#nicky and joe fanfic

[hyperfix-kate]

I have this extremely vivid image of Agatha and Rio dancing around their cottage at night with baby Nicky in PJ's and I would so draw it but I am not a visual artist so I'm sharing it here in hopes someone gets what I'm picturing lol (depending on how motivated I get in the next couple of days I might be inclined to write it as part of a fanfic, we shall see 😉) Also what's the consensus on what kind of music would be played in the Vidal-Harkness household? I feel like Agatha would be a records person, but maybe that's just me. Like she and Billy definitely talked about music on the road and like the whole band scene? Yeah, she's a music person.

[zairaalbereo]

“He thought he would never get to kiss Nicky again.”

— “The Ghost of You” — Chapter 3

[a-timely-problem]

Teen: lesbians are so dramatic

Jen: aren't you stereotyping?

Teen: ...Take one look at literally anyone in this coven and tell me that I'm wrong

[acupofqueercoffee]

“With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean”

Andromache the Scythian x Witch Reader

gif ▸ queen-shuri ( i don’t know how to link a gif ㅠㅠ )

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

i left her powers to your imagination though i did play around with the idea of them being soulmates. wow it did take me a while. this was harder to write than i thought. frankly, i’m not very pleased with it. i went too long without writing and i feel like i’m getting rusty. i just hope that i managed to do your idea justice 🥹

(=^･ω･^=) leonora the cat made a cameo appearance

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Myriads and myriads of millennia. That was how long the Scythian had been walking the earth. There was not a corner of this world where her soles had not touched. Many a time had the sky borne witness to her downfalls, and thereupon, her immediate beginnings. Throughout her journey as an immortal, she had seen it all, privation, plenty and everything in between. The wonders and weirdness of the world could no longer provoke in her a sensation that would otherwise have six thousand years ago.

Regardless of her very old age that could have her certified as a living fossil, and the boundless knowledge that she had collected throughout her very long life making her a walking encyclopaedia, there existed many mysteries that even Andromache had yet to see. Amongst them, magick was a concept that still remained foreign to her; therefore, a threat. Unfamiliar though it was, it was not entirely unheard of. After all, she herself had been caught in the crossfire while trying to free the accused from the witch trials. In the end, they were just that: accused. There ended the extent of her experience regarding witchery or anything supernatural for that matter.

The only occult phenomenon that she knew to be bona fide was their immortality. The rest was sham. That was, until her team notified her of the all too familiar dream. Until a family of four bar Quynh and Booker, became a family of four, plus a hazardous, peculiar individual.

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The arcane parts of you that had remained concealed for the better part of your life had only recently come to light when you unfortunately faced your demise.

The cause of your death had been as good as silly, slipping on a wet tile and cracking your head open on the edge of your bathtub, but it had shed light on an important piece of information nonetheless.

One second, you were dead, and the next, you woke up in a pool of your own blood. To you, who had been revealed to the bombshell of an information about a week ago, that you were a witchling, you were just in assuming that it was part of your newfound identity.

However, on the following day, with the arrival of a mysterious woman on your doorstep, your life was turned upside down. Going with her had not been of your own free will, having been meticulously knocked unconscious and finding yourself on an unfamiliar bed upon awakening.

The root of your sudden perturbation stemmed from the absence of Leo, a majestic Somali cat with gorgeous red mane that resembled a smaller version of a fox. She had been your greatest companion long before you had been made aware that she was your familiar. It appeared that the bond between a witchling and her familiar became only stronger once a witch unlocked her true potential. Only when a fluffy ball of scarlet hopped onto your bed could you calm.

In addition to, quite frankly, the charismatic complexity of a woman that you eventually learned named Andromache, you met three other people; Nile, who looked the closest in age to you, Nicky who had the kindest face out of the four, and Joe who appeared the most laid-back. All five of whom, four who you had just met, and the remaining one who, as explained by them, was away to carry out his punishment, were not entirely unfamiliar to you. You had seen them in the dream that had sought you right after your very first’s death.

Regardless of your non-involvement in being here, the decision to remain here was done of your own free will, reached by not only your instinctual feelings but also the support of Leo. Growing up alone, you had no one to miss you, and no one to be missed by you. It seemed sound to stick with those as peculiar as you were, than to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the ordinaries, or so you had believed.

Oh, how terrible of a mistake you had made by assuming that being immortal would make you the same as them, or them the same as you.

Although the others welcomed you warmly, making you feel at home as best as they could, your confession about your true being was not received kindly by Andy as the others called her. In fact, even the nickname was a privilege that was beyond your reach.

