#if i had to guess: whispers or booker

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Okay, I really want to watch CoS, just genuinely want to try and get through it.

Can someone please, please tell me if there's any important information in the dinner scene in chapter 16 and where it ends? I can't struggle through it anymore, but goddammit I want to watch them finish the story.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

59. I Yacht to Kill You for This

For one I love this title so much

And this episode is WAY, WAY too long because of how much needless book-trio lore there is

So I hope you enjoy this needlessly detailed filler episode

Featuring CHOONKERS

(I love him so much help me)

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

The Bookers are on Chalk’s yacht. Ink is writing, Bookie is pacing, and Ivory is there. Chalk has a new scar on his nose from… something. Everyone looks distressed.

CHALK: I’m going to call over Logico. GAINSBORO: NO, NO, NOT THE LOGICO! INK: Calm down. He never did anything to you. GAINSBORO: HE stole a bookie from me :’< CHALK: His book isn’t selling very well, we need to find ideas to raise-

Ink types faster and harder.

CHALK: [looms] Are you doing- INK: Yeah. Logico’s books aren’t selling. Now I’m going to bribe him with my fancy boat so he does more shit and makes me more money. CHALK: ?? IVORY: [scoff] Ya, girl. INK: That’s all you care about isn’t it? The stupid fucking books? Everything’s just a publicity stunt to you!!  CHALK: Jobs- INK: DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A PUBLICITY STUNT?

She yeets a typewriter at him, but he jumps out of the way and it almost hits Bookie, who is traumatized.

IVORY: What the fuck did you do that for, bitch??

Ivory shoves Ink off the boat, but Chalk catches her. Bookie is a shaking mess of Gainsboro.

GAINSBORO: If you let her back on this boat I will kill you.

He fucking means it, too.

CHALK: I am very sorry.

He lets go.

IVORY: OH MY GOD!!!

Ive grabs a sharp piece of metal and stabs at Chalk a few times, before Bookie gets in her face and tries to slam his wings on her head. Lightning strikes as they cry out to the sky.

Logico FINALLY arrives, and by then someone’s dead. NOT ONE OF THE CHARACTERS, just some freak in the dining room. He sees a frazzled Bookie and a pouting Ivory. Ink is clutching onto the side of the boat, and a bloodied Chalk ‘greets’ the man.

LOGICO: What did you want me for. CHALK: Books, Logico. YOUR BOOK. LOGICO: I don’t care- CHALK: It’s not doing well, as is EVIDENT. If only we had some way of gaining publicity. Oh! One of my sailors was murdered! You could solve THAT.

The grumpy llama storms off. Ink blots into the water.

INK: [anger sounds] GROSS… LOGICO: I will rescue you.

Logico uses a fishing rod to bring her back up.

IVORY: Ugh, fr? INK: Thank you, Logico. I’m so sorry about all this.

Poor baby Bookie is sobbing.

LOGICO: What. GAINSBORO: I WON’T DO WHAT THEY MAKE ME DO, THEY’LL NEVER!

Chalk is sad looking at the precious booker. His (ancient) phone rings.

LAVENDER: CHALK DEARIE. IT’S LAVENDER. 

Chalkers’ hand shakes and he drops the phone, because he doesn’t want to do this right now.

LAVENDER: CHALK. HELLO? CHALK. CHAIRMAN. WHERE ARE YOU?? PICK UP THE PHONE, YOU IDIOT! HELLO!!!

The boi looks over the edge of the boat with the most solemnity.

LOGICO: What did you even want with me. CHALK: OH, I- YOU?? YOU THINK- OHO- I- THIS IS ABOUT YOU?? I DON’T K- 

He motions to spit on the short king like an actual llama, but covers his mouth and sobs. Logico is distracted by marot cards… just like he would be at a time like this.

He knows who did it. In the stupid fight, Chalk threw his golden pen and it somehow got wedged into a guy. The four book people look at the corpse and think… what am I doing with my life? 

CHALK: I’m so sorry… INK: …I guess I am too. IVORY: Yeah, and like, whatever, I guess.

Bookie just wants his llama boi. Any other day, Logico’s cold, unbeaten heart would be warmed by the sight, but no. Ink pulls him into a hug.

CHALK: About the books… LOGICO: I don’t care about the BOOKS.  CHALK: What do you care about, Deductive? LOGICO: HIIIIIIIM. CHALK: Oh, that would actually be great for sales… If you got bloody revenge on the guy who killed your friend… Never mind, I’ll deal with this. LOGICO: HE WAS MORE THAN A FRIEND.

Chalk gasps like a choking pigeon. He leans in.

CHALK: [whispering] F-for sales, it’s better if he’s just a friend - the last time I tried to publish a gay book I got-

Logico shuts his mouth.

The end!

Ink's theme :3 I love her so much. She's such a pure, genuine person.

Fletch helped a lot with the intro to this episode, so credit to her too <3

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[the73rdpostscript]

Both @beepbeepsan and @non-un-topo tagged me. Thank you both <33 (This ended up being a really nice way to spend my morning.)

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

So this is very interesting because I don't finish or publish much of my fics under my current pseud these days. It looks like I only have 8 Old Guard fics up right now. So you guys will get to see a little piece of my old Christmas Carol fic. I wrote it in my 20s and I don't think it's as good as the long Christmas Carol fic that's been sitting in my drafts for 8 years. But I'm very fond of it anyway.

(And fuck it. I'm gonna throw in my old 3:10 to Yuma fic too. Cause even old shit that we don't love deserves to be acknowledged for what it was to us at the time.)

Nothing Here But Love (A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens)

This one time, Bob had insisted on driving alone – taking care of a situation without backup. And now he is stuck in his car.

“Tell our husband,” Betty has begun covering up a pie with foil, “that we’re eating in 15 minutes.”

2. Tonight We're Going Hard (The Old Guard)

Joe is still laughing long after everyone else stops, and his voice is heavy with emotion as he says, "I am your best friend. And I will take all your advice. When we first met, I thought there couldn't-"

Nicky doesn’t get to hear the rest of this particular soliloquy, because Quynh steals his attention by sliding over to stand beside him.

"You have that look in your eye,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice.

3. Fighting Death (and Boredom) (The Old Guard)

Two hours later, Nicky comes home to find Joe curled up on the couch, holding Nile’s hand. On-screen, a giant electric sign comes swinging down from the top of a building and takes out a character with brutal efficiency. 

Joe shouts in alarm as Nile laughs and the credits roll.

4. Floored (The Magnificent Seven 1998)

But let it never be said that Ezra Standish doesn’t know how to hold his ground when faced with a hot and temperamental man. As Chris rounds on him, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him out of his seat - he keeps his face calm and his hands raised.

"You did it, Ezra," Chris hisses, his eyes wild, "You've gotten under my skin. Was that what you needed? Are you satisfied?"

5. Never Let Me Go (The Old Guard)

With visible effort Nicolo’s chest moves, and the swords that have pierced him all seem to shudder and dance at once. They clang in an ungodly chorus as they heave out of his body and tumble to the ground. Blood still coats Nicolo’s shirt, and his groan is inaudible under the sudden chaos of the men around Yusuf now noticing that their last desperate attempt to kill the white devil has failed again. 

6. A River Arrives in the House of the Dead Men (The Prodigious Flowering Rage) (The Old Guard)

Later, Booker sat next to Nicky on the couch and quietly muttered, “He certainly captured what made Goya unique.”

Nicky hummed; unsure what Booker was looking for.

“Will you talk to him?” Booker looked him in the eye as he asked, and Nicky nodded – surprised again by the intensity of Booker’s concern.

7. Yes Of Course (The Old Guard)

“Yes, I think it will sound very similar to her Frank Ocean.”

Joe is far too tired to try and guess who Nicky would be so confident about, but he nods sleepily and reaches up with one hand – blindly grabbing for something he can’t articulate but that he trusts Nicky to understand. With a laugh, Nicky catches his hand and holds it, kissing along the flesh and murmuring endearments.

8. Grief and Ravioli (The Old Guard)

Joe sits down slowly, settling in beside her with his legs crossed and his face placid, listening to her as she lets out the rant that’s been building for days.

9. Ten Ounces (The Old Guard)

“Nicky,” Joe begins.

"Please, Joe," Nicky whispers, suddenly, his hand lifting to press tightly against the beat of Joe's heart. "Go back inside.”

10. Every Step to the Daylight (3:10 to Yuma)

She remains still, her hips swaying a bit as she keeps her knees from locking. Between her and their place at the bar, there are at least six tables filled with men. Between her bullet and Ben Wade there is only Charlie.

This was wild. It was really encouraging to take a look at all my fics after taking a month or two off from writing. I forgot how much I love writing the Old Guard gang and all the ways they interact. And I'm...good at writing sometimes? Remarkable.

I think I'm late to this party, so I'm not totally sure who has or hasn't been tagged yet. I'm going to tag ANYONE who wants to do this.

[boonekeller]

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 . 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 . 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘 . 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 . 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 .

✦ BOYD HOLBROOK, CIS MAN, HE/HIM ✦ BOONE KELLER the THIRTY SIX year old has been in Hidehill for HIS ENTIRE LIFE. Whispers on the streets are that the OWNER OF FAST GAS who lives in HORWICK are said to be PATERNAL and VOLATILE but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. { CAMI, 30, AST, SHE/HER. }

———— ◽️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

government name.    booker nelson keller

preferred name.    boone

current age.    thirty eight

birthdate.    december 23rd

height.    6'2"

identity.    cis male, he/him

sexuality.    heterosexual

moral alignment.    chaotic neutral

language(s) spoken.    english

occupation.    owner of fast gas

residence.    inherited house in horwick

———— ◽️ 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐏

without having a hope in hell from the get go, boone was a raised in a household that always had some form of drugs or alcohol ( usually both ) at his parents' disposal at any given time. so he was exposed to these addictions at a very early age and would eventually follow the same path, but to a lesser degree.

as the apple of his parents' eye, for some reason, he could do no wrong. when, in fact, he did very wrong, at any given moment. boone was a labelled a problem child by his teachers. it started off with him being an annoying punk kid, disrupting class and clowning around with his friends. but as he got older, the problem grew with him.

fist fights were a common occurrence whenever he was in attendance at school. so if he didn't skip, he was sent home regularly. however, he never let his parents know the difference ( if they'd even notice anyway ) and he'd stay out on the streets all day -- drinking, smoking, wreaking havoc on the small town -- until school was let out and it'd be time for him to go home. as a result, he was held back a couple times in different grades.

eventually, boone would flip a final fuck you to the system and drop out of high school. who needs big brains?? certainly NOT him. instead of pursing a fruitful career like every other kid on the block, he acquired the necessary license to become a long haul driver because 1) he wanted to travel and 2) what else was he gonna do.

rootin great rapport via walkie talkie channels with all his trucker buds, tootin his loud ass horn down the highway at every little car that tried to cut him off, boone was content with this way of life. until he met some girl at some bar, somewhere along the way home. then he was apparently in love.

when word spread of this, he inherited ( rly was given ) a whole ass house in horwick from a relative. rumor has it some shady business was going on in there and so having boone and his aforementioned gf live there was all a cover up to keep the cops from sniffing around. but whatever the reason, he didn't care. he got a free home, away from his parents.

while boone wasn't exactly your all american, golden boy or best big brother, he felt guilty ditching his younger siblings, and made a point to keep his door open for them if they ever needed a place to crash. he wasn't the affectionate type by any means, but he tried to be a better influence than their parents ever were.

without ever having any real big bills to pay, thanks to the house, boone did well to save up a huge chunk of his earnings. so when his girlfriend ended up having a baby, he quit his long haul job and bought the gas station in hidehill. everybody needs gas, so he thought it was a great investment. big brains.

having owned fast gas for nearly a decade, he's been through all kinds of ups and downs. his girlfriend left him for an accountant and moved across the country with their kid, he lowkey became an alcoholic by trying to drink his sorrows away, and the gas station got robbed one night, which resulted in him almost getting shot for trying to fight off the assailant. safe to say now, he keeps a shotgun tucked away for future intimidation ( which he may or may not legally own ).

