said he wasn't one of the many people who were intimidated by you at first but that didn't stop him from befriending you

He was one that helped you come out of your shell and show people that you weren't just all death and darkness (ehem nico) like everyone thought

He honestly found himself surprised by how much he was drawn to you, he expected that you'd be all shadow and skulls but you definitely weren't just that stupid stereotype

It wasn't that long afterwards that he realized his growing feelings for you were most definitely not platonic at all

He was pretty worried about your very protective half-brother, Nico

He didn't know how Nico react but he reckoned he wouldn't be very happy with him

Regardless, he just liked you way too much and pursued you anyway

You two tried to keep your relationship a secret at first

Emphasis on tried

You guys were absolutely horrid at hiding the fact that you two were dating

Everyone already knew that Percy liked you (cause he'd never shut up about you) and after you two started spending much more time together it wasn't hard to put two and two together

You guys thought that Nico would flip out but he was surprisingly calm, his only reaction was telling you "You could do better but I guess he'll do." while Percy was still in the room, which you both knew was Nico's own way of giving his approval

After you two finally revealed your relationship to the rest of the camp, Percy couldn't help but keep showing you off to people

He's just so happy to be able to be your boyfriend, he's so whipped ugh

He'd always ask you to do weird stuff with your powers

"Can you make like tiny shadow marshmallow people run around the room?"

"Percy go to sleep"

Speaking of sleep, you always have sleepovers in his cabin

Mainly because you two can't do it in your cabin because of Nico but also because Percy cannot stand how cold it is in there, you've never really noticed it but Percy literally starts shivering when he's in there

Speaking of cold, you're always cold to the touch, you suppose it's a child of Hades thing

With that in mind, Percy has dubbed himself your personal heater and uses it as an excuse to always hug you to "transfer his warmth"

Late night talks is common for the two of you

Your talks would range to why pizza is the most superior food of them all to the existence of life itself

He can be a bit clingy at times, he always wants to have skin to skin contact, but not in a possesive way, he's just afraid that if he lets go he might not see you again

He knows it's dumb but it's always been a fear of his, especially since you two are demigods risking your lives every 2 minutes

Death is something you two talk about a lot, usually during your late night talks

With you being a child of Hades and having experienced loss too (bc demigod) Percy finds it easier to confide to you about the people he's lost over the years

You two just provide so much unconditional support for each other

If someone ever mistreats you for being a child of Hades (or for any reason actually) then get ready for Percy to be by your side in 0.2 seconds and fighting whoever dared mess with you

But Percy is still lowkey afraid of Nico, which only grew stronger when you started dating

Nico would always give Percy weird looks whenever you two were together, you knew it was just your brother messing with him but no matter how much you tried to convince Percy otherwise he still believed Nico disapproved of your relationship

"I'm telling you, he's going to go to my dorm one day and turn me into a skeleton or something!"

"Percy, I don't even think we can do that?!"

Forehead kisses are Percy's favorite thing in the world, get ready for a lot of them coming on your way

You two would always spar and practice your powers together, the other campers get scared whenever you do though because onlookers usually got full blast of Percy's water or your shadows

Chiron also swears never to put you two in the same team during capture the flag, you two were just too chaotic and powerful

The two of you always worry about each other whenever one of you is on a quest

"-don't die, always have a supply of clean water, don't die, make sure you always have ambrosia ready, don't die--"

"This isn't my first quest! I'm not twelve, calm down!"

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CALM DOWN--"

In conclusion, you two are so frickin soft together, you will blow up camp one day and you love each other so goddamn much

[kyra-bane]

the old guard - kinktober day 7 - make your choice

rating: explicit

pairing: joe x nicky; andromache x quynh (very background)

prompt: sharing a bed

extra tags: PINING; pre-slash; pre-canon; mutual masturbation; jealousy (only a bit tho)

word count: 4058

notes: this one was requested by @gentlesleaze and i hope you enjoy it!! follows on from across the fire, which follows on from (not) sight unseen - this mini-series should be wrapping up with prompt 26 😏

read on ao3 or keep reading below

It is all getting a bit much for Yusuf.

He had thought, after the first time, that Nicolò would insist they should talk about it, that he would be so riddled with guilt that he would be able to do nothing else.

Only, Nicolò had not said a word. He had been gone before Yusuf had woken for fajr and had returned after, hair damp, his smile soft. They had not spoken about it that day and Yusuf had thought about broaching the subject when they lay down to sleep that night, but that had not seemed like a good time, either.

Instead, he had waited.

And waited.

And then when he had worked himself up again, which was entirely his own fault, of course (though he cannot help it; his eyes are drawn to Nicolò’s strong hands, to the way the muscles in his arms tighten when he swings his sword, to the ever-shining light in his eyes), he had excused himself one night, like before – and, like before, he had heard Nicolò’s hitching breaths along with him.

It has been six months since that first time and now Yusuf is lying on his back, hand on his cock, and his grip tightens when he hears Nicolò whimper. They did not speak, last time – a sudden fit of pique had overcome Yusuf, when he had heard Nicolò rustling around on his bedroll – and that was the first time he had seen Nicolò concerned, the next morning, eyeing Yusuf as though he might disappear.

“What are you thinking of, Nicolò?” Yusuf asks tonight.

Nicolò hums. They have never done this in daylight, never with the fire still burning, and Yusuf craves the sight of him. He has seen Nicolò naked, naturally – they have been travelling together too long for him to have not. But it would be different to see him in the throes of desire, even if he did not touch.

“I ache, down there,” Nicolò says, and oh, he is already so close, Yusuf can tell. “I want to be full, I want to feel his hands on me, holding me where he wants me…”

He lets out a choked-off moan and Yusuf breathes deeply through his nose. He still has not asked who Nicolò thinks of – perhaps it is no one at all.

He hopes Nicolò thinks of him, but after all this time, it seems unlikely.

Still, he imagines it along with him; imagines digging bruises into Nicolò’s pale skin, considers how hot and tight he would be around him. He would have to go slow – he would never wish to cause Nico pain – but their bodies heal so quickly that he would likely be used to him in seconds. He would hold him down and he hopes the first time would be loving and gentle and everything Nicolò would want from him, but he suspects if he ever did get the chance, he would lose all semblance of patience very, very quickly.

“Tell me,” Nicolò says, breathing hard now, “Tell me what you think of.”

Yusuf’s heart skips a beat. This is new. He spreads his legs a little wider, slows the glide of his hand on his cock. “He’s beautiful,” he says and Nicolò’s breath hitches. “Not soft, not really, but pliable under my hands. And when I push him down he spreads his legs for me, begs for me, like he might just die if I don’t fuck him, then and there.”

Nicolò groans. It’s a throaty sound and Yusuf shudders. He’s close – but then he always is, when they do this together.

“And then?” Nicolò asks. He sounds strained, like he’s holding off his own orgasm, and Yusuf licks his lips.

“And then I do. He’s already slick, already fingered himself open for me, so I can just slide right in. We fit together like we were made for each other and he tries to pull me deeper even as I fill him up because all we want is each other.”

“Fuck, Yusuf,” Nicolò says and Yusuf keens, comes with a sudden, short shock, because it’s not only the first time he’s heard Nicolò curse when they’ve been doing this – it’s also the first time Nicolò has said his name.

From the sound of it, Nicolò has heard him, is stroking himself faster until he comes, too, his moan a noise that Yusuf will never tire of. He stares up at the sky. Every time they do this, he thinks he should go back around the fire. Nicolò is probably a boneless mess; he could lick him clean, coax him into sharing all his fantasies and work to make them come true–

Only, he can’t. He doesn’t know whether Nicolò was ever truly celibate, but he is certain he never had relations with a man, at any level. He has to take the lead from Nicolò on this and trust that he will get there.

“Good night, Nicolò,” he says.

Silence. Not just silence; a lack of noise that indicates Nicolò is thinking, before he replies, “Good night, Yusuf.”

Yusuf is not sure how much longer he can take this.

***

He lasts through the rest of their journey, though he wakes up plastered to Nicolò’s back, hard as a rock, on more than one morning. If Nicolò notices, he does not say anything.

He lasts, too, when they are protecting a merchant’s caravan and are forced to share a cramped tent. Of course, that is easier – there are people enough around and although Yusuf has no qualms about exactly who he is, he knows others are more hesitant, even hostile.

He lasts even through Nicolò’s increasingly curious glances, because a look is not intent; or at least, not yet. A romantic, optimistic part of him says it will be, in time: that they will be together so long that knowing how to love one another will come as easily as knowing how to breathe.

