sayosdreams

[sayosdreams]

NO OTHER PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM GETS TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSES!! THE SIZE AND DISTANCE OF OUR MOON FROM EARTH AND THE SUN MAKE THE PERFECT CIRCUMSTANCES TO GET TOTALITY!!! THE EARTH AND MOON ARE SOOOO COOL AND OF COURSE OUR SUN!! I LOVE LIVING ON EARTH I LOVE YOU EARTH I LOVE YOUUUUU MOON I LOVE YOU SUN

[sayosdreams]

[sayosdreams]

"You wanted daffodils at your wedding, and suddenly I wanted to be the one beside you at the altar watching you hold them. I wanted it to be real. I wanted it all to be real"

excuse me while i go sob in a corner

[sayosdreams]

Inbox me (1) thing you want to know about me.

DO IT PLS

[sayosdreams]

Prompt: at a party (or at a club) music is playing. Suddenly a song starts playing and Aedion and Aelin rush to each other and start performing a dance routine from when they were kids while singing the lyrics at the top of their lungs in the middle of the dance floor cuz it’s their bop

Ok I’m trying to go through as many as possible right now!

~~~

The new year celebration is always a blast for their family. Drinks flowing, food piled on the tables, people coming from far and wide - it’s a pleasant change after they finish all the ceremonial duties earlier in the day. Bards fill the castle halls, playing as many tunes as possible.

Fenrys, Gavriel and Kyllian cackle in a corner, arms sling around each other, singing merrily at the top of their lungs. The lyrics are in no way right, but filled with joy. Near them, Lorcan dances with Elide, the two following a beat that doesn’t exist as they follow each others rhythm. Vaughan gestures vehemently in a discussion with Evangeline, the two likely arguing over a sport as dual. Aedion and Lysandra scour the food tables, the shifter hungry from flying decorations around all day and Aedion just delighted at the desserts. Aelin and Rowan stand by the drinks, the king and queen laughing in delight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the lead bard calls, gaining the halls attention, “and males and females and those who are both and neither, it is our pleasure to introduce you into the new year! Cheers!”

A loud cry follows the intro, everyone raising a glass and more than a few people nearly spilling their drinks.

“We’re going to play an old favourite now,” the bard grins, the others swelling up behind him. “Many of you may remember this from when we were tykes, so sing along if you know it!”

A tune starts, a jovial song filling the hall.

“Oh, let the cups run full by the days end!”

Aelin perks up.

“And we’ll stumble home around the bend!”

She meets Aedion’s eyes from across the hall. He grins.

“So grab your lassies and grab your lads-“

They sprint towards each other, meeting in the middle of the hall. They clasp hands, then link arms, and grin as the pipes and violins start up.

“And get ready to send the spirits away! Hey! Hey! Get ready to send the spirits away! Hey! Hey!-“

The two spin around each other, the moves kicking in from muscle memory as they spin away from each other and back again. Aelin twirls under Aedion’s arm, her cousin lifting her slightly for the next turn, everyone cheering as they quickly jump and kick their feet to the tempo.

They both laugh, delighted, suddenly five and ten again. Learning the dance by watching others, coming out onto the dance floor after stuffing their mouths with cakes they sneaked away during whatever party they were forced to attend. When first learning, Aelin had stood on Aedion’s feet as he messed up the steps.

Now? Now, they blaze through the room.

“Let’s take a turn again and bless the spirits away, hey, hey!”

As the song reaches its height they abandoned the steps, simply spinning around wildly, flames and sparks flying from Aelin as they cackle in delight.

They finish the song with a bang, Aelin sending a plume of blue fire into the air. Everyone cheers, the two cousins - or siblings - panting and alight with joy. Lysandra and Rowan run towards them, sweeping and being swept off their feet as they reach their partners.

“Since when did the two of you practice that?” Lysandra asks, pressing a kiss to Aedion’s cheek.

“Well, you know,” Aelin grins, sending Aedion a smile, “we have our secrets.”

#you literally own my heart #throne of glass #aedion #aelin galathynius

[sayosdreams]

"My new aesthetic is the Bane deciding Aedion needs to rest, and so they just toss him from person to person till he takes the hint and goes to get some sleep." Can you plz write this!!! I would love it and it sounds sooo funny!

I’m FINALLY catching up on asks.

Are some of them over two years old? Yes. Don’t judge me.

~~~

Gavriel has many habits. He’s a man of routine - wake up, eat, train, work, and so on. Of course, those routines have been up in the air as of late with all the changes that have happened. Nowadays it’s more so wake up, deal with some shenanigans, eat, force the others to eat, join Aedion on a morning run, more shenanigans, and so on.

Falling back into a military routine while visiting the Bane is easier. The fact they’re helping clean up a recent avalanche isn’t all that good, and he’s freezing his fingers off while his son only needs to wear a light jacket, but he enjoys the familiarity of it all. There’s a purpose to every day. They shovel the snow, clear debris, and work on relocating the small amount of people who have damaged homes.

What he can’t work out amongst all the mess is where in Mala’s name his son is.

“Erickson!” Gavriel pushes through the snow towards the lieutenant, a large man wielding a shovel. “I heard Aedion was with you!”

He had hoped he’d be able to spend time with his son on this trip, the two of them busier than usual with Terrasen opening up new trade routes through Lysandra’s uncle and his merchant company. Instead, he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of his son. Granted, he’s enjoyed hearing stories from the members of the Bane - many of the inner circle knowing Aedion for years - but he’d enjoying seeing his son once this week.

“Gavriel!” Erickson grins, rakish and delighted as he props his tool against his shoulder, turning away from a pile of wreckage. “How are you? Keeping warm with those spare coats?”

Yes, Gavriel had to borrow an extra coat. He wasn’t raised in a cold climate like his son and most of the Bane members.

“Trying to keep the chill away,” Gavriel chuckles. “Have you seen Aedion?”

“Ah, he was with Lorrison, then he was passed onto me, but I just sent him to Smithy so he’s getting closer to his tent,” Erickson chuckles, scratching his beard. “How’s hoping we can shove him in there, eh?”

