#and Nicky will snort and laugh fully

[roadkillxd]

M!Deputy (Isaac) x Nick Rye x Kim Rye ↪ 900 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male dominant Deputy, cis male submissive Nick, cis female dominant Kim, first time, oral sex, rimming, implied cuckolding, coming untouched, and anal fingering.

"Can I eat you out?" Isaac purrs. He's kneeling between Nick's legs, Nick's knees trying to press together despite the brunt of Isaac's body in the way, subconsciously trying to cover his exposed body.

"I like that idea," Kim coos from where she's propped up against the headboard, Nick's back pressed to her plush chest.

"I-I dunno if I'm... quite comfortable yet, getting on m'hands and knees like that, Dep. Y’know… feels kind of, uh, exposing."

"Don't gotta," Isaac hums, rubbing calloused hands up and down Nick's thighs, like soothing a startled horse, inching his legs further apart to make room for himself as the soft muscles twitch beneath his palms, "can do you just like this. Prop ya up, legs on my shoulders."

“Balls on your forehead,” Kim mutters teasingly, making the deputy snort and Nick pull a face.

"Seems kinda... uncomfortable. For you. Havin’ to hold me up like that."

"You're not that heavy, Nick."

"Hey!"

"He's not wrong, honey," Kim laughs.

"You should be on my side about this!" 

“Do you want me to call you fat?”

“Well, no, but—!”

"There's no sides," Isaac interrupts with a smile, "I'm just a lot bigger than you are."

Nick glances down to Isaac's half hard cock with squinted interest, a pout on his lips, Isaac's length already a good two inches longer than Nick’s own, fully hard and leaking against his stomach.

"I'm well aware," he mutters, earning a chuckle from the others, "but still… I dunno."

"You don't gotta do anything you don't wanna," Isaac reminds, watching Nick let out a shaky breath when Kim presses kisses to the expanse of his long neck, “we can always do something else.”

"Alright, alright, fine,” Nick huffs, shifting to get more comfortable, “can't be that bad, right?"

"Won’t be bad at all,” Isaac smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of the other man’s knee cap.

"He'll make it good for you, Nick," Kim murmurs, turning her husband's head to press a slow kiss to his lips, momentarily distracting him as his eyes flutter shut, losing himself to the sensation of her tongue slipping into his mouth.

Nick squawks indignantly when Isaac hauls his legs up over his shoulders. He flails, bracing his hands on Kim's legs either side of him.

"I'd tell you to relax," Isaac rumbles, thumbs rubbing circles against where Nick's hip bones jut out, where he’s a line of tension propped up beneath him, "but you're just gonna startle anyway."

"Am not!"

"You absolutely will," Kim smiles.

"I'm not some—oh, JeSUS!" Nick yelps, voice cracking and hips jumping as Isaac licks a wet stripe over his hole, the muffled 'told you so' from between his legs making Kim laugh as Nick jolts again from the vibrations.

Nick tries to cover his mouth with his hand, reedy moans and borderline whines he's never heard himself make before slipping out, but Kim catches his hands and pins them back down to her legs, urging him to squeeze the supple fat of her thighs.

"Let us hear you, sweetie," she purrs, nuzzling against his neck, Nick unable to break the smoldering eye contact Isaac holds with him.

Isaac circles the spit-slick ring of muscle, spearing his tongue into the virgin heat with a rumbling groan. Nick’s hips lurch upward but Isaac slams him back down, grip bruising tight on Nick’s thighs.

“Ohmygodyou’resostrong” Nick breathes out in a rush, voice high and tight and reedy, his own cock weeping like a leaky faucet as Isaac rumbles a laugh, uses his thumbs to pull at the taut skin of Nick’s hole, giving him more room to shove in and lick him out. 

“Does it feel good, Nicky?” Kim whispers, her own cunt clenching around nothing at the beautiful sight of her husband lost in pleasure—the strong, handsome deputy between his thighs. She’ll have to get him to fuck her after this, have Nick watch ‘till he gets hard again, “think you could come like this?”

“I don’t—I’ve, I’ve never,” Nick stutters, turning his face to press against Kim’s throat, trying to ground himself as Isaac gently slips a finger into him. A low, rumbling groan comes from Nick’s chest, cock kicking up before slapping back onto the wet mess of his tummy as he breathes out an emphatic “yes,” against Kim’s sweaty skin, hissed and drawn out.

Isaac focuses on rubbing the pads of now two fingers over Nick’s prostate, like he’s rolling the swollen gland atop them. His tongue still circles around his fingers, shoving in where he can and licking or sucking where he can’t, Nick’s moans steadily rising in volume and pitch once again as his cock strains a purplish-red.

Nick’s gasping out a string of pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease, the muscles of his thighs twitching and spasming as he tries to arch in Isaac’s strong hold, rocking his hips down onto the deputy’s questing fingers before he suddenly shouts a hoarse, cracking “oh FUCK!” 

Kim wraps her arms around Nick’s own, holding him flush to her chest to keep him from reaching out and accidentally hitting the Deputy in the face, while Isaac likewise does his level best to keep Nick from kicking him in the head while simultaneously digging his fingers into Nick’s prostate as the man comes, spurts of cum painting his quivering stomach as he shakes through his first hands (and hole) free orgasm.

[liggytheauthoress]

prompt fill for @purplenerd777 - I hope you like it!

squares with exes have been either claimed or filled, but all the others are up for requests!

ao3 link

Nile comes back tasting blood and dust. There’s a numbness spreading up her side, emanating from where she’s used to feeling her right leg, and for a few moments she wonders if the leg is even still there. Fuck, can they regrow limbs? She’s been grilling the others about the extent of their healing abilities over the past few months, but that’s one question she hasn’t gotten around to asking yet. Panic starts to bubble up in Nile’s chest…

Then she shifts, only an inch or two, but the movement sends a sharp stab of pain through her leg that’s almost reassuring. It still hurts like hell, though, and Nile can’t - doesn’t bother to - hold back a hissed-out curse.

“Nile?”

The voice is low and sounds like its owner has been eating sand and gravel, but Nile has been with the team long enough to immediately identify it as Nicky’s.

All at once, the events of a few hours ago (or has it been days? Or just minutes?) come flashing back through her increasingly clearer head. It was supposed to be just a simple recon job; something basic, Andy had said, a chance for Nile to stretch some of her new skills in a relatively low stakes setting. And Nile had agreed - her first few days with the team had been enough of a trial by fire, so something easy sounded almost nice.

A simple job. In and out.

Except the drug traffickers they were shadowing had clearly been expecting visitors. Whether or not it was specifically Nicky and Nile, or someone else, Nile doesn’t know. What she does know is that they had only been in the warehouse for a few minutes before everything suddenly vanished in a blur of noise and fire.

“Nicky?” The name comes out hoarser than Nile intends, and she coughs roughly before speaking again. “What happened?”

“The building was rigged to explode.” Nicky’s voice is tight. “Are you all right?”

“Not sure.” Another flare of pain makes her finally move to take stock of herself. It’s awkward - she’s lying almost fully on her front, and any effort to roll over just results in more pain, so she settles for peering over her shoulder. She’s more or less in one piece, but her right leg is soundly pinned beneath a heap of brick and debris. “Shit…”

“Nile?”

“My leg’s pinned.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Do you think you’ll be able to get it free?”

Nile shifts around experimentally and has to bite back another curse. “Don’t think so.” She squints, trying to peer through the darkness at where she thinks Nicky is. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I am…somewhat incapacitated, unfortunately.” Before Nile can respond, he goes on, “Don’t worry, Nile, I’m all right. I just don’t think I’ll be able to help you get out.”

“Oh.”

His voice has taken on the soothing tone it held that first night in Goussainville, the one that tends to make Nile relax no matter how tense she is. “The others will find us before long,” he reassures her. “We just need to be patient.”

Nile smiles despite herself. “They’re gonna be pissed. You were supposed to make dinner tonight.”

Nicky laughs, but his quiet chuckles are abruptly cut off by a harsh cough that sets off alarm bells in Nile’s head. “Nicky?”

“I’m fine.”

“Nicky…”

“Really, Nile, I’m all right. I just got stuck in a bit of an uncomfortable position.”

He sounds sincere and unworried, and Niles relaxes - a little, at least. “Tell me about it,” she commiserates, trying to carefully adjust herself on top of the bits of rubble digging into her chest and stomach. “How long do you think it will take the others to get here?”

“No more than an hour or to. Three, at the most.”

“Great.”

Nicky snorts at the irritation in her voice. “Trust me, it could be much worse. Has Booker told you about Cairo in 1957?”

Nile answers that no, he hasn’t, and Nicky launches into a truly ridiculous story about the time he and Booker were trapped in a building collapse for three days with - and she genuinely can’t tell if he’s fucking with her or not - a particularly irate camel. She’s so engrossed by the story, and by the mental image of Booker spending three days pinned underneath an angry camel’s ass, that it takes her a while to notice Nicky’s voice getting quieter.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just…just tired. I’m not a young man, you know.”

The joke falls flat, but Nile chooses not to say anything. Even if there’s something wrong - well, more wrong - there’s not much she can do, and anyway, it’s only a matter of time before the others get here.

The two of them lapse into silence for a while. Nile gives up on the idea of getting comfortable and settles for trying to distract herself instead. She’s only a few minutes into mentally reciting her most recent Russian lesson with Andy when she hears a ghastly rattling noise, one she quickly realizes is coming from Nicky.

The sound only lasts for a couple of moments before suddenly ending mid-inhale.

“Nicky?” When she’s met with total silence, Nile says again, a little frantically, “Nicky?”

Fuck, what if he’s died - actually died? They’ve all been on edge ever since the news about Andy’s mortality, is this the other shoe dropping? Christ, how will she ever look Joe in the eye again if-

A sharp, strained gasp comes from the darkness, one Nile has long since come to associate with their resurrection, and she almost bangs her forehead against the ground in relief. “Jesus, Nicky, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Mi dispiace,” Nicky grunts. “I’m afraid I…drifted off for a bit.”

“You died , Nicky, do not try to bullshit me.”

He actually chuckles a bit, which is a completely deranged reaction that doesn’t surprise Nile in the least. “I’m sorry, sorellina.” He’s slurring his words a little, still out of it. “I would promise that it won’t happen again, but…”

“How badly are you actually hurt?”

Nicky sighs roughly. “Some rebar…right through my side. Can’t…can’t get enough leverage to pull myself free.” His voice is already weakening again, from shock or from blood loss or both. “Wound can’t close. Probably going to…happen again.”

He sounds genuinely apologetic, and Nile can’t imagine how much effort it had taken him to act normal for her - and she has no doubt it was for her. Nicky has never coddled her, none of the Guard have, but he also always does his best to shield his family from anything unpleasant if he can, regardless of the toll it takes on him.

“It’s okay, Nicky.” He’s not the only one here with a protective streak, after all. “I’m okay. Just…just save your strength, yeah?”

His breath has taken on that awful wheezing quality again, and Nile’s not sure he even heard her. She hates that all she can do is just fucking lie here and listen as Nicky dies again. Painfully gasps back to life, again.

She glances back at where her leg is still being crushed against the floor by what has to be at least half a ton of debris. It’s not one solid chunk, just a lot of smaller ones that might not be too heavy for her to move on her own…

Experimentally, Nile lifts her left leg and shoves at the top of the pile. A moan of pain bubbles up in her throat as the motion jostles her other leg, but she clamps it firmly behind her teeth, not wanting to cause Nicky any more distress than he’s already in. Steeling herself, she shoves again, and some of the brick moves encouragingly.

She falls into a bit of a daze now, slowly and methodically chipping away at her prison, refusing to be deterred by the agony the movements cause. Through it all, she hears Nicky die over and over again, a horrendous cycle that she knows she’s going to have nightmares about later on. When she thinks she’s dislodged enough, she braces her left foot against a larger chunk of concrete and, biting her lip to hold back any screams, pulls with all her might.

And fucking hell does that hurt. But Nile is sure she feels a little give, and that sparks enough optimism to make her do it again.

There’s a gruesome popping noise and she can’t swallow back the shout of pain as her hip dislocates.

Her leg moves again, though.

Just a little more.

With one final heave, Nile finally breaks free. She hauls herself forward until her leg is fully clear and then lets herself collapse, panting heavily. Her hip is on fire, but she gives herself a few minutes to just lie there, waiting for her strength to build back up enough for her to do what she has to do next. Nicky hasn’t reacted to any of this, and that’s stressing her out more than anything. The others have said that multiple deaths in a row take up a lot of energy - Nile prays he’s just passed out.

When she’s gotten her breath back, she begins the exhausting, arduous process of fixing her hip. She has no technique to speak of, it’s all guesswork, but after much trial, error, and excessive cursing she has no stamina to muffle anymore, she feels the joint pop back into place. Her entire body goes limp in relief as her healing starts to work its magic almost instantly, mending and repairing until there’s little more than a sore ache.

Now, now, she can do what she’s been working towards all this time. Not trusting herself to stand just yet, Nile crawls across the remains of the warehouse floor, ignoring the minor cuts and scrapes to her hands and knees. She clambers over a pile of stone and metal and, after her eyes adjust to the darkness, finally sets eyes on Nicky.

He looks…about like she expected, honestly. He’s pallid and sweaty, bangs sticking to his forehead, and his shirt is soaked in blood. Fortunately - if anything about this can be called fortunate - he’s not lying fully on top of the rebar; he’s partially on his side with the metal jutting through him at an almost horizontal angle, which means that Nile should be able to work him free with a little effort.

She doesn’t waste any time. Careful not to jostle Nicky more than she has to, she gets a firm grip on him and starts to slowly move him forward. There’s no response from him. Nile can’t tell if he’s dead or just unconscious, but either way, she hopes he’ll stay like that until the worst of this is over.

The work is tortuously slow. The rebar has clearly pierced at least one of Nicky’s internal organs, and the sounds it makes as Nile works it out of his body are sickening. Nicky, mercifully, doesn’t seem to react beyond a few winces and breathy moans. Nile finally slides him free and lowers him onto the ground, holding her breath and peeling up his ruined shirt. She doesn’t move until she sees the edges of the wound sluggishly start to heal, pulling another pained noise from Nicky and a relieved exhale from Nile.

