There is no way the infirmary is clean safe or organized. It is run by teenagers.
Er, a teenager. No clue how old Kayla and Austin are. I have not encountered them yet.
A teenager. A bisexual, ADHD, sleep deprived teenager that has too many dead peoples names memorized.
There are candy wrappers kicked under a desk, open needles on the counter (that will not be used, they aren’t stupid.), a tissue box just. On the ground. A little kid threw it. The Ares kids are called in to hold demigods down while they set bones (when Nico isn’t around to do it for them. Which I believe is most of the time. Dude’s a wanderer.), there’s a bandage wrapped around a broken IV stand (bandages are an Apollo kids duct tape), and at least two kids asleep on the floor.
Pairing: Nico Di Angelo x Nyx!reader
TW: None!
A/N; I genuinely love Nico sososoosos much!!
The camp forest breathed differently at night.
You had learned that early—how the air thickened, how the shadows stretched longer than they should, how the darkness didn’t feel empty but aware. That was why you came here when everyone else slept. Why you sat on a moss-covered rock with your knees drawn to your chest, head tipped back, eyes fixed on the endless sprawl of stars above you.
The sky was Nyx’s masterpiece.
Not her—not the goddess herself—but her legacy lived there. In you.
A child of night didn’t need sleep the way others did. Your thoughts wandered easier in the dark. Memories blurred into constellations, questions into drifting clouds. You weren’t really thinking anymore—just existing, suspended between shadow and starlight.
That’s when you heard it.
Crunch.
A branch snapped under careless weight.
Your body reacted before your mind caught up.
You were moving in a blink—rolling off the rock, hand already reaching into the dark as a blade formed against your palm, thin and black like it had been carved straight from the night sky. Whoever it was barely had time to inhale before you slammed them to the forest floor.
Your knee pinned their chest. Your forearm locked their shoulder. The knife hovered at their throat, close enough that they could probably feel the cold of it.
“Don’t,” you said quietly. Not a shout. Not a threat. A promise.
The forest went dead still.
The person beneath you didn’t struggle. Didn’t yell. Just sucked in a sharp breath, dark eyes wide—not with panic, but surprise.
Then the shadows betrayed you.
They surged upward from the ground, wrapping around your wrist and waist—not answering your pull. These shadows were heavier. Colder. Like they had weight. Authority.
“—What—?”
You were yanked sideways, dragged clean off your target as the knife dissolved into smoke. You hit the ground hard, rolled once, twice, boots skidding against leaves as you scrambled up into a crouch.
The shadows withdrew.
And there he was.
Nico di Angelo stood a few feet away, shoulders tense, one hand hovering near the hilt of his Stygian iron sword. His dark hair fell into his eyes, which glinted faintly in the low light—sharp, wary, and very much awake.
His shadows lingered at his feet, coiling like guard dogs that hadn’t been dismissed yet.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The forest seemed to be holding its breath.
“…You’re fast,” Nico said finally. His voice was low, careful. Not angry. Measuring.
You straightened slowly, keeping your hands visible this time. “You shouldn’t walk up behind someone in the forest at night.”
“I wasn’t trying to,” he replied. “I heard someone out here and—” He paused, studying you now. “You moved before I even stepped fully into the clearing.”
Your eyes flicked to the shadows at his feet. Then back to his face.
“Those aren’t normal shadows,” you said.
“They usually aren’t,” he shot back.
That earned a small, reluctant smirk from you.
Silence stretched again, but it felt different now—less like a blade drawn tight, more like two predators circling, deciding whether the other was a threat.
“…You’re Nico di Angelo,” you said at last.
His posture stiffened. “You know me.”
“I know of you,” you corrected. “People talk. Quietly. Like they’re afraid the dark might repeat it back.”
His mouth twitched at that. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”
Another pause. His gaze narrowed slightly, head tilting as if he were listening to something only he could hear.
“…You’re not just a regular camper,” he said.
The shadows around you responded unconsciously, deepening, stretching toward his like curious fingers. Above, the stars seemed to dim—not disappear, just soften, as if night itself were leaning closer.
You didn’t deny it.
“I’m a child of Nyx,” you said simply.
That made him go very still.
Not fearful. Not impressed.
Just… understanding.
“That explains a lot,” he murmured. “The way the dark reacts to you. It felt… familiar. But not like mine.”
“Because it’s not death,” you said quietly. “It’s night.”
His eyes flicked up to the sky, then back to you. “Guess that makes us neighbors.”
You let out a soft breath—half a laugh. “Guess it does.”
The tension finally bled out of the clearing. Nico relaxed enough to let his hand drop from his sword, the shadows loosening their hold around him.
“So,” he said, awkward now, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “You always pin people to the ground when you’re stargazing, or am I just special?”
You arched a brow. “You walked up behind a child of Nyx in the dark. That’s on you.”
“…Fair.”
You glanced back up at the sky, then returned to your seat on the rock. After a moment’s hesitation, Nico sat too—keeping a respectful distance, but not leaving.
The forest resumed its quiet hum.
Two children of darkness, sharing the night.
And for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so lonely.