Hesitating, Gavriel raises a brow. “I… may be a little lost.”

“Oh!” Erickson snorts. “Guess no one filled you in. The general tends to,wear himself out, and when he does we just send him from person to person to tire him out while leading him back to his tent. Lorrison asked him for help setting up barricades, I had him shoveling snow, and I’m pretty sure Smithy asked him for help moving supplies. He should be dead on his feet soon enough, then Kyllian’ll shove him in the tent and stand guard.”

“That’s-“ Gavriel tries to scramble the words together. “You’ve done this before?”

“Ah, we help our own here,” Erickson smiles. “He does the same for us. It use to be easier though, back when he was with Kyllian. The two would just drag each other to bed-“

“Right, thank you,” Gavriel clears his throat. “I’ll-“

“Say, is Lysandra coming? She’s got a tight rein on him-“

“Thank you, Erickson!” Gavriel calls over his shoulder, heading towards the tents.

“Aye! He’ll probably listen if you tuck him in-“

Ignoring the laugh, Gavriel picks up the pace, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself as the sun sets and takes its warmth with it. The mountains are glorious, full of beauty and a wild, untamed spirit. As well as deadly creatures, frostbite, and a wind that’s like a knife through the chest.

(He may only volunteer for spring trips in the future.)

Aedion’s tent is easy to find - the Bane members had put Gavriel’s right next to it before whisking him away to tell stories. Their enthusiasm to have Gavriel in the camp is touching and funny every time.

As he reaches the tent, Kyllian exits, stopping once he sees Gavriel.

“Thank fuck,” Kyllian groans, tilting his head back. “Please go in there and make sure he stays down. He hasn’t slept in three days.”

“That’s why I haven’t seen him in the morning,” Gavriel sighs and rubs his eyes. “Thank you, Kyllian.”

“Good luck,” Kyllian pats him on the shoulder and trudges off, muttering about ‘stubborn bastards’ under his breath.

Walking into the tent, Gavriel snorts at the sight of his son buried under a pile of furs. A blue eye peeks out at him, irritation emerging in the form of a huff and shuffle.

“Are you aware your army has a method for getting you to sleep?”

Grumbling, Aedion buries his head in the furs. “Did you find that out while searching for another coat?”

They’re close enough now that Gavriel feels no fear in snatching a blanket from his son, laughing at the outraged cry that follows.

#so cute!! #aedion ashryver #throne of glass

[sayosdreams]

Hey! I looooove your stuff and I am looking for the fic where Aedion gets high? Its the drunk/clingy Aedion with Gavriel and it starts off with Kyllian bringing him back to the palace. I noticed that you don't have it on your masterlist and I am wondering where it went!

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, I couldn’t find the post but here’s the story.

~~~

“My head hurts,” Aedion states glumly, his expression turning even more downtrodden as his boot lands in a filthy puddle.

“I’m sure it does,” Kyllian grunts, Aedion’s arm slung over his shoulders.

“It’s because I fell.”

“You don’t say,” Kyllian huffs, shifting his weight.

“Kyllian?”

“Yes, Aedion?”

“I feel strange.”

The commander reigns in his frustration, the palace walls looming around them and flickering with the shadows of the night. The bar had been suspiciously empty when they arrived, and no one had questioned it when Aedion accepted and lit a pipe. The only surprise was that, instead of the usual slightly soothing drugs most pipes obtain, the one he had been given was filled with a stronger substance. One that’s left him leaning heavily against Kyllian’s side.

“That would be the herbs you smoked,” Kyllian sighs. “Did you seriously think it was just a normal smoke?”

“You said it was!” Aedion snaps. “Walking is hard.”

Kyllian sighs, nodding to a guard as they pass through the gate. “For all we know your father will spot us and-“

Aedion gasps. Kyllian grunts and jolts to a stop with him.

“Gavriel!” Aedion cries, stricken. “Kyllian, he’s my father!”

“...I know?”

“And I haven’t seen him today!” Aedion frets. “What if he’s dead?”

“That is a very large jump,” Kyllian winces, tightening his grip on Aedion. “Why don’t I get you some good food and water and we try our best to avoid the male that will rip me apart if he sees what I did to you.”

“...I want Gavriel.”

“What did I just say?” Kyllian scowls, tugging Aedion towards a kitchen. “You have to- Aedion, no!”

The demi-fae tears free of his grip and sprints down the hallway, following a familiar scent. Kyllian watches him with wide eyes, then slumps and sighs. He turns and makes his way to his own room, mentally calculating the benefits of sleeping in the armoury instead.

~~~

“Gavriel!” Aedion knocks repetitively on the door of the most common room the cadre members meet in for their late night talks. “Gavri-“

The door flings open, Gavriel looking to Aedion in concern. The Lion quickly takes stock of his son, Rowan, Fenrys and Vaughan all watching with trepidation from where they sit in the armchairs.

“What happened?” Gavriel frets. “Are you alright?”

“Gavriel!” Aedion wraps his arms around his father. “You’re alive!”

“What?” Gavriel stiffens for a moment. “Of course I’m alive. Aedion, what are...” realisation sparks in Gavriel’s eyes, and they soften along with his voice as he wraps his arms around his son. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“This entire night is a nightmare,” Aedion mutters before yawning, going lax in his father’s arms.

“Come in, sit,” Gavriel directs Aedion to the couch he was previously occupying. “Where’s Kyllian?”

Aedion shrugs, scratching at the fabric of the chair.

“You look exhausted,” Fenrys states in concern. “How king have you been back?”

“Around two,” Aedion thinks back.

“Hours,” Rowan nods.

Minutes, but Aedion is in no state to correct him. Instead he looks pleadingly up at his father.

“Can you hold me?” Aedion asks, bluntly. “Please?”

Gavriel jerks, taken back. Even the others seem surprised by this blatant request. Vaughan stands and gives the others a gentle look.

“We’ll leave you two,” he nods, Fenrys and Rowan following suit. “Feel better, Aedion.”

“Do you want to talk about your dream?” Gavriel asks, arm wrapped around Aedion with his son’s head resting on his shoulder. “And you’re still wearing your clothes. You should at least get comfortable before trying to rest.”