For now, there is still that space between them. Yusuf fears filling it with the depth of his own feelings and leaving no room for Nicolò’s.

Occasionally, he does not think of it at all.

They travel from city to city, and when they reach this one, when they are told there is a room, yes, but it only has one bed, Yusuf does not hesitate in taking it. They are travel-worn, tired; it has been a long few months and he wants to rest.

Still, he eyes the floor when they enter the room. Aside from a handful of times, they have not spent the night apart in years, but that has always been a matter of choice. One bed is not a choice.

Nicolò lets him wash up first, though he, too, is dead on his feet, and then stumbles through his own ablutions. Yusuf sets out his bedroll and Nicolò turns, one eyebrow quirking at the sight.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I would–”

Nicolò’s lips twitch. “Are you not too tired for that, tonight?”

“Not that! I thought you might like the bed.”

“I mean, I know we are safe here but if you do not wish to sleep beside me, you could–”

“I do,” Yusuf says without meaning to, an honest admission, and Nicolò smiles.

“Then get in bed, Yusuf,” he says, and the note of command in his voice has Yusuf nodding despite himself.

He supposes Nicolò has made the choice, then.

Yusuf settles on his side, pressed back against the wall, and Nicolò climbs into the bed in front of him a few minutes later. When Yusuf still maintains the distance between them, Nicolò huffs, reaching back until his fingers land on Yusuf’s arm.

He tugs him forward and Yusuf goes, sliding his arm around Nicolò’s waist. Only then does Nicolò appear to relax, all the tension seeping out of his neck and shoulders. Yusuf rests his forehead against the back of Nicolò’s neck.

“Good night, Yusuf,” Nicolò murmurs, halfway to sleep already now, it seems.

“Good night, habibi,” Yusuf replies.

He does not fall asleep until after Nicolò’s breathing has evened out. When he does, he stumbles immediately into a familiar scene.

They have been having the dreams ever since their first deaths. They were one of the first things they connected over, actually; once they knew well enough how to communicate with each other, at least.

The two women are like them, Yusuf is sure. They are both warriors, and sometimes he feels their age so keenly, he wonders how they can bear it. His dreams are never coherent, flashes of death, of laughter, of fury and stolen moments and he wonders if he will meet them, one day.

Tonight is both familiar and not, all at once.

He already knows the women are in love. Nicolò knows too, though they have not spoken of it. It is clear in the way they are when they are together, in the brush of skin Yusuf feels against the back of his hand, the bright close up of smiling eyes.

Tonight, they are celebrating their love. Yusuf cannot call it anything else. They kiss and he feels a phantom of it on his lips; hands roam and his skin prickles. He wakes when one bites the other on the thigh, then grins softly, and realises two things straight away.

He’s hard.

Nicolò is awake.

The only reason they both are apparent is because Nicolò has gone so still he does not appear to be breathing, except where he is pressing back against Yusuf, hips twitching.

Yusuf lets out a heavy breath and Nicolò turns in his arms.

“I saw–”

“I know,” Yusuf says and Nicolò kisses him. It’s frantic, messy, but Yusuf doesn’t have the sense to slow it because he can feel Nicolò pressed against him and he’s hard too, deliciously so. They rock together, pant into each other’s mouths, and when Yusuf squeezes Nicolò’s ass, Nicolò goes boneless, letting out a little whimper.

Something about that knocks Yusuf back to his senses. He lifts himself up and wonders when they rolled because Nicolò is spread out beneath him, hair mussed, eyes still heavy with sleep, lips swollen from where Yusuf bit him, at least once.

“The dream,” Yusuf says and Nicolò blinks once, twice.

“The dream?” he repeats.

“We are…” Yusuf waves a hand between them. “The dream. It got to us.”

Something like hurt flicks over Nicolò’s face. “Oh,” he says and his voice has gone small but Yusuf will not have him regret this, in the morning. “I thought…”

He chews his lip and Yusuf wants to kiss him again. He pushes the desire firmly aside. “It was the dream,” he says. He will have Nicolò make a conscious choice; there is too much to consider, otherwise. “We should sleep.”

Nicolò takes a deep breath, but nods. “Alright,” he says and when Yusuf climbs back to his place on the bed, Nicolò turns his back. Yusuf reaches to put his arm around him again but Nicolò tucks in on himself, all that tension back in his shoulders, and so he withdraws his hand.

He does not turn his back. He watches Nicolò’s breathing until he has to get up and pray.

***

They go to Malta not long after that. It is a pleasant island – more than pleasant, really – and it is not long before they carve out a quiet life for themselves. Yusuf knows it will not last forever, but he enjoys that there are people who know them here, that they have goats and chickens and a little house they can call their own.

Nicolò goes to the market every other day and almost always returns with a small treat for Yusuf; sweets or oil for his beard or quill pens and ink, so he can draw. He does, nightly, often as Nicolò prepares dinner. Sometimes, Nicolò’s eyes on him are heavy, so much so that Yusuf cannot breathe.

It has been months since that night in their bed and they still sleep side-by-side, Yusuf’s arm around Nicolò’s waist. Nicolò is always awake and out of bed before Yusuf, ostensibly to feed the goats, and Yusuf fears, one day, that their time is running out.

Maybe they need time apart, he thinks, as he watches Nicolò move deftly around this small space they share. Or maybe he does… Nicolò does not wish to approach the subject, clearly, and if it is because he does not know how to let Yusuf down gently, then Yusuf can solve that problem himself.

Only, he does not wish to leave Nicolò alone, either. Anything could happen – and he trusts that Nicolò can take care of himself – but if something were to go terribly wrong, Yusuf would have no one to blame but himself.

They climb into bed that night and Nicolò makes a contented sound as Yusuf presses up behind him.

“Are you going to the market tomorrow?” Yusuf asks. Nicolò’s ribs rise and fall under his arm.

“Yes.”

“Can I come, too?” Usually he would find something to do in the day; there is always something to be done. But if he is going to leave, then he would prefer to spend more time with Nicolò, first.

It is counterintuitive and will make everything more painful, but he cannot help himself.

“Of course,” Nicolò says. He sounds surprised; probably because Yusuf is asking. It is not as though they have never gone to the market together before.

“Thank you,” Yusuf murmurs.

He is sure Nicolò wants to say something else but he does not, and Yusuf sleeps lightly as a result. When he wakes before dawn, Nicolò is still in bed beside him. His brow is furrowed, even in sleep, and Yusuf wants to smooth the lines out with his fingers, kiss them away.

Instead, he climbs out of bed and prepares for fajr.

Nicolò wakes sometime after that and they tend to their morning chores before setting out for the market just before midday. Yusuf knows Nicolò wants to ask what has changed, but he does not, and they spend the walk talking about erstwhile things: the goats, who all have individual personalities but one thing in common (they all vaguely dislike Nicolò), the good summer weather, what they might have for dinner…

The market is busy and they both get to work, separating only to find each other again. Nicolò is not quite as good at striking a bargain as Yusuf would like but he does appear to have improved from when they first met. Yusuf secures some baklava, which he knows Nicolò will enjoy after their dinner, but when he turns this time, Nicolò is nowhere to be seen.

Yusuf turns in a circle, then starts walking through the stalls. Nicolò would be easy enough to spot, in most other places, but Malta is such a mix of people that it takes Yusuf longer than he would like.

When he finally does see Nicolò, he stops. He is speaking to a merchant – or a merchant’s son, perhaps, as the man is younger than both of them, albeit not by much. They clearly know each other, standing close, smiling, and when the stranger touches Nicolò on the arm, Nicolò does not push him away.

It is clear Nicolò has been caught up in their conversation enough that he has forgotten Yusuf is there and Yusuf wonders if he should leave.

No. Nicolò is not being rude; Yusuf is being irrational. He sighs and walks toward them.

The stranger sees him first, smiles up at Nicolò, and Nicolò is beaming when he turns, making Yusuf feel twice as bad about his thoughts.

“Yusuf!” Nicolò exclaims. “This is Amir. Amir, Yusuf.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Amir says and he seems to mean it. He speaks the same Arabic as Yusuf does, Yusuf notices, though he probably knows a handful of other languages, besides.

This becomes evident when he turns back to Nicolò, says something to him in Ligurian, far too fast for even Yusuf to follow. Nicolò shakes his head, the tips of his ears going pink, and Yusuf is not sure he wants to know what he is missing.

“I, uh, am going to head back,” he says, shifting the baklava from hand to hand.

“Oh!” Nicolò nods. “Of course, we should go. It was good to see you again, Amir.”