“That’s Andromache to you.” so she had corrected, lips the very picture of a straight line, when you had made a slip of your tongue.

Being forced out of slumber one night by a curious dream, similar in kind to the one you had on your death’s day, led you to seek the group with a question in mind. No sooner had you set foot in the room than the Scythian made herself scarce without so much as acknowledging you.

“Andy, albeit not being the most open person, can be ridiculously protective of her team. You are now one of us which means that she cares.”

“Humans harbour fear of the unknown. Even Andy cannot be entirely immune to it. Give her time.”

“She’ll come around. Take me for example. I had been killed once, beaten to a pulp, and had my bones broken by that woman, all of which transpired within the same day.”

Despite the reassurances from Joe, Nicky, and Nile, you would rather she kill you than disregard your existence altogether. Her aloofness stung you all the more for you felt oddly, albeit rather profoundly, connected to her.

You wanted to believe that it was time she needed, and time, you gave her, but when you were being actively avoided by her like you were the very plague, it only made sense that your tolerance would eventually run thin.

Unlike the Scythian along with Joe and Nicky who had been protecting humanity for centuries, and Nile who used to be a marine, you lacked experiences when it came to being a warrior. Additionally, being a witchling meant that you were a complete novice in magick. During one of your first missions, due to an error on your part, you had hindered your team by causing their unnecessary deaths.

You were not oblivious to the fact that the Scythian’s immortality had reached its end. In fact, it was by dumping all your attention onto the woman that you had not a dot to contribute to your part of the task. Although the mistake was borne of your all consuming concern for the Scythian’s safety, appreciation was the farthest thing from which you ended up receiving.

“Andromache, I keep having this dream of a drowning woman. Is she someone like us?”

When you had brought the question to her with a flimsy hope of instigating communication, sapphire green eyes had coldly held your soft-eyed gaze.

“There is no us.”

Such had been her words, thickly laced with venom that it rendered you absolutely crestfallen.

Thereafter, you were left alone in the room along with your question neglected. The answer to which was being delivered to you presently in what you could only describe as the most unkind fashion.

“You wanna know who that woman in your recurring dream is? That’s Quynh and if I could, without question, I would trade you for her. You should be the one locked up, not her. Quynh isn’t a witch. You are!”

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Every day, I worry over whose immortality will be stripped away next now that you’re in existence. What use are your abilities when you can’t even make good use of them? A hazard to the team. That is what you are! Nothing but a liability.”

Razor-sharp and poison-bitter, her frankness certainly did a splendid job of maiming you.

Despite not only being shunned, but also having your sorry little heart wounded by the very kingpin of the team, withering was the last thing that befell you. If it did, you were doing a good job of putting up a front, fragility hidden behind a tough facade.

You trained more. You smiled more. Always so cheery, always so carefree until one day, a relatively trying mission brought about the shattering of the mask that you had painstakingly put in place.

“Have I done something wrong? Why does she loathe me so?”

Having been bursting at the seams with bottled up emotions, it was no wonder that your heart reached its breaking point.

“I can’t. I can bear it no more.”

An endless leakage of tears marred your features as you came apart at the seams, revealing to the team the depth of the wound the Scythian’s coldness had burned into your psyche.

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You were different as they were but at the same time, you were different from them altogether. The Scythian had her suspicions to begin with when, after swiftly sketching the picture of the one who had visited their dream, Joe had handed her the book in which a familiar face stared eerily back at her.

Losing her immortality meant that she was no longer privy to these interconnected dreams. However, there was no mistaking the face that had been plaguing her dreams for years. Andromache did not know what it suggested for them, and it was disconcerting to say the least. Then, once the fact was made known that you harboured powers beyond immortality alone, with her suspicions solidified, you were deemed a threat.

As was with Nile, there, too, was a strong possibility of you coming to be at the cost of one of the veterans’ immortality. The staggering awareness that it could very well be Quynh was a bitter pill to swallow. It did not make it any more palatable that Quynh was unfairly accused of being a witch, and locked up in the bottom of the ocean for centuries upon centuries only for a real witch to take her place.

If her rationality had not been muddled by stress, and the deeply rooted guilt and resentment of having to lose Quynh, she would see that her judgement about you had been done with extreme unfairness. Cruelly subjective instead of reasonably objective.

In the end, Joe and Nicky had to play the role of an eye-opener.

“What’s wrong with you, Andy? You’re being unreasonably cruel to the kid.”

“She proved hazardous to the team.”

“She is a part of the team!”

“She’s not entirely like us.”

“That’s absurd!”