“I know,” Aedion mutters.

“And you...” Gavriel trails off, taking in Aedion’s eyes. “And your pupils are large.”

“Probably because I love you. They get bigger when you love something.”

Gavriel stiffens. “Aedion, where is Kyllian?”

“Don’t know.”

“When did you last see him?”

“After he gave me a funny pipe. It was sweet.”

“Right,” Gavriel stands, grabbing a blanket from a near basket and dropping it securely around his son. “You wait here.”

Huffing, Aedion squirms out from under the blanket and stands to follow his father. Gavriel frowns.

“I need you to stay here, Aedion,” Gavriel pushes him to sit again.

As soon as he turns to go to the door his son follows him once again. Gavriel winces and leads Aedion back to the couch.

“Cub, just-“

“I can take you to Kyllian!” Aedion stands, delighted.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Gavriel frets, shifting in uncertainty. “If you could just stay- that’s it, I’ll be back-“

And as soon as he reaches the reaches the door Aedion is once again by his side. Gavriel sighs, bowing his head in defeat. Aedion bounces slightly on the balls of his feet, humming quietly.

“Alright,” Gavriel concedes. “I may as well take you to Lysandra along the way.”

“Oh!” Aedion’s eyes brighten. “I love her!”

“I’m aware you do,” Gavriel huffs a laugh.

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you,” Gavriel leads Aedion down the hallway, firmly holding his son’s hand in his own. “Do you love anyone else?”

“Aelin, she’s basically my sister,” Aedion muses. “Evangeline, definitely... Rowan is becoming like a brother... I don’t love Fenrys and Vaughan and Lorcan yet... Kyllian is my best friend, so yes...”

“What about Dorian and Chaol?” Gavriel prompts, a smile in place.

Aedion stares back incredulously. Gavriel chuckles.

“Where’s Lysandra?” Aedion suddenly asks. “Is that my room? Lysandra!”

Gavriel immediately hushes his son, his loud cry booming through the palace. The bedroom door immediately swings open with the shifter popping her head out to search for the disturbing sound. She placates as she spots them, hair and clothes disheveled from bed. Aedion jumps free from his father’s grasp and flings his arms around her.

“Lysandra!” He announces. “I love you!”

“I feel the same, darling?” Lysandra replies, blinking rapidly. “Aedion, it’s three in the morning.”

“No it’s not. It’s four.”

“It seems he and Kyllian found some interesting substances,” Gavriel informs her. “I’m going to hunt him down now.”

“You’re too harsh on him,” Lysandra chastises, running a hand through Aedion’s hair to his delight. “The human equivalent of cat nip was just legalised, it’s fully possible Aedion just grabbed the wrong pipe.”

“We need to break him of that habit,” Gavriel grumbles.

“Just taking other people’s pipes or smoking at all? You are aware he doesn’t use harmful substances?”

“The borrowing pipes parts,” Gavriel confirms. “It’s unsanitary. Either way, I’ll go find Kyllian to ensure he’s safe. Good luck.”

Lysandra snorts as he turns and walks away, Aedion leaning his face into the palm of her hand.

“Alright, you oaf. Bed time.”

“Is Kyllian going to die?”

“Possibly. Now shush.”

#:P #kyllian #aedion ashryver #throne of glass

[sayosdreams]

Omg I needed this!! It’s so perfect I love it <3

Prompt : Aedion & Aelin (& Lys) casually mentioning their trauma in a throwaway comment / joke and continuing their discussion, meanwhile all the cadre members are like “wait can we go back, wtf did u just say?!?”

Ok here we go- time for the younger generation to horrify the older with their dark humour.

~~~

“Ha, try having a knife in your gut,” Aedion snorts, Aelin swearing under her breath and clutching her stubbed toe, gripping her seat at the breakfast table.

“Darling, please, endure a night with a mad man first,” Lysandra comments, picking at a muffin.

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t, love.”

“Complain when you’ve been locked in an iron box,” Aelin grumbles, pulling out and sitting down in her chair.

They all snicker, chewing their food.

Then the silence sinks in. Looking up, the three of them are met with the horrified faces of Rowan, Gavriel and Fenrys, the other three members of the inner circle who agreed to meet for breakfast.

“What?” Aedion asks, tearing into a pastry.

“I just-“ Gavriel swallows, resting his head in his hands. “I’m aging fifty years every time you three make a joke.”

“I thought I spotted a few greys,” Aelin smirks over her glass.

“Can we go back over a few things?” Fenrys strangles out. “Just clarify some details?”

Lysandra raises a brow. “That’s a little sudden and personal to discuss over breakfast.”

“You were just making jokes,” Rowan chokes.

“Joking about trauma and describing it are two different things,” Aedion shrugs. “Can someone pass the juice?”

The three older males share a glance, then go back to breakfast.

#aedion ashryver #throne of glass #lysaedion

[sayosdreams]

How did I miss that my favorite writer posted smth??!? This is so cute!!

Oooh i got a funny one for lions pride. The caddre having to learn how to ice-skate. Bonus Aedion knows how to figure skate and do fancy tricks. Bonus bonus, figure skating in sparkly outfits.

Enjoy 😁

I am. Very sorry this has taken so long.

~~~

“For a place that has a flower made of flames,” Vaughan chatters, rubbing his arms, “this place is cold enough that my balls are about to fall off.”

“Buck up,” Fenrys rolls his eyes, sitting on a log to tie the laces of the skates Aelin rented for everybody. “We’ve been through worse. You’re not even skating, and it’s what this town is known for!”

Indeed, the inner court had taken a small day trip out of the main city at Aelin and Aedion’s behest to go to a small town by a massive lake. Cheery buildings cuddle against each other, locals milling about the lake to skate and get some joy out of the winter chill. Renting the skates had been easy - no one was willing to deny the queen anything. Out of love instead of fear, which the cadre are less accustomed to it enjoying nevertheless.

Vaughan watches as Fenrys stands, awkwardly walking over to where Gavriel is shakily skating with Evangeline, the two equally unbalanced and holding onto each other for support.