Amir does not seem put off by Yusuf’s attitude – does not seem surprised by it, in fact. He says his goodbyes to both of them and Nicolò follows Yusuf back through the crowd in apparently high spirits. He chatters to Yusuf all the way home and Yusuf dwells on what he saw – Amir’s smile, that casual touch, obviously welcome, and the simple fact that Nicolò has never made it clear to Yusuf that he wants him. Wants more.

By the time they reach the house, Nicolò appears to have realised something is amiss; but it can wait until after the chores are done. Yusuf leaves the package of baklava on the table, his fingers sticky from it, even through the paper, and sets to helping. Hours later, everything is done and Yusuf stops Nicolò before he goes to make dinner.

“Yusuf, I am hungry–”

“Then have some of this,” Yusuf says and presses the baklava into Nicolò’s hands. “But we need to speak, first.”

Nicolò frowns and sits. Yusuf paces and so Nicolò eats a piece of the baklava, eyes fluttering shut at the first taste. Yusuf looks away, his mouth suddenly dry, and forces out, “I am going to leave.”

“We have to leave so soon?” Nicolò replies. He puts the baklava down, licks honey from his fingers. “I thought we would manage a few years more, at least.”

“No, Nicolò, I am going to leave.”

“What?”

Yusuf shrugs, trying to look calm even though his heart is pounding and he almost can’t catch his breath. “I think it is time to… I should find those women we dream of. Bring them back here. You can stay, it is safe, and then we will all be reunited.”

Nicolò just stares at him, and the look on his face is similar to many of the times Yusuf stabbed him – shocked, and in pain – and Yusuf flees into the bedroom. He pulls out the bag he last used on their journey here. He needs to pack; now that he’s said it, he needs to be out by nightfall.

Yusuf digs around for clothes – his clothes – and suddenly realises they’ve been sharing; they’re both of a height, both built similarly, and he isn’t sure what to take.

When he turns, Nicolò is looming in the doorway.

“You are really going to do this?” he asks. He sounds hurt and sad and angry.

“You will be fine here, without me,” Yusuf replies. “You have friends here, you will pass a few years in peace…”

“You told me you would always be here for me.”

That stops Yusuf in his tracks. It was not quite what he had intended by what he had said, but it was true all the same.

“I cannot be,” he murmurs and he’s staring at his bag; he can’t look at Nicolò. “Not right now.”

“Why not?”

Yusuf looks at Nicolò and Nicolò stares steadily back. Can he really not see it? Did he not feel it, that night, how much Yusuf had wanted him – how much he has wanted him, even before Nicolò saw him with that stranger?

“Because this is killing me, Nicolò,” he all but shouts. “And I need a break, I need some time away so that I can trust myself to be around you.”

Nicolò takes a step into the room. “I told you I was ready, Yusuf,” he says. “Or, maybe not told you but I think I made it clear enough. You certainly made it clear you thought I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You were half-asleep, Nicolò, I cannot take advantage of you like that!”

“I kissed you,” Nicolò retorts. He runs a hand through his hair. “Do you trust me with your life, Yusuf?”

“Yes.” No hesitation; he knows it in his bones.

“Then give me the courtesy of trusting me with my own.”

Yusuf sighs. “I could not be certain–”

“I have been trying to show you every day since,” Nicolò says. “Everything I see you might like, every bit of news I think might lighten your heart – and I didn’t want to ask again because I did not wish to be rebuffed like someone who did not know what he was asking.”

“But you and Amir…”

Nicolò rolls his eyes. “He is from your homeland. And yes, I am sure you saw the way he looks at me, from the way you greeted us, but it meant I felt secure in telling him how I feel about you and he has been helping me to find gifts for you.”

Yusuf thinks he might actually die. He has assumed the whole time that Nicolò’s silence represented disinterest; instead, here he is, presented with full evidence of that interest, because Nicolò has been trying to give him space, just as he has been trying to give it to Nicolò.

Nicolò sighs, all the fight draining out of him. “We need to talk about this,” he says. “Are you still leaving?”

Yusuf looks at his bag. It is small and sad on their bed. “No.”

“Good. Then I will make dinner.” He glances to the window. “It is almost time for maghrib.”

He leaves Yusuf in there, alone. Yusuf prays but his heart is not in it; his mind spins around what Nicolò has just told him, and he knows they are both at fault but he has been assuming that Nicolò’s inexperience is the same as naivety and they are not the same at all.

Yusuf stays in the bedroom until dinner, not out of cowardice but because he is turning things over in his mind. What if he had trusted Nicolò, after the dream? What if he had rounded the fire, any number of times?

They eat in silence and Nicolò cleans up, after, as Yusuf fetches his sketchbook. He draws Amir from memory – which turns out to be an unflattering sketch, tinged as it is by his hurt and jealousy, and Nicolò nibbles at the baklava, watches him from under his lashes. Yusuf sets down his quill, once, opens his mouth, and Nicolò shakes his head.

Yusuf has a thousand questions, a thousand thoughts, and as his quill flows across the parchment, he orders them in his mind. By the time they are readying themselves for bed, he almost knows which question he wishes to ask first.

Nicolò indicates for Yusuf to climb in first and then lays in front of him. Yusuf doesn’t reach for him and so Nicolò huffs, turns on his side so they face each other.

“We should talk about this,” Yusuf says into the quiet space between them. It is dark, sure, but there is light enough from the moon that he can see Nicolò’s eyes.

“Not tonight,” Nicolò replies. “We say too many things in the dark, thinking they do not count that way. This conversation will have meaning, Yusuf.”

Yusuf lets out a sigh and Nicolò reaches, stroking soft fingers along his cheekbone. Yusuf wants to kiss him – it would be so easy to lean in – but holds himself back.

“I’m sorry,” Nicolò says. “I do want you to know that, tonight. I should have said something sooner.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Yusuf replies and this simple exchange of apologies loosens something in him. “For a lot of things, but especially for not trusting you to know your own–”

He cuts himself off. Nicolò takes his hand.

“I know my heart well enough to know who it belongs to,” he says, and the words are sweeter than anything he has brought Yusuf, these past months. “Sleep now, ya albi. We will talk about this tomorrow, I promise.”

Yusuf pulls Nicolò closer, tangles their legs together and when Nicolò’s arms go around him, he is not sure whether he wants to cry or laugh or both, really. Eventually, he falls asleep, his face buried in Nicolò’s chest, his love’s heartbeat against his ear.

[thetransguard-archive]

I really have a hard time with ao3's interface, would you mind posting your fic on here so it's more accessible to me personally? I understand if you don't want to, have a lovely day!

of course, it’s not a problem! putting it under the cut because it’s kind of long 

tw: canon temporary character death (nicky’s shooting), mild temporary amnesia, graphic description of canon typical violence

all the little lives

Later, Joe chalks it up to the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the same purpose that has carried him, exhausted and aching, up and up and up, through the sleek building to carry out Andy’s strategy. So it’s only when he offers the end of the rope to Nicky to tie around his arm, and the green eyes that stare back at him are blankly confused that he realises.

“São Pau-” but he doesn’t let Booker finish his sentence, doesn’t want Nicky stammering apologies for things beyond his control. So he cuts in, “I’ll make the entrance this time.” Loops the cord around his forearm a few times, tightens it. Swaps out his gun for Nicky’s. He has less ammunition in this one, but it’s bigger and louder and here his role is not to attack effectively, just to put them off balance, even for a moment. As he pulls away, Nicky’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. The tips of his fingers are still terribly cold.

Joe looks from Nicky’s solemn face to Booker’s. The guilt in him pours from his eyes, the slant of his mouth, the set of his shoulders. Pity and pain wage war inside Joe’s mind, but right now there are bigger things to take care of. They don’t need words, not after two centuries of brotherhood.

I’m trusting you, for this. For now. Keep him safe.

He waits three seconds after the fire door slams shut behind them to smash through the window.

--

In the elevator down, his eyes can’t stop drifting to Booker. He’s standing closest to the doors, gun gripped tight. Joe doesn’t want to bore holes in the back of his brother’s head, but he can't help himself. He can’t stop wondering. When? When? At what point did Booker decide that whatever family they had all built together, was never going to be enough? That night a decade or so ago, when he’d smashed the night’s wine bottle in a drunken rage and screamed at Andy and Nicky and him until Joe had cried? Or even before that, the last job in Russia in the seventies, when he refused to speak at all? When they’d laughed over Andy’s baklava? At what point had Booker decided that a chance of true, final death was worth the rest of them?