———— ◽️ 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒

he's lowkey insane. like homeboy has no qualms when it comes to protecting his territory and his people, and is no stranger to violence.

however crazy he may get, he has a soft spot for his family & employees. to make up for being so shitty when he was younger, boone does his best now to help out where he can and looks out for his own.

drives an old ford bronco, but also owns a loud af dirtbike that he rips around on at night to 'clear his head'.

checks in on his parents every so often bc as much as they tainted his childhood, they also showed him some sort of love in their own fucked up way.

still drinks almost every night, so he's always at a bar or lounge. would probably sing karaoke if he was drunk enough.

does a video call with his kid every day ( or every other day ) and faithfully pays out child support. while he misses his son, boone knows he's better off growing up away from hidehill.

[oh-puffle-cakes19]

Are you in my Pjs?

13th December - Fluff

John B x Reader

Summary - You still John B’s Pjs, falling asleep together as you cuddle. 

Word count - 905

You went into John B’s draws trying to dig out a shirt and some shorts to wear, since you had no comfy clothing at the moment. All you could see was Christmas pjs, you grin to see penguin ones. Pulling them out, you quickly undress yourself to slip the large material on you.

‘Hey, I’m back from work,” John B opens his bedroom door to you, putting your last leg into his pjs sweats, “I was let off early-“ he took a second to look back at you, “Are you wearing my pjs?” you give your best smile to him, making a bee line to his bed.

You thought it was funny to run away and hide in his bed, You come up from the covers, your head poking out to look at John B. “I guess you found my Christmas pjs,” John B chuckles, “I knew you would take them at some point,”

“They are comfy,” you pout, snuggling into the cover more, “Mm, I’m going to change and then we can cuddle,” John B took out another pair of pjs, “Just be lucky that I love you and you are very cute,” he pinches your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“How come?” You pop your mouth, curiously giving him a smirk of mischief.

“Because you stole my favourite pair,” John grumbles playfully, slipping on his top. He gets into his bed with you.

“I should be mad at you but I can’t resist your face,” John B cups your face pulling you in a for kiss, “That’s sweet,” You giggle, wrapping your arm around his waist sinking more into his chest.

“You're sweeter,” John B whispers into your hair, “Stop,” You laugh harder, hiding under the covers again.

“Baby, you can’t hide from me,” John B whines, pouting his lips to you as he lifts the cover to reveal your face.

“I love your pjs,” You grin.

“I thought you were going to say you love me,” John B pouts again, “Yes, I love you too,” You laugh, ruffling his soft wavy locks.

“Mm, I love you and your pjs too,” John B kisses your cheek, “I wonder where you got them from?” He raises your eyebrows being cheeky.

“Same, I really don’t know,” You giggle.

“Me neither,” John B shook his head, pulling you closer into him for a hug.

“I’m tired,” You whisper, closing your eyes.

“Tired?” He laughs, “I should be the one tired, you know.. being on a boat job for the past two weeks,” he teases, pulling the cover over the both of you.

“Well I don’t care, I’m going to sleep,” You smile, John B kisses your forehead, “Goodnight, my love,” he secretly loves your attitude, making you the most real person ever.

“Night, Booker,” You tease, “Oi,” You mumble, feeling a slap on your ass.

“Don’t call me dat,”

“ok, booker,” You kiss his cheek, your eyes drifting heavy as you sink into his chest more.

You woke up by the shifting of John B’s leg over you, “Stop moving your leg,” You giggle, your eyes still closed.

You feel hands under the covers to pull you closer, wavy locks peeking out of the covers, “John B!” You squeal, feeling the cold for a brief second because the cover pulled off of you.

“Mm, that’s better,” John B grinned against you, your hand goes into his locks as his hands are on your hips

“I can’t be any closer,” You laugh.

“Yes, you can,” John B mumbles, having a smirk on his little cute face

“You got fluffy hair,” You continue to stroke his hair, “Mm,” he purrs like a baby leopard.

“Did you just purr?” You whisper, smirking.

“What..” John B laughs, “no..” he denied, knowing he absolutely did purr.

“Whatever you say,” You giggle, “I know you did, your such a bad liar,”

“Err.. Yh, Yh,” John B laughs, “Dcs are still off my back because of my lies,” he grins, “Sooo, my lies are improving,”

“I told you, my parents are willing to take custody of you,” You shook your head.

“I know, thank you,” John B brings you on top of him, “You mean so much to me, what would I do without you?” He Smiles at you.

“I don’t know, Mr. Routledge,” You grin, “But I know you mean so much to me too,” you kiss his plumped lips softly, looking at him in the eyes to take all of him in.

“You are beautiful,” John B compliments you, “Why thank you,” You teases, flicking your hair back.

“Your handsome,”

“I saw that coming,” You laugh, after John B flicks his wavy hair to copy you.

“Let’s get breakfast,” John B grins, you hop off his lap to go to the kitchen.

“Hey,” John B says to JJ, doing their handshake, “You are wearing his pjs,” JJ laughs, stuffing more cereal into his mouth.

“Yes,” You grin, sticking your tongue out.

“Kie,” JJ shouts, “Shh, JJ,” Kiara kisses his cheek.

You give a teasing grin to Kie, “You should wear my pjs,” JJ suggests Kiara, “In your dreams, Maybank,” she raises her eyebrow to you, “Nice pjs,”

“Yep,” You laugh, “They are mine,” John B gives you toast with jam, “Thanks,” You kiss his cheek.

“I might let myself wear your pjs if you be good,” Kie whispers, in JJ’s ear making him go bright red.

John B laughs, eating his breakfast with you watching Kie and and JJ.

[rafecameronsbadussy]

Only You|| Surf’s Up (Ch. 1)

Summary: Reader wakes up to find herself in a typical predicament. She proceeds to join the pouges for some fun in the sun and surfs with a certain Maybank boy;).

Warnings: alcohol consumption

My work is not to be plagiarized.

A/n: Hello dears! I am so excited to bring this series to tumblr. I hope you will enjoy part one of Only You. I’m hoping I can get chapter two out by tomorrow <3.

—————

The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes one island.

There's figure eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the kooks. Guess where we don't live.

And then there's the south side, or "the cut". Home of the working class who make a living bussing tables, washing yachts, running charters. Natural habitat of drumroll please... the pouges.

There's JJ, my best friend since the third grade. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, smuggling, vendetta holding, salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best surfer I know, just don't tell him I said that.

Now there's Y/n. A pouge through and through.

Y/n and JJ have had a thing for each other for as long as anyone can remember. But they both keep... busy. When she's not batting her lashes, you'll find her raving about "real music", or how our society is going to implode because we're all too close-minded. She's definitely going somewhere, not far, but somewhere.

And there's Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. She's a rich kid, actually, foot in both worlds. And when she's not saving turtles, or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us.

And there's Pope, the brains of the operation. Finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. A little bit of a weirdo. He's a pouge, just like the rest of us.

So that’s my crew, and that’s me, John Booker Routledge.

—————

Y/n’s POV

Your eyes opened to an unfamiliar room, cluttered with clothes and sports paraphernalia.

"Shit," you mumble, slowly picking someone's arm off of you and slipping out of their bed. You turned away and started sliding on your half-wet bathing suit and clothes as quickly as possible, racking your brain for what happened last night.

"Hey," the guy grumbled, your face instinctively scrunched. Who is this mother fucker.

"Hey..." you whispered back, scrambling with your clothes and picking up your phone.

"Where are you going?" you slowly turn around at this.

"Breakfast," your eyes wandered around the room before discovering a sizable Tom Brady poster right above the bed that makes your eyes bulge.

"Come back to bed." Your eyes are drawn back as he grabs your arm and pulls you to sit on the bed.

"I will, hang on." You say squeezing his hand, smiling, and standing up. You tiptoe out of the house, thankfully making it out without confrontation.

Then a friendly brown van littered with stickers approaches from behind.

"No shit." You half-shout grinning. You hear John B and Kie whooping from inside.

"Woah Y/n, little early for a walk," JJ says. The Twinkie stops and Kie slides the back door open for you.

"You dirty girl." Kie teases.

"Haha very funny," you say smiling as you climb in and shut the door. You now recognize the area as Kie's neighborhood. The Twinkie begins moving once again, as you take your seat next to Kie.

"Shit Y/n, you're macking with kooks now." John B says from the driver's seat.

"I mean, gotta start networking to become a trophy wife early."

"That's what I'm sayin'," Kie adds, her hair blowing from the open windows

"Hey where's Pope?" you ask no one in particular.

"We're on our way over there now." John B replies.

"Ahh," you reply. Then, he and JJ start talking about fishing or some weird redneck shit.

"Sooo... how was it?" Kie questions grinning. You playfully roll your eyes and smile back.

"Who knows anymore, they all blend together."

"It looks like he liked it," she says, her smile still beaming, pointing to your neck. You pull out your phone to check.

"Oh my god." you start, "Men are literally feral, why am I getting marked like a piece of meat."

"He's gotta make sure you know you're his." her smile was stationary on her face.

"God."

"Come on baby, get back in bed and snuggle." she mocks, batting her lashes and pulling your arm.

"No because he basically said that," you respond, eyes widening. "That's not even the worst part. He had a Tom Brady poster above his bed."

"Noo," she replied, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Yeah," you respond, nodding.

"Girl,"

"Maybe this is my sign from the universe to stop hoeing around."

"Maybe,"

"Eh, I won't though." you and Kie laugh together. "What about you? I see the way you and a certain someone have been acting." you pester beaming from ear to ear.

"Shut your mouth," she says raising her eyebrows making you giggle more. She glances at the thankfully, still preoccupied boys, specifically the brunette. "You really can't talk, what about you and blondie?"

"We just flirt for fun. You on the other hand... I see the sly little kisses on the cheek. You're not as slick as you think Missy." you say, pointing an accusatory finger her way.

"You can kiss people on the cheek. Friends kiss each other on the cheek all the time."

"Oh really, when have you ever kissed me on the cheek."

"Uh-..." she starts.

"Exactly," you say, lowering your finger. She then pecks your cheek and your mouth hangs open, your hand flys to the distinct spot. You gasp lightly. "Wow,"

"Um-" a muddled, awkward Pope stands outside the open door of the van. You and Kie both burst into laughter.

—————

All the pouges and you lay sprawled out on the secluded beach, beer in hand. The sun is radiant and the waves crash against the shore.

"Do you think dogs can read minds?" JJ says from beside you on your towel.

"How drunk are you?" Pope asks from his beach chair.

"Maybe," you reply laying on your stomach with your head on your arms. "They're so smart."

"Yeah, smarter than me," JJ replies

"You know, you remind me of a Golden Retriever." you say turning back to look at him over your shoulder, "You're like pure lightheartedness."

"Roof, roof." JJ starts barking. You laugh and nudge him with your leg. "Wait, that's like the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Aww," you say sticking out your bottom lip a bit.

"Y'all are weird." John B says before taking a sip of his beer.

"You're just boring," you reply grinning at him, making him sarcastically roll his eyes.

"Wanna surf?" JJ asks you smiling.

"Who do you think I am." you grin as he grabs your hand to help you up. You take off your shorts and shirt and are met with an ogling boy. "Pick up your jaw blondie," you say, grinning.

