#solangelo angst

[glarello]

thank you for creating the most solangelo coded song ever olivia rodrigo

[mediumgayitalian]

every time i write will. no matter in what way. teasing laughing breaking or intimate. he is soaked in quiet grief. no matter what i try. whereas nico when i write nico he can be focused.

i think the difference is like. nicos grief propels him. he has leaned into it as long as hes had it for support. for inspiration. it has always been a thick cloud behind him, to fall back onto should he want to need to. he knows intimately how to deal with his grief because he never tried not to. it does not surprise him or interrupt him, it is so much under his control...because he wants it there. to him it is love. he has never hated himself because bianca was killed. he hated percy. his father. kronos. camp.

whereas will...will shoved his grief down so deep that he has no control when it bubbles up and blows in his face. he does not know how to stop it and it is too far down for him to control it. he is swimming desperately on top of a bubbling geyser and getting constantly burned by the heavy jetstreams. and he blames himself for drowning. you know

nico's grief is a backpack will's is a rock on a chain he drags everywhere and keeps trying only to lengthen the links that continue to make the weight heavier

[loserinahotway]

Hobbies - Will Solace

Will Solace is head doctor. Easily and often shortened to only doctor. So, he thinks, knowing there’s more snide than there needs to be, who would expect him to have hobbies? Apparently, there’s a phase of dating that relies on their existence. 

Nico and Will have only been dating for two weeks. Haven’t kissed yet, have been on a solid three in-camp dates. And Will, on the forest floor with his back to some poor tree, is breathing heavy with the crushing, rock-hard weight of that stupid, too deep question that just. Keeps. Coming. Back.

He’s not stupid. He can see. He knows, logically, rationally, that it’s a standard question. A good and easy icebreaker. An important thing to know about as a partner. Yeah. Totally. Mhm. What do you do in your free time? Solid stuff. Solid. Solid. Good. Solid.

Solid enough to fill his lungs with rocks.

“Shit, what did I- what’s wrong? Will? Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t- what did I do?”

In. Out. In. Out. In, in, in, in-

He wheezes, embarrassingly, and his forehead hits his knees. He can feel, lightly, that Nico’s hand is above his shoulder. Ghosting it. He’d make a joke if he wasn’t so nauseously panicked. It barely brushes him, hesitant in the anxious, heart-stopped way Will can’t afford to be. That’s a mean thing to think, he berates. You aren’t struggling more than he is. Don’t compare.

He thinks it anyway. I can’t afford that. I can’t have that.

Can’t have hobbies, either.

Will hates when he gets like this.

Nico, next to him and out of his sight, seems to have settled his own breathing. You win, Will thinks, and almost laughs. He doesn’t. “Hey, alright, do you-uhm, do you wanna do the breathing stuff you taught me?”

His hand finally drops to touch his back, and Will feels one finger trace an infinite square on his shoulder. He knows the rules. He’s said them to camper after camper. In for the first line, hold for the second, out for the third, hold for the fourth; in, hold, out, hold, in, hold, out, hold in. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes, but his breath does even out. 

And instantly, guilt. 

He shoots right up and turns to his date. Fuck, his date. A picnic in the woods at the edges of camp. What a lovely way to kill romance. With a pointless panic attack. “Fuck, fuck! I’m sorry, shit, Nico, you didn’t do-”

“Hey, hey,” Nico raises his hands, looking right into Will’s eyes. He looks panicked, like he’s not quite sure what to do. Will likes that, somehow. Not in a sadistic way. It’s calming to seem like he’s not the only one all messed up in the moment. Part of him still bites, why aren’t you fixing it. It sneers about his need to nurse everything back to health. Sometimes Will thinks he was born a contradiction. God and mortal swimming in his blood, with all sorts of emotional opposites moving after that. “We just got you breathing again. You don’t need to apologize to me, Will.”

Will just sort of keeps looking at him. He’s not sure how to respond. Not out of shock or anything, just a lack of words. Luckily enough, Nico continues. 