Nicky coughs, coming back to life with a jolt. Nile rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, easy. You’re okay.”

“Nile?”

He tries to twist his head in order to look at her, and she moves around to kneel in front of him instead. “Don’t move too much. You’re still healing.”

With an uncoordinated hand, he brushes at his stomach. Nicky smiles up at her, pride evident in his voice as he says, “You got free.” He doesn’t sound even the least bit surprised.

“Well, I was getting bored.”

Nicky snorts an unsteady laugh, and Nile joins in, slumping a little as the adrenaline starts to drain out of her and is replaced with a warm feeling of release and comfort. Yeah, they’re both still covered in blood and sitting in the rubble of a drug gang’s former lair, but…they’re okay. They’re going to be okay.

[reginamillls]

number 40 + yusufnicolo the sappiest shit the better 🥺

Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

The very nature of their lifestyle meant that on occasion they would piss off the wrong people, that paired with how unnaturally longed they lived meant that capture would be inevitable. Neither of them enjoyed it - especially after Quynh - but they could survive it as long as they had each other. 

Joe was thankful that their captors hadn’t thought to separate the two of them. This would just make the rescue easier for Andy and Booker. They could handle the pain, and both men were very patient. 

They were going to get so much shit for being captured whilst in bed. Joe had enough blackmail on Booker to quiet any teasing he would have, very little shamed Andy however so Joe and Nicky would just have to deal with her inevitable ribbing. 

Seeing their two family members smiling, even at their own misfortune of being caught with their pants around their ankles, literally. 

“Kind of them to allow us our pants,” Joe says casually, switching to dutch so their captors couldn’t understand what they were saying. Joe wasn’t completely sure what their end-goal was - most likely money as history has so typically proved over and over again - but so far the two of them have been left to their own devices. 

Half naked and chained up to the ceiling but still left alone - together. 

“We should send them a fruit basket,” Nicky replies dryly, rolling his head to look at Joe, trying to smile but wincing at the tight pull of his shoulders. Joe frowns, his eyebrows furrowing together as he watches his husband try and hide the shivers racking his body. Nicky ended up being chained underneath the down vent of the building, and the air hitting Nicky’s shirtless body could be nothing but uncomfortable at the height of winter. 

If Joe wasn’t in chains, he would wrap Nicky up in his arms and as many blankets, he could find. They’d drink warm tea - Nicky would tease him about the “obscene” amount of honey Joe would use - and Joe would press lazy kisses against the underside of Nicky’s sharp jaw as they watched whatever telenovela was on at the time. 

Joe made plans to do just that when they got out. 

“Hey-” Joe says sometime later when Nicky’s eyes had slipped shut, exhaustion painted on every line of his body. Occasionally his body would spasm from a mixture of pain and cold and Joe winced in sympathy. His own arms ached and the light directly above his head was proving to give Joe one hell of a migraine. He was tired and annoyed and his husband was in pain, and Joe could not get out of his cuffs. 

He needed a distraction. 

Nicky was Joe’s favorite distraction. 

“Yo Adrian -” Joe tilts his voice in the best Rocky impersonation he could muster, his face contorted into his best Sylvester Stallon expression. Nicky opens his eyes, looking entirely unimpressed, and raises an eyebrow. 

He’s heard Joe’s Rocky Balboa of plenty of times, this wasn’t going to break Nicky’s resolve to look as bored as possible. Joe would have to try a bit harder. 

“I’ll be back-” 

Nothing. 

“Say ‘ello to my little friend.” 

Not even a snort. 

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” 

Joe at least got a small twitch of the lips at that one. 

He’s about to break out his best Bill Murray impersonation when a very familiar axe breaks through the door of the room they were being kept in. 

“Here’s Andy!” Joe takes advantage of the situation, lowering his voice and shouting into the room, with an impersonation that he thinks would make Jack Nicholson proud. The men who captured them scramble into action but they’re easily taken out by the combined efforts of Andy and Booker. Not being able to do anything because again, he’s chained up at the moment, he turns to check on his husband. 

Nicky is still shaking, but instead of pain or cold, it's from suppressed laughter. 

Joe counts it as a win. 

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

andreil and goodbye kisses (pt. 8) ft. wymack (+ a bonus)

part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 || i'm actually feeling kinda sad that this is the last part but also my brain can't come up with more ideas lmao

wymack stands by the fact that he doesn't get paid enough to deal with andrew and neil's shit (both as separate idiots and together)

but he does care for all his foxes, despite all the... difficulties that surround them

and honestly? one of the biggest struggles he faces is how absolutely thick-headed and oblivious the foxes can be regarding andrew and neil's relationship

truly, the heart-eyes neil constantly gave andrew were so obvious, he's not sure how everyone missed them before

but because he's so observant, he doesn't fail to notice how the older foxes keep giving strange looks to neil whenever he leaves andrew's side now

wymack doesn't get in the way of his foxes' personal lives. but if they start causing disturbances on the court, it's his job as coach to get to the bottom of these issues

(okay, maybe he and dan catch up on the so-called "drama" in the team every few weeks but it's for completely exy-related business. ahem. of course)

one day, wymack corners neil and lets him know that he and dan were to meet in his office after practice to talk through some logistics for the winter banquet

neil agrees, and practice goes smoothly (or, as smoothly as it can go with the foxes)

but after practice is... interesting

wymack swears he had no ulterior motives planned with the meeting; it really was supposed to be a genuine discussion

but the outcome of it was certainly unexpected

he and dan both know to wait for neil, that he doesn't like changing in front of anyone

so they wait. and wait. and wait.

it gets to the point where it's nearly 45 minutes after practice and surely neil should be done at this point, no?

wymack gets up, fully prepared to break down the door to make sure neil is okay when suddenly it slams open

neil tumbles out hand-in-hand with andrew, with matching flushed faces and ruffled hair

wymack sighs

dan outright snorts, and neil's head jerks up and his eyes widen when he notices dan and wymack

but before he can say anything, dan stands up and grins at andrew

"fucking neil again, huh?"

neil chokes on a cough and wymack turns to dan with a groan when he notices the mischievous glint in her eye, almost like that was an... inside joke?

with minyard?

wymack is very confused

andrew just scowls at dan. "i will knife you and make it look like an accident"

neil is still recovering from his coughing bout, so wymack turns back to the stabby midget ready to reprimand him

"i'm not scared of you anymore, remember andrew?" dan's eyes are still bright as she tries not to laugh

"shut up, both of you" wymack interrupts their weird jokes conversation whatever gruffly. "neil, do you remember why we're here?"

"huh? OH. oh shit. drew, i'm supposed to be talking with them about some winter banquet stuff"

andrew considers this. "how long?" wymack tells him about an hour, and andrew nods and turns to neil. "i'll stay"

neil just rolls his eyes. "you have a paper due tomorrow that you haven't even started yet. go do that, i'll be fine"

wymack sighs. he's been doing a lot of that lately. "minyard, go finish your homework or i swear to god, i'll make you run three marathons next week"

andrew glares but mutters out a "fine." he goes to leave but neil tugs him back by the wrist

neil then proceeds to kiss andrew on the nose and gives him the most bashful smile wymack has ever seen on the kid's face

neil's happy. it's a christmas miracle! and it's not even christmas yet!

and that kiss... really, it was the last thing he expected out of neil and andrew but he's happy at how comfortable they've grown around each other

and okay, it was a little adorable

(not that he'd ever say that to their faces, of course)

andrew ends up stumbling out of the court with the reddest face wymack's seen as neil turns back to him and dan

"right" he says sheepishly. "banquet?"

BONUS:

abby doesn't believe it when david tells her about the nose kiss

she knows that neil has a heart of gold, she knows that andrew has so much capacity to feel

but a nose kiss? she doesn't think andrew would agree to that

so when her older foxes come over one night after a tiring, but successful, game, she decides she needs to see this for herself

after a hearty dinner, all the kids are sitting in the living room, with andrew and neil talking quietly in the back corner of the room.

perfect.

"neil!" abby calls, and everyone in the room quiets to look at her. "sweetheart, could you help me bring out the dessert?"

nicky immediately jumps up from beside her, saying how he could help if she needed it

"no no, it's alright, i was hoping to talk to neil, if that's okay? it might take a little while"

neil looks extremely worried at this and abby almost feels guilty.

almost

he glances at andrew and then he leans down so quickly that abby nearly misses it

neil kisses andrew on the nose.

abby barely notices andrew's bright blush, nor does she register neil moving towards her

she just feels so proud of her foxes for coming so far in a world that keeps trying to beat them down

it's a sentimental moment, which is completely ruined by kevin's woop and nicky's yell of glee

"YES BITCH THEY DID IT THEY DID THE KISS GIVE ME YOUR MONEY ALLISON"

"fuck you hemmick. fuck you"

neil looks at them wildly. "you guys were betting on us? i didn't think you would..."

matt sighs and slings an arm around his friend. "oh neil, do you still really think that low of us? we bet on everything"

JSKHKKSJ OK IT'S FINALLY DONE i already miss this series but it has been a fun time :) my asks are always open if y'all have anything specific you want me to write !

[teddy06writes]

Fully Functioning Tricycle

Sapnap x reader x Karl

requested: no (;-; no one has requested anything, pls request things guys requests are open) 

Trigger warnings: slight swearing, 

“blep” talking

“blep” flashback

‘blep’ video or text

premise: since you’d been absorbed into Karl and Nicks relationship, you guys had kept it under wraps, until... you accidently said something on a stream with Quackity, when you start getting hate about it Karl and Nick decide to do something about it

(y/n/n)- your nick name

(y/s/n) your screen name

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

No one was quite too sure when it started, Karl would say once you moved in with them, and Sapnap argued that it started even before that, that you had just naturally been absorbed into their relationship. 

Now ‘the frat house’ as the house you all rented had been dubbed by your friends on the Dream Smp, consisted of one relationship, and not just a group of pinning idiots. 

You sighed, looking down at all the messages flooding your phone, it hadn’t even been a whole day since you let it slip, and still so many people knew, so many people were giving you hate online. 

Everyone knew, except your boyfriends. 

Somehow despite letting your involvement in there relationship out, and thousands of people were tweeting about it, they still hadn’t realized. 

You had to hand it to them, for two pretty smart guys, Karl and Nick could be pretty oblivious. 

“(y/n/n)?” 

Karl’s call knocked you out of your thoughts and back to reality, so, you pushed away from your desk, “Yeah?”

He stuck his head in the door, “You almost done? Nicky’s about to finish his stream, and I would like cuddles.” 

“uhhhh,” you glanced at your monitor, the assignment for one of your classes still open, “Soon, baby, I’m almost done.” 

“M, kay.”

You pulled you chair back in as Karl wandered out, doing your best to refocus on the assignment, and not back onto the top notification, ‘I can’t believe (y/s/n) managed to convince themself they were good enough for Sapnap and Karl’ 

You sighed, you didn’t want to keep looking through them, but- what if someone said something worse? 

It was a rabbit hole, every mention, every hashtag, every dm dragged you further in. 

~~

“Do you think (y/n)s being weird?” Karl asked quietly. 

Nick looked up at him confused, “Weird how?” 

“I don’t know, something just seems off, you know?” 

Nick frowned as he looked back down at twitter, confused by what he was seeing, he held his phone out for Karl to see, “You think this has something to do with it?” 

~~

After a little while, and maybe a few tears, you managed to tear yourself away from your phone long enough to finish the work you had left, continuing to shove your phone away whenever a new notification came up.

You finished up the last of your assignment, quietly sending it off to your professor, and shutting down your computer, you shuffled off toward your unused bed, flopping down face first. 

“(Y/n/n)!” Nick half sang, laying down next to you, “I was told to retrieve you for cuddles.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, shifting closer to him as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“You alright love?” 

“‘m tired.” You mumbled, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. 

“Why don’t you come cuddle then? Karl’s lookin for a movie right now.” 

Slowly you pulled yourself to stand with a sigh, “Alright.” 

You shuffled out of the room, Nick only pausing to grab your phone, glaring down at a notification that read, ‘imagine thinking living in the same house is enough to warrant becoming a homewrecker.’ 

He quickly followed you into the other bedroom, smiling upon seeing how Karl’s face lit up upon seeing both his partners. 

“(y/n/n)! Nicky!” He exclaimed, Holding up his arms, “Cuddles!” 

You smiled at that, climbing into bed next to him, burying your head in his chest as Nick came to lay on your other side, wrapping an arm around both of you and pressing a light kiss to the back of your neck. 

“(Y/n).” 

It was the tone Nick used that got your worried, “Yeah?” 

“Why didn’t you tell us what was going on with the fans on twitter, Darlin?” Karl asked softly. 

Nick sighed, “I know we said we were keeping this on the down low, and it doesn’t really matter that it’s out there, but why didn’t you tell us?” 

You bit your lip to stop it from quivering, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said anything. I didn’t mean to mess this up. We- We said we were going to announce it soon right?” 

“Hey, hey,” Nick sat up a little, using the hand that wasn’t already holding Karl’s to rub small circles into your shoulder, “It’s alright love. It doesn’t matter that it’s out there, we just wanna know why you didn’t tell us about the toxic people?” 

“It’s nothing.” You muttered. 

“No it isn’t,” Karl said, “Darlin what happened?” 

~~

“The Frat house?” 

You had been streaming with Quackity, running around on the smp. 

“Yeah, that’s what we call it!” You laughed. 

Quackity snorted, “The Frat House? Why?” 

“Have you met Karl and Sapnap? They are literally frat boys that aren’t in a frat!” 

“Nah, it’s still weird. Like, why? What the fuck?” 

You chuckled, “Interestingly it did actually used to be a frat house.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” He laughed. 

“Yeah, that’s why there’s like four different bedrooms, plus a weird party basement.” 

You both laughed, and went back to trying to mess with Fundy’s build without him noticing. 

“What’s it like living with Sapnap? Is he actually that much of a Chad?” 

“Oh yeah. It’s- it’s fucking chaotic here, obviously. I swear we do enough grocery shopping for like, three times the people than what live here, and every room except mine is a mess.” 

“Oof, Imagine living with chadnap full time chat?” Quackity laughed. 