"Just enjoying the view." His eyes drink you up and down and a smirk plays on his lips.

"Like what you see?"

"Mhm," he hums in content.

"Come on, dork," you say, putting a hand on his jaw to playfully turn his head to the side. You both jog off towards the crashing waves of the sparkling ocean with your boards. You take turns watching each other surf the waves and while watching him your mind begins to wander.

He surfs the wave effortlessly, his wet hair clings to his face, which is way more attractive than you'd like to admit. And his sparkling blue eyes mirror the hue of the ocean which makes him appear almost godlike. The sight in front of you brings you back to Kie's words. "What about you and blondie?".

Like you had already admitted you and JJ flirted, but you always assumed it was just flirting and nothing else. Now you were beginning to think it was more than that.

Nah no way it's just sexual attraction. I mean sure his smile felt like a beam of sunlight. And his embrace elicited fireworks in your chest. Not to mention every time you make eye contact you could swear your heart stops beating.

It's definitely just sexual.

[ilyjohnb]

a/n: I decided to try my hand at a 3+1. I also started posting these on my AO3. FYI, JJ is not abused in this one and it does not follow any of the plot from the show.   **gif credit to @ptersparkers**

requester: anon “hiii!! :) could you do “Can I stay here tonight?” with john b please? :)”

summary: to simply put it, your home life sucks. you had managed to hide it from the pogues, until one night when things got really bad and you needed to stay the night at john b’s.

warnings: abuse, child abuse, swearing, slut-shaming

word count: 1997

~~ONE~~

John B was the first one to realize that something wasn’t right with you and your home life. You were all 10, and it was lunchtime. You were all sitting down at the table. John B was on your left. Pope, Kie, and JJ were on the other side in that order. 

“I hate school. This place sucks ass.” JJ laughed.

Kie smiled. “At least the food is good.”

“Just barely though!” Pope shouted, making the other four laugh.

“I like school.” You mumbled and slightly frowned. You subconsciously rubbed the bruise on your left forearm that your mom gave you the previous night because you forgot to take the trash out. School was the only place where you didn’t have to worry if your mother was going to be drunk or high out of her mind, and it was the only time where you didn’t have to cook for yourself either.

John B heard you though, and he noticed the bruise when your sleeve moved up from you rubbing your arm. He could see it clear as day, on your forearm there was a nasty purple bruise the size of your hand that wrapped around all the way.

You didn’t notice John B staring, but you did notice the bruise peeking out. You quickly slid your sleeve back down and focused on your mashed potatoes.

~~TWO~~

He never confronted you about that time, he didn’t even know how he would start. He eventually began picking up on your signs that you were nervous. He may not be as smart as Pope, but John B was far from dumb. He noticed how you would tense at even the mention of your mom or home. His next major clue was when you all were 15. 

“Hello, Y/n.”

You nervously took a breath, trying to read the situation. “Hi, mom.”

“Guess what you didn’t do? You left here for two days and didn’t even clean the dishes before you left.”

As she stepped closer to you, you could smell the alcohol. “I’m so sorry, I’ll get started right away.”

“Punishment first, girl.”

“Mom, please. I’m sorry it was an accident and it won’t happen again.”

She just smiled evilly. “Nothing to do now or take it. You get it now, or it doubles.”

Your hand began to shake. “Yes, ma’am.”

She walked over and punched you right in the stomach. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you bit on your lip so you could hold in your whimper. She kicked you this time and shoved you to the floor. She punched you one last time in the eye before grabbing you by your hair, using her knee to hold down your right arm.

“Open your eyes. Now, do you remember what you said earlier?”

You nodded, before opening your mouth to speak, a hoarse whisper came out that you barely even recognized to be your voice. “It won’t happen again.”

After that, you washed the dishes, before going to bed. You waited until she left the next morning to sneak out. You had promised the Pogues a day on the boat. It would be John B’s first time to drive it without his dad, Big John, there too. You quickly looked at yourself in the mirror. 

A big bruise was prominent on your stomach, another on your eye, and one more on your forearm. You put on the one two-piece bathing suit that you owned with a huge oversized shirt over that. You tied your bandana on your arm to hide that bruise. For your eye, you’d just have to come up with some lie.

You didn’t live that far from JB, so you took a nice walk. It was nice until you got to John B’s. You walked in the door, expecting to see all of your best friends, but the only person was Big John. He was sitting on the chair, so he saw you walk in.

“Y/n! How are you doing?” You loved John B’s dad. He reminded you a lot of Heyward, Pope’s dad. They both adored you, and you and your friends treated them as if they were all your dads.

“I’m doing pretty good.” You smiled, lying.

“Oh yeah?” You nodded. “Then what happened to your eye.”

“You know me, I got into a fight. Where's everyone at?”

“They’re in the boat, waiting for you. See you all when you get back. And for the love of God, don’t let my son kill you all.”

“Yes sir!” You laughed and went out the back door. You quickly stuck your head back in. “See you Pops!”

You started running down the dock, smiling at your friends. “Is that a wild Y/n/n I see?”

“Yes, it is, JJ. I’m a wild spirit who refuses to be tamed.”

He smiled back at you, holding out his hand to help you in the boat. You saw his eyes flick up to your bruised one. He didn’t ask any questions. You went and sat down as John B steered you all into swimmable waters. He put out the anchor, and then everyone didn’t hesitate to throw their shirts off and jump in. All except you and John B.

“Not getting in, Y/n/n?”

“Not feeling it today. You’re not getting in?”

“I went surfing this morning, so I’m a little sore. What happened to your eye?”

“Fight with a kook.”

You looked down at your bandana and noticed that it was becoming loose. You waited until you were certain he looked away before taking it off and refolding it. You were in your own world, trying to match the folds up exactly. He looked over and saw the bruise. He was almost certain that he knew what was happening to you. He thought it was what happened to you at home, but a fight with a kook was extremely possible too. He looked away quickly and didn’t mention it.

~~THREE~~

By this time, he knew. He may not have gotten confirmation with you, but John Booker Routledge knew that his best friend was getting abused by her mom. He knew he’d have to confront you eventually. He wanted to help you get out of that situation.

This time happened six weeks later. He dropped you off at your door with the promise that he’d walk with you in the morning, to take you for breakfast.

“See you in the morning John B.” You don’t know what came over you, but you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. You turned and walked in your front door before he could see the small blush that was creeping up your cheeks.

“So now you’re a slut? Makes sense I only see you hanging out with those three boys. Didn’t I raise you better, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely confused. Wrong move on your part.

“I think you heard me loud and clear. I saw you kissing that boy, you slut.”

“Mom, no. I swear it was just a friendship thing.” You lied, you did have a crush on John B but your mom didn’t need to know that.

She had enough, shoving you back into the wall. You don’t know what came over you, but you did it. You finally did it. For once in your life, you fought back. You kicked out your leg, knocking her down. She reached over and hit you in the eye, grabbing at your neck. She began to try to choke you, but you brought your leg up to kick her square in the chest. She let you go, the wind knocked out of her.

You took the opportunity and ran. You put your hood up and kept your head down. You didn’t even have to look up, it was like muscle memory at this point. You walked around the house to his window, before knocking.

“Y/n?”

“Hi John B.” You weakly smiled, urgency evident in your voice. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah of course Y/n/n, come on in.”

He helped you in his window before quietly tiptoeing out of his room. You awkwardly sat down on his bed, and he soon came back with a bag of ice.

“For your eye.” you almost forgot. “I know what happened.”

“Yeah, kooks are vicious at night and-”

“Y/n,” He cut you off. “Stop lying. I dropped you off at your house at 11:30, and you don’t typically go out after that. At least not by yourself. I know you. Just let me help you, me and dad can help get you away from your mom.” He pleaded.

“I came here to stay the night, not be met with false accusations.”

“Are they really false though?” He asked.

You sat there, opening your mouth in search of an answer. He had that look on his face, the same one he made when he won. You didn’t want him to win, at least no right now. You stood up and walked towards the window. Tears were gathering in your eyes. You quickly choked out and answer. 

“I’m going to stay at JJ’s. Good night John B. Thank you for the bag of ice.”

He didn’t know why he let you go, but he felt horrible. He was so close to getting the truth out of you, but he was worried if he kept pressing he’d scare you away. He decided he’d wait extra time before asking you again.

~~ + ONE~~

You had finally decided that you had enough. You didn’t want to deal with your mom anymore. 12 years. That’s how long your mother used you as a punching bag. It started after your dad left when you were 4, and you were 16 now. You had waited until your mom drank until she blacked out before you tossed as much stuff that you could into your duffle bag, packing more in your backpack. You tied the laces of your one pair of sneakers together and threw them over your head. You slipped on your flip-flops and left, with your head held high and not looking back.

You texted John B, asking if you could come over. It was 2 am but you were ready to go. As if he could read your mind, John B said you could. You ran faster than you’d ever had. When you got there John B sat with his window open, waiting for you. He took your bag and helped you in the window. You slipped the shoes off your neck and sat down on his window sill.

“You were right.” You told him.

He was holding your face in his, searching for injuries. “About what, bubba?”

“My mom and my home life. How long have you known?”

“I first noticed when we were 10. We were at lunch, you said that you liked school after we were all complaining about it, you had rubbed your arm and your sleeve rolled up and I saw a bruise. Why did you never say anything before? I could’ve helped you get out of there so much sooner.”

You sighed. “I knew it was bad, but I was embarrassed. Do you remember that one day on the boat like a year ago? When I wouldn’t go swimming? It was because my mom beat the absolute shit out of me the night before. And then there was that day I asked to stay the night, I was all sweaty from running and my eye was bruised. It was from my mom, but that was the first day I fought back. I left tonight because of you. Thank you John B.”

You were both staring into each other’s eyes, and he slowly leaned in. You leaned in too, to speed it up. And you kissed. You eventually told the other pogues, your mom got arrested, and you and JB started dating. You finally got out of the home all thanks to John B.

[s-brant]

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

[sheafrotherdon]

When Nicky thinks back on it now, he remembers his worries as if they were the squalls of an infant, for all that he was thirty-four years old when they formed. Thirty-four years out of more than nine hundred—a splinter of glass, the breath of a breeze, a wink of sunlight against a wave. He was young, so young, when he fretted over Yusuf and wondered if anyone could truly love him as Yusuf professed to do.

Now he is certain, has been certain for so long that he barely remembers the prick of anxiety that raised sweat on his palms.  He wakes in a morning and that love surrounds him; he walks through the world with that love at his side; when he falters, that love steadies him. It is a gift that no other person save Joe can know, a thought that sometimes causes him pain.

He would have Andromache rise to the sleepy murmuring of her heart’s affection, know the sweet salve of companionship instead of guilt and regret.  He would have Nile age, and not, beside one who would know her in the intimacies of wisdom borne of an improbable long life.  He would have Booker lay down the burden of his grief and forgo the delusion of escape for the poetry and prose of adoration.

Nicky thinks, sometimes, of the gift he’s been given and wonders why, out of all souls to have lived, his was picked.  He has no insight into what power might have picked him, no agency to award to divinity or fate. But he knows, in the deepest, most solitary part of himself that to be loved like this is a steady good in a world that too often shirks the discipline of kindness.  He does not understand his chance, but he cherishes that it makes him who he is.

He loves, too—loves Joe with abandon and care and recklessness and hope. He loves him with a joy that is sweeter and more consistent than he had imagined love to be in his youth; loves him with a ferocity he could never have guessed he possessed. He loves him in their bickering, in their silences, in their sleep. And how he loves him still in the give of his body, the touch and taste and smell of his pleasure, the spill of him over his trembling hand.