“I lost my immortality upon Nile’s arrival. Quynh is next in line. What if she-” Brushing her palms over her face, a sigh was heaved into the cocoon of her hands. “The innocent has to suffer while the guilty takes her place? Don’t you think it’s unfair?”

Joe levelled her with a glare that screamed incredulity while both of them sounded truly disappointed.

“My god, Andy, are you hearing yourself?

“Where is the Andy I know who’s endlessly caring to her people?”

“Your anger is dreadfully misplaced. It is those pea-brained bastards that should be rightfully crucified, not an innocent kid.”

Even amidst being chastised, Andromache could not help but be awed by the couple as they effortlessly supported each other.

“You’ve been nothing but, to be brutally honest, a heartless bitch towards her, and yet, she’s always been heedful of your safety. Despite her lack of experience, the kid’s been tirelessly pushing herself. Can you not really see? Or, did you blatantly choose not to?”

“The way you treat her is cruelly unfair. You know it to be true. You can’t tell me otherwise. Whether she is a witch, or- or say, a vampire, or whatever the hell she is, she’s irrevocably one of us.”

“Poor kid’s devastated by your actions. You would do well to own up to your mistakes and ask her for forgiveness.”

Slowly but surely, the Scythian was beginning to see the errors of her actions, but it was only after having been knocked some sense into her by her very family could she truly grasp the extent of her callousness.

And thus, she came seeking you, a mission that was accomplished rather swiftly.

The sight that she had walked in on forced her to a stop. Keeping herself hidden behind a wall, she was caught off guard by a pang of…perplexity, she decided to name for now, that started pounding against her ribcage.

You were locked snugly in Nile’s arms, face buried in her chest as you dissolved into tears. Seeing you so broken, and knowing that she was undeniably the culprit behind your suffering did something inexplicable to her, but when the pang only intensified, her mind was transported back to a period of time many many moons ago. She had found the amour who she was particularly fond of mingling with someone else, and needless to say, it had not sat well with her.

The green-eyed monster had taken possession of the Scythian then.

Now, the same monster was knocking on her door, bringing with it an unpalatable sensation.

Confused and overcame with labyrinths of emotions, Andromache who had never, in her immortal life, willingly backed down from a challenge experienced her first surrender. Incapable though she was to approach you, the Scythian’s night was spent fruitfully as she dissected her puzzling reaction.

By morning, the puzzle was solved, and her feelings, understood. The pang of perplexity, as it so happened, turned out to be a pang of jealousy, followed closely by guilt and something else entirely that she was not yet ready to admit out loud.

The question however was, had she been too late in realising her mistakes, and thereupon, her feelings?

She had every intention of talking things out with you, but the sudden emergence of a mission compelled her to put it on hold.

Joe and Nicky took care of driving, and as much as she disliked seeing you stick to Nile the entirety of the ride, she knew that she had no rights interfering. For that, she had but herself to blame.

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Raining down around Andromache in a violent downpour were bullets. None of them were offered a chance to reach her, for as she fought with her foes, her team had taken it upon themselves to guard her. They were playing defence while she did the offence. Although at first, their strategy was working remarkably well, as the troops multiplied on the opposing side, their stance faltered.

Being a burden to her team was the last thing she wanted, and having had enough of her team suffering in her stead, she took off from the formation, aiming instead towards the enemy line with her beloved labrys in hand. At her lead, her team followed suit, coming to grips with the enemy team. They covered her, as one after another, the opponents were annihilated by the Scythian’s effortless execution.

Everything had been working in their favour until, all of a sudden, Andromache found you planted firmly in her way. Although, if only for a moment, she was confused, she learnt just as quickly that a bullet had found home in your flesh. A moment later, and her axe, too, found sweet purchase directly between the eyes of your aggressor. Together, you made light work of defeating your opponents. As you kept them restrained with the help of your powers, she delivered finishing blows.

Between using your powers to assist her in combat and taking damages for her should the assaults were to prove lethal, one too many times had you use yourself as a shield. As a result, your body was riddled with many an injury which the Scythian noticed were taking longer than necessary to heal. Through the wounds leaked blood, and it made Andromache nauseous with worry.

What she perceived next, she heard it first, before she saw it. A loud bang of a gun that sounded from behind you.

Almost instinctively, her hands found home on your hips, soft flesh yielding beneath her calloused fingers as she quickly did a swap of positions. If a bullet were to hit, it would be her instead of you. The inevitable pain, which she was bracing for, never came. She understood why by the time her eyes fell on you. Tendrils of glowing green were dancing to your fingers’s desire as a protection was conjured around the pair of you.