Fenrys goes to laugh- and ends up flat on his arse. He hisses as he lands, Lysandra chuckling and offering him a hand up.

“Here,” she shuffles him towards Gavriel and Evangeline, determined to teach the three of them. “Aedion taught me the basics. Distribute your wait-“

They go in shaky circles, Elide, Lorcan and Vaughan watching from the sidelines, sipping warmed milk with melted chocolate. Fenrys glowers at the smile adorning Lorcan’s face.

“Fenrys, focus,” Gavriel sighs as the wolf wobbles.

“He’s smiling.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’ll punch him in the face.”

“Just not in front of Evangeline.”

“Two gold on Fenrys!” Evangeline grins, laughing when the wolf smirks back and ruffled her hair.

“Thanks kiddo!” Fenrys gazes across the lake. “Where are - oh. This has to be a joke, or trick.”

“No trick,” Lysandra hums. “They’re that good.”

Across the lack, where there’s more space, Aelin and Aedion skate circles around each other. They twist and turn, spinning occasionally. Fenrys feels his jaw loosen as Aedion picks Aelin up in a short lift, holding her against him and not breaking his glide.

“How-“

“They grew up here,” Lysandra huffs, rolling her eyes. “Aelin says she’s rusty, but if you ask me she’s been practicing in secret.”

“And Aedion?” Evangeline hums. “He’s very steady.”

“Practice as well, darling,” Lysandra smiles. “They’ve both been doing this longer.”

They all watch in amazement as the two Ashryver’s glide around each other, chatting with far too much ease considering the conditions they’re in. Evangeline gasps in delight as Aedion turns and skates backwards to continue his conversation with Aelin.

“Incredible,” Gavriel marvels. “Has Aelin introduced Rowan to skating yet?”

Lysandra points across the lack, where a trembling king mutters to himself as he holds onto a low tree branch, feet constantly slipping out from under him.

Now Fenrys laughs.

#I adore Aedion ofc and I adore skating so this is perfect #<3 #aedion ashryver #throne of glass

[sayosdreams]

It starts really…really stupid.

The Apollo cabin is having a movie night. Will’s DVD collection is bigger than his textbook collection, which is saying something, because he is a nerd. They baited Nico with a pirate movie: then, when he was comfortable and moon-eyed and unable to keep his mouth shut for a good twenty minutes after the end credits, they started phasing in the rom-coms.

Evil. Manipulators, the lot of them; so incapable of lying that they’re masters of bending the truth. Nico would leave, except they literally barricaded the door and keep all the lights on so there are no shadows for him to duck into (something he should have questioned from the very beginning, but unfortunately as soon as the Pirates of the Caribbean theme started playing, his reasoning skills hopped on a train and fled back to the Lotus Casino in 1938. So).

“This is stupid,” Nico grumbles, not that anyone is paying him any attention. Every single one of Will’s siblings stares at the TV with their chins in their hands, completely ignoring any and all of Nico’s (very valid) criticism.

Not that it stops him. “This is less realistic than Davey Jones,” he insists, largely just so his grievances are Known and Aired Out. The leading man says something stupid and cheesy, and three seperate doofuses in his company genuinely swoon. Nico scowls as hard as he can, pulling a blanket over his head. “Idiotic and cheesy.”

Nico pointedly isn’t following the plot — not that there is one — so he has no idea what’s going on. He squints. The leading man is wearing some ugly suit, too tight, and the leading lady collapses tearfully in his arms, thanking him about something.

Will sighs dreamily. Nico scowls harder.

“When is it my turn,” Will laments.

Kayla reaches over blindly and pats him on the head. She ends up more smacking him gently and lovingly on the face, but Will doesn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t we all want to know.”

“You don’t understand,” Will says dramatically. He flops backwards, hands flailing. Nico peeks over from under his blanket. His Head Medic camp shirt has ridden up in his dramatics, showing a sliver of skin. Nico flushes and intentionally looks away, focusing on his friend’s face.

“When will a rich, attractive older man come waltzing in here and offer to put me through med school, huh? When will my dream come true?”

Nico is 90% sure that Will is joking, but without his permission, be blurts out —

“You’d run off with some guy you don’t know?”

“Without hesitation!” Will cries. He yanks himself back upright, making Nico jump, arms thrown up and forehead creased. “You know how broke I’m gonna be when I’m done school?”

Nico doesn’t answer, but Will doesn’t wait for one.

“Very! I grew up on a pullout couch, which, I love my mom, and I love our apartment, but I want — I want —”

With his long, lanky limbs and flushed face, he begins to remind Nico of a kettle. He refrains from pointing this out. His siblings, on the other hand, openly snicker at him, dividing their attention between the movie and throwing popcorn at their eldest brother’s head.

“I want an Alaskan King! And — a mahogany desk! With lots of drawers! And windows! Floor to ceiling windows! And a rooftop garden!”

He glares playfully at his siblings, who are all giggling now, pointing fingers at them all.

“Lemme tell you right now. A man walks in here offering me that and a cheque for any school I want and it’s over for you people. I’m gone. You can fend for yourselves.”

“Yeah right,” Austin snorts, disbelieving. He reaches over and pinches Will’s thigh, cackling when he squawks. “We can’t even get you to leave the infirmary at the end of your shift. You’re stuck here forever, Rapunzel.”

“Just you wait! My prince will come!”

“As if he even wants a prince,” he hears Kayla whispering to a giggling Gracie, who responds with a cheeky, “Not when he’s got a king!”

Nico doesn’t know who they’re talking about, but the fact that there’s someone — his vision goes green. He has to tamp down a genuine snarl which is — ridiculous. And out of nowhere.

He cuts another glance to Will, who is still muttering petulantly. Every few minutes, he hears something about an “open floor plan” and “high pressure showers”.

He gets a very, very stupid idea.

———

The first mistake (because that’s what it is) is easy to explain away — the Hades cabin is still under renovation.

Well. Mostly.

“Please,” Will is begging, eyes big and pleading and painfully, beautifully blue. “Please? I’ll bring movies! And Yan’s Wii! And get Cecil to lend me some of the games he — uh, acquired! Pretty please!”