“I said something.” “You didn-”

“Will.” Nico furrows his brows with the name, and Will closes his mouth and cuts off the denial. He remembers, sometimes, that Nico is technically a prince. And the way he ties weights to words really does sound royal. “I’m not blaming myself, or beating myself up, or sad. I didn’t mean to do anything. I’ve got very little reason to get mad at myself. That won’t help. I’ve learned that, by now. I promise.” Lightly, he moves his hand to Wills. He slots their fingers together against the dirt. “But I care about you. A lot. So, if something I did hurt you, I want to know. I want to get at it and learn and- and be good to you. I want to be good to you, Will. Please. Let me?”

He blinks.

And blinks.

And, with tears in his eyes; “I can’t have hobbies.”

A beat. “What?”

And he just fucking bawls, after that. Crumpling impossibly smaller as Nico curses and reassures and gets closer to him, rubbing his shoulders and forearm. Gods. How fucking pathetic, he thinks. You’re supposed to be a doctor.

That line, that last line. It does do something to numb him. He quiets, after another little bit. And eventually he’s just sniffling and leaning half against the tree and half against the sweet, beautiful, surprisingly good with speeches boy he’s supposed to be on a date with. 

“‘M sorry,”

“I’m not mad, though.”

“Probably should be.”

He pauses for just a second. “I don’t think so, Will.”

Now, Will’s voice is monotone and devoid of anything in a way he’s a little sickly proud of. “I’m a freak.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. Will can’t see it, with his head on his shoulder, but he knows he does, because he knows Nico. “For what? Not filling your exceptionally limited free time with extra tasks?”

Will rolls his eyes. “That’s not what hobbies are.”

“Isn’t it?”

They both stop for just a little, sitting close and in silence. It's really quite nice. 

“Is there a reason this upsets you so much?” You know that feeling, where you’re asked a question, and your whole story just sort of unfolds backwards in your brain. You remember everything, see it all, but it’s behind things. It’s blurred and muffled by glass. That’s what happens to Will, there.

Everything Will Solace has read since he was nine has been in a medical textbook. Because godly gifts aside, he needs to know he’s getting things right. He needs to know how to treat the bleeding and coughing and crying children that are in his care. So the Star Wars novels he’d trek through as a kid are gone. Because he can’t read them without knowing that there’s something better he could be looking at. Something  more useful to get into his head. 

He is the son of the music god and a renowned country star. And he has not a drop of musical talent. Musical knowledge, sure. He can read any sheet music, he can tell you any fact about a piece by ear, he could probably even teach you to play any instrument with words. But for the fucking sake of him, he cannot  put anything that sounds good into the air. He gets stressed in low-stakes situations instead of high ones, like he was anxiously programmed backwards. His hands only shake when they’re presented with something that will distract him. Like a guitar. Like a microphone. Et cetera. There’s no instrument that will give him something he needs to have. So why play one?

When he writes, he subconsciously looks for the line he has to sign. The boxes to check. The space for notes. All he’s written in years has been hospital reports and records. Files upon files of them. How’s he supposed to write something without those little guides that have been leading him almost all his life? How would he pen a story, or characters, when all the ideas in his head are organized by urgency? 

Will hates closing his eyes, hates stopping to be with himself. Because then he sees it all. Every mistake. Every brother and sister. Every soaked-through bandage. Every failure. When he looks back into his head, those are the pictures. So what would he paint? Broken ribs? Dead family? Because those are the images he works so hard not to look at. He can’t paint, or draw, because that will bring them forwards.

His hands sewed the shrouds that burned over so many of his siblings. So many. They’ve sewn shut cuts and slices and wounds on almost everyone he lives in proximity to. How can he try sewing, when every needle he’s ever touched has been sticky with blood?

What hobby would you give to Will Solace? Because he really doesn’t see an option.

Still, He’s not really sure how to answer the question. 

“How are you gonna care about me,” He breathes, still internally settling on what he’s going to say. “If I don’t even fucking know me?”

Nico breathes something that sounds sort of like oh, and he pauses. Will sits in that silence, thick and dense, and hysterically, somehow, he’s fucking crying again. 

“Shit. Hey, no- I’m not, like, contemplating you, or being with you, or anything. You don’t need to worry about that. It’s not gonna change. I promise. ”

Will just laughs welty, still crying. Doctor. Doctor. 

The thought isn’t really working, this time. It sort of has a cooldown period. He’s all numb in that cooldown period. He’s good at switching emotions quick, isn’t he? Maybe that could be my hobby. He’s not really present enough to register whether that thought is a joke. 