A text to speech donation asked, “What’s it like being the third wheel too frat boys Karl and Quackity?” 

In spite of yourself you snorted, “Someone asked what it’s like being the third wheel.”

He laughed, “Oh yes, the viewers want to know, give us the scoop!” 

“Well.... I guess I’m not a third wheel in that sense, We’re pretty much a fully functioning tricycle now.”  You clamped a hand over your mouth, realizing what you’d said. 

~~ 

Karl laughed once you finished explaining, and you slapped him lightly, “It’s not funny.” 

“Yes it is!” He giggled. 

“No!” You half wailed, “I fucked everything up!” 

Nick barley held back a chuckle, “It is a little funny.” 

You sighed, screwing your eyes shut and snuggling into them, “I didn’t wanna mess anythin up, but I did an’ now your making fun of me.”

Nick kissed the back of your neck again, “We aren’t making fun of you.” 

“We just think it’s funny the way you said it,” Karl reassured, “What isn’t funny is the people harassing you.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us it was going on?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” You insisted, “It’ll all blow over eventually.” 

~~

Sapnap 

@sapnapalt

GUYS PLEASE WATCH THIS VID IT”S IMPORTANT!!

The video:

*Karl and Nick are half sat up in bed looking at the camera*

Nick: ‘guys as much as we were thinking weren’t going to have to say this, it really needs to be said.’ 

Karl: ‘When we came forward with our relationship you guys were all super caring and considerate, there was actually very little hate going around, surprisingly, and what are a few random homophobes on the internet gonna do?’ 

Nick: ‘We really appreciate how kind you all were to us, so please’ 

*the camera shifts down to show you, asleep on Karl’s chest and wrapped in Nick’s hoodie* 

Nick: ‘stop bothering our partner.’ 

Karl: ‘please, it- everything has gone to far since they first said it and it isn’t okay. Yeah, we were keeping this a secret but thats because we were planning on a funny reveal, Just because this came out sooner than we planned doesn’t mean you get to bother (y/n) about it! I want all the hate your sending to them to stop!’ 

Nick: ‘It’s honestly fucking disgusting, how far you guys are taking this! The fact that they can hardly pick up there phone without getting more of this bull shit is not okay!’ 

*karl smiles at him softly* : ‘we just want (y/n) to be happy and comfortable in this relationship and you guys aren’t exactly helping. Please Please please stop sending them hate and so yeah, it’s official, we really are a fully functioning tricycle.’ 

Nick: ‘so stop sending our partner hate!’ 

~~ 

You didn’t actually see the video until later, having all but thrown your phone away once you woke up the next morning, but when you did you couldn’t help but quickly tackle Karl, who happened to also be in the kitchen, in a hug. 

“Thank you.” 

He smiled into your shoulder, hugging you back just as tightly, “It was mostly Nicks idea.” 

As if on cue Nick hugged you both from the side, “We couldn’t just leave it be love.” 

Still grinning madly, you kissed them both, “I love you guys. So, so much.” 

[non-un-topo]

Have a playful scene from an old post-movie fic I never finished, just because!

The first thing they do when they’re all inside is laugh. If the house looked fancy on the outside, it’s got nothing on the inside.

It’s open-concept, with floor to ceiling windows, which would be a major problem were it not for the blinds. The ceilings are surprisingly high, embedded with small, circular white lights, save for the verging-on-gaudy chandelier at the front entrance. Whoever owns the house went ham on the rugs, too, because Joe can spot three large rugs in the main living space. To the left is a seating area with a television bigger than any of them have ever owned, and to the right is a kitchen so shiny and massive that it makes his mouth water at the sight. There’s a rocky shore through the windows behind the house, and he can see that there are hallways probably leading to bedrooms and other living spaces in both directions.

The second thing they do, of course, is check that the place hasn’t been bugged.

They’re casual when they go about it, speaking vaguely and starkly normal lest any cameras or microphones pick up anything conspicuous, and it’s a familiar performance that Joe always delights to turn into a game.

Nicky is as competitive as he was the fateful day they met, and Joe takes great joy in enabling this side of him.

He looks at Andy and she chuckles when she sees the mischief in his eyes. She starts to examine the lamps near the couches across the living space and doesn’t need to motion for Nile to copy. She’s already in the kitchen, running her fingertips underneath the countertops.

“What do you want for dinner?” Nile asks just as she opens the fridge and checks the ice box, and Joe can’t help but grin. She’s great at this already.

He whips his head around to smirk devilishly at Nicky, who smirks back, eyebrows raised in challenge.

They take off. Time to fluff up the performance.

They make their way to the opposite end of the house to Andy and Nile, checking light switches and the backs of paintings as they go, elbowing each other in their haste to find a bug before the other.

They reach a large, warmly coloured room that smells of old paper, a library of sorts, and scramble over each other in the doorway to get at the lamps, books, art pieces, tables, and chairs.

“This place is perfect for a family holiday, don’t you think, darling?” Joe calls over his shoulder in English, in his best Irish accent.

Nicky snorts and grimaces very obviously at Joe’s fake accent as he checks a lightbulb, and Joe does not care for that tone at all.

“Use your words, dear. Your voice is the most precious sound of my life.”

He catches a small bust Nicky throws at him with a light chuckle and checks the item for bugs, wordlessly obliging Nicky’s silent request. Nicky’s only helping him win, and Joe swells with victory at the fact that his little trick still works. Nicky will never be immune to Joe’s sweet words.

“You’re acting far too weird,” Nicky says in Arabic, concealing that beloved crooked grin under his nose. “Nobody talks like that.”

“Surely, I don’t know what you mean,” Joe says innocently, “as I speak this way to you all the time.”

“Don’t call me Shirley,” Nicky quotes in English, pausing his search through the drawers of a shiny black desk to point a finger at Joe. He switches back to Arabic, “And your wicked tricks will not work on me.”

Joe forces down a laugh at Nicky’s choice of words. He will never tire of this man and his humour.

“Wicked tricks? It’s a performance, babe.” He bats his eyelashes, responding in Arabic, save for the word ‘babe’ which he accentuates in English. “And I am an artist. You would deny me an opportunity to hone my skills?”

Nicky tsks under his breath, trying and failing to mask a smile. “You know what I’m talking about. Flattery will not win you this game.”

Joe pauses, squinting at the wall across the room and pursing his lips. “...Bro, then?” he offers, as a substitute.

It merits a hysterical laugh from Nicky as he breaks his facade and Joe fully gives in to the urgent need to cross the room and wrap Nicky up in his arms, growling playfully as he does so and lifting him just off the floor as he spins him around, both of them laughing. His heart absolutely bursts with the sound of it. It’s the first time he’s heard Nicky laugh like that since…

His mind draws a blank.

Too long.

They stay like that for a while longer until they both remember their game and their competitive sides get the best of them.

Neither of them win the game in the end, because a few hours later they all conclude the house is, thankfully, free of bugs.

[katesbridgerton]

hi! enemies to lovers prompts: 4 + kaysanova

Brielle, this took me forever! I'm so sorry. It's super weak lmao but I hope you enjoy. 💖

enemies to lovers prompts: 4. “the butterflies in my stomach were confused for disgust”

Joe is with his face buried on Nicky's neck, both of them in Joe's bed, eyes closed but neither are sleeping. They're just enjoying them after the finals are over and their friends went out to celebrate, leaving the couple alone.

"Did you want to go with them?" Joe asks.

"Baby, I'm exactly where I want to be," Nicky answers, before kissing Joe's curls. "What's happening inside that beautiful mind of yours?"

Nicky knows. Nicky always knows when Joe is overthinking and it goes the other way around too. They have no barriers, no walls that stand between them.

"I was just- remember how we used to hate each other?"

"We didn't use to hate each other, well, at least I didn't hate you. It just took us a while to truly understand one another and when we did," Nicky smiles. "Here we are, my heart. One week away from graduation and to move together."

Joe looks at Nicky, and as usual they're perfectly synchronized and meet each other's gaze.

"I didn't hate you either. I just- um," he stops to think for a second. "The butterflies in my stomach were confused for disgust."

Nicky laughs, a small snort coming out.

"Well, same here. I'm happy we established they're butterflies."

"Me too. I don't think I could have lived a life without knowing us," Joe admits

Nicky kisses him, his hand moves to pull Joe's hair making Joe moan against his mouth.

"You will never have to," Nicky says. "Don't feel like resting anymore?" he smirks, fully aware of the effect he has on his boyfriend.

Joe doesn't answer, not with words, he kisses Nicky again, hoping he can stay in his embrace for the rest of his life.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Underneath Your Clothes

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Joe x Nicky

Read on AO3

                                                        ///

You're a song Written by the hands of God Don't get me wrong 'Cause this might sound to you a bit odd But you own the place Where all my thoughts go hiding And right under your clothes Is where I find them Underneath your clothes There's an endless story There's the man I chose There's my territory And all the things I deserve For being such a good girl honey

- “Underneath Your Clothes” by Shakira

Nicky hummed mindlessly to the Italian song that was floating in through the open window. The singer was barely sixteen, but his voice was reminiscent of the great crooners. He always left with a tidy haul at the end of the day whenever he stopped by their corner. Nicky made a mental note to give him one of his pastries if he caught him before he left for the day.

The timer went off as the kid finished off his song. Nicky removed the baking tray into the oven, closing the door behind him with his hip. He placed the tray on the counter before turning off the timer. He smirked at it, a novelty “Italian Chef” timer Nile had gotten him for Christmas a few years ago. That had been a fun one.

He transferred the baked goods into a couple of large boxes once they had cooled and set the tray in the sink to soak. Once that was done, he cleaned the rest of the kitchen, satisfied only when the counters gleamed and the rest of the dishes were either put away or drying on the rack. Wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, he stepped away from the room. Rolling his neck, Nicky massaged one of his wrists, relieving the tension built up from a day spent rolling and preparing dough.

Glancing at the clock showed that it was 3 in the afternoon. Not bad for a day’s work. Checking the doors and windows were properly closed, Nicky made his way further into the house. Some of their down times were spent just catching their breath from a rough mission. Others, like this one, were to ground themselves back into the world, to remind themselves that their lives did not have to just be blood, vengeance, and seeking to bring justice to the evils of the world.

The breeze that drifted through the bedroom was tinged with the warm sunshine of the Mediterranean sun and the salty tinge of the sea. He leaned against the doorway, smiling softly at the sight that greeted him. Joe, sitting up with his back to the door, both hands in the air, fingers interwoven as he grunted from the stretching exercise. Once he finished, releasing a heavy breath, he placed his hands at the small of his back, curving backwards as far as he could go. The next exercise was placing his hands firmly by his hips and twisting his body until the cracks rang out. Nicky winced at their volume. Unfortunately muscle tension was not something that their healing cured.

Joe had decided to volunteer himself to help out with the renovations happening at the orphanage down the street because his husband had the largest heart that Nicky knew of. For the past three weeks they had been here, Joe would wake up without complaint when Nicky woke him at sunrise and leave for work. He would usually return after sunset, having stayed behind to wrangle the kids for dinner, hair covered in dust, plaster, paint, or on one memorable occasion, all three. Nicky occasionally dropped by to help with the kids, otherwise he occupied himself with cooking food for the crews and for the children.

But today was Sunday, so Joe had spent his day off sleeping most of the morning and afternoon away except for the meals Nicky had forced into him.

“Need help?” Nicky said softly as Joe grunted for the third time trying to stretch his arms all the way up.

Joe turned his head to see him quickly, shooting him one of his signature smiles. His shoulders betrayed his tiredness though. “I would never say no to your hands on me, ya amar.”

Snorting, Nicky made his way over to Joe, going around the bed to stand between his open legs. Gently, Nicky cupped the back of Joe’s neck with both hands and dug his thumbs into the space between his jaw and ears. Joe groaned, tipping forward until his forehead rested on Nicky’s stomach.

“Don’t stop.” Joe whined as Nicky moved to massage the back of Joe’s neck.

Nicky dipped down to press a kiss to the top of Joe’s head, the root of his palms  skating their way down his back in a firm press. Joe’s spine seemed to melt beneath his hands as his husband went floppy in his arms. He repeated the motion twice more, switching to a faster pace, and then to using folded fingers.

“Maybe you should take a break Joe, just because our bodies don’t stay hurt or ache doesn’t mean we cannot be sore if we push ourselves hard enough.” Nicky said while bringing his hands back up until they rested on Joe’s broad shoulders.

Joe let his head fall back, eyes half closed as he peered up at Nicky. “We are so close though Nicky. Just one more week.”

Nicky sighed. “Alright my love.”

Joe smiled at him and fully closed his eyes, nudging his head back into Nicky’s hands.

“Si, si, I am getting to it.” Nicky said fondly, bringing his fingers up to bury themselves in Joe’s curls. Systematically, he gathered the hair into two fists, squeezed, and then relaxed, moving to cover all of Joe’s scalp. He moved down to squeeze intermittently at his forehead, then to his ears, tugging and rubbing at them. He pressed his thumbs to Joe’s temple, the hum from his husband’s throat vibrating through his hands. A firm swipe down his proud nose, another two across the faint field of freckles spotted near the bridge of his nose. Strong hold of the jaw, fingers curling through the beard.

When Joe was halfway to sleep, Nicky leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then another two over his closed eyelids.

Joe’s eyes fluttered open. “Hayati, I love you more than anything in this world, and will give it to you if you ask me.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow when Joe paused.  “But?”

“But I will fall asleep on you if you try to have sex with me right now.” Joe said sincerely, and with regret in his eyes.

Nicky laughed, fondness overflowing from his heart at his ridiculous fool.

“I will do my best not to have sex with you now then.”

Joe let out a mournful whine which just made Nicky laugh harder. It seemed to increase in volume when he stepped away from the reach of Joe’s outstretched hands.

“Oh you will survive Joe.” Nicky said as he walked over to their dresser. He hummed as he sorted through the contents of the drawer until he found the bottle he was looking for.

Opening it, he inhaled deeply, a content smile forming as the soothing scent of sandalwood and rose oil rose to greet him. Turning around, Nicky snorted at the sight. Joe was leaning back on the bed, body weight resting on his elbows as his head tipped back. The line of this throat called to Nicky.  