Nico has to bite back the you could be toting a pack of Lastrogonian giants with you and I’d still let you in that so desperately wants to come out of his mouth.

“Bring snacks and I’ll consider it,” he says instead.

Will beams. His eyes nearly squeeze shut, when he smiles like that, and there’s nothing Nico can do about the sharp inhale that rips through his chest. He blinks the spots away from his eyes, everything suddenly a little brighter, covered in golden sunlight.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pumping his fist and jumping up and down like a lunatic. Nico is so endeared that it aches something awful in his chest, and his cheeks smart from the size of his smile. “Sleepover! After my shift, di Angelo, I won’t be late!”

Yes, you will.

“I lock my doors and set a skeleton guard to watch it at eight,” he warns with a throat suddenly dry. “I mean it, Solace. I’ll sic the harpies on you.”

Will laughs as he jogs towards the infirmary, clearly not believing him. Nico watches him go the whole way, jumping when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“You,” says Drew Tanaka, blowing a bubble with her gum, “are a humiliating case, di Angelo.”

He shoves her, scowling. His face feels sunburnt. “Shut up.”

He absolutely does not spend the day moping after the infirmary, despite whatever rumours Drew’s lying mouth might spread. He has a job, thanks. He runs three separate sword fighting classes, and the younger kids are insane, so he doesn’t have time to be distracted.

Not that he is. But. Hypothetically, if he were to be distracted, he isn’t. Yeah.

He sits with Percy and Jason at dinner, distractedly wolfing down his food. Some kind of barbecue. He is not paying attention.

“No, Jase, we can say whatever we want, he’s not listening —”

“If he decides to stab you I am going to let him —”

“What’s going on?” Nico interrupts, looking up for the first time.

Percy smiles angelically, placing his hands under his chin.

“Nothing, Nico dear.”

Jason bangs his head on the table.

“I’m gonna…leave,” Nico says, slowly. “Y’all…do whatever you’re doing.”

“You said y’all,” Percy says gleefully. “You said y’all.”

Nico flushes hotly. “I did not. Shut up before I summon Jules-Albert to run you over.”

Percy cackles. Even Jason laughs. Nico throws his plate at them as he stomps away, sprinting extra quickly past the infirmary for no reason at all.

Time seems to slow down after dinner. For all Nico knows, it actually does. It wouldn’t make a difference. By the time there’s a knock on his cabin door, the sun has well past set, and Will is smiling sheepishly.

“I didn’t hear my shift alarm,” he says, the second Nico opens the door.

Nico sighs. He bites the corner of his mouth, hard, so it doesn’t do something stupid like turn upwards or something.

“There’s ADHD, and then there’s you, Solace.”

Will leans into his personal space and presses an over-exaggerated, smacking kiss to his cheek before he can stop him. Nico goes scarlet.

“But you love me anyway!”

There are no thoughts left in Nico’s brain to refute him. The only thing shaking around up there are alarm bells and KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! repeated over and over again like a gong.

“Hngh,” he says, intelligently. Will doesn’t seem to notice, striding confidently right into the cabin.

“I brought the Wii and movies and stuff, like I promised, and I’ve been saving this chocolate I bought last time I went into the city — woah, when did that get here!”

Will freezes in the middle of the cabin, gaping. Nico nearly walks right into him.

‘That’ is the giant, brand-new bed tucked snugly in the far right corner — an Alaskan King.

Nico clears his throat, shrugging.

“Remodelling, remember? The coffin beds had to go. And no one else but me sleeps here, so. Hazel has her own bed on the other side.”

He gestures to the other corner, where Hazel’s — smaller — bed sits, empty, coral pink comforter straightened neatly. Will barely even glances at it.

“What! But I thought you already renovated the beds —”

“Temporary.”

Will squints at him for a moment. Nico squirms, trying to hold his gaze. He’s not lying — they were temporary. Of course, he only made the decision that they were temporary a week ago, but. Well. Truth is truth.

Evidently, Will decides that he isn’t going to get a real answer out of Nico or he doesn’t care to get one, because he quickly turns away and, with a running start, jumps and sprawls himself on the gigantic bed.

“Oh, gods,” he groans, and oh, gods, indeed, is Nico ever going to get a fucking break or is his face just going to be stuck like this all the time. “Gods, Neeks, I am going to move in here. I don’t even — look! I can stretch all the way and I don’t touch the edge!”

“I see that,” Nico says weakly. His shirt has ridden up again. Nico bites back the confessing comment he wants to make about undershirts and how Will should invest in them.

“Man, I feel like I could pass right out,” Will sighs, eyelashes — they are so long and so blonde who decided that who gave him that right — fluttering shut. He grabs on of Nico’s pillows and curls around it, content. Nico stares. And stares.

After too much time has passed, Will cracks an eye open, smiling slightly. “Well, don’t just stand there, Death Breath. Bed’s more than big enough for us both, now. Get over here.”

Miraculously, Nico does, managing to unglue himself from the floor and look anywhere but the long, languid stretch of Will’s body.

(They play four straight hours of Mario Kart — or, rather, Will spends four straight hours losing. When they finally fall asleep, they’re so far apart on the giant bed they might as well be in different countries — but Nico wakes up in the middle of the night with his arms around Will’s waist, and practically throws himself on the ground for the rest of the night.)

———

The next thing he does is just…embarrassing.

“I think you look hot,” Mitchell, Piper’s brother, assures him kindly. He pats Nico’s flaming cheek. “Honest. And it’ll work wonders! Will’ll be struck.”

“Why do people keep saying that,” Nico croaks. “I don’t even like him!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

With Mitchell’s unwavering — if teasing — assurance, Nico finds the courage to step out of the Aphrodite cabin and into the waning sun. He’s grateful he waited until after the summer ended to do this — the fewer people around the witness, the better. His reputation is hanging on by a string as it is.

A wolf-whistle rings out the second he steps off the porch, making him scowl. Cecil, unfortunately, is far too used to being on the receiving end of it and does not even flinch.

“Looking spiffy, Ghost King!”