“I’m just, wondering if that’s something people actually need from a partner. I guess that makes sense, when I think about it. but I never really did before now.”

“You’re the one who asked me. You knew, subconsciously, that it’s something people are supposed to have.”

“Well, maybe. But the questions i’m asking you-“ he breathes a laugh before continuing, “They’re because that’s a part of all the advice I’ve got. Ask him what he likes to eat, and do, and what his favourite colour is. That’s what everyone told me I was supposed to do. I don’t know what I’m doing, here. I’m learning. You’re learning, too. But I’m not learning how to, like, figure out your pastimes. I’m learning how to love you. I don’t need you to have a favourite colour for me to love you, Will.”

“Love me?”

His head is raised, suddenly. Eyes still teary and breathing still choppy. But he’s looking at Nico. His face goes red, but stony as ever, Nico doesn’t falter. “You’re my best friend, even if you’re my boyfriend, too. Of course I love you, Will.” 

Oh.

He’s still. Crying. And that really just makes him cry harder, dropping his head again, his lungs all full of something that won’t go through his blood. 

“Hey. Will. Hey, look at me. Look at me. You know what?”

He looks. 

“Neither do I.” Beat. Beat. Beat.

His heart feels like it’s about to burst. Like it’s full of light or tar.

“Huh?”

“I spent, just, so long. I spent so long seeking kiddie vengeance, and looking for some emotional band aid. I’ve been, like, nothing but angry, for years. I don’t do much, Will. I haven’t picked up many hobbies while feeling like that. So if you can’t be cared for, because you don’t know everything about yourself? then I’m just the same. And you tell me all the time I need to accept care. There’s nothing making you any different from me, Will. You deserve this, too. ”

And it’s light. 

Light.

It’s a stupid thing.

And he’s not fixed.

But it’s every fear in his body made just that little bit smaller, that little bit less loud.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you too.”

Nico grins. “I know.”

Will raises both of his eyebrows. “Was that a Star Wars reference?”

Nico laughs. “Gods, what have you made of me?”

Will laughs, too. “You do know me.”

His smile softens. “You know me, too. Hobbies or not.”

And they sit with that, for a bit. Will’s breathing is uneven, but not with panic. It’s a good feeling.

They sit next to each other, right until sundown, fingers entwined, and maybe. Just maybe. This is something Will  can have. Maybe, he’s not too beat down or busy for that. 

He’s one assurance closer to believing it.

[winter-rossie]

I Don't Know what's Sadder, A Kid Who Couldn't Cry for His Dead Brothers, Or, A Kid Who Couldn't Stop Crying for the Fate of His Sister

[rachelsblue-hairbrush]

WILL SOLACE ANGST AND FLUFF BECAUSE HE NEEDS MORE!!

- He brought Nico to Lee and Micheal’s graves because he wanted to come out to his big brothers and for them to meet his boyfriend. (Nico did the same for his mum’s and sister’s graves)

- Will overworks himself to the point of exhaustion because he thinks the only thing he’s good for is healing. When it gets too much, Nico drags him back to the Hades cabin and holds him while he tries to sleep, assuring him he’s not a burden and that he deserves to be taken care of just as much as anyone else does.

- He’s so scared of losing his loved ones that he’s had several panic attacks over them simply being sick, and fussed over them like they’re actively dying.

- He has a tattoo with the names of people he’s lost (I think someone else actually came up with this one)

- Will has panic attacks a lot. He tried to keep them as secret as he could, but Nico eventually found out and started to make sure to be there for him, getting him blankets or water, or even just sitting next to him until he’s alright.

- I’m a firm believer in the “Will needs hearing aids” headcannon, so I present to you, Nico learning sign language so he can help Will when he loses them (which I think would happen a lot)

- Will loves Nico, and he’s so glad to help Nico get through his trauma and PTSD, but sometimes he feels like his own trauma and PTSD is overlooked. The second Nico found this out, he felt awful, and apologised a bajillion times. Now he always makes sure to check in on Will and listen to him when he’s upset.

- When he gets overwhelmed by his work, Nico takes him out of the infirmary and sits with him, holding him and running his fingers through his hair until he feels okay enough to continue healing.

Maybe I’ll make a part two, who knows!