The mission, once again, accomplished, she took the time to admire the delicate blossom of a smile on your lips. A feeling that quickly dissolved into worry upon hearing the little whimper that escaped them. By the time your eyes slipped shut, and your legs gave out, with her heart in her throat, she caught you in her arms.

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The shock Leonora the familiar felt upon seeing you in the Scythian’s arms only continued to crescendo when you were carried not into your room, but, hers.

“She isn’t healing. Why isn’t she healing?”

The question was evidently for her, and so, she answered.

“Immortality doesn’t grant her immunity to damage done by her mate. A mate’s rejection to a witch is quite possibly the most harrowing form of torture. It leads to deterioration of the body.”

Her response took a while to come. “How can I find them?” Leonora eyed the Scythian curiously as plethora of emotions flashed across her face before the words were hissed through gritted teeth. “Her mate.”

“A witch’s familiar cannot be understood by just anyone. Only her true mate can.”

“What are you implying?”

“You’ve been seeing her in your sleep, have you not? Long, long before her immortality came.”

By the way she was looking at her, sage green eyes shimmering with shame, she almost felt bad, emphasis on almost, because in the end, she did not shy away from rubbing salt on her wounds.

“Given your time on this earth, I had surely believed that you would know better than to jump to conclusions. I’ve overestimated you, it seems.”

“My time on this god-forsaken place is precisely why I can’t trust people outside of my team. On more than one occasion have I been led to plight by pity and my sense of duty. Some of which have caused me my comrades.”

“And you thought it wise to reject one of your own?”

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“I fucked up, I know. But I don’t want to fuck up any more than I already have.” The Scythian’s voice was laced with genuine upset as she pleaded with your cat, eyes desperately beseeching. “So, tell me, please. How can I fix this?”

“There are quite a few things you can do. That said, physical contact with her mate is the easiest and the most effective way for a witch to replenish her energy. I would strongly advise cuddling.”

Thus landed the Scythian into her bed that was presently housing your unconscious frame.

Only now, as she was lying face to face with you, did she realise how little she had looked at, let alone appreciated, you.

Tentative fingers touched a cheek so soft to unveil your face curtained by a few strands. Battle-hardened though they were, they executed the task with tremendous tenderness.

The scars that her eyes discovered upon wandering down your neck had the effect of jogging her memory. With the long forgotten memory now dug up and on the forefront of her mind, she was transported back in time.

During one of her travels, she had chanced upon a house on fire. Even though, normally, she would avoid involvement in fear of exposing herself, and consequently, her secret, she felt compelled to enter the roaring flames. What, or rather, who she found was a little girl trapped inside a room. Instead of crying as any child in such predicament most likely would have, she was busy murmuring reassurances to the little kitten that was cradled protectively in her tiny little arms. There was no doubt that she was in intense pain if the wound that had been leaking blood on her neck was any indication.

Now that she thought about it, the familiar dreams began on the very same night. It had been so dark in the house that she did not get a chance to properly see your face. Nevertheless, your cat was right. Andromache should have known. If she had only taken the time to think carefully instead of rushing to conclusion, all the suffering would have been spared. After all, in all the dreams that she had of you, you had never so much as harmed a hair on an ant’s, let alone, a person’s head. How big of a nitwit had she had to be to harbour the thought that you would be capable of intentionally sabotaging them.

With your face as sweet as Baklava and your heart so golden, you had to be the quintessence of innocence, pure, unsullied white, sent into her life to remind the Scythian, who was tainted with darkness and death, that the world was not only teeming with war and wickedness. In contrast, she had to be the wickedest of them all to be able to trample a delicate little bud without giving her a chance to prove herself.

She had, Andromache admitted, oh so cruelly, snuffed out the little shimmering ray of light. Come hell or high water, it was now the Scythian’s duty to chase away the heavy, stormy clouds that were threatening to devour the little sunshine.

If you were to allow it, she would, in fact, declare you her sunshine.

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Meanwhile, feeling rightfully smug, Leonora the cat revelled in having her head scratched as the ginger fur-ball lounged in Nile’s lap.

She might have made a drama out of a crisis while playing cupid, but what she had said, in her defence, were not entirely incorrect. She would be a fool not to make the most of a stellar opportunity if it meant making her best pal happy. After all, unlike you who was annoyingly upright, she was a firm believer that if used wisely, trickery always bore the sweetest of fruits. Plus, if you finally found someone to cuddle with, then, she would hopefully, thankfully be spared the odds of being squeezed to death.

And viola! If love was on your side and luck on hers, you would win yourself a girlfriend, while she got to experience freedom. It might just be the best example of killing two birds with one stone, if Leonora did say so herself.