To imagine the squalls of his infancy, the anxiety that twisted his stomach into sourness and fear, is to remember what did not come to pass and also what did.

“I love you,” he whispers as Joe curls his body around him, drowsy and warm from a day’s long work.

“With all my heart,” Joe murmurs. And Nicky casts back into their history the reassurance of his touch.

[cantteachanoldguardnewquotes]

It's Too Early For This

No warnings apply

Read on AO3

"Who took the car out?" Joe asked walking into the kitchen and giving Nicky a quick good morning kiss on his forehead.

"Hmm? I'm not sure, you're the first person I've seen since I got up around seven."

"Maybe Nile and Quynh took it. I thought they were planning something last night but I figured they'd tell us before they went anywhere."

"I'm sure they'll be back soon." Nicky said.

"I doubt it." Booker said joining them in the  kitchen and getting a coffee mug from the cupboard. "Look at the text Nile sent me." He showed them his phone, revealing a selfie of Nile, Andy, and Quynh outside a restaurant with the caption 'this better be worth the four hour trip.' under it.

Joe huffed. "They drove all that way and didn't even ask if I wanted to go?"

Nicky tried not to laugh at his husband's dismay but couldn't stop his amused grin. "I'm sure they meant no offense, maybe next time you can join them."

"When did they even leave? Who goes and gets food that far away? I mean they still have to drive all the way back." Booker shook his head in disbelief.

"I can see Nile and Quynh doing something like that, but Andy?" Nicky asked.

"I'm sure Quynh didn't have much trouble convincing her." Joe said with a grin.

"True." Nicky and Booker said at the same time.

"Guess I get the remote all day." Booker said.

"Not if I get it first." Joe took off for the living room with Booker close behind him yelling threats in multiple languages.

Nicky chuckled and went back to making breakfast.

**

(Earlier that morning)

"Andy." Andy heard Quynh call her name but it was such a faint whisper she was sure she was dreaming.

"Andy." Quynh said again this time with the lightest shake of her shoulder.

Andy sat up with a jolt. "What's wrong? Is someone... Nile? What do you need?" It was so dark out Andy didn't have a clue what time it was, only a faint glow from the hallway allowed her to see Quynh and Nile's outlines.

"Shh shh, nothing's wrong everything's fine." Quynh reassured her. "We just wanted to let you know we're leaving to get some breakfast, you're welcome to join us but you don't have to.

Andy rubbed her eyes trying to process what was going on. "Breakfast? What time is it now?"

Nile bit her lip. "It's, uh, four a.m." She said sheepishly.

Andy groaned and flopped back down on the bed. "I hate you both."

"Quynh pecked her on the lips. "No, you don't." She said with a sly grin.

Andy cracked an eye open, half her mouth quirking up in a smile. "No, I don't." She sighed looking back and forth between the two of them. "You're crazy. What's even open at this hour?"

Nile's grin somehow looked even more sheepish. "The place doesn't open till eight but that's fine cause it's four hours away and it will be open when we get there."

"You're telling me going to drive for four hours? For breakfast?" Andy asked shaking her head.

They nodded in unison, neither of them giving any indication they would change their minds.

"It's alright." Quynh gave Andy a reassuring pat. "Like we said we only wanted you to know where we are, no need to get up."

"Oh, you're not getting rid of me that easily." Andy said, as she pulled off the covers and stood up. "Let me change and then we can go."

"Yes!" Quynh asked too loud in her  excitement.

"Shhh. You'll wake the guys." Nile said bringing her finger to her lips.

"Sorry." Quynh whispered. "Really? You're not too tired?" She asked.

Andy snorted. "Yes, really, I might be mortal but I'm not an invalid. Besides, I have to see for myself if this food is worth it or if you both are going on a wild goose chase."

Quynh laughed and kissed Andy's cheek. "It will be an adventure either way!"

"I'll go start the car." Nile said with amusement.

**

After hours of would you rather, guess my animal, who can finish the alphabet first by collecting letters from license plates and signs, and non stop singing, Andy was finally pulling off the much anticipated exit they needed.

They all needed to go to the bathroom and Nile and Quynh were so hyped up on energy drinks Andy didn't even know how they were sitting still anymore. She'd only had two coffees the whole trip and was feeling every second of the long car ride.

"There it is!" Nile shouted poking her head between the driver and captain seat pointing in her excitement.

Andy cocked her head to the side at the sudden noise in her ear, but chuckled all the same at Nile's unbridled enthusiasm. She parked and they all got out, happy to stretch their legs and backs.

"I hope you're hungry, dear." Quynh said grabbing Andy's hand and leading her towards the door.

It was eight in the morning, but the restaurant was already busy. 

Andy flipped open the menu to study it. They hadn't even told her what type of food this place served.

"So, the reason Quynh and I picked this particular restaurant is because it has a huge breakfast and if you finish it in an hour by yourself you get it for free, and we wanted to see how far we could get. Of course you can get whatever you want that's just what they're famous for." Nile explained eyeing the menu as well.

"It ends at ten so we wanted to get here early, since they can get really busy and we didn't want to wait." Quynh added.

"Well if that's what they're known for I'll give it a shot." Andy said.

"Should we choose a prize for the winner?" Quynh asked, leaning forward like she was conspiring.

"The losers each have to buy dinner for the winner, whatever meal they want." Andy suggested.

Nile laughed. "We're not going to want to look at food for a week after this."

"No, expiration date. We'll want to cash in eventually." Quynh grinned.

"Deal."

"Deal."

They ordered and the food just kept coming even Nile and Quynh who had read about the breakfast seemed surprised by the large portion sizes. They were served eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, pancakes, waffles, fruit, hash browns, and coffee. It all looked delicious and smelled heavenly.

"You have an hour to finish if you want your name on the wall." Their server said gesturing to the far wall. It already had a few names on it but not many.

They all shared excited glances, then dug in.

"They have different flavored syrups too." Nile said happily dousing her pancakes in blueberry syrup.

"Is blueberry syrup your favorite?" Quynh asked.

"I like them all, it just depends on what I'm feeling."

"Would you like some coffee with that cream?" Andy teased as Quynh added a ton of vanilla creamer to her coffee.

"You have no room to talk, you put ketchup on your eggs." Quynh shot back grinning and handing her the bottle of ketchup.

"That's how they were intended to be eaten." Andy argued with a smirk.

Nile made a disgusted face. "No, eggs are best with cheese."

"You can still put ketchup on that and it's delicious."

Quynh and Nile shared a 'not on a million years would that taste good' look and laughed.

They ate so much they all felt like they might explode. They were forty-five minutes in and only Andy was still going strong.

Quynh was still giving it her best shot but she had slowed down a lot.

Nile was only picking at her food by now but she had finished a lot more than she thought she'd be able too.

Right before their hour was up their server came over to check on them.

Andy was just putting the last bite of waffle in her mouth.

Quynh and Nile still had some food left over unable to take another bite.

"Looks like we have a winner!" Their waitress said. "Just follow me and you can sign your name on the wall."

Nile and Quynh followed Andy over to watch.

Andy hesitated for a split second trying to decide which name to write then chose Andromache.

"Yay!" Nile cheered and clapped.

Quynh gave her a kiss and congratulated her.

"And if it's alright, we'll take your photo and keep it on the wall for a month." The waitress said.

Andy shook her head. "No pictures, but thank you."

Before Andy could reach the car Nile said. "I'll drive home."

Andy nodded, climbing into the backseat, and laid down. "Thanks, I'm not going to be able to stay awake after all that."

"We'll keep the noise down." Quynh reassured her, sitting in the front seat so Andy would have some more room, and she could keep Nile company.

"Appreciate it." Andy mumbled already drifting off.

Quynh smiled fondly, giving Andy's knee a gentle squeeze. "Sleep well." She murmured.

They started the long drive back to the safe house talking about nothing in particular, music playing softly.

"Was it worth the trip?" Nile asked Quynh.

Quynh thought about how much fun they'd had on the way down, the delicious meal, all the shared laughs, and Andy sleeping peacefully in the backseat. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." 

"Me too."

[qqueenofhades]

Everytime I read "Nicolo di Genova" my brain glitches and I read "Nicolo do Genovia" instead so /whispers/ Kaysanova Princess Diaries AU?

...yes. Did someone say Gay Champagne Romcom? Because that is my Brand.

Nicolò is an Italian-American graduate student living in New York City with his widowed Italian mother and working on an engineering degree at NYU. He was thinking about joining the priesthood for a few years and recently dropped out of seminary and is feeling that Millennial Crisis that all of us know about. He has gone on a few Tinder/Grindr dates, but it’s hard enough to meet someone in this city even when you’re not a gay ex-priest engineering student living in his mother’s rent-controlled apartment in Morningside Heights because have you seen the property prices in New York. Plus WHENEVER he brings a nice boy home, HEY PRESTO there’s his mom waiting eagerly up in the front room, “NICOLÒ WHO IS THIS HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, DOES HE HAVE GOOD PARENTS, IS HE A CATHOLIC NICOLÒ” and of course that instantly kills any kind of romantic mood. Nicolò is like “let’s just go over to yours PLEASE.” But he tends not to see his dates again anyway, and it’s equally depressing, and it’s nice that his mom isn’t homophobic or anything, but he’d like to just meet someone without his mother instantly planning the Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding, and yes he knows this is a nice problem to have but STILL

Anyway, then of course the Dead Dad Circus rolls into town, and Nicolò learns that he’s not actually the son of a nice hardworking Italian immigrant, but of His Serene Highness Prince Domenico Grimaldi of Genovia, who wouldn’t you know it, has recently died too young from cancer and left no legitimate heir except the result of his rebellious teen fling with a cocktail waitress in Capri – which would be, you guessed it, Nicolò. While Nicolò is still processing the horrifying mental image of his mother being a cocktail waitress in Capri and having to look up Genovia on a map, the rest of the royal machine is kicking into overdrive. This involves a very awkward meeting in a very fancy Manhattan hotel with Nicolò’s magnificent but rather out-of-touch royal grandmother, Her Serene Highness The Queen Mother Maria Elisabetta Henrietta Julia Victoria Mignonette Grimaldi of Genovia. She’s basically Julie Andrews because obviously. She informs Nicolò of his Solemn Duty to return to Genovia and become Prince Nicolò and eventually be prepared to take the throne and submit to a fascinating life of minor European royal family ribbon-cutting duties. Oh, and getting married and producing more heirs to the throne, on pain of breaking a thousand-year-old bloodline, though she doesn’t say this out loud. Her loyal right-hand man, driver, and general bodyguard/fixer/man about town, Sebastien le Livre aka Booker, gives Nicolò various sympathetic looks but does not interrupt.

Nicolò obviously freaks out and runs off to call up his best friend at NYU, Andy. Andy is some indeterminate degree of years older than him, in some indeterminable stage of her Classics PhD, and sometimes says weird things like how badly the Library of Alexandria had already been defunded by the Roman emperors before it finally burned, like she was there and holds a personal grudge about it. She is a cranky vodka-drinking lesbian who rides a motorcycle, gets them into periodic scrapes, and understands his shit dating life. She deeply empathizes with all his “I’m not going to run away and leave my life in New York to become part of some creakingly antique regressive imperial monarchic system of racist and homophobic oppression, NO SIR!” Fight the power, Nicolò. Fuck those guys.

Of course, however, Julie Andrews Grandmother Maria prevails and Nicolò is forced to take Prince Lessons, which he hates but tries to be a good sport about, because, well, he’s Nicolò and he’s a good person. He is then whisked off on a private plane to Genovia, because they want to see him in situ before they make a final decision on accepting him as their prince. There of course we have the high-life palaces and parks and snooty clueless aristocrats who look at Nicolò like he’s a prize racehorse and have absolutely zero clue, none, nada, about the real world. Just as Nicolò is about to firmly decide that this is a complete crock of shit and he’s going back to NYU, he meets….