“Bite me,” Nico growls back, and is only aware of the trap he’s walked into when Cecil gleefully says, “I believe that’s Will’s job, actually —”

He wisely scampers away before the skeleton Nico summoned can murder him.

The second he’s out of sight, Nico slumps.

What is he doing.

“Aw, jeez, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Lemme tell you the gar-bage I had to endure tod — Nico?”

Nico whips up to face the voice. Will stands a few feet in front of him, unmoving, wearing his scrubs today — heavily stained, yikes — and his favourite pair of ratty cargo shorts. The expression on his face is oddly inscrutable.

“Are you…going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Nico says, flushing and repeating himself when his voice cracks three separate times. “Yeah, I’m. Um. Ambassador of Pluto duties, you know. I’m expected in New Rome in a couple hours.”

It’s not quite the truth — he is going to be in New Rome in a couple of hours, but his reason for being there is fabricated. Literally.

“I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Will steps forward, almost trance-like. His eyes are glued to somewhere around Nico’s chest, and he reaches out — hesitantly, although he’s never been hesitant to touch Nico in all the time he has known him — to brush his fingers over Nico’s collar. “This isn’t what you usually wear.”

Nico swallows. No, it is not. Usually, his Ambassador of Pluto uniform is his black toga. (It still is. If he was actually on duty and showed up in anything else, several Romans would have his head. Good thing he’s full of it.) But right now, he’s wearing a tailored, black silk suit made by hand by some dead Byzantine seamstress whose name Nico could not pronounce if he tried. Diamonds glitter in the lobes of his ears, freshly pierced, and his rings are more polished than usual.

“Special occasion today.”

Will doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His hand still curls at Nico’s collar, millimeters away from his neck, heat boring into his skin.

“You clean up nice.” An expression Nico can’t name flits across his eyes, and Nico’s breath catches, and then he’s grinning, too-wide and teasing, reaching up to dig a hand through his hair. “But maybe ditch the hair gel, Wilbur Robinson, and just let —”

“Gah! Get off of me! You’re the worst!”

Will stumbles back as he shoves him, weak from laughter, and Nico’s stomach flips.

———

The third thing is maybe the most ridiculous out of all of them — and almost gets him killed.

“I’m starving,” Will complains, apologizing to the random New Yorker who just walked into him. (Nico rolls his eyes. Will would get eaten if Nico wasn’t here �� he is too soft for the city. He’s gonna get shoved into a puddle or something; he’s so unwilling to elbow his way through a crowd that Nico has to hold his hand so as not to lose him. Definitely not a city boy, that’s for sure.) “And we don’t have to meet Argus for another two hours — can we stop for food? I want something fried. Desperately.”

“I guess so,” Nico sighs, pretending to be more put-out than he is. Will doesn’t buy it for a second, rolling his eyes hard enough to hurt.

“C’mon, Nicholas Hoult. There’s gotta be a diner around here somewhere, and I still want to go shopping after this.”

He lets Will pull him around, even though they’d probably get somewhere faster if Nico leads. Will stops every three seconds to listen to a busker, or observe particularly interesting graffiti, or attempt to pet a pigeon. It shouldn’t be cute, it should be embarrassing because Will truly never gets out, but it is — endearing. A little. Even if Nico can feel his stomach eating itself.

Will brightens when he finally stumbles across some gaudy, mint-green painted, hole-in-the-wall family restaurant, beaming back at Nico like he won a sparring match rather than stumbled upon somewhere to eat. But his eyes are squished shut, the way they are when he’s genuinely excited, and some early January snow dusts his golden hair, and his nose is red from the cold, and it’s just —

It’s a lot.

They find a booth tucked in the back corner. Will slides in next to Nico, not across from him, and it makes him — flush, for some reason, cheeks glowing as bright as Will’s massive, dorky scarf.

The waitress brings them sodas. Nico doesn’t remember ordering them, but it’s cherry coke — his favourite — so he must’ve. Will has a water, because he’s annoying and pretentious, and he tries to blow his straw wrapper at Nico but he’s too fast and catches it. Will pouts.

“You’re no fun.”

“I’ll show you fun.”

He’s balled up the wrapper as tiny as possible and flicks it at Will’s face before he can stop him, except it hits him in the — eye, and Will shouts in surprise, and Nico jumps and rushes to apologise but he’s laughing too hard for it to be sincere, and Will scowls playfully at him, and Nico bangs his knee on the rickety table trying to move it and it only makes him laugh harder, and Will cracks soon, too. And he can’t sing for shit but his laughter is musical, low and baritone and a little raspy on the edges, like the country music he loves so damn much. And all the laughter gets sucked right out of Nico’s lungs as he watches him, bright-eyed, red-nosed and freezing, still wearing his stupid parka even though it’s barely below forty degrees, and he is suddenly achingly truly and obviously the most beautiful thing Nico has ever seen in his life, and he thinks oh, no. But it doesn’t hurt.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

———

(After the diner, they go window shopping, and Nico feels like he can’t function. His chest aches with new knowledge that he doesn’t know where to put. New York air is disgusting but Will smells like eucalyptus and sunshine, always, and the look on his face when they pass a dusty antique shop is blinding. He’s rambling about old anatomy textbooks and gods knows what else and Nico nods along with a stupid, endless smile on his face that he couldn’t tamp down if he tried.)

(In the back of the shop there’s a big, ancient, beautiful mahogany desk. It has a divot for an inkwell and more drawers than Nico can count. It’s nine hundred dollars. Nico pulls out the credit card his father gave him for emergencies, buys it before Will can stop him, and shadow travels all three of them — himself, Will, and the unbelievably massive desk — back to Cabin 13, passing out immediately after to the sound of Will’s shout.)

(His father is the first thing he sees in his dreams, arms crossed, legs tapping.)

(“I believe I told you that card was for emergencies,” says the Lord of the Dead, “not crises over cute boys.”)

(“You were down so bad you kidnapped your wife instead of talking to her like a normal person,” Nico blurts, and immediately wishes he would melt into shadows.)

(He wakes up to another arms-crossed, foot-tapping figure: Will lectures him for two and a half hours. He times it.)