He feels the beginnings of tears in the backs of his eyes and before he can scrub at them to push them back, he feels a warm hand on the small of his back. Nicky. He refocuses on that small pressure, on the taste of blood in his mouth, the weight of his boots. He breathes, and does not cry. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in tears, but right now he needs to keep a steady head.

There’ll be time later.

The gunshots are faint but Nicky still jolts, pale eyes latching onto the ceiling. When the elevator doors open, he sprints, pushing past Booker. Joe’s not far behind, and they help Nile out of the car as her joints snap back into place, muscles reforming around shattered bone. Bonds made in blood, in pain. In love. Joe meets Nicky’s eyes through the dash mirror as they drive into something new.

--

They stop, after a while, because Andy’s still woozy from blood loss and the shock of actually feeling the physical pain through to its entirety. She and Joe swap, and after a brief argument in which Andy increasingly slurs her words in a way that’s alarming to all in the car, Nile takes her place in shotgun. Joe looks back after maybe half an hour and finds their fearless leader drooling a little on his beloved’s shoulder. Nicky’s drifted off a little too, days of almost constant pain catching up to him. They’re only human, after all. Some small selfish part of Joe wants to swap out and let himself nap too, but Nile’s new and has just taken a swan dive out of a skyscraper and doesn’t even know where to go, really, and Booker...

Logically, Joe knows that there’s no chance that Booker would drive them into another trap, another capture. This was his only plan, and he’s shed blood to make it right, however immediately. But this new sting of pain and horror is brand new and fresh in his chest, so he keeps driving, and ignores the way Booker’s eyes keep flicking to his in the mirror. Doesn’t acknowledge him the way Nicky has been doing, but for a different reason. Nicky retreats, when he’s angry- the problem shrinks in his mind, becomes somewhat invisible. His eyes slide over the issue like a river over a rock until it’s eventually worn away. His rage is deep and slow to dissipate. But for Joe? If he lets himself go, he knows exactly the type of venom he’s capable of spitting. And it’s as Andy said. Now just isn’t the time.

So, he drives.

--

Somehow between one blink and the next, they are at the safehouse. It’s almost dark now, the deepening sky wreathed in purples and blues in a way that makes him itch for his paints. If he had the energy for it. He feels worn down to the bone. Joe is just uncurling his aching fingers from the wheel, but Nile is already out of the car, stepping around to shake Andy awake. So young, for all of this already, and stronger than all of them. She’ll be the best of us. Most days he feels fine, is able to keep all of that time packed away, out of sight and out of mind. There’s always something new to see, to experience, to love. Today though, he just feels the weight of all the years.

(He’s so fucking tired.)

A gentle voice to his right, that odd mix of old Ligurian and Arabic that they’d invented, all on their own so many lifetimes ago. He’s smiling even before he knows why.

“Yusuf, love, let’s go. Let’s go.”

He lets himself lean on Nicky, just a little, as they slouch towards the door that Nile’s taken Andy through. She doesn’t try turning on the lights, but he does, and Nile jolts like she’s been shocked when they actually flick on. Booker closes the door behind them with a soft click. Still trying to blend away into the background. They stand there in the atrium for a moment, still covered in dust and smoke and blood. The house is large and it swallows the sounds of their ragged breaths.

“Some of our safehouses aren’t abandoned churches and caves.” Nicky’s voice has gone even softer with fatigue. “Hot water works, too. The rooms have ensuites.” He doesn’t say anything else before he begins leading Joe up the stairs.

Joe, as tired as he is, is pleased to know that Nicky at least remembers these little things. It means he’s healing well.

The bedroom door locks behind them and they strip off their clothes in a pile in the corner. They’ll have to burn it all tomorrow. Now, Joe goes hunting for where they’d kept their spares while Nicky finds the soap and starts the hot water running. When he returns, Nicky is already submerged to his neck. They’d allowed themselves to splurge in buying this place, and when Joe seats himself behind Nicky there’s plenty of room to move. Nevertheless, his heart leans back, damp head on his shoulder. They sit for a moment. Soak in the quiet of it all. They’ll have to rinse themselves off properly later, but for now they let the steam pool and swirl and fill the slightly dusty bathroom.

“How much?”

Sometimes, when one of them suffers a catastrophic head injury, it takes a while to remember it all. The last time had been Booker, and he’d been blown to bits by a mine and died three more times before they could piece enough of him back together for it to matter. They’d taken turns, him and Nicky and Andy, for the few days after, filling in all the gaps that Booker couldn’t recall at the time. The memories all came back eventually, but at least there was a warning. Some things just shouldn’t be remembered alone.

Between the two of them, it had been Joe the last time things were forgotten. He’d been dead and in the process of healing before the tank had rolled over his head, killing him again. He'd awoken to a hysterical Nicky, blood all over his face and hands. Trying to piece his pulverised skull back together. He hadn’t remembered what exactly had brought him to this place, but he’d tried to wipe away Nicky’s tears, first. Always, Nicky first. That kiss had tasted of blood. When it was either of them, they usually just told tales to each other. They’d been together for all of it, hadn’t they?

There is not a single piece of his soul that he hadn’t already bared.

“Just little... Little pieces. Tell me.” Nicky has switched to Arabic, rounding out the sounds in his throat. Joe can feel the rumble of his chest, knows without looking that Nicky’s eyes are closed. He grabs the soap, starts working on what he can reach. Nicky’s sifting back through a millennium of memory. He can help speed things along.

Nicky leans forwards and Joe leans with him, lathering soap down the length of his spine. He considers. He begins, his voice a bare whisper, barely sound. Pure thought passed from one half to another.

“You are Nicolo di Genova. You are Nicholas, and Nico, and Nicky to those who love you. You are loved, dearly. You are the other side of my beating heart. You are the son to parents who did not care for you and deserve no care in return. You are the friend and brother to Andromache of Scythia, and Sébastien le Livre, and… Nile Freeman. She’s new. She saved us. He betrayed us.

We have lived thousands of lives, side by side. I have killed you, and you have killed me. Our deaths are the same. Our lives align. When that final night comes, it shall come for us both. We have walked through war, and peace, through hatred and with love, always. We hurt those who harm. We protect those who cannot protect themselves. You are good with children, and small animals. You have practised kindness until it has become the bedrock on which you build your soul.

You dream, and you think harder than any of us, because out of us you are the one who knows the danger of action without reason. You are the philosopher to my poet. You make sense of my art. You sing, when you can, and it is always the most beautiful sound to my ears, comparable only to your voice, and the beat of your heart.

You speak only when you need to. Your patience is boundless. You inflicted great harm once, on me, on my people and on others. But you learn, and you have grown. You are forgiven. You are always learning, eager for knowledge. Your curiosity is the best part of you, in my opinion. Along with all the rest.

You have purpose. You are good. Always, I love you.”

Nicky’s hair has grown back in exactly the same way it had been before Keane shot him, but the skin is tender under his wet fingers. They turn around in the bathtub, splashing water out the sides, and he feels Nicky’s hands on his shoulders now, easing away the grime.

“And you?” Nicky’s voice is breathless, teasing. Somewhere, somehow in between getting into the water and now, the weight has lifted from Joe’s bones, has set aside that grief and guilt and anger and fear. It’s still there, but he’ll deal with it in the morning. The sun will rise, as it always has, and there will be time later to card through everything and pack it away. Now, however, is cooling water and gentle fingers and cheap hotel soap from decades gone by. Now is the quiet after the storm. The house is shaken, but still standing. Everyone he holds in his heart is still here.

“I am Yusuf, I am Joe. I am yours. And I will never let you go.”

[bibybuck]

I die of love for him (3/6)

fandom: The Old Guard

pairing: Joe/Nicky

rating: teen and up

word count: 1.2k words (4.6k in total)

summary: ‘Yusuf can’t help but stare at him, but that’s okay, because Nicolo’s staring as well. He wonders if this was the reason God has brought them together: two people on opposing sides, giving them the opportunity to see, to experience, the other’s life.’

or: Six years and six places in Yusuf and Nicolo’s lives and relationship.

title is from a poem called ‘Love in Bloom’ by the Arabic poet Abu Nuwas

for @santiagosnart​ <3

[read on ao3]

or under the cut!

Maybe this entry will live on. Maybe it will outlive me. All of us. Maybe five years or 500 years from now, hoping that it’s in good quality, someone will read this. But I feel like, after the day we had, this is the most accurate way to document it.