Prince Yusuf “call me Joe” al-Kaysani.

Joe is a minor member of one of the Middle Eastern royal families, some fictional tiny Gulf kingdom that is super SUPER oil rich. He has a title and a lot of money but doesn’t have a clearly defined role in the family, other than that he’s been ordered not to embarrass it. Nicky does not know this when they first meet, but obviously it’s not possible to be an out gay prince in a conservative Arabian-peninsula Islamic kingdom, and therefore the fixers have arranged for Joe to be publicly dating a daughter of the Malaysian sultan, Quynh. (We are making her Malaysian in this instance so she can also be Muslim and hence an appropriate match for Joe.) Except Princess Quynh is also hella lesbian and is getting the same thing out of the fake dating with Joe that he is, i.e. throwing people off the scent of their real selves. They spend their time together in private eating popcorn, commiserating about their lives and crazy royal families and the press invading their privacy, watching romcoms, and Judging the Straights. They’re actually best friends and text each other all the time, so at the royal function where Joe runs into the stiff and nervous and clearly overcompensating New Guy who’s evidently the New Prince of Genovia, and oh my god Q he’s the Most stuck up person I’ve EVER MET, Quynh is the first to hear ALL about it. She immediately suspects that Joe doth protest too much.

Meanwhile, Nicky meets Nile Freeman, another young American (from Chicago, obvs) who is working at some important EU institution currently headquartered in Genovia. They also hit it off and Nile tells Nicky about the things she wants to do to help change the world and why she’s here, and he is moved by her kindness and altruism and remembers that that was what he wanted too, and why he joined the priesthood in the first place. He opens up to her about the shock of learning the truth about his now-dead dad and the crazy whirlwind he’s been sucked into and how he doesn’t know what to do, and their friendship is beautiful and we love it.

Meanwhile, of course, Nicky and Joe keep running into each other and getting on each other’s nerves, Nicky is thisclose to calling up Booker and ordering him to deport Joe because why is he always here (Booker, of course, will eventually become a secret ally in helping them see each other, but that is not quite yet). There is some Shenanigan where they end up both getting into trouble, Grandmother Julie Andrews is not amused, and finally they are forced to sit next to each other for a whole state dinner and Be Polite, because Genovia is trying to forge better relations with Joe’s kingdom. (Genovia is tiny, ancient, and broke, Joe’s kingdom has obviously a ton of money, there are old historical ties between them, some Genovians traveled to the kingdom in the past, Genovia’s trying to improve its human rights record and take in more refugees, etc. Nile is also helping with this last). So Nicky and Joe get ordered to fake a highly convincing bromance and pretend they’ve been best buddies all along (think Red White and Royal Blue) and that means they have to actually learn about each other and spend time together and ugh, he’s a spoiled rich playboy brat, and ugh, he’s a clueless American who thinks he’s better than us, and…

Oh no.

Yes, of course they fall in love, they deny it as hard as they can, Nile and Quynh and Booker are all increasingly exasperated by their attempts to pretend they’re not, and finally they kiss and make love and admit their feelings and that they want to be together. Then of course they get outed by some scheming evil cabinet minister (Merrick) who doesn’t want Nicky to become king and disapproves of him dating (gasp) a MUSLIM WHO IS ALSO A MAN, and there’s a huge scandal and a ton of drama and the usual Romcom Breakup Angst as they decide whether they can still see each other. Andy flies out to Genovia to comfort Nicky, Booker has a Word With The Queen, and Joe hides in his room until Quynh (along with Nile, who she’s met and hit it off with) appears to tell him that he has to be brave, she’ll help.

Anyway, etc etc., Drama, “I love him no matter what, if you don’t accept him you don’t accept me and your STUPID BLOODLINE CAN CHOKE” speeches from Nicky, Julie Andrews sees the light, they decide that Nicky and Joe can keep seeing each other, and it’s all rather sweet. There’s a lot of public relations to be managed and whether Joe’s family is going to disown him and what this will mean for the whole international relations thing, but… one thing at a time.

Nicky agrees to become Prince of Genovia as long as he can be with Joe, Joe decides that hey, he likes Nile too and there’s plenty of meaningful work to be had here and the three of them can join forces to do good things and he’s going to stay, and the Genovian public obviously comes around and loves them. Nobody can find Princess Quynh. It’s rumored she ran off to America with a cranky vodka-drinking PhD student of indeterminate age and was last seen on the back of a motorcycle heading west.

Everyone lives happily and gayly ever after.

The End.

[hilarioushilarity]

Artist Joe & Bodyguard Nicky AU Part 3

Joe had barely started to feel just this side of faint when a warm arm wound its way around his back, a hand settling home on his hip. He found himself leaning in but caught himself just in time.

“My love,” Nicolo said, looking for all the world a doting partner. “How are you enjoying the night?”

“Much better now that you’re here,” Joe said, meaning every word, even as his head throbbed unpleasantly and his eyes prickled. A polite cough to his right almost caused him to groan reflexively, but he swallowed it and instead added, “Nicolo, this is Mr Wetherington.”

“A pleasure,” Wetherington said. The smile on his face was all politeness, but the look he gave Nicolo was assessing. Nicolo smiled guilelessly back.

Harold Wetherington was the kind of old money that would’ve made Joe’s skin crawl even without knowing the kinds of pies he had fingers in, even without having helped bankrupt the cosmetics arm of Wetherington Industries by exposing the underbelly of unethical animal testing practices - and, well could treating animals as testing subjects ever be ethical?

Harold Wetherington was the kind of man who would put out a hit on Joe in a heartbeat, if he knew just who had been behind the social media campaign that shut down his labs. People like Wetherington was why Nicolo was here, ostensibly as Joe’s partner, rather than hovering behind Joe and raising the question of why a mild-mannered artist like Joe would even need a bodyguard at a charity ball. 

Joe tensed as the pressure behind his eyes spiked painfully. The arm around him tightened slightly, and then, apropos of nothing, lips were pressed to Joe’s forehead. When Nicolo pulled back, he met Joe’s bemusement with a smile that looked a touch strained.

“Shall we go home?” Nicolo asked. “It’s quite late. Would that be alright, my love?”

“Um,” Joe said, articulately. His head was too sore to keep up with this dizzying turn of events. “Yes? Yes, let’s go. Harold, see you at the next one of these?” He made himself wait for a reply and the polite exchange of goodbyes before letting Nicolo gently guide him through coat-check and into their car. The arm around him only left his shoulders when he slid into the car, and he told himself that he didn’t miss it.

Nicolo pulled them into the flow of traffic. “How long have you been unwell for?” he asked.

“What?” Joe was caught off guard. “I’m not unwell?”

Without ever taking his eyes off the road, Nicolo reached over and placed the back of his hand against Joe’s forehead. “You are quite warm,” he said, almost to himself. He sounded unhappy.

“Not hot?” Joe tried for a suggestive smile, but the hand on his forehead was large and steady, and it was hard not to just sink into the soft leather seat. “I guess...my head’s been hurting a little lately.”

Nicolo took his hand away, and Joe tried and failed to not mourn its loss. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you wouldn’t have let me go to the charity ball.”

“You hate these events,” Nicolo pointed out. “And also, name one time I’ve been able to successfully stop you from doing anything.”

Joe sighed, and let his head fall backwards. “You need only ever ask, my love,” he murmured absently.

“What?” Nicolo asked, voice a little strangled.

“Hmm?” Joe said, his eyes sliding closed. The pressure in his head dulled a little, but not by much. “Oh - sorry, and I mean...I do hate these things, but it’s for charity and some money does go to people who need it...not all of it goes back into rich peoples’ pockets, and um...”

“That’s not-” Nicolo broke off, then sighed, a small, quiet thing. “You should get some sleep. I’ll call for a doctor.”

Joe wanted to ask him what was wrong, but the soft plushness beneath his head called him, and his head did hurt so very much. He could ask him about it later, Joe resolved. Later, when the throbbing at his temples and the rawness of his eyes receded. “’kay,” Joe mumbled. “Thank you, Nicky.”

***

It could have been seconds later, or minutes, or hours. A hand was on his arm. “Joe?”

Sleep was reluctant to let him go, and the pain in his head was blinding. “I’m here,” he whispered.

Fingers gently touched his forehead, and he turned towards them absently. “He - he’s burning!” someone gasped. It sounded like Booker. “Nicolo, can you get him up into bed? I’m going to call the doctor right now.”

Two hands gently cupped his face. “Joe, can you open your eyes for me?”

There was so much Joe would do for that voice. He opened his eyes with great effort, to see Nicolo crouched beside the open car door.

“There you are,” Nicolo said, his voice softer than Joe had ever heard it. It did funny things to his insides. “Do you think you can get to your room?”

His room was so far away. But the thought of a bed, his bed, with its warm blankets and the smell of sleep, called. “I think so,” Joe mumbled.

“Lean on me?” Nicolo said, taking his arms and helping him out of the car. “Here we go, you’re doing great. We’ll be there soon.”

There were around two hundred steps between the garage and his room, but later, all Joe would remember of them would be the smell of the shampoo Nicolo liked to use, the press of a firm, broad shoulder beneath his arm. He wouldn’t remember the way he was lowered onto the bed, gently, carefully. Nor would he remember the way he said, “Nicky - will you stay with me, please? I- if you want to,” and the way something raw had passed over Nicolo’s face. That night, amidst the murmurs of the doctor and Booker and Nicolo, he would dream of a man sitting beside his bed, of cool, soft hands smoothing hair away from his burning forehead and feeding him water.

And in the morning, when he woke up, there would be the slightest of impressions in the blankets beside him, still warm, as if someone had stayed the entire night by his side.

A continuation of this and that. Here is the original post by @veryoldmuchguard. Yes, this is 100% just softness, but sometimes it’s okay to not polish a piece up to a brilliant shine. I do have some ideas for plot, and you might be able to see some inklings beginning in this piece.

[milazka]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐁. 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟏.𝟕𝐤+

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : -

𝐚/𝐧 : 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐢 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐢 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞. 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞...

——————————————————————

Your feet pressed against the dashboard, you breathe in the sea air rushing into the van. Sitting in the passenger seat, your head swings to the rhythm of the music chosen by your boyfriend.

John Booker Routledge.

Wavy brown hair, surfer style and a charming smile; he was literally the boy you imagined in your dreams since you were little. You met a few months ago, thanks to Pope. Your father and Heyward were having a business meeting together and he had brought you with him. You got to know Pope a little bit more, talking with him on the dock while your fathers were inside. Pope offered  you to spend the afternoon on the water with him and his friends and you accepted; you liked meeting new people. That’s when you met John B; you both fell in love at first sight. Since then, you went on a few dates and you had exchanged your first I love you. You wanted to take your time in this relationship, it was your first one.

 “Y/n? do you want to go back to my place, or do you need to go home?” He asks you, his hand resting on your bare thigh.

 “We can go to your place, my dad is having a meeting with Heyward at our house.” You respond, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

 “Perfect, I want to show you something.” He smiles.

 He parks the van in front of the Chateau and comes open your door, holding out his hand to you like a gentleman. John B puts the straps of his backpack on one of his shoulders and squeezes your hand in his, dragging you towards the back of the house. You walk on a small path in the forest, your eyes wandering everywhere to observe the beauty of the nature which surrounds you. After a few minutes of walking, you arrive in front of a wooden shed high in the trees.