[princessofghosts-posts]

What if one of the reasons why Nico travels so much during PJO and HoO is because he can't stand the sight of the camps? That,in his heart,he was never able to forgive them fully for how they treated him? Even after settling at CHB three times,and staying a bit in CJ to help Hazel,he couldn't still think of them as a place to belong? A small angle of his mind always remembering him what happened the previous times and,even if now everyone is more accepting,he still doesn't trust them enough. What if staying there too much makes him sick and he starts to grow resentful of the people there? Would he also feel bitter towards Will and Jason at some point? Since they are the ones that pushed more for him to stay. Or would this turn into self-hate and suicidal tendencies? Would he try to get as many quests as possible to stay out of there as much as he could without thinking about his health? Or just leave with an excuse and come back after days of MIA with a dry explanation to whoever asks him?

[toustous]

I was just thinking about Nico di angelo in the jar, and the thing is, when you're stuck in a small dark room, you can't see anything, can barely even breathe and have only a slight clue on where you are, for 5 days, you're likely gonna start hallucinating. Which brought up the question, what do you think Nico thought about while in there?

Did he hallucinate his mother coming to comfort him, or Bianca? Did he hallucinate that they would hurt him? Did he think he was still in Tartarus? Did he spend the entire time thinking he was dead, in Tartarus, because he was "evil" enough to deserve to go there? How do you think he felt when he got out? Suddenly realising he wasnt in Tartarus at all, he's safe. He's with hazel.

And how do you think he felt when Percy and annabeth fell into Tartarus? Did he think he actually was "evil" enough to deserve Tartarus? Did he wish he was dead in the first place so the seven never took the journey to save him?

And how did he feel when he had to go back with will, who Nico wanted to beleive he was okay, who Nico didn't want him to see the dark sides of him. How did will feel seeing his boyfriend, who had come so far in terms of mental health, suddenly plummet into delusion as he relives those hallucinations?

[willsimpforanyone]

hello! is it possible for you to write solangelo x reader who worries they’re an afterthought/don’t belong in the relationship and is comforted by their boyfriends? thank you in advance, and sorry if this isn’t descriptive enough. have a good day!

i have had several requests for solangelo so this is also for the person who requested a transmasc son of nyx and the person who asked for any solangelo because i write them so well they could sob, apparently

We promised we wouldn't do this.

What with Nico's habit of refusing to talk and Will's habit of putting on a smile when he's falling apart, we promised that no matter what, if one of us was struggling, we would talk about it. No shutting ourselves away, no suffering in silence.

I haven't shut myself away, technically. And it's still daytime, so there's no night for me to retreat to like I kind of wish I could. The living room is bright, sun beaming through the windows in a way that hurts my eyes but makes Will light up like summer.

They look... pretty. Nico has actually been dragged outside a few times so his pale skin has gained some of the olive tone he must have had as a kid. It suits him. Of course, Will is glowing, blonde hair haloed around his head as he pretends like he's totally not fake yawning to put an arm around the son of Hades pretending to hate it.

And where am I? Where have I put myself, if not with the boys I love watching something inane on the TV?

There's a small table at the back of the room, a couple of stools on either side, only really used when we have someone over. I roll my eyes at my own dramatics. Have I really placed myself at the level of a mere 'guest'?

I turn back to the empty document open on my laptop, wondering if it's the light or the love that hurts my eyes. The compromise on me being allowed to do some work was that I had to do it in the same room as Will and Nico... but did they only ask so I wouldn't feel left out? Was it cruelty, to make me watch as they laughed quietly and bickered while I sat apart, the metres feeling like miles?

I shake my head sharply, shifting in my seat and clear my throat. Shut up, shut up, they wouldn't do that. Even if they thought I was... intruding, or something, they aren't cruel, no matter what Nico likes to pretend. They love me, I know that. I... I know it.

"How you gettin' on over there, honey?"

Will's voice startles me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a second to make myself appear less like a bunny in the headlights as I look over. "U-Um, yeah, fine, just... more stuff to do than I thought."

He frowns slightly, but quickly shrugs and gives me a blinding smile. "Alright, let us know when you're done, yeah?" I nod in return, and that seems to satisfy him.

The boy beside him seems less convinced. Dark eyes bore into the side of my head as I refocus on my computer screen, and I do my best impression of someone absorbed in their work.