Moving towards him, Nicky placed the oil on the bedside table. He then gently pushed at Joe’s shoulders, the gentle shove enough to send Joe falling fully against the mattress. Carefully, Nicky threw a leg across Joe’s lap, hands running over his chest before they paused at the topmost button of his shirt.

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex.” Joe pouted at him, hands coming up instinctively to rest at Nicky’s hips, their warmth seeping through the thin cotton t-shirt Nicky had on.  He sometimes wondered if it would be possible for skin to indent from the constant press of something against it, like water cutting its way through a rock, or a leaf falling in wet cement. Wondered if at a microscopic level, his skin would be marked by the whorls of Joe’s fingertips.

“We aren’t.” Nicky said as he unbuttoned Joe’s shirt. He paused when it was fully open, lightly running his fingers across the length of the toned chest he could recall from memory.

In the later afternoon light, Joe was painted golden, and Nicky went dizzy with the wave of want that suddenly washed over him. So long together, and yet Joe made him burn hotter than anything else he had ever known.

Joe was his miracle, more than his immortality, a miracle in the shape of a man who had found it in him to not only forgive a man who had committed unspeakable atrocities against his people, but to love him so deeply, Nicky could feel it in his bones. The sun rose from the east, the Mediterranean was home, Joe loved him.

Joe let out a little giggle when Nicky’s fingers caressed his sides, a ticklish spot Nicky was not afraid to exploit when he needed it. That wasn’t what this was about though. Joe did not need a tease. He deserved a reward.

Humming in apology, Nicky set about stripping Joe down and manipulating him until he was laying at the center of the bed on his stomach, naked. Joe for his part let Nicky shift him to his heart’s content, settling heavily into the mattress.

After arranging him comfortably, Nicky straddled the back of Joe’s thighs, armed with the bottle of massage oil. Pouring a handful out, he closed it tightly before wringing his hands, making sure to oil them thoroughly. He placed his hands on Joe’s shoulders, thumbs settling near the start of Joe’s spine while his other fingers curled around the meat of Joe’s shoulders. He squeezed tightly, pushing his weight into it as he worked to relieve the knots he could feel underneath his hands.

Joe started moaning, a deep and heavy sound that Nicky tried to tune out lest they distract him.

Here were Joe’s shoulders, that had once slung an injured soldier across them, a child who had come to frontlines in the name of patriotism. He had trekked through the trenches till he’d delivered him to a field hospital.

Here were his arms, corded with muscles honed through fighting with scimitar and broadsword and gun, but also honed with the manual labor of tilling fields and repairing houses.

And here, his forearms, his wrists, his hands. Long fingers capable of creating masterpieces that could rival the artistic geniuses of the past centuries.

His strong back, his spine, which bent but never broke, that never stayed down for long. That did not bow in the face of injustice, and willingly took punishment to spare an innocent the scars that would not mar his skin for long.

His hips, which had seated countless kids when they had downtime during rescue missions, a throne and a safety cushion from which they could learn the old names of the constellations, and about seeing the beauty even in the war-torn landscape.

His ass, which Nicky would truly never get enough of.

Further down, his thighs, his calves, hard from decades of walking, running, marching, criss-crossing Earth. Nile had attempted to do the math once, to see how many miles they had walked in their long lives, how many times had they theoretically circumnavigated the globe. The average person from the 21st century would walk 110,000 miles in a lifetime. She had despaired trying to figure out if she should combined Nicky and Joe’s steps or count them individually, and then given up entirely when faced with Andy’s history.

His feet, soft only because of their healing powers, feet that had carried him barefoot over every terrain, through grass and sand and snow and sea.

When Nicky reached back up to place a kiss on Joe’s neck, he heard Joe’s soft snores.

Smiling softly, he pressed another kiss to Joe’s cheek and got out of bed.

He returned to the kitchen, scrubbing the baking tray clean and leaving it to dry. He grabbed one of their disposable boxes and placed two pastries into it. Checking to make sure he was dressed decently, Nicky jogged down the steps of the house just as the busker was placing his guitar back in his case.

“Lorenzo!” Nicky called, signalling for him to wait up. Lorenzo blushed, and huh, maybe Joe wasn’t so far off with his theory the kid had a crush on Nicky. He gave him the box, Lorenzo accepting it with wide eyes.

Nicky shrugged and looked at his sweetly. “You should eat enough to have the strength to keep singing.”

Lorenzo grinned and nodded before waving bye to him. Nicky watched until the kid had boarded the bus before making his way back home. Just before entering, he purchased a handful of dahlias from the flower vendor.  

Joe had shifted to his back when Nicky re-entered their bedroom, his arm slung over his stomach, fingers twitching as though they were searching for something. Nicky placed the flowers with the vase by the bedside table so Joe would see them when he woke up.

Walking one last time around the house to make sure everything was locked up, Nicky removed his own t-shirt and pants so he was in just his underwear. He folded the clothes neatly and placed them on top of the laundry hamper before he crawled into bed. Gently lifting Joe’s arm, Nicky settled on top of Joe’s chest, ears filling with the sound of Joe’s heartbeat.

A subtle hitch in Joe’s breath and the tightening of the arm around him alerted Nicky to his husband’s wakeful status.

“Thank you for the wonderful massage, cuore mio.” Joe breathed softly.

Nicky turned and nuzzled into his side, making him let out a laughing gasp. “Anytime, vita mia.”

Joe drifted back to sleep within a few breaths. Nicky laid awake for some more time.

Nearly a thousand years he had been by Joe’s side, had had the permission to touch him like lovers do. And yet the thrill of it was always present, the gift never unappreciated.

He did not know whether or not he would ever atone for all the sins he committed over his long life, and at this point he did not much care.  The only person who’s opinion mattered to him was right here.

Joe, who had seen first hand what Nicky had done. Joe, who had been killed by his hands. Who had killed him his fair share of times. Who had allowed him to stumble his way but never left him. Who had heard every secret fantasy and dream and fear Nicky had thought of, and promised to guard them. Joe who had been with him for every adventure and story this crazy life threw their way.

Joe who spent their vacation helping with renovations at an orphanage.

And here, bare between them, this was Nicky’s reward. Call him selfish, Nicky would share a lot with the world, but this was his. This love, this trust. This life.

Joe was his. His love. His territory. His sanctuary. His to keep.

[caitlesshea]

we run with the wolves in the shadows

“So how many times did you actually kill each other before you realized you couldn’t die?”

Joe looks up at the sound of Nile asking both he and Nicky a question. 

Nicky shrugs like he doesn’t remember but Joe knows he does, because how could he forget such a thing, but before he can answer, Nicky does. 

“Enough.” 

Joe nods his agreement and Nile looks like she���s about to argue with them but decides not to when Andy pokes her head into the living room.

“They were alive when I found them, so killing each other was a moot point.”

“Okay, but you dreamed of each other right?” Nile asks this question to Andy, who answers with more patience than Joe’s ever seen her have. 

Nicky nods towards their room and Joe follows, glad to be escaping the questions for now. 

“We can’t avoid him forever.” Nicky says before the door is fully shut, picking up their earlier discussion of finding Booker. 

Joe has been steadily avoiding the conversation for the last five months, but with Nile’s questions and Andy’s mortality, they can’t avoid it forever, or even the hundred years they told him. 

“We can.”

“You are being petulant.”

Joe pouts and Nicky crosses the room and pulls Joe to his chest. Joe goes willingly as he kisses Nicky. 

“Fine, I assume you found him?”

“He’s in France.”

Joe snorts, because Booker is nothing but not predictable.

“Of course he is.”

“We’ll leave in the morning.” 

~~~

Telling Andy and Nile that they were leaving the safe house for a couple of days was easier than Joe thought. 

Although, if he’s being honest, he’s pretty sure Andy knows where they’re headed. 

“All the beautiful places in Paris and he picks this place?” Joe snarks as he pulls his sunglasses down to look at the building they tracked Booker to.

“His son lived here.” Nicky says quietly. Joe looks at him sharply.

“You remember where his son lived over three hundred years ago but now how many times we killed each other?”

Nicky looks back at him sharply. “It was four times, Yusuf, and it’s not that I don’t remember. It’s that I don’t want to.” 

Joe grabs Nicky’s hand, suddenly choked up, and squeezes. 

“Amore.” Joe whispers as he puts his forehead against Nicky’s and Nicky squeezes his hand back. 

“C’mon. We have to go to the market, you know he hasn’t eaten a proper meal in months.” 

Joe chuckles, loving Nicky even more.

“Lead the way.”

~~~ 

“This place is really a shit hole.” Joe says as they walk up the stairs to Booker’s apartment. Nicky scowls at him and knocks on the door. 

They hear shuffling coming from inside the apartment , what sounds like bottles falling to the floor, and Joe winces at a loud crash while Nicky sighs. 

“What?” Booker says gruffly as he pulls open the door and then stares at them incredulously. 

“Sebastien.” Nicky says as he shoulders his way into the apartment. “This place is filthy. Where is the kitchen?”

Booker points towards a doorway and Nicky nods his head and disappears. 

“Booker.” Joe claps him on the shoulder and walks past him to sit on the couch.

“What are you doing here?” 

“I’m gonna watch the game.” Joe puts his feet up and lifts up the remote. “You pay the bill?”

Booker nods wordlessly and Joe finds the right channel and settles in.

“Is Andy?” Booker looks away and then looks back at Joe. 

“Everyone’s fine.” 

“And you two?” Booker looks towards the sounds coming from the kitchen. 

“We are here.” 

“Yeah. But why?”

“We will explain after you eat.” Nicky says as he appears with a plate of antipasto. “And after you drink this. And this.” Nicky places two water glasses in front of Booker and Booker nods his thanks. 

“Is this?” 

“Don’t be silly. This is a snack. I’ll be back.” Nicky leaves as quickly as he came and Joe chuckles as he steals some meat and cheese.

“You really thought this was all he was going to feed you?”

“No.” Booker smiles as he drinks his water. 

“So you’re not going to tell me why you’re here?”

“Not yet. C’mon, I wanna watch France lose.”

Booker throws a pillow at him and Joe smirks. 

~~~

In what feels like no time at all Nicky is balancing three bowls of some kind of pasta salad in his arms as he comes back into the living room. 

“I couldn’t make a sauce like I wanted and I know you’re hungry.” Nicky says as he hands Booker his bowl and sits down next to Joe. 

“It’s okay. Thanks.”

“You need better pots and pans.” Nicky waves his hands towards the kitchen as Joe laughs. 

“He doesn’t really cook, Nicolò.”

“Still.” Nicky looks pointedly at Booker. “We taught you better.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Booker says around a mouthful of pasta as he shovels more food into his mouth. Nicky looks on disapprovingly but starts eating himself. 

“I didn’t expect to see either of you.” Booker says quietly, much closer to sober than when they arrived. 

Joe sighs, and figures they should just have the conversation now instead of putting it off for even longer. Nicky nods his head at Joe and Joe leans forward so his hands are on his knees. 

“We’re…” Joe starts and Nicky coughs so Joe starts again. “I’m still mad, but we want you to come back.”

“Why?” 

“Because you’re family.” Nicky answers.

“You still said a hundred years.”

“We were angry.” 

Booker scoffs and looks away. 

“Sebastien.” Joe says and Booker looks at him with surprise on his face. Joe hasn’t called Booker by his birth name in over a century. 

“When we were taken, Nicky wasn’t waking up in the van.” Joe clears his throat as Nicky squeezes his hand. Booker looks stricken but Joe continues. “Terror, like I haven’t known in hundreds of years, gripped me. And then, when we were fighting in the lab, Keane shot Nicky in the head.” 

Joe looks over at Nicky and leans his forehead against Nicky’s briefly before turning back to Booker who has tears in his eyes. 

“He didn’t wake up right away and I thought…”

“Joe.”

“No.” Joe wipes at his own eyes. “I need to say this.”

Booker nods at him and Joe continues.

“I don’t even know what I thought to be honest. It was just terror and anguish. He’s been hurt before, even by my own hand, but never like that.”

“Not by you.” Nicky murmurs and Joe smiles slightly. 

“I don’t ever want to feel like that again. And then I realized, through my anger, that you do feel like that. About your family, your wife, and your sons.”

Booker let’s out an exhale and slumps forward in his chair. 

“We still don’t trust you. And I don’t know how long that will take, but we need our family together, while Andy is still with us.” 

“Has she?”

“She doesn’t have to.” Nicky says and Booker nods. “But we can’t let our feelings keep you from her, when we don’t know what will happen.”

“Thank you.”

Joe nods. “You’re also the only one who can help Nile.”

Booker looks questioningly at Joe and Joe smiles sadly.

“We don’t.” Joe clears his throat. “We don’t remember what it’s like to have family still living and not be able to see them.” Joe scoots closer to Nicky and Nicky leans into him. “We don’t know how to help her.”

“And you think I can?”

“We were the ones who pushed for your exile. Andy said she’d already forgiven you and Nile said that the two of you had connected but left it up to us. So, if you want, I think you can help her.”

“Okay.” Booker smiles and Joe feels lighter than he has in months. “But first I need a shower.”

Nicky laughs, bright and happy. 

“You really do.”

~~~

Joe unlocks the door to the safe house and smiles when he hears Andy and Nile bickering.

“Honey! We’re home!” Joe shouts through the house smiling at Nicky’s laughter and Booker’s snort.

“You gonna tell us where you two went?” Andy says as she rounds the corner into the entryway and pauses mid stride when she sees Booker.

“Book.” Andy breathes out as Booker hugs her. Andy mouths ’thank you’ at them and Joe and Nicky nod in return. 

“Hey, kid.” Joe hugs Nile and she scoffs at the nickname before she goes to hug Nicky and then Booker. 

Joe’s about to ask Andy if they missed anything when the computer Copley gave Nile let’s out a shrill sounding alarm.

“Shit.” Nile runs over and furiously starts typing. 

“What happened?” Nicky says as they all crowd closer to her. 

Nile turns the computer around to face them and it feels like Joe’s been sucker punched. He looks quickly to Nicky and Andy, and they look the same as he feels, while Booker’s mouth is hanging open. 