It started normally. By our standards, I mean. I woke before Nicolo, who looked like he finally got the much-needed sleep. Exhaustion hit us both hard, but him especially. The lines on his forehead were nonexistent, his skin was smooth. I ran my fingers through his hair gently, doing my best not to wake up. He hummed in his sleep but continued dreaming. I spent the first 20 minutes just lying there, fingers in his hair. The room was basking in the morning sunlight and outside of our window, birds were singing their melodies. I wanted to sketch him, lying there, sunlight creating dramatic shadows on his face, but I didn’t dare to move. I wanted to stay like that for as long as possible.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said.

Over the past 350 years, I have learnt that he is not a morning person. If he is forced to wake up by an outside force, he will get grumpy. With me, he just speaks in a weird mixture of Arabic and Genoese.

“Can’t stop staring at what’s beautiful.”

The next moment, the door to our room opened. Fear swept through me for a second. We’ve been found. Either someone found out who we are, what we’ve done or what we are or even force. But then Quynh walked in, along with her love of theatrics.

And she had a look. She managed to find the biggest straw hat in all of Malta.

“Nicolo, would you braid my hair?” she asked. “Andromache has talked me out of this,” she points to her hat.

Nicolo and Quynh have a special kind of relationship. He thinks of her as his little sister and she regards him as his older brother, even though Quynh is dozens of centuries older. She loves having her hair braided by him, a unique skill he’s picked up during our travels.

And right on cue, Andromache walked in. “Sorry,” she shot us an apologetic look, “tried to stop her.”

Nicolo sighs. “Give us five minutes, please?”

Quynh clapped and out she walked with Andromache behind her who shut the door.

We were invited to a wedding that day. Even though it’s been centuries, and I have learnt a lot about Christianity through Nicolo, it still feels weird whenever I’m having to enter a church.

Nicolo knows about this. I could feel his careful eyes on me. I smiled at him and I wanted to reach for his hand and he wanted to reach for mine, but we couldn’t.

We sat on a pew in the middle. The father of the bride invited us after we happened to chase some thieves away. He waved when he saw us but otherwise was preoccupied with the wedding.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do this one day?” Nicolo asked quietly; his words easily got lost amongst the chatter of the wedding guests. “Do you think we’ll live long enough?”

“You mean get married?”

In every sense, we are married. We have shared three and a half centuries, shared a bed, shared a life. I know what stresses him out, what makes him happy, what he loves, what he hates. I know how much he loves me, I know how much he loves Andromache and Quynh. I know every single movement, thought, fibre of his. I have never loved and never been loved by anyone as much and I never will.

I cannot imagine sharing immortality with anyone else.

“I want to believe that,” I told him. “I want to believe that one day people will be accepting enough.”

“Of people like us? Of a man lying with another man?”

“Of love so big, so overwhelming, so passionate.”

He smiled at me and I touched his hand that was resting on the pew. No one saw us. Maybe God, of whichever religion, wanted to curse us out.

“Would it be rude to use their wedding to have one of our own?”

He laughed, making it seem like a joke, a passing thought, but I realised this is no laughing matter. Maybe, until the world turns, until people stop being afraid of loves like ours, this is as good as it gets.

“Nico… What if we did just that?”

He turned to me. “What are you saying, habibi?”

“Until we can get married, however long that may be, why don’t we do it? Here and now?”

We have talked about marriage. But two men getting married is impossible. No matter how much we wanted it, it cannot be an option. This is the second-best thing.

The bride walked in and the ceremony began. So for a while, Nicolo stayed silent. Then, he leant closer and I will never forget the words he said to me.

“I will love you until the day I permanently die,” he whispered in Arabic. “I will care for you, I will always be there for you, I will always make you happy. You are the man made amongst the stars and you are perfect for me. Your heart and your soul is full of love and kindness. I will never stop loving you, Yusuf al-Kaysani. I want to be your husband and I want you to be mine.

I looked at him then and saw the tears in his eyes. How I wished I could kiss him.

“Nicolo, I…” I tried gathering my thoughts. “What I feel for you cannot be captured into a few words. You are a breeze on the warmest summer afternoon. You are the moon guiding me through the darkest nights. Sometimes I feel like I’m not worthy of your love, you have so much of it and you give it all to me. My love for you is eternal, evergreen and ever-growing. I love you and I love you fiercely. I will never stop loving you, Nicolo di Genoa. I want to be your husband and I want you to be mine.”

Just as we finished, the priest said ‘I pronounce you man and wife’ and I think both of us imagined that he said ‘I pronounce you husbands.'

***

“What are you doing up still?” Nicolo asks quietly as he walks out to the balcony. He puts his hands on Yusuf’s shoulders. “The bed is always cold without you, my love.”

“Almost done. I had to immortalise the day we had.”

Nicolo rubs the back of Yusuf’s neck. Yusuf leans into the touch. He still hasn’t had enough of these absent-minded touches and he doesn’t think he ever will.

“It was a good day.”

“It was.” Yusuf reaches for Nicolo’s hand, kissing his palm. “I love you, husband.”

“I love you, husband.” Nicolo kisses the top of his head. “Come to bed, habibi.”

“I am.”

Yusuf closes his journal, deciding the drawings for the entry can wait. He stands and blows out the candle on the table, then follows Nicolo inside where Yusuf shows him just how much he loves him.

[nicolinocolino]

s4 thoughts

Okay so I’ve only watched the season once through and I’m sure I missed some stuff, but here’s my reaction for anyone who cares haha.

I’m going to start with Sana, obviously. Brilliant. Show stopping. Memorable. I never felt like the season was about anyone else, even with the side plots. I think this has a lot to do with the friendships, which skamit does really well. But this season was truly about her. And Bea did fantastic. 

I think the switch to make the Malik drama about Eva worked much better, as Eva is someone who’s kind of... swung from one guy to another and back. It just makes sense. I also loved how they toned down the drama and got rid of the cyber bullying all together. 

Sana’s voicemail on the roof explained it all... and it was so heartbreaking. Honestly, I could relate. I think that’s another big testament to the season — she’s relatable because she’s, you know, a person with feelings and expectations who doesn’t always make the right choices. I never felt like I wasn’t allowed to relate to her just because we come from different backgrounds. And isn’t that the point? Isn’t that the point of it all — to humanize her and not put her on a pedestal or be afraid of her? She hurt her friends who hurt her, and she let it all out. Sometimes we need that honesty to become closer to one another, and, in turn, understand each other better.

My favorite clip was the one of her and Malik talking about religion. The music? Her metaphor to the moon? God, she shone in this clip. I’m not a religious person, but I could feel the passion in her. I think it’s healthy to be challenged sometimes, too. I don’t think Malik saying that you can be a good person without religion is something I will forget.

Overall, her story was so good that I don’t really mind the other parts I was disappointed in. It was a fantastic final season. The music and editing and quality was incredible. She was the true star.

Okay, Marti and Nico. Because you know I love them a lot. And I’m sorry if I have more to say about them than Sana. I know it’s her season. But obviously Marti and Nico are my favorite and ALSO there’s just..... a lot to process regarding what we did get from them. I’m not the kind of person who can look at canon and be like, “I don’t like that so I’m going to forget it!” — no. I see it happen and my brain goes “make it make sense.” Which is what I’ve been trying to do because I really don’t want these two ruined for me. So:

First of all, I’m so, so thrilled that Nico’s “half a thing” long ago with Luai was the real deal. It had nothing to do with his mental illness and added depth to his back story that comes from a place of love and understanding. I cannot even imagine the guilt he must have felt at Virgilio after watching Luai get sent away. It must have been difficult to talk about, so keeping it from Marti (for so long!) is something I can kind of understand.