 “Wow, it’s beautiful.” You compliment as he starts climbing in the ladder.

 “My dad built it for me and JJ when we were little. We have always maintained it well so it can remain habitable.” He explains to you, grabbing your hand once you arrive at the top of the ladder.

 The cabin consists of a single large room with two windows. A few empty beer cans are lying on the floor near a gray futon. Half-melted candles rest on a small wooden coffee table. You run your hand over the designs that decorate the table, recognizing JJ's style. John B sits on the futon as you continue to observe the objects in the cabin. You smile at a frame containing a photo of JJ and John B when they were young.

 “We were six years old on this one.” John B says, displaying a nostalgic face.

 “You were already cute.” You say, making him giggle.

 You seat on a cushion in front of him and he takes your hand in his, making small circles with his thumb on it. In peaceful silence, he watches you with his hazel eyes, making you blush and bow your head, a bit intimidated by his gaze.

“Did I ever tell you that you were beautiful?” He says to you with a smile.

“Many times.” You answer, smiling back.

He pulls you towards him, making you take place on his thighs. His hand brushes against your cheek before settling on the back of your neck, pulling your head close to his face. He gently presses his lips against yours and you slowly start to move in sync with him. Your hands slip into his hair as he ran his hand under your long sleeve sweater, rubbing your back up and down. While his hand rests on the tie of your bikini top, you move your head back, breaking the kiss.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” John B asks you with a soft voice.

You sigh; you knew that one day or another you would need to have this conversation with him.

“I’ve never done it.” You mutter, hiding your face in your hands.

He places his hands on yours, gently moving them away from your face to lock his gaze in yours.

 “It’s okay, Y/n/n. It doesn't change anything, sweetheart.” He whispers to you.

 “I’m just scared that I’ll lose control and I’ve never been comfortable enough with someone to do it.” You explain to him with a sad smile.

 “I find it beautiful that you respected yourself and that you didn't flinch under social pressure to do it even if you were not ready.” He reassures you.

You smile, appeased to see that it doesn't change anything between you two.

“How was yours?” You ask, having never question him about it before.

 “It was super special.” He giggles. “A tourist from Cincinnati. We met at a party and five minutes into it, she just… asked. So, we went back to her condo and it lasted a total of twenty-five seconds.” He pouts, making a small reverence with his hand.

 “Wow, a great first experience.” You sarcastically say, smiling at him

 “I guess you could say that.” He smiles back. “We’ll do it when you’re ready.” John B adds.

He is about to add something, but you cut him with a passionate kiss. John B opens his hide widely as you push him against the back of the futon. You start to roll your hips, grinding against his crotch. He grunts softly against your lips and grabs you by the waist, amplifying the movement against the bulge in his pants.

“Fuck babe, you’re sure that you want to do it now?” He whines, breathing a bit faster.

 “I want you to be my first, John B.” You clearly state.

He smiles to you and cup your face with his hands, deepening the kiss. You unbutton his eternal Hawaiian shirt while he removes your shirt. His eyes flicks, admiring the sight of your almost-bare chest. You lay your hands on his tan chest, feeling his muscular pecs under your hands. He makes you stand up and slip your shorts along your legs after unbuttoning them, leaving you in your simple black panties. John B's mouth attacks your thighs, leaving a few wet kisses on your skin. He sits you back on him, peppering soft kisses on your neck. You are surprised by the groan that escapes from your lips when you feel his hard crotch against your womanhood.

 “Unbuckle my belt.” He directs you, knowing that you're not used to it.

He removes his shorts, revealing the bulge stretching the fabric of his boxers. You gulp; you knew he was well equipped, but not that much. He takes you under your thighs and lay you down onto the mattress. A moan slips between your lips as he begins to rub his bulge against the fabric that is still covering your core.

 “Is it okay if I take it off?” John B asks you, pointing your panties with his finger.

 You nod, taking a deep breath when you feel his hands grab the edge of your panties. He slides them down your legs while leaving kisses down your neck and your stomach.

 “Already wet for me, sweetheart.” He winks at you, making you blush.

He spreads your legs and slowly introduce a finger in you, making you tense. He slowly starts moving in and out your entrance and start rubbing his thumb on your little nerves ball. You slowly relax, putting your hands on his shoulders as you moan against the crook of his neck. You feel some warmth in your stomach as he pumps you with two of his fingers. After a few seconds, he stops fingering you and grabs a glass jar under the table, taking one of the small packages.

 “It’s JJ’s, and don’t worry, I changed the sheet.” He clarifies by seeing the look on your face.

 He removes his boxers, revealing his erection on which he rolls the condom. John B position himself between your thighs, aligning himself in front of your entrance.

 “Try to relax, sweetheart, and tell me if it hurts. I’ll go slowly.” He warns you after kissing the tip of your nose.

 Leaning on his forearms on each side of your chest, he lies above you, rubbing his cock against your clit before placing it at the opening of your womanhood. You get tense when you feel him slowly slide inside you. You bite your bottom lips; the pain is worse than you thought. A few tears escape from the corner of your eyes.

 “I’m sorry baby.” He whispers to you, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

 “It-it’s not your fault.” You say to him. “I’m just not used to your… size.”

 “Do you want me to try to move a bit?” He asks you.

 You take a deep breath and nod. Your face clench when he slowly withdraws.

 “Keep going.” You encourage him, grabbing onto his shoulders.

 He kisses you tenderly, trying to make you forget the pain as he begins to move back and forth in you. The pain gradually decreases, your body adjusting to his size. You dig your nails into his biceps when pain turns into pleasure, making you moan harder.

 “You like it?” He smirks, his jaw clenched as he slams more vigorously into you.

 “Fuck yes.” You groan, holding on to his shoulders.

 “Do you wanna try another position?” He asks.

You nod and he slows down before pulling back. He turns you around suddenly, making you drop a little squeak. On your knees and leaning on your forearms, he thrusts in and out of you, hitting your g-spot. It hurts you a bit, you’re not totally used to the feeling of his cock inside you.

 “Fuck baby, you’re so tight.” He grunts, grabbing you by the waist.

  You moan his name, your hands clutching the sheets. John B thrusts deeper and you feel that you’re close to your first orgasm.

 “J-John, fuck!” You scream, feeling your pussy clench around him.

 “Oh fuck, baby!” He groans, a few seconds later.

 He pulls out of you and drops himself on the mattress, still breathing heavily. You lie down by his side and he pulls you closer to him with his arm around your shoulders.

 “Was it like you expected?” He asks you.

 “Better. I'm glad I waited and did it with you.” You respond, lifting your head to meet his hazel eyes.

 “I'm honored that I was your first, sweetheart.”

milamaybank’s masterlist

[yuniv-bluetea]

Good Enough Pt.1 ( Topper x male reader)

requested by @bxlynnx​ Topper Thornton and Sarah Cameron were dead news. The whole island guessed that already and got it finally confirmed when Sarah brought her new boyfriend to a party. John Booker Routledge. Or simply John (fucking) B(itch Bastard). His name alone made Topper’s blood boil. Being pissed off by only thinking about these two Topper put his weights aside and marched to the balcony of the room. What was Sarah even thinking when she replaced him with..this Pogue trash ? A fresh breeze tickles his bare chest as he closes his eyes breathing slowly in and out. There was no use in crying after Sarah. He could have everybody. Hell. Why does he even care ? .....Because he simply does. Topper truly did love Sarah and even if literally nobody would believe him....his heart shattered into million of pieces when he found out about her and John B. Wasn’t he a good enough for her ? Was he not a perfect boyfriend ? ...”Did she actually loved me ?”, he whispers to himself and looks at the beach. It was the place where they had their first date that turned into a nightmare..in a funny way. .... “ That’s it !” Topper knew that he would explode if he did not do anything to ease his mind. Revenge. Oh yeah..You better watch out John Bastard Routledge, ‘cause two can play this game ! Since Topper had no idea straightaway how to plot revenge against John B, he decided to just beat the shit out of him and then..maybe by then a better plan would occur to him. So he drove right away to his enemies’ house, plastered the helmet on his motorcyle and went for a direct attack. “Hey John B ~? Yeah right, you asshole..Get out !”, he screamed while pounding the door, knowing that Mr Routledge probably wasn’t at home which meant he could only find John B and his crew here..except- “We got it, big boy ! You’re pissed, jeez...Grow a pair,..you’re acting like a baby..”, scolded (y/n)  him as he opened the door rather unenthusiastic. (Y/N) was John B’s older brother...a guy you don’t fuck with. ‘Cause he decides with whom he fucks or not. So, in short : the bad boy of the Pogue. “ Johnny boi isn’t here ~” Topper knew just like everyone else that (y/n) was a total- “You don’t have to stare at me like that. I know that I’m a total snack ~” - douchebag who just kinda knows what the chicks want. Rolling his eyes at (y/n) comment, he just turns around walking back to his motorcycle. “ Hey, Thornton !”, confused Topper turns around “ I’m sorry that it did not work out for Sarah and you” What a bitch, making fun of him like that. “Sure..as if you would care about such stuff” Not waiting for a response, Topper just drives home. “You’ve definitly have to come to Jeff’s party today” “ Agreed...I mean, man....Come on ! Stop being a pussy...You’re no longer Sarah’s bitch. And the party is gonna be lit”. Knowing Rafe that meant drugs would come to play again. “Yeah, stop acting like you’re still Sarah’s bitch. It’s getting weird and Jeff’s party is tradition ”, adds Kelce to the conversation. Sometimes Topper wonders how these two dudes could become his best friends. “Alright,alright...Same time ?” There was no point in denying that Jeff’s party’s always were top-tier. Food of the highest quality, good music, high-proof alcohol and everyone had the time of their lives...well, almost everyone. Further away from the crowd of people in the villa and outside of it, one sad soul sat in a less crowded area staring into the flames of the bonfire close to him. It been hours ago since he saw his friends. Probably they were somewhere doing drugs or some other shit. Normaly he would have brought Sarah with him and the time would fly away... Again a sip of wodka ran through his throat, his mind slowly turning into jelly. Since it was really hot, Topper unbottened his shirt further and looked aimlessly around him. His eyes catched a familiar frame. Oh shit. What are they doing here ?! “..stupid Jeff !” Of course.. if you have a host whose girlfriend is a Pogue..the other odd creatures are feeling welcome too. Focused on ignoring his favourite..definitely drunk..couple, he didn’t notice that someone sat down next to him. “ Big Boy still pissed ?” “WOah..No..I mean..Why are you smelling like Ramen ?” “Like what ?” “....” “How many of these did you had already ?” Confused Topper looked at his cup. “  I dunno”, clueless he shrugs his shoulders “ like four-ish.” “Four-ish ?”, with his free hand (y/n)  grabbed something from the bottom and revealed two bottles of fancy stuff. “Up for the challenge ?” Neither one of them knew at this moment how these drinks would change the whole outcome of this night. “...So she cheated on Danny too ?”, a small giggle escaped (y/n)’s lips. “ Yeah..yeah...and then..then I became her next sucker for a time...” “Wow..that’s sucks” Both of them broke into a rage of laughter, even if there was nothing funny about it. (Y/N) leaned closer to Topper “ Where are your.. ‘buddies’..actually ?” “Somewhere..”, feeling a bit dizzy Topper placed his left hand on (y/n)’s thigh. “ I mean...I know what most people think of them..that they are jerks.. Weeell they kinda are..but..nahh so am I. ...We fit and have also good ..mo..moments...and shit like that. ... Even if I still kinda wish to have other friends sometimes..but..you know. What if end up being alone ?” “I don’t thi-” “I meaan..People want you to be real with them and then..When I’m talking about how shi..shitty I feel they are...OHHH stop it ! We don’t annoy you with our struggle either, so don’t being a selfish whiny biitch !” “ You are not a whi-” “Not that I have someone to talk to about”, plastered he tapped his chest “THAT...maybe my mum...but she hates me now..dunno why she started with that actually..just kinda happened..I mean I always been be suuuper shy and quiet boo..so you what could I have done... WrOng” “...” A sudden heat rose up Topper’s head. “S-Sorry I’m talking.. like talking..too much..Sorry” “Don’t be. ...You know I also don’t have someone to talk about my feelings. And I guess I’m okay..even though I reaally don’t feel like it..maybe ? Rat’s ass....Let’s talk about something else ! Topper could swear they kept on talking for months. But he was also super drunk, so maybe only a few hours past when some girl walked straight towards them. “Oh hey (y/n) ! It’s been a while since we last saw each other-” “Who are you ?” Suprised the girl stopped in her tracks. “It’s me...your ex..(r/n)..hehe...It’s been only two months since our break up...” Confused (y/n) looked at Topper. “Was I really stu-stupid enough to date ...that ?”, asked (y/n) Topper shocked and began laughing when (r/n) stormed angry away. The alcohol was getting the best of them. “Oh man..”, chuckled Topper as he looked away. “You’re really..really,really a dick !” Finding that statement somehow funny, (y/n) began laughing again. “ Is that so ?” “Mhm..”,nodded Topper as he took a sip. (Y/N) joined him and gave him a big smile. His cheeks were flushed. His soul at peace. His brain...not present. So it had to happen that (y/n) dropped that bomb on Topper. “..Well... Well,you know big boy, I guess there is some truth in the saying ‘You are what you eat’ after all..” Topper spitted out his drink and looked at (y/n) who drank from his drink again not realizing what he just had done. “..wHuT ???” Silence. “..Oh..upsi” Next thing Topper knew, he threw up big time.