“I set up alarms for the computer to notify me if it ever found anything. Keywords and such.”

Joe reads the article Nile has displayed on the screen and right there in bold letters it says:

“Fishing Boat Captain finds an Iron Maiden on one of their voyages.”

But that’s not what has them all staring. No. It’s the photo of the Captain with the Iron Maiden and off to the side there’s a woman looking at the camera. 

“Quynh.” 

[writing-is-hard-af]

The Foxes with Christmas movies

• The Foxes discover Neil has never seen a Christmas movie in his life and Nicky, Matt, Dan, Allison, and Renee make it their goal the next year to get him to watch every classic.

• Legit they start right after Thanksgiving, though Neil does not understand the appeal to it because... why?

• They start with things like Home Alone (which results in the teasing of Kevin, who basically just tells them all to fuck off)

• Also, Neil keeps commenting on how impossible the bandits surviving everything is. Like he just lists what should’ve been broken and all the Foxes are trying not to be a bit freaked out that he knows those things

• Aaron knows he’s right about it all but will not even contemplate agreeing

• Neil enjoys them though, as does everyone, there’s just something satisfying about seeing the bandits get the crap beat out of them by a ten year old

• They don’t watch the 3rd and 4th ones because they are disgraces and all the foxes besides Neil, Andrew, and Kevin refuse to even accept they exist

• The grinch really confuses Neil because what the fuck is going on in this story? It doesn’t make sense?

• Also, when the Grinch’s heart gets all huge Nicky leans over to whisper to Matt: “that’s what happened to Andrew when Neil showed up,” all dramatically, thinking Andrew can’t hear them. Yeah, you thought wrong, there’s a knife in the couch now, great job, Nicky. Matt doesn’t know whether to laugh or not and just sorta doesn’t do anything for a second before snorting and looking away from the knife

• Neil does not like the Polar Express. Then again, most of the foxes seem to not like it, Nicky mutters something about scary animation when they finish it and nobody fully disagrees

• Then they move onto others, some a lot older like It’s A Wonderful Life (they may or may not also have watched a couple of versions of A Christmas Carol because there are like twenty adaptations)

• Neil actually likes It’s a Wonderful Life, he can’t find anything to be confused by and he just likes it

• Matt is so happy about this because his mom used to always watch it with him and now he’ll have someone else to watch it with now

• Andrew doesn’t care about the movies much but he stays to watch all of them with everyone because even though he’ll never say it aloud, being around the Foxes is nice. Also, Neil looks too cute when he’s confused for him to stay away. (Not that Neil will ever be informed of Andrew thinking this)

• Once Christmas break starts they start watching a movie or two a night, and not all of them are well known so Neil isn’t the only one to see some for the first time, and it becomes a thing. They often just fall asleep afterwards, scattered across the couches and armchairs in Matt’s dorm that there just seem to be getting more of so they can all comfortably be in there together.

• Nicky totally doesn’t take a picture of Neil and Andrew when Neil falls asleep half on top of Andrew, who had his arm around him. All the foxes think it’s adorable because both of them rarely show any sort of affection that they can see.

• By the end of Neil’s first proper Christmas with the foxes, they’ve all watched pretty much every Christmas movie they can think of and the next year they do it again, except they only watch the ones everyone (well, at least the majority) wants to watch

[even-after-a-millennia]

Happy Birthday Hailey!

It’s Hailey’s @steve-is-a-babe​ birthday today so I wrote them a fic! It’s ~1.5k Modern AU sickfic with Joe and Nicky.  I hope that you like it and that you had a wonderful day!  If you want to read it on ao3, it’s here.

Mi prenderò cura di te

Yusuf al-Kaysani was having a very bad day.  His nose looked like Rudolph’s, every breath exacerbated his sore throat, and he was aching to his bones.

In short, he had a cold.

He had called in sick to work already, but he fumbled to pick up his phone and hit his number one speed dial.

“Good morning, amore mio,” Nicky’s voice came from the other end of the line.

Joe felt momentarily better just at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice.  They had met through university, ever since Nicky had asked the professor a pointed question in the middle of lecture and Joe had taken one look at him and thought, “That one.”

He had gone up to Nicky after class and asked a follow-up question to what he had asked the prof.  The ensuing discussion led to eating in the dining hall together to talk more, to exchanging numbers, to sitting together in class.  To debates turning to passionate kisses and concessions of validity in the afterglow.

Two years later, they were graduated and still together.

“Hello, ya amar,” Joe said, wincing at how rough his voice sounded.

“Are you alright?  You sound awful,” Nicky asked.

Joe chuckled, but it immediately turned into a coughing fit.  It took a long time for him to stop.  “I’m sick,” he said to his phone, which had fallen from his grasp onto the bed.

“Really,” Nicky drawled.

“Shut up,” Joe whined.  “I feel terrible and deserve your pity.”

Nicky laughed softly.  “You can have it.  I give it freely.”  

After a pause, he said slowly, “You know, I could take a PTO day and come over.  Make you something.  Give you my pity in person.”

“Nooooooooo, I’m so gross, Nicky,” Joe complained.

“Joe.  I’ve seen you during finals multiple times.  You hadn’t showered in days and were living off Cheetos and energy drinks.  Do you really think I will fall out of love with you now?” Nicky asked exasperatedly.

“You might get sick.  Don’t wanna risk it,” Joe mumbled.  He realized he was curled around his phone in the fetal position, wrapped around where Nicky’s voice was coming from.

“Please, tesoro?  Let me take care of you?” Nicky asked softly.

How was Joe supposed to say no to that?

________________________________

He was dozing when Nicky buzzed his apartment.  Groaning, Joe dragged his sorry ass out of bed and down the hall to hit the speaker.

“Nicolò?” he asked.

“Sono qui,” Nicky’s voice came through the speaker.

“Alhamdulillah,” Joe muttered as he buzzed him in.  He unlocked his front door and leaned against the wall next to it, waiting to hear Nicky’s footsteps.

When he heard someone coming down the hall, he eased the door open.  Nicky pushed the door open more with his hip as both hands were full of reusable grocery bags.

“Nicky…” Joe sighed, happy to see him but also not, cause Joe knew he looked a fright and was probably contagious.  He didn’t even want to think about how much money Nicky had spent at the store.

“Give me one moment and then I will be right back,” Nicky said, quickly walking down the hall.  Joe drifted against the wall, so it seemed like Nicky was back in a moment, but there was a steaming cup of tea in his hands, so it must have been a while.

“Come on, let’s get you comfortable,” Nicky said, putting a hand on Joe’s lower back and directing him to his old, lumpy couch.

“Oh, Nicky,” Joe said when he saw it.

Nicky had made him a blanket nest.  His softest blankets were at the ready to cocoon him, with his computer set up to watch something on and a large cup of orange juice waited on the table as well.

“I love you,” he sighed as he sank onto his couch.

Nicky grinned as he took the cup of tea and safely put it on the coffee table next to the orange juice.  “Bene,” he said.  “Because I love you too.”

He kissed Joe’s forehead and Joe cringed inside.  Nicky pulled back with a frown.  “You definitely have a fever.  I want that tea gone before I get back.”

Joe nodded.  “Wait, where are you going?” he asked.

Nicky smiled softly.  “Let me take care of you, Joe.”

Joe lifted his hands.  “Fine, I am at your mercy.”

“Hmmm, maybe once your fever breaks.”

“Hgk.”  Joe choked on his tea.  He coughed, then coughed for real.  “You dick,” he bit out.

Nicky just snorted as he walked away.

Joe’s mind went in and out of focus after that.  He made sure to drink a bit of his tea every time he came back to himself.  Nicky wandered around his apartment and Joe had a hard time keeping track of what he was doing.  Did he leave at one point?  No, he was there.

“Alright,” Nicky said, settling next to Joe on the couch.  “How are you feeling now?”

Joe took stock.  “Hmm, throat is a bit better.  The tea was nice.  Sinuses don’t feel like they’re imploding anymore.  Still achy though.”

Nicky nodded.  “I have a plan, but let’s see how you feel about it.”

Joe nodded.

“I made chicken soup and it should be ready about now.  How about we get to you eat some of that, then get you in the shower, and then we can get you into your clean sheets.  Sound good?” Nicky asked gently.

Joe felt his eyes well up.  “You washed my sheets?”

Nicky chuckled.  “Yes, cuore mio, I washed your sheets.”

“I love you so much,” Joe said, voice choked with emotion.  “That is a wonderful plan.”

The soup was delicious even though Joe could barely taste it.  “You’ll have to make me this again when I’m feeling better, so I can fully appreciate it,” he told Nicky.

The shower was even better than the soup.  Nicky’s fingers felt amazing as he gently washed Joe’s hair and massaged Joe’s scalp, making sure to detangle his curls as he went.  He knew exactly how to take care of Joe’s hair and Joe realized just how much Nicky had paid attention to Joe’s wash routine as he conditioned Joe’s curls.

“Okay, my love.  Body wash time.  You feeling okay?”

“Mmm,” Joe said, feeling loved and cared for under the spray.  “I’m not gonna fall over, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good.  Let me know if that changes.”

Joe felt loved and content as Nicky helped him into his clean pajamas and moved him towards his bedroom.  Nicky had oiled Joe’s curls and dried Joe’s hair just the right way.  

Joe loved this man.

“So glad we met,” Joe murmured as Nicky eased him into his bed.  “So glad you got mad at that prof that day.”

“I believe we would have started talking sometime anyway.  Destiny wouldn’t have kept us separate long,” Nicky whispered back, settling next to him.

Nicky leaned in for a kiss and Joe covered his face with his hands.  “Dooooon’t, you’ll get sick too.”

Gently taking hold of Joe’s wrists, Nicky said, “I don't care if you're sick, catching a cold from kissing you is worth it.  Let me in, Joe?”

Joe whined.  He was trying to be a good person here!  Saying stuff like that wasn’t fair in his weakened state.

He let his hands fall.  “Fine, but if you get sick, know that I will feel really bad about it.”

Nicky smiled softly.  “I’m sure you’ll survive the guilt.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will.”

They were both still smiling a bit when their lips came together.  It should have made the kiss awkward, but instead, it made it perfect.

“This was so lovely, Nicolò.  Thank you for taking care of me,” Joe said when they broke apart.

Nicky rested his forehead against Joe and Joe surrendered himself to the fact that this man had absolutely no self-preservation skills when it came to not getting sick.

“You know,” Nicky said thoughtfully, “my lease is done at the end of next month.  We could, maybe, turn this taking care of each other situation into a full-time, face-to-face occasion.”

Joe pulled back to look Nicky full in the face.

“Did you just ask to move in when I look like death warmed over?”

“You,” Nicky said, pulling Joe close, “look very beautiful, even in death, and I would be delighted to live with you, no matter how you look.”

Joe blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

“You are a ridiculous man, a wonderful boyfriend, and I love you very, very deeply,” he finally said.  “Yes, I want to live with you.  Probably for the rest of my life.”

Nicky’s eyes sparkled as he smiled.  “One thing at a time, Yusuf.”

“Come here,” Joe said.  This time, he was the one to pull caution to the wind and kiss Nicky.

Joe took it back.

He was having a wonderful day.

Translations: Mi prenderò cura di te - I'll take good care of you amore mio - my love ya amar - my moon tesoro - treasure Sono qui - I'm here Bene - good cuore mio - my heart

[alkaysani-archived]

The Old Guard Fanfic Master List

*updated* 15 Oct 2020

MAIN SERIES

AS OUR LOVE SHAPES OUR UNIVERSE  (Nicky x Joe - Princess Diaries AU)

to love is to sacrifice, to sacrifice is to love 

“Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” Charlotte says, and she’s sighing dreamily again and Yusuf definitely has that effect on people. “That young man gets my vote,” Joseph says from behind him. “He goes by Joe sometimes, so he’s definitely of good stock,” he says, and Nicky snorts. “A brilliant one, amazing artist, charismatic. He’s dedicated himself as the right-hand and advisor to his queen mother, and has fully supported his younger sister taking the throne instead of him. He’s friends with Nicolo,” he says, and Nicky blinks, shrugging a little, and his heart starts to go wild in his chest in a way he doesn’t want to understand. “We spent two years of secondary together,” he whispers, glancing at Mia. “Uh…just before they passed, he had to move back home, and I…” he trails off, sighing. --- or the Princess Diaries II AU where Prince Nicolo will do anything for Genovia. And if that means introducing his cousin Princess Mia to Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani to be her future king, then his heart just has to deal with it. He just wished that it didn’t hurt so much.

i will hold your heart together in mine 

“You love me now, right?” “Forever more, my darling,” Joe chokes out, and it takes on a whole new meaning that makes his own ache. “Then my heart will heal,” Nicolo says, and his voice is firm, and fierce, under the exhaustion. “The symptoms will fade, in time. They will,” he adds, his voice muffled against his shoulder. He pulls away and looks up at Joe with wide, glassy eyes. “The universe won’t be so cruel to me to take me away now, when I am finally happy, right?” he says, and Joe burst into tears then, shaking his head, grabbing Nicolo’s face and kissing him, deeply. No. No. He won’t think of it. He won’t think of losing Nicolo. Not again. Not like this. *** or where Prince Yusuf learns the physical extents of Nicolo’s heartbreak, months after they were meant to be fine. But regardless of how much it ails him, his beloved Nicolo continues to have faith that he will be alright. So he must brave through his fears and his worries, as they grow, and build a life and a family, together. Even if it breaks their hearts again. And again. And again.

black cats and lopsided hearts (Joe x Nicky) - 30 Oct 2020

“Permission to keep killing your fiancé with cuteness due to Halloween costumes, please?” Mia asks, and she’s giving Nicolo those eyes again, and this time, Nicolo bites his lip, glancing at Joe. “It might be fun, beloved. It’ll only be for a night,” he reasons, and Nicolo sighs then, nodding his head. “For you, heart.” *** or The Old Guard Princess Diaries AU – Halloween Special where Mia convinces Nicolo and Yusuf to let her dress up one and a half-year old twins Elio and Ayla for this very American holiday.