Which brings me to Marti’s reaction. I have mixed feelings. I definitely do understand Marti, in a way. When you piece together what he knew from Maddalena, that look between them he witnessed, Nico’s obvious lies... yeah. Maybe I’d go a bit out of my mind, too. Essentially, I can see this starting in ep 2 and building to ep7. That’s FIVE WEEKS of hardship on their relationship. FIVE WEEKS of Nico hiding the truth and Marti going insane pestering him. FIVE WEEKS of patience before Marti finally snapped. My big thing is I think Marti has gobs and gobs of patience. Without that real time format, it looks like he has none. But really? It was almost two whole months of... guessing and asking and getting nothing. Of course he was paranoid! Of course he was jealous! His patience, which I believe he had, wore thin. While I think some of what Marti did was out of character, some of it I can see. He gets angry, we’ve seen that. He withdraws, we’ve seen that too. Not saying this is the healthiest thing ever, but if you REALLY loved someone... you probably would be at least a little jealous. We villainize the feeling of jealousy so much — and it’s true that it’s not healthy in this amount — but it happens. And it happened to Marti. My big hangup is that I don’t really think that’s very in character for him, but in a way... I can see it. I think we can argue that what he did to Gio and Eva in season 1 was the result of some jealousy. Love makes you do all kinds of crazy things and feel all kinds of crazy ways. I half think that Marti “left” as a sort of final straw/ultimatum. Like, ‘ah, if I leave him maybe then he will tell me, since there is nothing left to lose.’ But then Nico didn’t, so he was left with that choice. I don’t think he really meant it, at least not for the long haul. If Nico were to text him the next day and say ‘yeah, you’re right, this is for the best’ Marti would be a giant mess. I can clearly see this was a situation of “well, I think he’s going to leave me for Luai, so maybe if I leave him first I can control the pain.” We literally see him reverting back to his old self in eps 7 and 8. He closes off. He doesn’t want to listen to his friends. At Silvia’s birthday, he was honestly being so loud and jokey and obnoxious. I truly think that was a mask. His “I have nothing to say to him” (referring to Nico) REALLY really got to me. That was not in character. But in hindsight, as I try to make sense of it, I think he said it because he wanted his friends to disagree with him. It’s more of a “I have nothing more to add” because, well, he tried. He tried for five weeks to get Nico to tell him the truth. He was left with his embarrassing mistake of leaving Nico, which he knew was wrong, and is embarrassed even more because everyone else knows it was wrong too. Somehow he has to crawl out of the hole that is his own stubbornness and pride. And in this super public space, he wanted everyone to think he was fine. But we know he’s not. We know he had a cliche low point eating ice cream on the floor. We know he’s hurting. In his mind, Nico possibly cheated and lied and might leave him and that hurts him. Because he loves him.

Which brings me to my next point. Marti you dumbass if you opened your eyes you could SEE how much Nico loves you. Everything from wanting to get coffee in the morning with him, wanting to pick him up from school, wanting to dance with him, wanting to help throw him a nice birthday, just the way Nico LOOKS at him... boy he LOVES you. And I bet that hurt Nico a lot to think Marti didn’t feel any of that. Nico shows his love, it pours out of him.

But also: Nico, my boy, why take so long to tell Marti the truth. If there’s nothing to hide, why does it matter that you had half a thing with some guy two years ago? I think what happened was that they didn’t have proper closure. Luai was essentially ripped away from Nico, horribly, in the middle of their half a thing. Did Nico even know that he was okay? And... the guilt? Oh my. I can only imagine Nico wanted to reconnect with him just to get that closure, and, in the process, because he never told Marti, it looked a lot like maybe something else was going on. Not only the night of the fight, but maybe after that there were some texts or phone calls, too. And then how do you tell your boyfriend that you want closure with your ex? How do you explain what you had, which never had a proper ending and, who knows, maybe would have grown or still have been going on if things were better and Luai never left? I think Marti could piece that together, too. He knows Nico learned the Koran for Luai. He remembers the talk in Nel Mio Letto. He knows how deeply Nico can feel. And, he knows that Nico’s feelings are real. Or, were real. And maybe had the possibility of becoming real again now that Luai was around again. 

The excuse that Nico didn’t tell Marti because Luai was engaged and wanted to keep it on the down-low doesn’t fly with me. Maybe it’s partly true, but I also think what I stated above was more of the cause. Nico didn’t know how to explain to Marti without sounding suspicious but needed closure. He tried to do both at the same time and failed. Because, duh. You have to be honest and hiding isn’t right and doesn’t work. I think it would hurt Marti to know Nico doesn’t trust him enough with that secret. So, in sum, they both need to trust each other more.

I was really excited for Nico’s clip and was left feeling kind of empty afterwards. I don’t like how Marti basically interrogated him. I think that if Marti wants that level of honesty with Nico, that’s valid. But there’s a fine line between that and pestering someone about phone calls. Which is what makes me think the thing with Luai was more than just the night of the fight. I think Nico was hiding a little more than a past. He was hiding his reconnecting to get closure. I mean, in the end, it’s a nice clip. The beach is beautiful and their kiss was cute and smiley. And that hug is god tier. I liked how we saw Nico’s meds in a short and respectful way even if just to give the audience some peace of mind. Maybe Marti only used his birthday as an excuse to be so nosy. I do think he was hurt by the lies — and Marti knows that lies can ruin things, he’s seen it happen — so he’s just on guard. I mean, I don’t think Nico’s lie was HUGE... it’s just the fact that it went on for so long even after Marti tried to tell Nico he wanted the full truth. So, even if I didn’t love the clip and am disappointed a bit in it, in the end it really just shows that they can and will work through everything.

So, like, did I want all of that drama? No. Is it realistic? I think so. I romanticize these two so much so it brought me down to earth a bit. Did I already KNOW they would be able to work through hard times? Well, yeah. I didn’t need to see it but in the end I’m glad I did. I truly believe they will face future hard times with the knowledge, now, that they need to do better. And honestly? I think Marti is 18 now and Nico is like 20? 21? And to be tested with something like this and work through it the way they did so young is a lot. Also, they’ve been together for over a year now. It takes about a year for that honeymoon phase to wear off. So in reality they are working through that right now too. Love is something they have to dedicate more time and effort to, and they did! They did do that and it’s nice to see that they’re willing to nurture this very very special thing they have instead of letting it fall away. And they made it out on the other side with, I think, more love and understanding for each other. I certainly love and understand them better now, too.

I might add on with more thoughts later, but this is what I have for now. Most of it is about Marti and Nico but, ya know. I love them dearly. Also, Sana’s stuff was just so good there’s really not much for me to work through with it. If you read this all, you’re a trooper lol

[morsquiesa]

@gentledeaths​ , continued from here.

DEATH APPROACHES  .  — ‘ it is only abandonment if there is a choice, my lady. ’  rare is it that a god gets injured, and rarer is it that a god gets injured enough to bleed. it was an obvious choice to make, as death cannot die, so of course he would hold the line while bianca escaped. after the bodies of the monsters had been slain and death’s stomach had been gored, she had returned to him, cradled his head in her lap and sat there, watching her friend either begin the process of regeneration or wait for the styx to claim this mortal body.  ‘ i hold no grudge against you. i told you to go. and i would do it again, a thousand times over. ’

he is careful, here, because exerting too much force would be to bleed, and godly blood would burn the demigod a thousand times over. he exhales, slowly, and one by one, the butterflies he loves so dearly settle onto his wounds and interlock their wings, a shield from the eyes of mortalkind as he begins to heal. breathing slowly, in and out, thanatos ignores the pain that courses through his body. ‘ though i have to ask, what on earth are they sending at you demigods these days? ’

HOW COULD I LEAVE HIM THERE? HOW COULD I THINK IT’S FAIR? Golden dust of the monsters that had a taste of what the god of death and daughter of the underworld were capable of clinging to her skin, damp with sweat and blood. I haven’t- I didn’t- even her thoughts are incoherent, eyes widened as she tries to understand where did they go wrong, what happened and how could she let it. I haven’t thought they would go after him, resonates in her head, with thousands of whispers. I haven’t thought they would hurt him. Monsters rarely has the tendency to take it up with gods, being more interested in preys they can sink their claws into more easily. Bianca thought they would’ve followed her out, she didn’t think- but it does not matter what she assumed or didn’t. Because it doesn’t change the fact that the sheer horror and panic of turning around in the gates and seeing Thanatos collapse on the ground is still coursing through her veins, like a hand that reaches between her ribs and holds her heart in it’s palm to squeeze it with all the might that it’s got. Forgive me. Gods cannot fade forever, perhaps, but there are more than one way they can die. When it comes to him, all of them are unacceptable. Forgive me, Thanatos.

Oh, how she would’ve given everything to have the abilities her brother had, now. Nico knew, how to bloom life out of death, he knew how to mold the darkness until he’s made a heartbeat out of them. She’s watched him hold onto it, she’s watched him turn mortals from the edge of the abyss. But she doesn’t have what he has, she doesn’t know how to mold the shadows that tangles between her fingers into anything else but a blade. She doesn’t know how to smooth their edges- she only knows how to sharpen them, and that’s why, she is as useless as she could be while she holds the god in her arms. His head on her knees, one of her hands cradling the side of his head and the other hovering above his wound, a clump of shadows thickening over it to apply pressure, slow down his bleeding as best as she can. Her gaze is stern with a determination that might crumble any second with the fear of watching the light fade out of him. Why is he not healing?