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Joe/Nicky - Nightmares [G]

Joe keeps watch over Nicky during one of his nightmares. Fluff & Angst. 

Nightmares plagued all of them. Dreams about each other stopped as soon as they met. Nicky had a nice way of thinking about it. Destiny. They’ve all been alive for far too long to believe in any god or higher force. Nothing had a sense of humour that cruel to make a person able to live forever, and then to snatch it away with no rhyme or reason. Though maybe something does, and its play with them. Maybe in some long-forgotten past life, they pissed someone or something off just enough to warrant this curse.

Maybe they’re memories. They seem familiar enough. Past skirmishes and wars, and friends lost along the way. He doesn’t like to dwell on them. Being flung awake drenched in a cold sweat and gasping for breath is enough. But one has to wonder.

His memory can only stretch back so far. Then things start to get grainy. He can’t remember the streets of his home, but he can just about make out the general shape of his mother’s face, or the smell of olive oil and garlic.

He remembers the first time he killed Nicky. And the first time Nicky killed him; which was fair, Joe did strike first. And he remembers every look and grazing of fingers against skin and every smile that erupted out of a kiss.

Nicky makes it easier. They all help each other, in their own ways. Joe talks. Booker listens. Andy offers a walk to shake the last chill of fear out of the bones. Nicky stays, waiting until the trembling stops and his heart can slow down.

He remembers the first time; blue eyes watching him through the lapping flames of a campfire, a soft frown creased along Nicky’s brow. He remembers trying to go back to sleep, staving off the cold fear that shivered through him. And his ears twitched at the sound of boots crunching and shifting gravel. A body sat beside him, on his side of their camp. Warm eyes washed over him, keeping the shadows at bay; just until the sun could peer over the nearby mountains and flood light into the cave they had taken shelter in.

Now, though, he curls around Nicky. Or Nicky rests his head on his chest, an arm and leg thrown over him, half-pinning him down to the bed, as if he would get dragged away. Warmth blooms through him then. Even in the worst, storm-riddled nights, he’s warm and safe and anchored.

For the first time in a long time, peace laps and settles over the house. Tucked away in some backstreet of Florence, they’re just waiting for Copley to tell them that it’s clear enough to break cover. After everything that’s happened, the last thing they need is eyes falling back on to them.

So they sleep. Well, most of them do. Andy is still getting used to the whole sensation of it; always having been the one to keep watch throughout the nights. But now she doses like the rest of them, occasionally surfacing at the slight creak of a floorboard or the thrill of a bird outside. When Joe glances over, his eyes soften at the blanket strewn over her, a pillow curled beneath her as she drifts further down into sleep. Nile keeps watch for the night, content enough to perch by the balcony and look out on to the sprawling terracotta city in front of her.

Two thin and worn mattresses pushed together into the corner of the would-have-been living room make up their bed. They sleep how they always have, comfortably and entangled in each other. Even sleeping, their hands clutch on to anything of the other’s that they can find; hands, arms, fistfuls of tees.

Joe breathes. His nose is nuzzled into the back of Nicky’s head. He smells clean, freshly showered and the familiar musk of the man coats the roof of his mouth and settles. He stays like that for God only knows how long. He’s content to be there, swaying in and out of sleep, the familiar scent of his partner lulling over him.

He doesn’t’ know what time it is. An ink-black sky speckled with stars stretches on outside. The first thing he sees through bleary, sleep-sore eyes is Nicky’s shoulders beginning to tremble. His scent changes. Something acrid and bitter stings the roof of Joe’s mouth. His nose wrinkles. Joe makes a quiet nose in the back of his throat. He reaches for one of Nicky’s hands, squeezing firmly. It’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe.

It tempers the worst of the tremors, but Nicky’s face still pulls in tightly, a grimace stating to etch into his brow and lips before his breathing starts to stutter.

Joe wades further into consciousness. Shaking the last of sleep from himself, he hushes Nicky tightly. Tremors. Breathing. Noise. He knows what will nip and snarl at Nicky’s nape as a nightmare chases him down. All he can do is try and chase it off. If all else fails, he can just make sure it doesn’t startle the other man too much.

A whine slips out between Nicky’s lips. And then he’s flung. Whatever had been stalking and toying with him was done with their play. Nicky’s eyes snap open, darting around the room as he tries to make sense of what’s what.

Joe shushes him. “It’s alright,” he thrills in Italian, the familiar lull of it lapping over the other man.

Nicky looks over his shoulder. Blue eyes, wide and glinted with fear, settle when they land on Joe. “Angelo,” he breathes, turning in Joe’s arms. Joe loosens them just enough for Nicky to move. The man turns and curls up against Joe’s chest, settling his ear just over his heart. A steady rhythm. One Nicky tries to copy. His own heart hammers and stutters in his chest, at fear of breaking out through his ribcage or coming up his throat.

Joe cards his fingers through Nicky’s hair. It still smells like the generic pharmacy-brand shampoo. And beneath it all, there’s a twinge of something sour. Fear. “You’re alright,” he gentles, combing hair and helping Nicky regain his breath.

Its the worst thing in the world; usually kind and gentle eyes chilled with fear. He doesn’t deserve it. None of them do, but especially Nicky. He’s too kind for what this world has become.

He still trembles. And Joe’s heart aches as he tries to soothe and gentle. He casts a quick glance over Nicky’s shoulder. Nile is watching them from the balcony. She quirks an eyebrow. Alright?

Joe sighs, lifting a shoulder. Nightmare.

Nicky’s nose buries into the hollow of his throat. Every trembling breath eventually evens out and begins to settle. The others can offer all the help they like; Joe settles Nicky and Nicky settles Joe. Each lungful of scent pulled in eases tensed up muscles and a flighty mind. So he smoothes his hand over Nicky’s shoulders and back. He cards his fingers through his hair. He hums something that might have been a lullaby from his mother.

He won’t ask what’s haunting him. Nicky will tell him in his own time. And he can probably hazard a guess as to what it might have been this time. Only because his own nights have been soured with the same heart-stopping and stomach-churning thought.

“Tesoro.”

Joe peers down. Nicky’s usual glimmering blue eyes look back at him. Behind all of it, there’s still a small glint of fear still lingering.

Joe’s heart clenches. “You’re safe,” he mumbles, the words tumbling out from his lips without much thought. They’ve been through countless sleepless nights. Nicky’s brow smoothens. Reaching out tentatively, because there is always the chance that a night terror could come stalking back. Joe brushes the backs of his knuckles over the arch of a cheekbone. “Nothing will ever hurt you,” he breathes. “Not while I’m around.”

The frown returns. Nicky’s face blanches as his hands begin to tremble.

“You won’t be left alone, caro,” Joe insists, trailing the tips of his fingers along Nicky’s jaw. “You’re stuck with me. Understood?”

Nicky’s mouth cracks open. Words try to spill out, but they catch in his throat.

Joe’s eyes harden. He will not have night terrors and evil anxious whispers breathing ridiculous ideas into his lover’s ear. “You and I are bound together,” he mutters, catching Nicky’s cheek in his palm. A soft swell of warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of Nicky’s eyes fluttering closed, and he nuzzles into the touch. He thumbs over the ridge of Nicky’s cheekbone. “I know it’s confusing and scary. But we’ll find out why what happened to Andy happened. Until then, it’s you and me. Like always.”

A long slow sigh leaves the other man. “Ti amo.” Eyes drift down and linger on his lips. It’s as natural to them as breathing; leaning forward to catch lips, sighing contently when their noses brush.

This is all either of them ever needed. Each other. And it’s the source of so much grounding; as long as he’s wrapped around the other man, he’ll be fine. As long as he has those blue eyes looking back at him, and that shy smile he tries to hide whenever Joe looks at him, everything is good.

Nicky breaks them apart, but keeps their foreheads pressed together. Their noses brush and a shared breath sits between them. Words linger on the tip of his tongue. But he swallows. “It’s ridiculous,” he breathes, nestling into their shared bed. A light laugh rattles out of him. He reaches up, skimming his fingers over Joe’s forearm. Skin erupts into gooseflesh. “I’ve had you for longer than anyone has had anyone,” he whispers, “and it’s still not enough time.”

Joe clicks his tongue. “You act as though I’m going somewhere,” he mumbles. And he isn’t. This is his family. His life has no meaning with Nicky.

The other man thins his lips. “It’s not up to you, though,” he replies, his hold on Joe’s arm tightening.

It’s stayed with him. It stayed with all of them. Eyes have lingered on Andy since they drove away from Merrick’s labs. No one mentions it, but it sits on each of their tongues.

They can die.

Joe shakes the thought from his mind. “Shh, now, caro,” he brings himself closer to Nicky. Het blooms where they’re pressed against each other. He parts just for a second, reaching for a blanket kicked down to the foot of their makeshift bed. He tugs it over the both of them, settling down with the other man with a sigh. Nicky’s eyes blearily droop closed. He clambers to stay awake – with Joe, where it’s safe – but he sinks further and further down as sleep washes over him. Joe presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right here, my love. Sleep now.”

[firefliesintheskyline]

(Me, prompting myself under the shower : What if we take the popular “person A is drunk and asks person B to be their partner, person B laughs and answers by saying they are married already (without saying they are actually married to person A) and person A pouts” and add “what person B doesn’t know is that person A sees them interact with person C and thinks they are the significant other”)

So, I guess… enjoy???

(Now on AO3 !)

INTOXICATED (Nicky x Joe + the Immortal Family)

Their last mission in France had been extremely successful, so Andy wasn't entirely surprised to find 2 cases of champagne in front of their safe house. She had to admit that, while at first she had been very reluctant to give Copley the address, taking the risk to share the information had paid off nicely more than once. He also really didn’t need to know that this was only one of the half dozen properties they had in Paris and its surroundings.