ONE-SHOTS & STAND-ALONES

JOE x NICKY

not that i need reminding 

“You look in love.” Joe blinks, looking up at the voice. There’s a woman, a little younger than Nile, or maybe just her age, sitting beside him on the bench now. She’s smiling at him, and he gives her what he hopes is an equal one, before nodding softly, gently tapping his pencil on his sketchbook. He knows the answer, of course he does. Yes. He is in love. Truly, madly, deeply, or however they say it. He knows all of this already. But he’s willing to play. “And how does that look?” --- or joe gets a vibe check from the universe.

to know those among us 

“Mommy, angel! Angel, mommy!” Nicky blinks, putting down the produce he had in his hand. He zeros in on the voice and a little boy staring up at him, jaw dropped and staring, his eyes wide and curious. Then he looks up to find a woman, blushing red, looking absolutely mortified. Even with her darker tone, the flush is clear, making her glow. She looks ready to run, so Nicky just gives her a smile, and then crouches in front of the child, before looking around, humming curiously. “Where, little one?” he asks, putting his hands over his eyes as he continues his search. “Where is the angel?” he asks, and the little boy giggles. It’s a beautiful sound amongst the low bustle of the early farmer’s market. --- or nicky gets mistaken for an angel by a child, so he tells them about real ones

in parts, i fall, i love

Joe needs to finish this portfolio if he wants something to propose to the showcase. And he does. He really does. But someone just sat at his table because the coffee shop is so busy, and their profile is gorgeous, and yep, he’s definitely trashed the outline again because this man is definitely going to be a part of it. “Is there something on my face?” he hears, and Joe pauses. Shit. Joe breathes out so heavily that his glasses fog up, and he looks up to find the man giving him a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You’re staring,” the man states and honestly, yeah, Joe is. “I’m not.” Idiot. --- or joe is an artist, and he falls in love. and nicky is along for the ride.

with your hands, your whispers 

Come on love, that’s it.” “I can’t, Yusuf, please.” He’s gasping, breathless. His Yusuf always leaves him so breathless. It’s too much. And of course, Yusuf knows that it’s too much. He knows exactly what Nicky needs, and what makes him overflow, and it seems like his adoring heart wants him to spill over, again and again in every sense of the word. *** or a take on what nicolo and yusuf were doing before booker and andy got to the hotel in marrakesh

let’s right, these wrongs, together (see accompanying edit here)

If he concentrates hard enough, he can still smell Yusuf on the scarf, and it brings immediate tears to his eyes. Because it’s only been nearly a year, and he’s yearned for the man for longer, way before they got together. And even with all the odds, with all the numbers combined, Nicky doesn’t believe that there’ll be enough time that can pass to heal the pain that’s clawing on his chest at that moment. That has been since Yusuf said it was over.   Nile’s legs move from his lap, and suddenly there are arms around him, pulling him close and Nicky closes his eyes, pressing his face on Nile’s neck. “You’re allowed to hurt as long as you have to, Nicky,” Nile says to him, and it’s so, so kind. “You can tell me as much or as little as you can. I didn’t mean to push.” Nicky sniffles. “I still love him,” he croaks out, like it needed to be heard, like his desperation is a call out for his heart. His heart that let him go, that told him that it’s over. *** or the one where Nicky is housemates with Nile after Yusuf breaks up with him. And when he finally opens up about it, Nicky realizes that his current predicament was brought on by misunderstandings and good intentions with ill results. But it’s too late. It’s been nearly a year; it doesn’t matter now. Right? Not if your housemate is Nile Freeman.

hand-shaped bruise (see accompanying edit here)

Prince Nicolò spends most of his days alone. He lives with no one, after all, ever since his parents died. Ever since he was killed by Sr. Merrick and Lady Kozak, his screams ringing out throughout the night until his final breath, only to show up the next day at the farmer’s market. *** or my halloween take on our beloved characters.

BOOKER x COPLEY

when time dictates love 

"So not ugly,” Sebastien says, and Aidan looks at Mr. Copley, who just shrugs, smiling. “He is insufferable. Does he know this?” he says, and the man just smiles, both of them ignoring how Sebastien says ‘hey!’. “He does,” Mr. Copley whispers, and he says, and Sebastien’s fingers intertwine with his atop his knee, and Aidan looks away. “But you like him anyway,” he says instead. Mr. Copley chuckles, and he leans to press a kiss on Sebastien’s forehead, who’s no longer laughing. “Yes, but I like him anyway.” --- or a home-care worker witnesses Booker and Copley’s last year together, as time catches up on them

MULTIPLE RELATIONSHIPS

there is no timeline when it comes to this (Booker x Copley; Joe x Nicky - also featuring Joe & Booker bffs and Nicky really giving a damn about Booker)

“I’m happy for you, Yusuf,” Booker says, because he means it despite the ache, and Joe smiles, nodding, and he’s smiling in a way that makes his heart hurt even more. “We love you, Booker,” Joe says because he’s just that person, before driving off as Booker makes his way up to his apartment, steps feeling like lead. He makes the point to check the mail, and he’s not even sure why. He’s never checked mail before, Joe usually did. Booker pauses then, looking at the different ads he pulled out of the box after twisting the key. So many changes already. When he finally gets to his unit, he finds someone standing at the door. They turn when he pauses, and greets him with a smile. “Hello Booker,” James Copley says, giving him a two-finger salute. “You haven’t aged a day.” *** or where Booker’s best friend Yusuf moves out to be with his Nicolo, and he makes the choice to live alone for the first time in years. Booker tells himself he’ll be fine, tells everyone that he’ll be fine, even though the weight in his chest tells him otherwise. but he really has no choice. this is his life now. then James Copley comes home.

OTHER SHIPS & FRIENDSHIPS & NO SHIPS

little things, for the heart (Nile and Joe)

“Are you…baking bread?” Joe looks up at her then, and Nile snorts, walking over to the counter and reaching up to tug on the man’s stray curls, dark tight ringlets dusted with white flour. “Maybe,” Joe says, in a sing-song tone. *** or Nile takes a lesson she learned from her mother and applies it to her new life.

OTHER SERIES

THE NILE FREEMAN COLLECTION (Written for Nile Freeman Week 2020)

nile + love or where Nile meets another queen 

nile + sadness or where Nile keeps it real with Booker

nile + alone time or where Nile gets of ice cream and thinks of dying

nile + comfort or where Nile makes Joe feel better, the best way she knows how

MY LOVE, WE STILL HAVE MUCH TO LEARN (Post-Canon Take)

do not let me awake alone (Nicky x Joe)

After Booker’s betrayal, Joe is angry and Nicky suffers through the fallout. And for the the first time in a long time, Nicky understands what it's like to be alone in his grief.And something inside him breaks.

my love for him kills any anger (Nicky x Joe; Joe & Andy)

A month later, Andy finds out that Nicky is talking to Booker.But it doesn’t mean that Joe forgives him. Far from it. They've been through so much for him to just let it go.

a blessing from above (Nile & Nicky; Nile & Joe; Nicky x Joe) 

Nile gets used to a few things, three months into her new life. But the one thing that wracks her brain the most is how they deal with loss and suffering.Thankfully, she has a lifetime to figure it out. Because they’re family, and she wants to help them. At least, start them on the right path. They are grown people, after all. Because her Mama raised her right.

[peri-helia]

Exquisite Things

I keep getting distracted from the fics I’m trying to write. Watched A Dangerous Fortune, saw Luca in period costume and here we are.

Nicky really, really hates formal wear. Especially suits.

No, to be precise Nicky hates suits because he has to see Joe in them and then is not immediately allowed to take Joe out of them.

Joe, by comparison, just enjoys the exquisite thing that is Nicky in a suit

London, 1886

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this” Nicky scowled at his reflection in the mirror as he finished buttoning up his waistcoat. The amount of layers of clothing so-called polite society demanded in modern times was ludicrous. For all their innovation and industry, some corners of the world seemed to be constricting, not expanding.

He doesn’t like London. None of them like England very much, and probably never will again after the loss of Quynh, those bastards. But London especially is smoggy and stuffy in more ways than one and Nicky can’t breathe.

Stupid waistcoat.

And shirt collars and cravats, Christ Almighty.

“Don’t let Andrea here you speak like that” comes a soft voice and Nicky turns to see Joseph, as he was now, watching him bemusedly, shoulders and ankles crossed as he leans in the doorway, already fully dressed in similar finery.

Santa maria, madre di dio, Joseph was beautiful. And now, in his own crisp white shirt and emerald green waistcoat, the lightest dusting of stubble. The broadness of his chest, the trimness of his waist. Perhaps there are some advantages. He had forgotten how fetching Joseph was like this.

“No” Nicky concedes, hands on his hips. Their work did not often require them to be so formally attired but when it did they all felt a pang of sympathy for Andrea, who had to shuffle about weighed down by petticoats. It did not diminish her ability to fight, she was too skilful for that, but it wasn’t comfortable in the slightest. Nicky’s fingers had ached from pulling on the strings of her corset, and it just reinforced his point, what in the hell was the point of these ladies fashions if you had to have someone help you into them, just to wear them? He had not had to have such assistance since the Crusades and at least that armour had made sense to him. Not this…silken frippery they were forced into for simply walking about in.

“But Andrea is not here, hayati” Nicky reminds Joe traitorously, after a moment, smiling when his lover laughs gently. No, when they had realised the formal attire this meeting would require (who discusses raiding an arms factory in the Savoy of all places anyway? If it weren’t for the fact that the man concerned was renowned as a genius and simply wanted them to blow the place up so the weapons couldn’t be used, by anyone, they might not have bothered) the two of them had volunteered, to spare Andrea the discomfort. She had stayed with Sebastien, to comfort and distract the young immortal as best she could.

They could only hope time really would lessen his pain, especially of Jean-Pierre. He was so young. They both were.

Nicky jumps, jolted away from the memory of Sebastien’s heartbroken features when they had left the others at Calais at the feeling of Joe’s arms encircling his waist to pull him close and lay his head on Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky hums, soaking in the warmth that bleeds from Joe like sunlight, bright and replenishing.

“I still hate this” he says, mostly to feel the reverberation of Joe’s laughter, rumble behind him.

“You should not. You are a vision, amore mio”

Nicky snorts at his, ugh, terrifically polished, shoes and tucks an errant lock behind his ear bashfully. Joe’s embrace changes, for a moment Nicky fears he is being somewhat punished for his lack of acknowledgement but although Joe’s arms unfurl, it is simply so that his large hands can splay like iron bands on the curve of Nicky’s waist, made clearer by the silky silver waistcoat. As is the possessiveness of Joe’s touch.

A moan gathers in the back of Nicky’s throat and he presses back against Joe, leans into the touch, hands coming up to cover Joe’s own.

Joe is the one who looks heavenly and Nicky eyed him hungrily, and Joe’s reflection, because he is Joe, fucking winks.

It is too much. Spinning in Joe’s grasp, Nicky wraps his hands around the back of Joe’s neck and pulls him in, smearing hot kisses against his mouth. Joe chuckles into his mouth and kisses back with fervour, doing nothing to slow the pace because they’ve got an appointment to keep after all. But then Joe unleashes a spurt of strength, twisting them so that he is the one pressing Nicky back into the wall. His mouth trails away to Nicky’s jaw, and then latches onto his throat left vulnerable from the loathsome buttons Nicky had been delaying fastening.

“Joe, Joe, Joe” Nicky can’t help but gasp, he can’t catch his breath in this fucking waistcoat, head thunking back against the panelling when Joe’s only answer is a pleased hum as he shoves his thigh between Nicky’s legs.

“I know, my love, I know. By Allah, I wish you could see yourself. Curse this infernal meeting, you are perfection. I find daily proof of it and these clothes merely accentuate that” Joe’s hands are everywhere at once; his waist, his hip, his ass as Joe peppers kisses with his compliments against Nicky’s smooth skin.

He pulls back, chucks a hand under Nicky’s chin so that they are looking each other in the eye, “I’m going to fuck you tonight, yes?”

“Yes, God, please Joe” Nicky begs, hands curling into the lapels of Joe’s own waistcoat to haul Joe back in, because if they’re very fast and very good, both of which Joe certainly is then Joe can fuck him now too.

And Joe lists forward to press lush, lax kisses to Nicky’s mouth before pulling away again. And Joe talks, Joe has words for everything but his mouth is still swollen and his eyes are molten and if Andrea wouldn’t have both their guts for garters if they miss the meeting and the details of the arms factory, then Nicky knows Joe wouldn’t stop, even for the Apocalypse and Nicky knows he looks just as wrecked.

“I know, amore mio, I know. Later” he promises, pressing the word into the join where Nicky’s shoulder meets his neck. “Later, hayati, I will unwrap you like the gift you are and not let you up until you are boneless and sated but right now we have to go. And I have to sit next to you, looking divine and not do anything about it till we get back here” Joe huffs, like he’s laying out a battle strategy.

Nicky stares at him, because when is he not, really, and then his eyes catch sight of the clock on the wall by the door and he swears softly. They really, really do have to leave. Fuck.

“And do your shirt up. All the way, habibi.” Joe commands leaning in to suck one last kiss to the little hollow of flesh below Nicky’s Adam’s apple which his shirt collar will cover anyway even if such a bruise could last on their skin. Joe smiles, soft and small though his voice holds an entirely different type of warmth, “Later” he promises, as Nicky’s answering kiss grazes his cheekbone and stepping clear, disappearing to the door of their hotel suite to collect their jackets.

Nicky lets out a breath to re-centre himself, willing his hardness to go away.

“And the cravat!” Joe shouts from the little lounge area, because, of course, he knows Nicky far too well by now.

Sometimes, he thinks, Nicky could quite cheerfully kill his husband if he hadn’t done it so much already. “Divine, infuriating, angelic...” Nicky confides to his reflection as he does up the last two of his shirt buttons effectively cutting off the majority of his air supply for the next two hours, because it’s been decades since he’s been able to insult Joe properly. He snatches the cravat off from where he’d left it draped over the mirror and ties it on. Ugh.

“Vaffanculo” he says with one last glance at the fine garments, thumb rubbing over the slim rolled silver band on his ring finger, since it is inconceivable to these idiots that two married businessmen sharing a suite as they travel together could possibly be married to each other and immediately feels better.