 “ Thanatos, ”  She calls for him, heel of her palm gently settling beneath the side of his jaw to tilt his head to her. Look at me. He is still not healing, and she can feel his heart weaken. “ Stay with me a little longer. ” Do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you. She doesn’t realize she isn’t breathing until his butterflies replace her shadows, covering him, allowing the life to bloom again. She still holds him, scared to let go, scared to move and end up hurting him even more. She would’ve laughed at his question, maybe, if she felt relief was a kind that would make her laugh, but instead it burns her eyes. Gods can’t die, perhaps, but he is not only a god to her. She exhales shakily, fingertips brushing against his temple. “ I’m sorry, ” She whispers, and the lump in her throat makes it too hard to say it out loud without choking. “ I’m so sorry. ” She exhales again, trying to get herself together, shake off the shock. “ Tell me what to do, tell me how to help. ” 

[maddiesup]

Tag game!

I was tagged by @ohbabycupcakes thank u💖

RULES: Name 10 favorite characters from 10 different things then tag 10 people + leave comments on all of them

This is gonna be hard, where do I even start?

1) Keith (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

Okay I'm- trying not to laugh too hard because oh boy, this show was a complete mess. BUT Keith still stays as one of my favorite characters ever just because no matter how badly I was hurt by vld he'll always be precious to me 💖 He's hotheaded, cool and a lone wolf, but needs affection more than anyone else on the team. He's easy for me to relate to as I am more likely to push someone away than to keep them close just to avoid being hurt as well. His development is amazing tho and I love love him so much 😭 also it might be just that I have a soft spot for emo characters lmao

2) Todoroki Shoto (Boku no Hero Academia)

This just reinforces my statement earlier since Todoroki is pretty emo too :') But in a different way than Keith. If you are a part of bnha fandom you know he's generally a little bit overrated, but I couldn't help falling in love with him at first sight anyway lol His backstory is tragic but he keeps pursuing his dream and damn is he good at it. Also the combo of fire and ice is aesthetic goals. However, what I admire the most about Shoto is probably his loyalty to his friends, his will to fight and sometimes his goofy attitude (even if he probably isn't aware that he's being goofy lol) In conclusion: I love him, let's move on.

3) Uenoyama Ritsuka (Given)

Can I just stop to say how much I love given for a moment? Like I've never seen a bl anime/manga that would portray gay characters so respectfully 😭❤️ Ue is basically me gay panicking, I feel the boy so much :') OH also what's up with gays & guitars bc first given, then why r u and now also 2gether :') (I might be falling in love with this trope help) okay so: Ue is panicking when he starts liking Mafuyu but he handles it so well in a way? He doesn't deny his crush even if he is slow to notice it lol He's straightforward and sometimes a little bit rough around the edges, but even if he's supposed to be "the cool guy" we see him in the most hilarious settings and that just makes me love him all the more 💖 he respects Mafuyu and his boundaries and I want more of that in bl anime please

4) Eiji & Ash (Banana Fish)

Uhhhh this anime,,, I CANNOT choose between Ash and Eiji, I'm gonna forever see them as a pair and that's simply it. Ash is another emo one I would like to say that but he's actually not. He's backstory is heartbreaking and the life he has to live is dangerous and scary. He gets used to this reality where he has no one to rely on and no one to trust but then Eiji appears tearing his walls down and making him finally be able to show his soft and sensitive side to someone. Eiji is like a salve for his wounds and yes, I'm still emotional about it bc their relationship is one of the best developped I've ever seen. Their bond is so strong it's beautiful, they would literally die for each other. It's so apparent that they love each other and care for each other so much (don't mind me crying in the corner)

5) Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson & the Olympians)

PJ technically got me into fantasy/sci-fi in elementary school and it stays at the top of my favorite book series list ever (big props to Uncle Rick 👏) The whole series is funny and I would say pretty light-hearted even tho you know,,, Percy saves the world several times, lol, usual demigod things™. He's lovable. Son of Poseidon so he has seaweeds instead of a brain (or so you thought, he is brilliant at strategic planning and has a charisma to be a great leader), has a very good sense of humor, is loyal and would risk everything for his friends. Also he loves his girlfriend very much and I was crying while reading the House of Hades but no one needed to know that oh well. I'm also gonna mention Nico de Angelo here, since he fell in love with Percy (didn't we all tho) and was the first gay character I saw portrayed in the book and oh do I love him 😭💖

6) 707 (Mystic Messenger)

Was I losing sleep over this game? I was. Do I regret anything? Absolutely not. I think my choices are pretty boring tho, since Seven is literally everyone's favorite but oh boy there's a reason for that. Apart from being a talented hacker who knows too much (and I think is cautious of us the most at the start) he has a lovely happy-go-lucky personality composed of all the lame jokes, questions "have you eaten already" and anxiety (another emo one). He's that type of a character who will always try to make you laugh but you never know what's going on inside his head. He's mysterious and we don't get to know him well till his route so pretty much till the end of the game lol. Also he loves his brother, phd pepper, honey buddha chips and Elizabeth 3rd the most in this entire world and I love him for that

7) Evan Hansen (Dear Evan Hansen)

ANOTHER EMO ONE okay but hear me out Evan has social anxiety and its portrayal is almost too real for me. He makes a big oopsie which at the start seems like a little innocent lie but then snowballs to enormous sizes. He gains everything in this bargain, a best (dead) friend, a caring mother, a father, a girlfriend even - and then everything falls apart since it all is built on one fat lie. He makes a lot of mistakes and then some more but you get it and you feel for him, and you cry with him and you're happy for him. And when all of this is over you're glad that he's still there trying his best, taking it one day at a time. And sidenote: Ben Platt's voice is angelic and I love him as Evan 💖💖💖

8) Isak (SKAM)

Another gay panicking one. I'm starting to realize there's a set of traits that I particularly like in fictional characters lol But ye, when I was watching skam ofc it was the third season which gripped me the most and kept me on the edge, bc yet again Isak taking an "are you gay" test was way too real for me. He makes a lot of mistakes along the way of figuring out his sexuality and sometimes stuff with Evan becomes really messy (for both of them) but he stays with him nevertheless ❤️ Skam is literally so good in its portrayal of the characters :') Anyways: alt er love 💖

9) Viktor & Yuuri (Yuri on Ice)

Em, another one that I absolutely can't break up to just one bc how could I? Yuri on ice got me into skating ❤️ I went to an ice rink for the first time bc of this anime and I almost died but now look at me actually finishing my first three months of ice skating training and watching real life figure skating competitions :') Little did I know then. But they're not only my favourites bc of that, I genuinely love the development of their relationship from fan - idol through skater - couch to lovers and history makers in the end. I love how Yuuri is a ball of insecurities and how Viktor manages to reassure him. I love how Viktor fell in love with drunk Yuuri clinging to him. I love how at first Yuuri wasn't able to get too close to Viktor without getting flustered and it changes so drastically to them basically always holding onto each other. I love how Viktor was stuck with no inspiration but then Yuuri came and turned his world upside down. I love how they support and respect each other. I could probably go on into eternity like that and Yuri on ice isn't even the best anime I've ever seen but it's certainly my favourite one ❤️

10) Tutor (WHY R U)

I can't believe I'm so obsessed with thai dramas rn and I'm only gonna include Tor on this list smh He's mental attitude inspires me. He's able to hold so much and appears totally unfazed even if he's barely holding on inside. He's hardworking and doesn't want others to pity him since he can manage it all just fine. He has a kind heart, he's a wonderful friend (especially to Hwa, he always listens to her, gives her pieces of advise, supports her and tries to cheer her up). He never forgets to say thank you when he genuinely feels grateful. But as we've seen he also is passionate and when he loves he LOVES. Also he's the biggest tease to Fighter and I love him for that :') I am so satisfied just by seeing him happy, please do not change that whyru gods 🙏

As it appears I'm done .-. I have no idea what have just happened and if my rambling even makes sense but not that I care at this point. If you read this far, please drink some water now, that was a lot of reading to go through ❤️

Tagging: @wir-ro, @saecookie and any other 8 people who might want to ksks (im too tired to tag lmao)

Don't be like me and go to bed at reasonable hours despite this whole quarantine thing .-. thank again Doreen for tagging since it was really fun 🥺❤️

[ilu-writes]

Face Paint

Days and Nights (Solangelo)

Ratings: G | Warnings: none

AO3 | FF.net

Prev | x | Next

Will gets help with his costume from an unexpected source.

“I need you to make me look terrifying,” said Will, watching as Nico opened the cheap face paints. “It’s a matter of pride.”

Nico was probably the last person he would’ve considered asking for help with this, but the other boy had offered as soon as Will had complained to him about being bad at it.