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Waking up to a muscled body pressed against yours, and strong arms cocooning you, you had half a mind to believe that it was a by product of your sleep-ridden mind.

Only when you heard Leo’s voice in your head did you realise it was in fact not a hallucination.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Unlike your utterance, your actions suggested otherwise. As if possessing a mind of its own, your face had sought solace in the warm dip of her throat. When you spoke again, it was but a murmur. “I’m aware that you love Quynh.”

Her reply came a moment later in the form of a merciless stab to your heart. “I won’t lie to you. I do love Quynh.” Your endeavour to escape from her embrace was doomed to failure. “But, it is no longer the kind of love that I felt once upon a time. Loving her doesn’t equal falling in love with her.”

“It was hard, losing Quynh, and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

You were wounded, and thereupon, healed by her words. The choice, essentially, lay in her hands.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself either if something were to happen to you.”

She coaxed your face out of its little haven in favour of her soft-eyed gaze roaming over the planes and hills of your face.

“You must have felt scared. Lost. I was supposed to be there for you.”

In addition to the collapsed eyebrows, her voice had a sad lilt to it as a thumb gingerly caressed your cheek.

“I know a simple sorry cannot fix all the pain I’ve caused you, but if you’ll let me, I truly wish to earn your trust.”

Since the mood had been too gloomy to your liking, you opted for a lighter, more benign route with your response.

“Now, now, Andro-“

“Andy, please. Call me Andy.”

“Andy.”

Her name tasted sweet on your tongue.

“You were saying?”

“-someone might think you’re trying to woo me.”

You came dangerously close to disclosing your desire, and if you were being honest, you had been entertaining the idea of confronting her after your facade fell in front of the team. It was an all-or-nothing decision.

After everything she had said and done, you would be lying if you said you were not hoping for her to ruthlessly reject you. At the same time, saying that you were not foolishly hoping for her to miraculously return your feelings, too, would be a downright falsehood.

“What if I am?”

In the end, it was neither foolish nor impossible, though, it did feel miraculous all the same.

You liked her. Tremendously. And although it was true that she had hurt you, you knew for a fact that her reason for doing so was not ill-intentioned. It was done out of worry for her team, and blaming her for it would be ludicrous. You did admit that she had been terribly unkind to you, but you knew that she was altruistically caring at heart. Not only could you feel it, you liked her too much to deem the errors of her way irreparable. Mistakes came to be in the first place as an opportunity for one to learn from them. You were all to willing to give her a chance.

“Well then, Andromache of Scythia, luckily for you, I’m not very hard to please.”

“Kiss me as much as you’re sorry, and I’m all yours.”

You watched, giddy and gleeful, as a smile bloomed on her handsome face.

“With pleasure.”

Fanning the flames of heart palpitations by bombarding one with kisses, as sweet, and soft as soufflé, should be included in the ever-growing list of ways she knew how to kill a man. Of course, she was allowed to use this delightfully tantalising technique on you and you alone.

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this is how i imagine leo would look like as a cat

[kaydeefalls]

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Characters: Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, ...sort of, Trope Subversion, past joe/lykon, getting over a breakup by sleeping with your friend, sure hope that doesn't awaken any feelings, Falling In Love, mostly fluff with a side of pining, Romantic Comedy, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Summary:

In which Nicky and Joe turn out to be expendable side characters in other people's Hallmark Christmas movies, get stranded by a snowstorm, and catch feelings of their own. Like you do.

[rikaluver]

Who said sex can't fix everything?

[Joe Goldberg X Guinevere Beck]

Summary: An alternate way of fixing their relationship in S01E19: Candance. WC: 2145 Category: Smut CW: Assault, Aggravated Assault

For the first time, I'm writing about a big interest of mine that isn't Postal or FNAF all because my friend put the idea in my head. Thanks, Paige <3

＿〆(。。)

"Get up on the fence!" Joe shouted, his voice aggravated and rapid, "don't move."

"Hey, come on man, be cool." Nicky whimpered in a hushed tone. He tried looking back at his perpetrator but was swiftly met by a blow to the face with his assailant's weapon of choice—a gun.

"Shut up!" Joe demanded, seizing Nicky's hand, which clutched his phone. "Unlock it."

Nicky searched frantically for the home button with his thumb. He had only one thought on his mind. Stay. Alive. And the only way he would do that is if he complied. He unlocked the phone and Joe snatched it out of his hand. His goal was clear as his finger made a bee-line for the phone app, opening it up to see nothing but Beck.

Beck, Beck, Beck, Beck, Beck.