(But Will does all his paperwork in the Hades cabin, now, skin glowing amber under the Greek fire torches, often falling asleep on the smooth wooden surface. He hasn’t spent a night in the infirmary in months. Often, if Nico can wake him, he’ll crawl into Nico’s massive bed, curling all six-two of him into a ball around the centre and puffing tiny little snores into his pillow.)

(His cabin smells like eucalyptus and sunshine all the time, now.)

———

He tells himself that this will be his last thing.

(It isn’t.)

It takes him four separate times to muster up the courage. It’s — humiliating, is what it is, and he’s never been a coward except for maybe about this one thing.

“Dude,” says Katie Gardener, the fifth time he walks by her cabin without saying something, “this is getting embarrassing. Pull yourself together.”

“I’m — pulled,” he defends, wishing he didn’t get red so damn easy. “And — what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at college, or something?”

“College ends in April, stupid,” she says, as if Nico has more than a fourth grade education and would somehow know that. He refrains from sticking out his tongue because that is Undignified, and clearly he is the more mature one of the two of them. “What do you need, flowers for Will or something? You don’t need to bother. He likes dandelions.”

“I know what flowers he likes,” Nico snaps, and wallows in immediate despair as she snickers. He should consider having Will remove whatever part of his brain is responsible for Stupid, Emotional Outbursts. Or just get a lobotomy. Whatever’s faster, honestly.

“I need — a garden.”

“…A garden.”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he begs.

Perhaps college has somehow made her merciful — which he doubts, anyone who sustains a relationship with Travis freaking Stoll stopped worrying about mercy long ago — or perhaps he truly is that pitiful. But she relents, rolling her eyes and muttering something about stupid teenagers and refusal to communicate, blah blah blah. Nico knows he’s a mess. He would appreciate it if everyone else politely pretended he wasn’t. She comes back minutes later with a truly massive bucket of soil, a handful of gardening tools, and several packets of seeds.

“Well, you don’t have a lot of space for it, kid, seeing as your cabin is kind of tucked —”

“I want it on the roof,” Nico interrupts. He manages to keep his face in check. “Uh, that would make the most sense, anyways. It’s flat and I can get there easy and — yeah.”

She narrows her eyes at him. Years of Hermes cabin pranks have left her with a truly magnificent BS detector, but after a moment she sighs.

“Whatever, kid. Let’s go. Nothing will grow for a couple months, anyways.”

———

The last thing is what, eventually, gives him away.

The issue is that camp is crowded in the summer. And, really, he would have gotten it done in the spring, except he needed help — he needed an architect.

And he only really knew one, and her school year was kind of packed.

“You want,” says Annabeth slowly, “to entirely restructure your cabin.”

Nico squirms. “I just want to change the windows,” he mumbles.

She stares at him, fingers steepled, for what feels like ten solid minutes. At minimum.

“Kid —” Nico scowls, she is barely three years older than he is and technically almost a century younger — “installing floor to ceiling windows in your cabin will restructure it — entirely.” She pulls out a paper and pencil out of, as far as Nico can tell, absolutely nowhere, and begins to sketch. “There are foundations here, see? So everything has to be moved and reorganized to keep the structure standing. I can’t just, like…knock out the wall. It doesn’t work that way.”

Nico slumps. “So it’s not possible?”

“I didn’t say that,” she snaps, offended. “I just said it won’t be easy. Gimme a couple hours, I’ll have blueprints.”

She barely hears him as he thanks her, nose already pressed to the paper. Nico smiles at her anyway. She’s the best and brightest of them for a reason, after all, and he appreciates her help.

The walk back to his cabin is a surprisingly pleasant one. A lot of his friends (which, woah) are finally back, and Nico is realising he’s missed them, and it’s nice to see them again. It’s also nice to see camp as busy as it is, as much as he likes the quiet chill of the winter months. All the cabin doors are wide open as people sweep out the dust, shake out sheets, air out the staleness that has been locked inside some of them for months. Chatter fills every corner, and the air smells like strawberries.

His small smile widens as he approaches his own cabin — the flowers he and Katie planted a few months back have started to bloom, and with them comes the memory of Will’s gasping excitement when he’d seen them, the smile that lit up his face. They’re regular plants, but Katie — enchanted them, somehow, protected them; even when Nico is having his worst days, they don’t wither. (And they keep growing, too. Nico has taken to picking a flower every morning and leaving it in his (Will’s) desk — to brighten up the room, on paper, but the flower always ends up whenever Will is by the end of the day. (And, more often than not, tucked behind his ear, locks of golden hair caught among brightly coloured petals; a crown of his own making.)

The cabin is empty when he walks in, unsurprisingly considering how often Will is usually locked in the infirmary for the first week of camp.

(He’ll be back tonight, to do his paperwork before heading back to his cabin. Nico’ll have to be sure he actually makes it back to his cabin — Chiron has been turning a blind eye, because Will needs more sleep and Kayla and Austin can handle themselves, but the little kids need their counsellor. Well, most days.)

Nico stands in the door and realises: things have changed.

Maybe a silly thing to think. But — a year ago, this place was unliveable. Dark, and dreary, coffin-shaped and miserable, it was no wonder it had never felt like home. But the sight of Hazel’s bed (and the sketchbook she left on it last time she was here) fills him with warmth, and the windows are always open, now, so even the air feels lighter. Dozens of Will’s textbooks are strewn around the room, Lou Ellen’s jacket hangs on the back of the desk chair, a deck of cards is sprawled on the floor. A sun lamp is plugged into the wall. Nico’s giant bed is unmade. He’s got laundry peeking out of the closet doors, and he needs to clean his bathroom. A pair of obnoxiously patterned flipflops sit by the door.

It looks lived in. It looks like somewhere that can be lived in, and most of all, his friends — Will — have been living in it with him.

He swallows the lump in the back of his throat, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

It takes him time to tidy up. He leaves Hazel’s sketchbook where it is, along with most of Will’s stuff — although he shoves a couple textbooks in random drawers when he trips over them. He puts the rest of his friends’ stuff by the door so he doesn’t forget to return it, and makes his bed (which, frankly, he hardly does, because it’s a massive pain — he tucks in one corner of the mattress cover and has to freaking summon Jules Albert to get to the other. But it was worth it). He barely makes it to dinner, too distracted to hear the horn.