Will had taken one look at the younger boy, who looked like he’d never touched a paintbrush in his life, and had said yes immediately, because he was that desperate to spend time with him.

At the very least, if the face painting went badly, he’d get to enjoy Nico’s company for a while.  

“Pride?” Repeated Nico, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Me and Lou Ellen have an ongoing competition over who can get the scariest costume,” Will explained, trying to suppress the slight embarrassment he felt. It seemed immature now that he was saying it out loud. “Lou always cheats with the mist, though.”

“Ah,” said Nico, who didn’t sound like he thought it was immature. “I’ll do my best.”

He picked up the sponge, coated with paint, and reached forward, letting his hand hover about an inch away from Will’s face. The briefest, unreadable look flicked across his face, and Will was about to ask if something was wrong when Nico closed the distance.

“You might want to close your eyes,” he said, his voice surprising flat.

Will complied. They sat in comfortable silence for either a few seconds or a few minutes – Will really couldn’t tell – before his discomfort at the feeling of paint got too irritating.

“You should come,” he blurted out, partially out of desperation to start a conversation, and partially because he’d been wanting to ask all day. “Out with us, I mean. It’ll be fun.”

Nico didn’t respond for so long that Will cracked one of his eyes open to try and gauge his reaction. He was looking away, at the paint palette, focusing on covering one of the brushes with paint, so it was useless. Will was about to take the offer back out of panic when Nico turned towards him, and he immediately squeezed his eyes shut again. The brief image of the other boy, his face arranged in the mild, emotionless expression he was used to, stayed burned onto his eyelids.

“That’s okay,” Nico said, his tone careful. “I’d rather stay in.”

Will bit his tongue to stop himself insisting. If he would rather stay on his own, that was fine. He couldn’t force the other boy to spend time with him.

He could, however, enjoy this time he had now.

“No problem,” he said, keeping his own voice level. His mind flailed wildly for another topic of conversation. “How- uh- what-“ he paused to mentally collect himself. “So, you like Halloween, huh?”

It didn’t come out quite as smooth as he’d wanted, but Nico didn’t comment on that. “I, uh, don’t dislike it,” he said, his voice quiet with concentration. “I haven’t really celebrated it before, but-“

“You haven’t?” Will’s eyes flew open of their own accord. For a second, he was staring straight at Nico, and then the other boy averted his own gaze to the paint palette to unnecessarily recoat the brush. “Sorry,” said Will quickly, closing his eyes again. “I just- you haven’t?”

There was a beat. “No,” said Nico, his voice a little uncertain. “I don’t… I don’t think I did, I don’t remember it.”

Oh. Oh.

Will mentally cursed himself. Of course Nico wouldn’t remember celebrating Halloween. He didn’t even remembering celebrating his own birthday. And somehow, Will didn’t think the boy stopped for trick or treating while he was living homeless away from Camp.  

“Sorry,” he said, guilt leaking into his voice. “Sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t think-“

“It’s fine,” said Nico smoothly. “It’s not a- it’s fine. I don’t… think they celebrate Halloween in Italy anyway. At least… not until recently.”

They fell into silence again. This time, Will didn’t bother trying to talk again – he was clearly awful at it – and instead resigned himself to the silence. Also, to the tickling of the paintbrush on his face.

So he was more than surprise when Nico was the one to finally break it.

“I did kind of celebrate once in, um, boarding school,” he said awkwardly. Will stayed silent. “Not much, because, y’know, military school, but we were aloud to stay up a bit later and eat a lot of sweets, so… yeah.”

Will waited a few seconds to make sure Nico had actually stopped talking, and then a few more to make sure he didn’t sound like an idiot. He hadn’t actually know Nico had gone to a military school, but he decided not to address that. “The candy is the best part of Halloween,” he said, lightly. “Really, it’s the only good tradition.”

“I don’t think the costumes are that bad,” hummed Nico gently in response, and the corner of Will’s lips twitched up.

“I already told you, I’m awful at the costumes,” he reminded the other boy. “I didn’t peg you as someone who’d be into them, either.” He tried to keep his tone light, praying it wouldn’t come off like an insult. The last thing Nico needed was to feel like he was being laughed at.

“I’m not that into them,” he amended, sounding a little embarrassed, but not like he thought he was being mocked. “I probably wouldn’t wear one, but I think they look fun.”

“They are fun,” he conceded. “I just suck at them, so it’s a lot of stress.”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re trying to be too scary?” Offered Nico, humour tinging his voice, and the sound was almost nice enough for Will to miss his words.

“Are you saying I can’t look scary?” He asked, exaggerating his offence.

“I’m not- I’m just saying, you aren’t exactly a scary person-“

“I could be!”

“Sure.” Nico pressed two fingers to the other boys chin to tilt it up slightly to give him a better angle, and Will tried to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through his body at the contact. “I’m just saying, maybe you’d be better coming up with… well, not-scary costumes.”

“I cannot believe that you don’t think I could be scary,” said Will, trying to keep his humorous tone even. “My own friend.”

“I’m just saying-“

“This is disgraceful-“

“Gods,” Nico snorted, and Will suppressed the flutter that rose in his chest at the sound. “Maybe you did inherit your dad’s confidence-“

“How dare you?” Demanded Will, but his voice cracked in the middle, half a laugh escaping him.

Nico shushed him lightly. “I need you to stay still for this bit,” he said, still sounding amused.

“That’s cheating,” huffed Will. “This conversation isn’t over.”

He shut his mouth anyway, letting Nico do whatever he was doing. After a second, he cracked his eyes open slightly, peering through his lashes. The other boy had a look of concentration on his face, somewhat marred by the smile tugging at his mouth, nose crinkled up a little, his dark eyes staring intently at Will’s lips– at the paintbrush.

Will quickly closed his eyes again, trying to silently force his heart rate to slow down. He mentally scolded himself – nothing was going to happen with Nico until the other boy indicated in anyway that it could. There was no use getting flustered over nothing.

Still, when Nico announced that he was done, Will almost wished he could keep his eyes shut for longer. He opened them anyway, taking in the other boy, who’d moved back to a more comfortable distance and was watching him almost nervously.

“There’s a mirror in the bathroom,” he supplied, uncertainly. “For you to look at it.”

“Great,” said Will, surprised by his own sudden disappointment, and he pushed himself up and towards the bathroom. Nico followed a safe few paces behind.

Will nearly did a double take when he saw his own reflection. “Damn,” he blurted, which wasn’t quite as elegant as he would’ve liked, but it worked. The base coat was a pale, eerie green, with the structure of a skull brought out in different shades as a 3d form. Black and dark green had been added in certain places to create the appearance of hollows in it.

“It’ll, uh, probably look better in the dark,” said Nico, and it was definitely nervousness in his voice.

“Better?” repeated Will, surprised, and then he pulled the black hood of his robes up to complete the affect and turned towards him. “Holy Styx – this is amazing.”

Nico looked pleasantly surprised, but quickly and visibly schooled his features back into a more neutral look. “I mean, you wanted it to be creepy-“

“You’re good at creepy. Maybe you are more scary than me.”

“Was that ever in question?”

Will ignored him. “Where did you learn to do this?” He asked, curiosity leaking into his voice. “I didn’t expect you to like this kind of stuff.”

Nico shrugged, and Will was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the tinge of pink that hit his cheeks. “I, uh, used to do a lot of painting at school. I was never that good at it, but I was better at that than the other subjects, because…” He trailed off, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was just more fun than difficult. But I could paint some stuff, especially on skin. It wasn’t too hard.”

“You could paint well.” Will got the feeling that they were entering more dangerous territory, so he shifted it slightly. “The design-“

“It’s from a Mythomagic card,” Nico admitted immediately. “I figured it was suitably scary.”

“It is.” Will grinned at him, and after a second, Nico returned the gesture. It looked almost painful coming from him, but Will took it. “You know, you could come,” he said, wistfully thinking back to their first conversation. He was pretty sure of what response he’d get, but it was worth a try. “The invitation still exists.”

“I think I’d rather stay in tonight,” said Nico, gently. “But… thanks.”

“Alright.” Will knew not to push dead conversations. Sometimes. “In that case, I should-“

“Yeah- yeah, of course.”

Part of Will wanted to say or do more, but Nico had moved out of his way and he couldn’t think of anything on the spot, so instead he just smiled and made his way to the door. He hesitated half way across the door.

“Nico-“ he paused as the other boy looked over at him. “Thank you.”

Nico shrugged. “Don’t think about it,” he said dismissively, waving it off. “It’s no problem.”

Will got the feeling he was going to be thinking about it for way too long, but he didn’t say that.