Of course, there were some other calls from his wife and his office but Beck was the only one that mattered right now.

"Jus-just take whatever you want."

"Shut it!" is more of what Joe wanted to say, but it all came out as an angered grunt. He kicked Nicky in the back of the knees, forcing his head closer to the fence. His finger moved to Nicky's messaging app where he'd find messages with Beck. The first one that caught his eye was a message from Beck: stop contacting me. It's over.

The more he scrolled up, the more evidence of their affair he could find. From images, to sexual messages detailing how Nicky wanted to taste her. It made him sick to his stomach and all he could think about was the betrayal.

How could she cheat? What the hell was he doing wrong? She's all he ever wanted. Everything he did was for her, and this is how she repays him? A tear dropped onto his screen, causing a ripple of water, distorting his view.

He kicked Nicky in the back of the knees again, causing him to fall to his knees before he'd start his pleading. "I-I have a family, I..." His breathing was labored as he stumbled over his words, "I can make it right."

Joe cocked his gun, how dare he even think about talking about his family now? After the affair he's been having with Beck? After all the lies and deceit?

"Please, my family, man, they don't deserve this."

Mr. Mooney's words came to mind: "Some people...deserve to die."

Beck's words also flooded his mind: "I know in my heart...that is not you. That can never be you."

The gun felt heavier and heavier, almost to the point where it felt like it was trying to pull itself away from his hand and toward Nicky. He was ready to pull the trigger, and Nicky could sense it. His body shook with fear and tears streamed down his face as he looked over his shoulder at the barrel pointed at his temple. This was it. He was going to die.

But something, something overwhelming led him to put his gun down. It might've been guilt. It might've been the belief that karma would come around. Whatever it was, it saved Nicky's life.

Joe's next destination was Beck's apartment. She was his final stop for the night, and he'd make it a memorable one. He wasn't sure what he would do but a part of him wanted to see her. He hurriedly walked to her apartment, opening the door with his key only to find her in the living room. The sound of the door opening and closing caught her attention. She turned around facing an angered Joe who seemed to have a few things on his mind. She noticed his demeanor, his stance. His hands balled into fists, his face red, his eyes bloodshot. He'd been crying.

"You told me I was crazy." He spoke slowly, his voice deep.

"What?"

"You told me I was crazy for even thinking it." Joe pointed at her, then back at himself all the while getting closer, "if we don't have trust, we have nothing. You said that to me. Do you remember?"

Then, it dawns on Beck. The first time Joe had accused of her of cheating, she said those exact words to him. "What are you talking about?" She looked down, to the side, anywhere but at Joe.

"You know what I'm talking about." There's a brief silence before Joe speaks again, his voice breaking. "There's no Emma Fox."

She swallows her spit, finding the courage to look Joe in the eyes.

"I'm only gonna ask you this once," he closes his eyes, "and I need the truth." He exhales slowly and shakily, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Are you, or were you ever fucking your therapist?"

Beck doesn't answer and instead looks away.

"Answer me," he says through gritted teeth. "Answer me!" She flinches, closing her eyes. He doesn't mean to yell at Beck, no, he would never intentionally yell at Beck. He loves her. You don't yell at people you love. But you don't cheat on people you love either.

"Yes. Yes, I was. I did. I...I cheated. But it's over now." She attempts to reason with him.

"I've done nothing but dote on you. Support you."

"I know."

"Love you," the volume of his voice gets louder.

"I know, Joe."

"And look at what you've done to me." His voice cracks. "You dig into my past, you dissect my life. You paint me out to be this monster, this...someone who could hurt people, who could do terrible things. But who is the monster here, really? Who?"

"It was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" His jaw clenched. "You're fucking sorry? For what, Beck? For hurting me? For making me look like a fool?" His hand runs through his hair, pulling it, before he looks back up at Beck—her neck. He'd choke her. That's what he'd do. It was simple, and he'd get the same satisfaction as if he were to pull the trigger. He'd kill two birds with one stone. He'd choke the life out of her, and the pain would go away. All of it. All the pain she'd caused him would be gone. And she wouldn't have to feel it either. It'd be quick, too. She wouldn't suffer. Maybe they'd even end up in heaven together. He steps forward and she steps back, afraid. Afraid of what Joe might do to her.

Before he knew it, his hands were on her neck. She tried to pry them off but he was much stronger than she was. His hands gripped her tighter and tighter and her vision began to blur, and his mind began to race.

"Please, stop. I'm sorry," Beck plead, her voice barely above a whisper, "I love you."