“Finally,” bursts a voice sometime around nine, throwing open the door and flopping on the bed. Nico smiles, setting down his game and running light fingers through Will’s frizzy hair. He groans, leaning into it.

“I hate the first week of camp!”

Nico snorts. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do! It’s miserable! It’s all —” he contorts just face, mocking — “‘Will, do this.’ ‘Will, do that.’ ‘Will, I forgot how hard the climbing wall was and incinerated myself.’ ‘Will, we need you to treat the group of kids Clarisse beat up.’ Will, Will, Will! Constant!”

“How dare they take up all your time,” Nico says, grinning.

“Right! They should be less — I dunno, disastrous! I am one person! I can only be pulled in so many directions at once!”

Despite all his complaining, the slightest of smiles pulls at Will’s mouth — as Nico would expect. He’s exhausted and perpetually overworked, sure, but there’s nothing in the world Will relishes like being needed.

“I just —” He sighs, leaning further into Nico’s touch. Nico’s throat goes dry. “Man, I’m so glad we have this place to ourselves. It’s the only privacy I get. Sometimes I just wanna close the blinds and never come out, you know?”

Nico freezes. “Uh.”

“And it’s — nice, in here. Smells like you. And it just, well —” He smiles, broad and soft, and, suddenly, Nico understands his father on a level he never thought he would. If Will looked him in the eye and asked him for all the riches under the Earth, asked him to defy Zeus, asked him to rule the dead — Nico would bend time and space to do that for him. He understands, abruptly and wholly, why loving mortals ends in tragedy, why the gods promise more than they can give. He wants to give Will everything. “I like when it’s just you and me sometimes,” he says, softly. “It can be nice to disappear.”

There’s so much love bursting out Nico’s chest he doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels like every part of him is screaming his affection, every molecule is straining to meet with Will’s. He’s dizzy.

“I,” he starts, then freezes again. He doesn’t know what — what. Every thought he’s ever had hits him at once, and he can’t pick one out, can’t think with all the clutter in his head.

Will perks up. “Yes?”

“I have to. Cancel. My plans. With Annabeth.”

Will deflates. “Oh.”

There is something here, something charged, something about to change — and Nico is losing it. He panics.

“I asked her to restructure the cabin!” he shouts, startling Will. He squeezes his eyes shut instead of looking at those wide, wide blue eyes. “To! Make. Floor to ceiling windows.” He waits a bit. “Apparently you can’t just bust down the wall. You have to. Restructure.”

It’s silent for so long Nico is half-convinced Will left, if it weren’t for the faint sound of him breathing and the heat Nico can always feel leeching off of him. He peeks his eyes back open.

“Why?” asks Will quietly when their eyes meet.

Nico swallows. It takes several tries to moisten his throat enough to speak. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to…have floor to ceiling windows?”

“Same reason I wanted this massive bed,” he admits, quiet, whispering, near silent. “Same reason I — changed my Ambassador uniform. Same reason for the desk and the —” he stumbles over his words, blushing — “the garden and the flowers and — this, right now.”

“Nico,” says Will, very very quietly.

“I just. Well. You were joking, you know? And, gods, it’s been a year, now, but I think you were telling the truth? A little bit? And anyway, I want you to have the things you like, and —”

“Nico,” Will says again, louder this time, a particular quality to his voice Nico can’t name. He falters.

“…Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Nico doesn’t even have the chance to be offended. He doesn’t even have the chance to think. Before he can rationalize the situation and connect the dots in front of him, Will’s hands are sliding into his hair, his face is inches away, and then they’re kissing.

They’re kissing.

Will tastes like Blistex, like mint gum, and like the breath he sighs into his mouth. His eyes are closed, and for a full six seconds before Nico recovers enough to close his, he has the best view of his pale, fanning eyelashes that he’s ever seen — long enough to think: oh, this is a child of the sun. He smells familiar and — intoxicating. Nico never wants to know pure air again, never wants to move without the brand of Will’s over-heated hands on the back of his neck. Never wants to forget the rough scrape of Will’s chapped lips, the tiny little sounds and sighs he makes every time Nico moves their mouths, the slightest curl of his lips when he smiles, unable to hold it back. The rapid beat of his heart, pressed against his own chest.

“Nico,” he says again, slightly more urgent, pulling away just enough that their lips still brush every time he speaks, “Nico, I love you to death.”

“I would do anything for you,” Nico chokes out. He meets Will’s eyes and tries to — communicate it to him, tries to beam his thoughts into his head. “I would — move the moon and stars for you, do you understand that? Do you know how precious you are to me? My tesoro,” he says, feeling Will’s breath hitch. “Il mio cuore. Il mio cuore battendo, sole.”

For a second Nico frightens himself. He’s never spoken words like that to anyone in his life — not his mother, not Bianca, not Hazel, nobody.

But Will’s smile is radiant. And he still holds Nico, gently, and says over and over, “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Something slots back into place in his chest.

#solangelo

[sayosdreams]

the recovering people pleasers club

me 🤝 Celia 🤝 Roma 🤝 Orion

[sayosdreams]

Dorian and Manon

#manorian #fanart #ToG

[sayosdreams]

The devil works hard, but the volunteers who run Ao3 work so much harder

[sayosdreams]

I love u angry female characters. I love u deeply misunderstood and problematic female characters. I love u cold hearted and sharp female characters. I love you prideful and reckless female characters. I love u unbeautifly destructive female characters. I love u prickly and snarky female characters. not everyone understands u but I do and I'm listening

[sayosdreams]

sometimes I forget I grew up in an abusive household, and other times it hits me like a dump truck

[sayosdreams]

[sayosdreams]

Merry Christmas! I hope you have great holidays!

Something about this piece makes me so happy.

At last, Lysandra and Aedion join the Winter Solstice series.

"Spiced wine on a cozy evening" inspired by Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas

‼️DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION!

#Lysaedion #they’re everything to me #lysandra ennar #aedion ashryver #throne of glass