With surprising speed and agility, Nico is off the sofa and standing next to me before I have time to close the empty document. He reaches out and closes the laptop, then folds his arms over his chest.

"Why are you lying?" Somehow, he doesn't sound accusing or interrogatory, just... confused, the words flavoured with anxiety in a way only an experienced connoisseur can detect.

Will sputters at Nico's blunt question, stumbling over and pulling him back a bit. "Neeks, you can't just say that-!"

Nico doesn't move, entirely locked onto me, like he can catch every twitch, every blink, every intake of breath, and find the answer. There's a thick, tense pause that blankets the room, the sun outside seeming to dim just within these four walls.

Will opens his mouth to break the silence and Nico, without looking, holds up a hand to the older boy's mouth. He's waiting. He asked a question, and he wants an answer.

I can only bear it for so long before the beginnings of the truth start to escape. "...I didn't want to be in the way."

Again, Will opens his mouth and Nico actually covers it with a palm. "Why do you think you're in the way?"

Bastard, hateful boy, forcing me to talk, I've never despised anyone more (I love him so much my chest might cave in and expose my heart just so I can give it to him.)

"Because... because you looked happy, by yourselves, watching TV. I didn't- I didn't want to intrude." If I were a plant, I would have withered away under Nico's judgemental glare. Will makes a noise of distress behind Nico's hand.

"Have you been sitting here this whole time, pretending to work, because you thought we were, what, better off without you?"

The brutal phrasing of the question chews up my metaphorical leaves and spits them out, and I'm forced to face my thoughts out loud rather than just in my head. My voice is quiet and hesitant. "...yes?"

"I can't believe I'm dating a hypocritical moron." Nico's eyes roll so hard I'm a little worried they'll pop out their sockets.

Will finally yanks Nico's hand away from his mouth. "Don't call him a moron!"

"I'll call him a moron when he's being a moron," Nico drawls, deadpan in disbelief. Turning back to where I've become a husk of a demigod, he reaches out and flicks my forehead. "And thinking we'd rather be just the two of us when he exists is one of the most moronic things I've ever heard." A second flick to my nose. "Weren't you the one who insisted we have the whole 'talking about our feelings' crap?"

I visibly wince. "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" Nico flicks my forehead again. "You were the creator, dumbass. I agreed to-" He practically shudders. "-tell you both when I feel bad, and you've been sat stewing in misery for like, two hours? That's my job, I have a monopoly on stewing in misery, you don't get to just take it!"

I don't know whether to laugh or cry, a wobbly smile pulling at my lips at his scolding that sounds a little too much like worry. "I'm sorry for stealing your job, Neeks."

He sniffs haughtily, folding his arms back over his chest and flicking hair out his eyes. "You should be. I've had to deal with Will alone for two hours, do you know how hyper he gets when it's sunny? It's like he's supercharged by photosynthesis or some shit."

Will makes a sound of mock-outrage and I laugh, a little fragile but not as fractured as I thought. The corners of Nico's lips quirk up, and his hard stare softens just enough for me to get the message; I've been forgiven for being stupid, but don't let it happen again.

With a step to the side, Nico gestures towards me. "Go on, we both know you're dying."

"Oh, thank the gods-" Will is on me before I can react, sweeping me off the stool. "I know Nico's method works on you but it's so hard to not smother you! You're not leaving my side for at least three days, either of you!" (I love you both so much I couldn't bear it if you left.)

He deposits me on the sofa, sitting down so close he might as well be on my lap. Nico comes to sit on my other side, leaning against my arm and lacing bony fingers with mine.

"Don't be dumb," he murmurs, the tips of his ears red as he looks very firmly towards the still-sitcom-playing TV. "I'd drag the pair of you out of Tartarus if I needed to." (I love you both so much I don't know what to do with myself.)

With Will's curls brushing my cheek and Nico's chilly hand in mine, I can feel the self-doubt slinking away into the few shadows cast by the sun coming in through the window. "I know." (I love you in a way that feels inevitable; the day, the night, and death.)

holy crap i haven't written angst in ages, this was so fun actually! i hope you enjoyed, i know it was a bit more nico-focused but i think i respond better to being told i'm being stupid than being coddled the way i think will might. thank you for requesting!