Her words rung in his ears and suddenly he felt as though he's being choked himself. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? He loves her too, more than anything, and yet he's choking the life out of her. Her fingers loosened their grip around his wrist, and she fell to the floor, coughing. He knelt to the ground.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice cracked as his hand caressed her cheek. "I didn't mean to." His eyes welled up with tears, and all she could do was stare. Stare into the eyes of the man she loved, the man she still loves. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I love you. You know that. I'm just a little broken."

"Joe..." She croaked, reaching out to touch his face.

There was a moment of violence between them and an undeniable sexual tension. A line had been crossed, a boundary broken. Their eyes met and in that instant, there was no denying their desire for one another. They were a mess. An absolute mess, and they were attracted to each other in the most fucked up way.

He pulled her close, pressing his lips against hers. Her hand cupped the back of his neck as he moved her hair out of the way and kissed her neck. She was breathless, and he was intoxicated.

She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. She pulled off her shirt, exposing her breasts and he cupped her right breast with his hand, gently squeezing her nipple. He was gentle, almost timid with his touches, and his kisses. Her body arched towards his, her arms snaking around his waist as she felt his arousal against her leg. She was desperate, and she needed him. All of him. She didn't care about the consequences, she didn't care about the affair, she didn't care that this is all wrong, and she didn't care about the way he had just assaulted her. She wanted him, and nothing would get in the way of her desire. She unbuttoned his shirt, her hands roaming his chest before she pushed him onto his back and got on top of him. Her hands moved down his stomach to his pants, tugging them off and freeing his erection. She stroked his cock, causing him to groan as he bucked his hips. His hands slid up her thighs and rested on her ass as she continued to stroke him.

He grabbed the sides of her underwear, pulling them down before she got rid of them herself. His mouth watered as he stared at her, all of her, and how perfect her body was. Her breasts were beautiful, and her hips were so damn inviting. He licked his lips as he looked up at her, waiting for her next move. She positioned herself on his lap, slowly sliding down onto his cock.

He whimpered as her pussy engulfed him. She felt like heaven. It was warm and tight and wet. It was everything he had imagined it would be and more. She was perfect, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She looked so beautiful, riding his cock like this.

"Beck...there isn't a line in the world that I wouldn't cross for you." His thumb brushed against her cheek, causing her to shiver. Something in her mind snapped though, she didn't know why but something...something in her made her slap him. Hard. His face turned to the side, his lip cut by his teeth.

To her surprise, he didn't get upset. "Fuck, do that again, please." He groaned. The sound of his voice and his moans were enough to push her over the edge, and she slapped him again. He bucked his hips in response and bit his lip. His fingers dug into her hips, urging her to keep going.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Oh, Joe." Her eyes closed, her head tilted back. He watched her as she rode him. He wanted to watch her cum.

"Beck," his voice was deep and husky, his tone needy. He was close, so close, but he didn't want it to end. Not yet. He was desperate for more. She slowed her pace, moving her hips against his cock, grinding against him. His mouth fell open and he groaned. "Don't stop." He begged.

She leaned down and kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth. He tasted sweet, salty, and a little bit coppery. His hands moved to her back, his fingers trailing up and down her spine. She whimpered as his nails grazed her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Her lips moved to his neck, and she kissed his throat. Her teeth nipped at his skin, and he gasped. "Beck, fuck," his voice was low and breathless. He was getting closer and closer. She could feel his cock pulsing inside of her.

She sat up, and she watched him. His eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks were flushed, and his hair was messy. She couldn't help but think how beautiful he looked. She moved faster, grinding against his cock, taking him deeper. "I want you to cum for me, Joe." She whispered. He bit his lip, trying to hold back his moans. "I want you to cum inside me."

That did it. His cock twitched inside of her, and he groaned. His grip tightened on her hips and he thrust up into her. He came inside of her. She smiled, feeling his cock throb. Her pussy clenched around his cock, and she whimpered. That feeling of having warm liquid shoot inside you. How she longed for it.

His breathing was labored, and his chest was heaving. She laid her head on his shoulder, her cheek resting on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, and it made her feel safe. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Her body fit perfectly against his. His skin was soft and warm, and he smelled good. It was a familiar smell. He smelled like home. The feeling was comforting and made her feel loved and secure.

[anyzakki]

Fanfic JoeNicky 🫂⚔️❣️

I love reading Joe and Nicky's fic, but my favorites are their everyday life, whether in bed cuddling, in the kitchen while Nicky cooks and Joe hugs him from behind, on the sofa watching their favorite series while they cuddle, etc, everything related to their intimacy, their privacy, written simply are my favorites

[lovelikedestiny]

It all begins with Nile looking out of pure boredom at Nicky’s ID - or at least one of his innumerable ones -  lying on the kitchen counter. 