“Well, I guess we are in for a big celebration tonight!” Quynh was enthusiastically emptying the first box and passing the bottles over to Booker, while Nile and Joe were already heading to the kitchen to get some glasses.

“Don’t start moping, Nicky,” Andy gave him her signature half smile, “you don’t have to drink, if you don’t want to.”

Nicky looked almost offended by her suggestion.

“Just because I have a very low tolerance, it doesn’t mean I have to refrain from alcohol entirely, Andromache.”

She shrugged, completely unbothered.

“If you say so.”

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

From her spot on the sofa, Andy let out a self-satisfied smirk when she noticed that Nicky was curled up into the armchair, looking comfortable and completely gone.

“Hush, love,” Quynh pinched her very lightly on the arm, “stop making fun of him. After all, you where the one who instigated the drinking.”

Andy gave her a pointed look. “I merely told him that he didn’t have to, if he didn’t want to.”

“Because you knew exactly what his reaction would be,” Quynh retorted, looking back at Nicky with fondness in her eyes, “I still don’t get how he could be the fiercest warrior in the room and yet be totally unaware of the tricks you play on him.”

“I didn’t play any trick,” Andy shook her head, “and you know it. He knows it. Nicky has been too tense lately, and I need him to loosen up a little.” She got up, heading for the kitchen to refill her empty glass. “And you can call him the 'fiercest warrior in the room’ only once I’m gone from this world.”

Quynh laughed quietly and scooped closer to Nile, who was lazily trying to engage Booker into an art debate. The frenchman was mostly content to listen, while resisting the urge to drift off to sleep.

Joe, who was sitting right next to him, was about to pitch in as well, when suddenly Nicky decided to get up from the armchair and drop himself unceremoniously into his partner’s lap.

“Hi.”

The room went quiet for about half a minute, before Nile tactfully started talking again, soon followed by both Booker and Quynh. However, it didn’t stop them from taking turns to glance back at the couple every once in a while.

“Well, hi to you.” Joe wasn’t used to Nicky being openly affectionate in front of their family, and wasn’t sure if he should indulge in this. He didn’t want Nicky to feel mortified the next morning. Still, he put his hands very lightly on each side of Nicky’s waist. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Nicky tilted his head on the side a little, looking at him with lust. “Would you care to join me?”

Joe was a little flushed by the situation, but couldn’t help the soft smile that escaped his lips. “I have to say, your proposition sounds extremely appealing, but if you think you can get my pants off of me that easily…” he trailed off, winking.

Now it was Nicky’s turn to feel embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “You are very handsome. And I want you. Very much. And I think your body wants me too. So, if you accept to be my lover, I can bed you and make sweet love to you. Or rough love. Both. I think I would enjoy both very much.”

It took Joe a whole minute to register all the words that came out of Nicky’s mouth. His Nicky, who was always shy with words (but never with gestures), who took months to actually voice his love for Joe at the beginning of their shared journey, but was now apparently propositioning him in the middle of a room full of people.

The same Nicky who, in the meantime, was getting worried by the lack of response. “Please be assured that this wouldn’t be a one time occurrence, I wouldn’t dare deflower your body without promptly making an honest man out of you…"

At which point Joe couldn’t help it and burst into laughter. “Well, that is very noble of you,” he said, and then, just because he wanted to see how far he could push it, “but unfortunately I’m already united in wedlock.”

The color drained entirely from Nicky’s face, making it very clear that this was not the answer he was expecting. Joe immediately regretted his words, and was about to add more concerning the obvious piece of information that Nicky was missing, when he got distracted by Booker, who was laughing hard at one of Nile’s joke, squeezing Joe’s arm with both of his hands in the process and putting his forehead on his shoulder. “Did you hear it? Man, that was hilarious.”

Joe faintly registered that Nicky was moving from his lap and slopingly getting up, but didn’t want to be rude to the rest of his family. “I’m sorry, I was not listening, would you mind repeating it?”

While Booker was making himself more comfortable into his side, Joe vaguely noticed Nicky leaving the room, but decided to stay and listen to Nile before following him and explain the misunderstanding. Or at least that was the intention, spoiled completely by Nicky who came back in the room almost in a rush and vehemently slapped Booker with a glove.

For the second time of the night, the room went very, very quiet.

“I demand satisfaction!,” Nicky exclaimed in a loud voice, slurring only slightly and making sure that the attention of everyone was on him, “this man has been distracted in frivolous conversation for the entire night, and when I decided to make a move on his beloved, only then he reminded himself of his duty as a husband! But tonight, we will end this,” he said, his fierce eyes on Booker, “I challenge you to a duel.”

Nile was, surprisingly, the first one to break the silence. “Is this a regular thing?” she said, uncertain on how she should feel about the whole situation.

“No, it is not.” The mischievous light in Andy’s eyes was unmistakable. “Ladies, let’s go get the popcorns, we can’t miss this for anything in the world.”

“Boss, you can’t be serious,” Booker called after her, but was clearly ignored. He straightened himself up. “Nicky, come on, I’m n—“

“Not. Another. Word.” Nicky looked at him pointedly in the eyes, before dropping on one knee and taking Joe’s hands in his. “You have to forgive me, I have acted out of pride, without even asking in which direction your heart was pointing…"

“You. It was pointing at you. Tonight, tomorrow, always. I would always choose you,” Joe didn’t hesitate for a single moment, and was rewarded by Nicky’s beautiful smile.

“Well, let the challenge begin!” Nicky pointed at his sword and at Joe’s scimitar, set on the wall on a corner of the room. “We have the weapons, now we just need some… space.”

“I’m glad our backyard is huge,” Quynh took the blades and started walking outside, “chop chop guys, we don’t have all night! Some of us want to use the early morning hours for better activities.” She winked at Andy, while Nile was rolling her eyes, clearly over their not-so-subtle flirting.

They were followed by Nicky and Joe, while Booker was contemplating the idea of making a run for it and loose himself in the Parisian night. He shook the thought out of his head and joined the rest of them outside, aware of the fact that sometimes his family could be too goddamn much.

“It’s going to be a duel to first blood! Since, well, death wouldn’t stick anyway…” Quynh clapped her hands, excitedly, “good luck to the contenders!” she yelled, before going to sit next to Andy and starting to eat the popcorns with way too much enthusiasm.

Nicky was about to reach for the sword, but Joe pushed the scimitar in his hands instead. “A token of love,” he whispered tenderly, before giving Nicky a light kiss on the cheek.

Booker took the sword and sent a clearly exasperated look in their direction, but couldn’t help the little smile on his lips. He really did admire the lengths these two would go to keep their love alive, he just wished they didn’t need to involve the entire family on a regular basis.

Andy gave the signal, and soon enough they started to fight. In a normal situation, Nicky would have had the upper hand, but he was still heavily inebriated, and only his consummated skills as a warrior made it seem like he was doing perfectly fine. He shielded himself from a couple of blows and was about to strike, but he got distracted by Joe’s anxious stare and tight grip on Nile. That was all Booker needed to make a cut on his forearm.

Cheers erupted from both Quynh and Andy, who run to Booker and started clapping on his shoulders, while Joe rushed on Nicky’s side. “My love, are you alright? I should have not given you the scimitar, not after you had so much alcohol…”

Nicky put a hand on Joe's cheek, stroking him softly. “Don’t you worry for me, vita mia. The only thing that makes me sad is to be parted from you.”

“No one will ever part us, hayati. I belong by your side.”

“Even if I lost to him?” At Joe’s strong nod, Nicky pushed the issue further. “You would leave your husband for me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Nicky looked triumphant, and pulled Joe in a fierce kiss, before taking his hand and walking back into the house, leaving the others behind.

“I say one week.”

Nile, who had been distracted by Nicky and Joe’s epic act of love, turned her head at the other three people left there, looking utterly confused.

“What are you guys talking about?”

They completely ignored her.

“Very optimistic of you, Booker. A month,” Andy smirked, looking entirely confident.

“Oh please, Andy! It’s wasn’t that bad,” Quynh was shaking her head, clearly unimpressed, “I’m not even sure it’s going to last more than 24 hours.”

Andy started laughing very loudly. “None of you has known Nicky for as long as I did. He has a serious problem with holding grudges.”

“Guys,” Nile tried again, “what are you betting on?”

Booker took pity on her. “How long before we’ll have to leave them alone in the house to avoid the noises of celebratory sex."

“I’m pretty sure they are doing... ‘that’ right as we speak?” Nile loved her new family, she really did, but she still wasn’t comfortable with the amount of intimate information that were often shared as an off-hand comment.

“Definitely not,” Andy was looking straight at her, “Joe would never take advantage of a drunk Nicky. Even if I honestly doubt Nicky would have any objection.”

Nile shrugged, “Well, then tomorrow morning.”

“That’s when Nicky is going to wake up and remember.”

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

Joe was awakened by the morning sun, and he stirred lazily while keeping his eyes shut. He didn’t remember the last time he had been in such a good mood right at the beginning of the day. After the duel, he and Nicky had sat on the bed for a long time, making out like a couple of teenagers, until Nicky had wanted to push it a little further and Joe had gently stopped him, pressing him to lay down on the bed. They had lazily curled into each other and had been fast asleep only moments later.

But now they were both sober, and Joe was very well intentioned to take his sweet time and make love to the perfect, gorgeous man who was laying by his side.

Except Nicky was not by his side, and suddenly Joe realized that his arms were empty. He moved his hand up and down the other side of the bed, until his fingers brushed along other fingers. He tried to reach for them, but after a gentle squeeze, the other hand left his. He opened his eyes.

His Nicky was looking at him with something that looked like… disappointment.

“Nicolò, come back to bed.”

There was no answer. No reaction.

“Light of my eyes, moon of my life, can you tell me what is wrong?”

Nicky kept glaring at him, much to Joe’s dismay.

“Tell me again how you would leave your husband… in a heartbeat?” Nicky’s statement was followed by a heavy sigh, and a shake of the head. “I didn’t think you such a cruel man, Yusuf.”

Joe’s eyes widened, in alarm. “Nicky, I was talking about… him! Not you! And even by intending you as my husband, which was by the way absolutely not what was happening, I would have still left you… for you!” Joe knew he was making absolutely no sense, but he had just woken up. And he and mornings didn’t necessarily get along.

Nicky shook his head again, clearly dismissive. “I’m deeply hurt, my heart. Someone bats their eyes at you and suddenly you forget all about your husband.”

“You were batting your eyes at me, not just… someone!” Joe was slightly starting to panic. “I wouldn’t notice anyone else if they tried to bat their eyes at me!”

“If you say so.” Nicky got up from the bed, and only then Joe noticed that he was already dressed up. “I’m taking a walk with Nile. Let’s see if when I come back, you’re going to be here, or if you have just decided to run away and leave your husband in a heartbeat.”

Nicky exited the room without another word, content to just leave a loudly groaning Joe on the bed. He made it to the kitchen, where Andy was drinking her coffee.

“How long?”

“A month.”

“Never going to happen,” Nicky was fighting the urge to smile, “I am merely trying to make a point. My instincts are already screaming in protest."

Andy rolled her eyes.

“Fine. But at least wait more than a week, I don’t want to lose to /Booker/.”

“I said this morning,” Nile approached Nicky and touched him lightly on the arm, “and by the look of it, it feels like that’s what you want to go for.”

“My dear, dear Nile,” Nicky covered her hand with his own, “let’s go quickly buy you something with the money that our brothers and sisters are going to owe you.”

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(originally written for @percivlgraves birthday

(Notes:

1) this is my first fanfiction in almost seven years, hopefully it’s not too bad;

2) this is my first fanfiction in english E V E R, please don’t be too harsh, I swear I’ll try to improve!!)