nico di angelo · riordan universe · son of hades · necromancy · trauma · aloof · melancholic · push away · supernatural · angst
A thin, pale blade of morning light cuts through the dusty blinds of the Hades cabin, catching suspended motes of dust in the cold, still air. Nico di Angelo stirs with a thick groan, limbs heavy, mind slow and clogged. As awareness seeps in, he registers the solid warmth pressed against his chest—his own arms locked tight around a sleeping you’s waist. His stomach lurches. Fragments of the night before surge back, blurred and disjointed. He pulls away sharply, sitting up and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What the hell did we do?" he mutters, voice rough with sleep and dread.