They make it the Savoy with time to spare and having given their aliases to the maitre d’ are just wending their way towards their clients table when someone calls, “Nicky?”

One of the things that really irritates when you’re immortal is trying not to react when a stranger calls your name. Nicky and Joe both freeze and when the call doesn’t come again they relax and make to continue on. Just someone else. Some other Nicky. It happens, especially with their more modern nicknames.

And then, “Nicky Grey, I thought it was you!” the man collides with Nicky, pulling him into a hug and Joe cusses. Because it’s Oscar Wilde.

They had met him once, a few years ago. Too many years ago really to a mortal, and now he is older and married with children and Nicky looks as young as ever.

Shit.

Oscar pulls back. “But, my goodness, my dear boy! Look at you. You seem not to have aged a day!” Oscar smiles kindly though he’s quick and clever and they need to lose him. And then he spots Joe. “And Joseph too, what a reunion. We must catch up, please. I’m with my friend Robbie, you’ll love him –“

They’ve been found out. Nicky thinks quickly. They know London well, better than anyone living despite it’s changes and they could lose Wilde easily. But the information. The arms factory. Rescheduling would be better, they can still have the meeting. But it loses them time, and the client is pernickety about his schedule anyway. Damn, damn. Nicky looks at Oscar and smiles, he’s kind really. He just thinks they’ve aged well, rather than noticing they haven’t aged at all. Maybe they can trust that won’t say anything. What would he say, it’s not as if he’s seen them die or be injured? They can have their meeting and leave out the back and leave England for a hundred years.  

Read the rest on AO3

[alostsock]

Ti voglio bene.

For @socvrates (who also betad this so THANK YOU)

Falls somewhere between What you won’t let them see. and For everyone but you.

Summary/Snippet: Nile knows something is wrong, and she knows she can’t fix it with breakfast, but she is definitely going to try.

TW: depression/anxiety, disordered eating

Nile once tries to explain to Nicky that he’s the mom-friend.

His immediate reaction is to apologize, trying to reassure her that he wasn’t trying to fill a role that doesn’t need filling, that he didn’t mean to overstep, that he was just worried about her.

She reassures him with a teary smile and a tight hug that he’s fine, and then tries to explain to him that it’s just a thing people say when there’s a friend in the group who tends to be the most responsible or protective or caring - the one who “mothers” the rest of them.

She doesn’t think he fully understood, but she does see his eyes go impossibly soft when she calls them friends.

She means it, though.

He seems to wake up every day with the sun, and always has breakfast ready and waiting by the time she (and eventually Andy and Joe) make their way downstairs.

He also very quickly picked up what she did and didn’t like, even though she never complained about anything and always accepted what he offered with a smile and a thank you. She wonders if he was reading her micro-expressions, or taking note of how much she ate, and of what. She thinks that sounds like something he’d do - Nicky is detail oriented personified.

It becomes a routine.

Every day she will wake up and get ready and make her way downstairs and Nicky will be waiting with breakfast and coffee just how she likes it (still hot, too - at the beginning, she thinks she just keeps getting lucky, but then she realizes he probably hears her get up and start moving around and has realized how long her morning routine usually takes).

Some days they chat, other days he seems to sense that she isn’t quite awake enough for talking and lets her eat her breakfast undisturbed as he reads a book in companionable silence. On the days she wants to talk about her dreams (good or bad), he listens, and on the days when she needs a distraction, he’s got 900 years of small-talk and funny stories to regale her with.

He’s so reliable and steady and solidly there for her that she flounders the first morning she comes downstairs and the kitchen is empty. He comes downstairs eventually, but he doesn’t make (or eat) anything, only moving to the couch to pick up a book that Nile swears he doesn’t actually read.

There’s a worried crease on Joe’s brow.

It happens again the next day. Joe and Andy are sharing concerned looks and while Nicky is usually quiet, Nile can’t shake the feeling that the quiet is different, somehow.

When she wakes up and finds the kitchen empty for the third time, she gets dressed and heads out.

---

A little over an hour later she makes her way back into the house, her arms laden with bags. Careful not to make too much noise she sets everything down and gets to work.

Nile sets out a plate of waffles on the kitchen table before turning back to the waffle maker. Nobody is up yet. Maybe she should leave the rest of the batter and wait until they are so that the waffles are fresh. She looks out at her spread.

Waffles, syrup, fruit… she’ll make coffee just how she knows each of them likes it.

She feels inexplicably nervous - she knows nobody is going to get mad at her for making breakfast, but she very desperately wants to get it just right. Besides, her love language has always been food, and she has a suspicion that these centuries-old people could do with some love right now.

She decides that she should add something with protein, so she gets to work making eggs.

-----

She’s just setting out the eggs when Joe makes his way down the stairs, blearily rubbing his eyes. As much as Nicky is a morning person, Nile learned very quickly that Joe is not. In fact, these past few days are some of the only times she’s ever seen Joe awake before Nicky.

Joe pauses on the last step when he sees the breakfast she’s set out on the table. He blinks a few times before a wide smile spreads across his face, an impossibly soft look in his eyes.

“Andy!” he hollers in the direction of the bedrooms, “Come get it while it’s still hot!” A few moments later Andy shuffles grumpily down the hallway and down the steps, coming up behind Joe. Joe presses a kiss to her cheek before guiding her past him and heading back up the stairs.

Andy heads straight for the coffee maker before Nile cuts her off, pressing the already-prepared mug into Andy’s hands. Andy glances down at it with thinly veiled suspicion.

Nile snorts. “Black, I promise. No sugar, no surprises, and it’s the blend you like.”

Andy takes a sip with narrowed eyes before giving Nile a begrudging nod of approval. She takes another sip before clapping Nile’s shoulder and heading for her usual seat at the table.

Andy starts digging in immediately, but Nile hesitates. Joe isn’t back yet and Nicky hasn’t come down at all, and really, while she’s happy to make breakfast for all of them, she knows deep down that the real motivation behind it was trying to do something for Nicky - to try to repay the kindness he has shown her every morning when something is so clearly off.

When another minute passes and there is still no sign of them she reluctantly sits down across from Andy and picks up her own cup of coffee.

Ten more minutes pass before Joe and Nicky make their way down the stairs, Joe’s arm slung around Nicky’s shoulders, subtly ushering him forwards. They’re both still in pyjamas (she’s learned that they don’t actually sleep in jeans when they don’t need to), but while the rest of them are in t-shirts (in her opinion the house is actually quite warm) Nicky is swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, his hands tucked into the sleeves.

Something is wrong.

Still, Nicky gives her a small smile, no different than any other day (although usually she is the one dragging herself down the stairs) before letting Joe lead him to a seat at the table.

Just as she opens her mouth to say something, Joe glances into his coffee cup and, after taking a look at the one in front of Nicky, swaps them with a nod before looking back up at Nile.

“This is lovely, Nile, thank you,” he beams at her.

She manages a smile back, but can’t completely tear her focus away from Nicky who is staring down at his cup of coffee, a blank look on his face. When he looks up and catches her watching he quirks his lips at her before quickly taking a sip of coffee and murmuring his approval. It’s no more and no less than Nicky’s usual subtle half-smile, but Nile can’t shake the feeling that something empty lingers behind his eyes.

“So, dear Nile, what should we put on these?” Joe pulls her attention to him as he enthusiastically serves plain waffles onto his and Nicky’s plates.

Nile frowns, confused. “You’ve… never had waffles before?” Surely they have.

Joe laughs. “Yes, yes, of course we have, but we have never had your waffles before. So, tell us, how does Ms. Nile Freeman from Chicago suggest that we eat the waffles she has so kindly and skillfully prepared for us on this lovely morning?”

Nile huffs out a laugh. “Um, well… I like mine with whipped cream, chocolate sauce and fruit, usually. Sometimes I change it up, but… yeah. I’d say that’s my favourite.”

Joe nods decisively before reaching out to pick up the suggested toppings and covering his waffle in them. Nile raises an eyebrow at the mountain of whipped cream he finishes with but he pays her no mind, reaching over to pull Nicky’s plate closer to him. He’s much more conservative with Nicky’s waffle, and seems to deliberately leave half of it completely plain. On the other half, he artfully places a few berries before lightly drizzling chocolate sauce over it and placing a dollop of whipped cream on the plate beside the waffle. Nile can’t help but notice that, as he pushes the plate back towards Nicky, his other hand is rubbing soothing circles on Nicky’s thigh.

Both Joe and Andy devour their food, eagerly going for seconds and thirds.

Nicky is clearly picking at his food, but every time he catches her watching he makes sure to take a bite and give her a small smile. She notes that most of what he eats is from the plain side of the waffle, but that he does manage to eat all of the fruit. She makes a mental note for tomorrow. Nile knows something is wrong, and she knows she can’t fix it with breakfast, but she is definitely going to try.

Besides, a little food and a lot of love definitely can’t hurt.

[jemej3m]

if the shoe (ring) fits

in which we meet ichirou, who’s a lot more tolerant to neil’s fuckery than expected.

*

“Condolences on your father,” Neil said, respectfully with a gentle bow of his head. 

He had not liked Kengo Moriyama. The man had been brusque and ruthless, and sickeningly traditional. In a way it was why he and Nathan had be been so well matched together. 

“Condolences on yours,” said Kengo’s son, looking out across the sea of milling individuals, dabbing their eyes with napkins and clasping each other’s wrists. Kengo’s brother was down there, somewhere, but not his second son. Nor his wife, who was killed for allowing Riko to exist. 

The funeral was plasticky. Neil had never actually been to a funeral, seeing as his mother had been thrown into the bottom of a lake and his father had died whilst incarcerated. 

Neil hummed, settling down beside Ichirou. 

“We need to talk about your security.” 

Neil paused a moment before rolling his eyes. “This again?”

“Yes,” the man said, one eyebrow arched. “How do you expect to continue a dynasty without a child?”

“I’ll have a child,” Neil said offhandedly, even if the idea terrified him. Every day he walked around wondering if there was a switch in his body that’d turn him into Nathan, or at least open up and shove him down the path to become him. Perhaps having a child was that trigger. As a coddling infant, Neil could remember one or two moments of peace and joy with his father, before Nathan decided Neil was a good target for his anger. “Anyone can have a child.”

Neil had never, and would never, have sex with a woman, so long as he was still with Andrew. Which he fully intended to be. But he assumed that it was relatively simple.

“You need a wife,” Ichirou’s voice was cold. “There are many good candidates that you can evaluate -” 

“I’m already married,” Neil blurted out. Oops. Andrew was not going to be pleased that Ichirou knew before even he did. 

Ichirou finally turned from overseeing his father’s funeral, up on his prestigious balcony, to look at Neil. His eyes were impossibly narrowed. “You’re what?” 

“My lord,” Neil said, emphatically. “It has been successfully strategic. This person diverts police attention away from me and the Wesninski name, which in turn includes your name. I do believe I avoided telling you because I didn’t want to trouble you whilst your father was ill.”

“Bullshit, Nathaniel,” Ichirou bulstered, his calm facade broken. He looked very tired and a little incredulous. “I can’t believe you’re married to that fucking cop. Seriously? I could have looked around him being a man, but a police officer?” 

Neil shrugged. “It’s worked for us.” He jostled the man’s shoulder. “I forget you’re only a few years older than me, with the way you act like a wall.”

“Yeah, well,” Ichirou muttered. “Neither of us can live up to how our fathers wanted us to be, I suppose. Gay and married to a cop,” he scoffed, but it was almost a laugh. “Your father would’ve had an aneurysm.” 

“Not gay,” Neil muttered. “And he did. That’s how he died.” Blunt trauma to the head, clotting, aneurysm, boom: no more Nathan. No one was sad about it.

“You need an heir of your blood and bone, still,” Ichirou insisted. “Not letting you get away with that one.”

Neil waved him off. “Surrogacy with Allison. We’re in the modern world, Ichirou. There’s always a solution.” He wasn’t about to say that he didn’t intend on sticking around for that long.

Ichirou considered him for a bit, before turning back with a resumed stony expression. “Don’t forget your place, Wesninski.” After a few moments, he added “Congratulations.” 

Neil felt something settle in his stomach. Relief.  

Now he just had to tell Andrew. 

*

The apartment was dark when Neil arrived home, lugging his little suitcase through the door. He’d only gone to New York for the weekend, of which Andrew had been thoroughly peeved about: they both worked long hours during the week, and weekend were meant to be their time.

It was easier now that they lived together. They’d moved in a year ago: it meant Neil only needed heightened security detail on one place rather than two, the rent was cheaper together (not that Neil really needed to worry about that), and it was closer to Andrew’s precinct than his old place. 

The dusty yellow lamp was still on in their bedroom despite the late (or early) hour. Neil left his suitcase out by the couch and tip-toed his way into their room.

He had fallen asleep reading, the book on his chest and head at an awkward angle on the pillow. Neil grinned: Nicky had given him a set of grinch-themed sleep clothes last year for Christmas. He wondered how many times Andrew would stab him if he took a photo and sent it to his cousin. 

Andrew had to be up for work and Neil wanted to avoid waking him if he could, so he dressed in pyjamas as quietly as he could manage and eased himself onto the mattress. The bed was pushed up against the wall so that Andrew could sleep with his back curled against it, so Neil could easily relieve Andrew of his book, settle it on their one nightstand and switch off the lamp. Then he held Andrew’s shoulder lightly, and tried to ease him into a better position that wouldn’t hurt his neck. 

Andrew made a few light noises before rolling and almost squishing Neil underneath him. Neil laughed as Andrew’s arm came around Neil’s chest, his face settling into the crook of Neil’s shoulder. 

Neil twisted around till his back was against Andrew’s chest and let himself relax. He’d worry about the marriage proposal later. 

*

Neil knew, objectively, that Andrew wouldn’t say no to marrying him. They were kind of a forever package: The four years since they’d first met and just over three years since they first got together have been as smooth as any relationship between a mobster and a police officer could be. 

Neither of them had really sat down and said that out loud though: they each had their fair share of problems than inhibited any such emotional conversation. But Neil still knew. 

It was in the way Andrew cooked him his favourite meal when he got home at eleven at night, exhausted and haunted by screams, continually scrubbing at his hands. It was in every sacrifice Andrew made for Neil, the faith he put into Neil’s promises that they wouldn’t have to live they way they did forever.

“You have something to tell me,” Andrew said the following night, when he’d arrived home from work. Neil put dinner down on the table - mac ‘n’ cheese, with nothing remotely healthy about it - and Andrew arched his eyebrow. 

Neil sighed and slumped into his chair opposite him, tugging at the collar of his shirt. It was suddenly very warm. Had he turned the oven off? 

“Neil,” Andrew warned. “Did something happen in New York?”

“Oh, you know,” Neil said, lightly. “Nothing really. I, uh,” Andrew leaned closer, eyes narrower. “I may have told Ichirou we’re married to get him off my back?”

For a moment, Andrew stared. 

“So, what do you think?” Neil asked, voice reed-thin. “I’d change my vows to be ‘CI till death do us part’.”

It didn’t seem like the joke went down well: Andrew’s chair skidded back as the man stood, immediately vanishing from the living room. The bedroom door clicked firmly shut behind him and Neil put his head in his hands. It was too soon, or Andrew didn’t feel the same, or maybe this was Neil’s final straw and now he’d fucked up one too many times for Andrew to tolerate.

“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck.” 

It’s not like Neil was hell-bent on marriage either - he’d seen the bloodied divorce between his own parents - but it put the two of them on a different page. There was no way that Neil would force Andrew into something he didn’t want - or that Andrew would let him - but it’d be a rift between them. Maybe even permanently. 

Neil didn’t want to lose Andrew over this. He should have waited - it’s not like Ichirou would have actually checked legal records to see if they were properly married - they’d only been dating for three years, that wasn’t that long by modern standards, if Neil wasn’t so ridiculously irrational then this wouldn’t have been a problem. He wouldn’t lose Andrew over his loose tongue, when there were plenty of valid reasons for Andrew to leave him -

“Stop.” 

Neil looked up, movements jerky and uncoordinated. His limbs felt dismembered. Andrew was stood by the table, watching him with hooded eyes and curled fists. 

Neil made a weak noise of inquiry. It broke in his throat. 

“Stop thinking,” Andrew clarified, slowly sitting back down on his chair. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Neil snorted, rubbing the corner of his eye. After another moment of terse silence, Neil cleared his throat. “I can fix it. I shouldn’t have said anything, Andrew - ”

Lightning fast, Andrew reached over their food and put something on the table. For a moment the little velvet box didn’t register in Neil’s mind, but then his stomach was rolling on the floor, heart swooping and soaring. With careful fingers, he picked up the box and opened it. 

Within were two silver bands, identical but for the size. Simple. Glossy. Neil took out the smaller one and slipped it on - it fit perfectly, of course. The new weight on his finger felt odd. Odd but good. 

“How the fuck did you get my size?” Neil remarked, quiet. Everything was very quiet, but for his heart, which was probably thudding loud enough that even the corpses in Linkin Park could hear. 

Splotches of colour appeared on Andrew’s cheeks. “You were napping.”

Neil laughed, admiring it. He wasn’t fussed about jewellery, or ceremonies, or titles or heirs or tradition. He just wanted to know that he’d go to sleep and wake up by Andrew’s side, every day that he could. 

“Yes?” Andrew asked, just to be sure.

Neil took Andrew’s left hand where it was resting on the table top and slipped on his respective wrist, kissing his knuckles in lieu of an answer. 

*

“You cannot have ‘Nathaniel Wesninski’ on your marriage papers, Andrew. Are you insane?”

“You’re not taking my name. Or hyphenating.”

Neil huffed out a laugh. “Wesninski-Minyard. No, thank you.” 

Andrew scoffed. “I think you mean Minyard-Wesninski.”  

Neil shook his head, leaning into Andrew’s shoulder. A lot of time had gone into not reacting to that name with visceral disgust, like it would have a few years ago. “I’ve been meaning to change my name for a while now. For real.”

Andrew looked at him. “They’d allow that?”

“Who cares about them?” Neil said, fierce. “It’s just a name. If they’re upset by that, they’ll be devastated by the knife in their stomach. Fuck them.”

Andrew hummed. “What will you change it to?”

Neil took the file of paperwork they were meant to fill out from Andrew’s la, already bored out of his skull. His legs filled the space, draped over Andrew’s lap. Neil pressed an open mouthed kiss to the corner of Andrew’s jaw, to which he rolled his eyes and muttered “Fine,” even though he was just as sick of the paperwork as Neil was. 

“You already know what I’ll change it to,” Neil said, letting Andrew pick him up and carry him to their room. 

“Neil Abram Hatford,” Andrew mumbled, laying Neil down atop of his side of the bed. It was unmade, as usual. He grinned and kicked the sheets away with two errant flicks of his feet, arms looped around Andrew’s neck. “Has a ring to it.” 

“Hatford-Minyard? Minyard-Hatford?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew muttered. Neil just laughed. 

*

teehee!!!

[lovelikedestiny]

3. Copley: And our kingdom is gone

White glowing skin, touched by stars,

kissed by silver moonlight.

When Joe gets up and leaves the room with one last stroke of Nicky's head, just as Copley has entered the living room, Copley asks himself when the immortals started to trust him.

Andy and Nile are exercising in his backyard and Copley, hoping they don't destroy his amateur herb patch or his dahlias, has tried very hard to give them privacy. By that he means that he is not standing on the porch like a stalker and watching the two women attack each other without mercy and with deadly skill, faster than he has ever seen.

Astonished, he stops and stares at the door Joe has disappeared through before he realizes that he is not alone in the living room. Nicky nods slightly to him, one corner of his mouth curved into something like a half smile and Copley only realizes that because he has spent the last few days closely observing the immortal warriors and analyzing their behavior.

Copley has always considered himself to be a passable, if not a good judge of people - this skill was very helpful in his job and served him well. But Nicky's micro-expressions are on a completely different level. He seems perfectly at rest within himself and nothing in his face indicates what is going on inside him. Admittedly, Copley finds this just as intimidating as Andy's sharp presence, Joe's death look and Nile's powerful charisma. Nicky must be really good at playing poker, Copley thinks, and inwardly shakes his head because it's like wondering what Joe likes to do in his free time besides the obvious drawing, or what kind of ice cream Andy prefers to eat. And Copley isn't sure that the relationship between him and the ancient warriors can be considered as that familiar.

He fully understands their vigilant, suspicious attitude towards him and is determined to help them with their current problem, because he is complicit in the events that have happened and hopes to gain their forgiveness. Guilt and shame are still present in his heart for being blinded by the prospect of helping people with illnesses like the one that plagued his wife, even though all the signs of Merrick's sadistic play were right under his nose.

All the more, the fact that Joe left him alone with Nicky in a room, presumably to use the bathroom, feels like a minor victory, and Copley tries not to seem too baffled by it.

The minimal change in the bright mountain lakes that make up Nicky's eyes shows that he's not doing as good a job as he has hoped. In Nicky's eyes and the features around his mouth, the most emotions can be read, Copley noted, even if it will take him a lot of practice to see as much in Nicky's face as Joe. He will probably never reach this level, because he certainly does not have 900 years for a character study.

Nicky's minimal facial movements also make it harder for Copley to tell if he's in pain or to recognize the warning signs that precede any vomiting of blood - which is now occurring with terrible regularity.

Since he has found a tough nut to crack in Nicky, Copley has started to pay attention to Joe after Nicky's first blood break, in order to learn more about Nicky's behavior. With this tactic, Copley adds daily to his mental list of Nicky's signs of certain sensations, and to his chagrin, the signs of physical pain seem to be increasing in frequency.

Copley, one of those people who whine hard when they stub their little toe, admires the stoicism with which Nicky endures his rapidly deteriorating condition. Only his slow, sluggish movements and a barely noticeable frown are frequent indications of Nicky's discomfort, as well as a slight lowering of the corners of the mouth and the twitching of his jaw pointed out for Copley by Nile.

And of course the tremors from the chills going through Nicky's body at that moment. In addition to the thick hoodies, they pulled out all the stops with various blankets, socks, hot-water bottles and tea and Joe gives Nicky his body heat anyway, just like Andy and even Nile.

This deep, family bond between Andy, Joe and Nicky is met with great fascination by Copley and although Nile has only been an immortal for a few weeks, even Copley can see how easily the young woman has integrated into the team like a matching piece of a puzzle. It also shows him how much the emptiness of his house oppressed him after the death of his wife and that he finds himself wishing to be a part of this unusual family of extraordinary individuals.

With a quiet clearing of his throat, Copley de-freezes himself from where he has been standing for an alarmingly long number of seconds and turns the heat up. With the onset of autumn it is not a problem to heat so strongly because the nights are gradually getting colder. And Copley finds that he's already used to the high temperatures in the constantly heated living room. Sweating a little to keep Nicky from freezing as little as possible is probably the least Copley can do.

"Thank you, Mr. Copley," Nicky says, returning his attention to the open book in his lap, which Copley cannot identify as one of his. While he grimaces inwardly - whether that's because Nicky is the only one who continues to call him Mr. Copley, or because of how rough and strained his voice sounds, Copley can't tell - he sits down in the place where he is working. At least when he's not in his study. Actually, the professional atmosphere of his office always helps him to be more productive, but since Andy and her team moved in with him, Copley has gotten used to finding the presence of the others very pleasant.

When Joe returns, Copley is back to work retracing Meta Kozak's footsteps. She is currently moving from the western US towards New Mexico, but Copley doesn't know what her destination is or where she is keeping any evidence from Merrick's lab and that makes him angry at himself. He tracked Andromache the Scythian and her group of immortal warriors down so he shouldn't have any problems pinning Kozak down too. On the other hand, he had time to track down the immortals, and in this case it seems to be running like sand through his fingers.

Neither of the others is pushing him to hurry up or do better work, which Copley appreciates, but they all see Nicky's crumbling form every day.

Five minutes pass with no sound coming from the sofa, except for the occasional rustle of paper when Nicky turns a page or the sound of Joe's pen in his sketchbook, and Copley longs for a fifth cup of coffee.

"Copley?"

"Yes?" Even if Copley suspects what Joe wants from him, he takes his eyes off the irritatingly bright screen of his laptop to look at him.

Joe's dark, serious eyes are in such a strong contrast to the soft, warm expression of affection that they always take on when they come to rest on Nicky. "Is there-" Joe pauses to reconsider his choice of words, but Copley realizes in it the unrest that comes with Copley's own uneasiness. "- any news?"

To be honest, Copley prefers an angry, menacing Joe to the version whose tiny spark of hope Copley has to stifle over and over again, and he hates it. Still, he keeps his calm and shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. I was able to locate her on the recordings of a hotel in Phoenix, Arizona, where she stayed for three nights. But I can't tell where she's going next. My guess is New Mexico, but she has changed direction several times in the past two days.” He sighs and shakes his head again. "She is very careful, which means that she expects you to search for her."

The pale, blurred face and cold, lifeless-looking eyes on his laptop cause a disgusted, hate-like feeling in his stomach. Copley wonders how he could ever expect from such an immoral doctor who sliced ​​people up for the Nobel Prize and took samples without letting herself be disturbed by their screams of pain to do something good for humanity.

Joe nods slowly and turns to his drawing with furrowed eyebrows, chewing on his lower lip and Copley looks at Nicky, only to notice that Nicky's focus has long been on his love. Copley thinks he sees something like concern in Nicky's eyes and then he reaches out his hand and squeezes Joe's, saying something in a lowered tone in that strange language and Joe snorts and grins slightly.

Copley has seen moments like this quite often lately. It's no secret that Nicky's condition weighs as heavily on Joe as a block of cement, and while Joe is definitely a smiler, there's nothing like it to be seen. Dry comments from Andy or deliberately silly jokes from Nile make him smile and, at best, even laugh a little. But only Nicky manages to ignite the humorous spark in his eyes and he does that as often as possible.

In the same language, Joe replies something, causing a low snort from Nicky about that Joe looks so happy, as if he had won the jackpot, before he seeks Copley's eye contact again. "Thank you, Copley."

Copley high fives himself in his head for the further progress he's made with the immortals and smiles. "Of course, I will keep you informed about further results."

"We really appreciate that," Nicky says, putting his book aside. He coughs heavily and Joe is immediately on alert, ready to jump up and grab the bucket they've positioned next to the sofa since the accumulating blood-vomiting, but Nicky pulls himself together. "Have you eaten anything today, Mr. Copley?" He asks hoarsely.

"I beg your pardon?" Copley blinks.

Up to this point he hasn't even given a thought to food and is amazed to realize that he has actually not eaten anything since last night because he was too busy following Kozak's trail. As if on command, his stomach growls softly and Copley is stunned that Nicky pays remarkable attention to who is eating what and when.

"Oh," Copley says, staring at his keyboard and then at Nicky, who is patiently waiting. "I'm afraid not, no."

He didn't even finish his sentence when Nicky gets up from the sofa - so slowly that it's painful to watch - and heads for the kitchen. "Do you like French omelettes?"

"Nicky-" Joe is hot on Nicky's heels, which is no wonder given Nicky's slow pace, every step taken so carefully, as if every move would hurt him. Because Nicky is supposed to take it easy and rest, Andy and Nile have thrown him out of the kitchen a few times because standing at the stove had exhausted him. And even if Copley doesn't know all the habits of the team by a long way, he can see how much Nicky loves to look after his family and that cooking and baking gives him great joy. This makes it all the more difficult for him not even be able to do that.

And the way Joe looks, he is more than aware of it. But instead of putting Nicky back on the sofa and advising him not to use the kitchen to make Copley a French omelette because it could harm his condition, Joe just says gently, "May I help you?"

It is not a statement that has been disguised in a question to avoid contradiction. It's a real question that Joe means wholeheartedly and leaves Nicky to decide whether he wants to work alone in the kitchen or to be helped. Joe didn't ask if he could cook, but asked Nicky's permission to help him cook and leave the main work to Nicky. And that Joe pays such careful attention to Nicky's feelings and wants to do something about it that he feels useless, moves Copley more than he would have expected.

Copley only catches a glimpse of the smile Nicky only saves for Joe. "Of course, hayati." Copley can't miss the underlying gratitude.

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