“Aren’t Nicky’s eyes green?” She asks and regrets her question the exact moment the words leave the tip of her tongue because Joe gasps and puts a hand dramatically on his chest as if she had offended him personally somehow.

Which is ridiculous since it’s Nicky’s eyes she asked about and said person isn’t even in the living room with them but off in the kitchen, cooking while softly humming to himself.

In the only armchair Booker places a hand on his face as if Nile had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Andy doesn’t hesitate, groans barely audible and mumbles something like having to check that her ax didn’t disappear before disappearing herself like morning fog on a field.

“Green?” Joe repeats bewildered and Nile plays with the thought of quickly changing the subject but she can’t think of anything useful.

Great.

“You’re asking if Nicky’s eyes are green?”

With a suffering, long-drawn sigh Booker fishes for the remote control, increasing the volume of his soccer (football, Nile corrects inwardly due to several former and appalled protests of the boys) game which doesn’t seem to bother Joe in the slightest.

“Mon dieu, here we go again…”

“Uh…yeah? His ID states that his eyes are blue and I just wondered because they appear to be green,” Nile tries to explain her question.

“Blue?” Joe raises his eyebrows and Nile almost expects to get into her first real argument with one of her new team members but to her relief - apparently having dodged a bullet there - he only smiles fondly. “My dear Nile, you will notice it’s impossible to pin Nicky’s eye color down to a single shade. On paper the mirrors of his kind soul are always forced into dullness unworthy of their true beauty.”

Whatever Nile had assumed to get as an answer to her question, it is absolutely not this indirect declaration of love from Joe to Nicky who - again - is not even in the same room to hear that.

While her curiosity is piqued and she is strangely moved by the crystal clear affection for the love of his life, illuminating Joe’s face, Booker turns off the TV, obviously having given up on his attempt to ignore the situation.

“Andy, do you need help checking on your ax?” He calls as he rises. 

“Get your own excuse!” Andy yells back and Booker looks at Nile and Joe.

“Andy needs help with her ax, so I’m going to…help her with her…uhm…ax,” he ends awkwardly. Entering the hallway, Nile can hear him mutter: “You can do better than that, Sebastien. You imbécile.”

“Impossible?” Her attention returns to Joe who invites her to sit down next to him with a light tilt of his head. She willingly follows his request, unceremoniously plopping down on the sofa. “Even after all these years?”

“Especially after all these years,” is Joe’s mysterious reply. Thankfully he elaborates on his statement without Nile having to require more information. “I know it’s hard to believe but even after more than 900 years Nicky and I still discover new habits of each other: certain preferences, a change in particular movements, new interests or the urge to try out a different hobby. But most and for all we are still able to see beauty in mundane things like waking up in the same bed, sharing a cup of coffee or taking a stroll through parks. Nearly a millennium ago I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me that I’d love someone with every fiber of my being, so much that it would hurt to breathe sometimes, although I would’ve spent centuries with them. It is difficult to verbalize this feeling of deep connection ingrained in the bond I have with Nicky.”

The devotion to Nicky - unquestioningly Joe’s soulmate - Nile can hear in his warm voice takes her breath away and she only remembers how to suck air into her lungs when they start to burn. Despite the sheer wonder of a relationship having lasted that long without losing any of its mutual love it means a lot to Nile that Joe is speaking to her so openly and devoid of any doubts regarding Nile’s acceptance.

“And it fills me with the utmost joy that I am still incapable of capturing every single color of Nicky’s eyes because it means that there are so many things about him waiting for me to detect them.” Nile admires Joe’s honesty and the unashamed way with which he tells others about his connection to Nicky. 

Infinite and profound tenderness.

“Wow, when you phrase it like that I can totally see where you’re coming from and I’d love to hear more,” Nile says, forgetting the actual reason she started this chat. Her brain is catching on a little too slowly. “I mean if that’s alright with you,” she backpedals hastily although Nicky joining them interrupts their conversation for the moment.

“Andy said you were holding ‘exaggerated and dramatic love speeches about me’.” He greets the both of them with a smile hidden in the corners of his mouth and presses a kiss into Joe’s curls as he walks behind the sofa.

“I would never dare to do that,” Joe protests, winking and leans back his head to get another kiss directly on the lips.

“Is that so, habibi?” Amusement sparkles in Nicky’s eyes which originally had been the drive behind Nile’s curiosity. “Nile, is Joe holding an exaggerated and dramatic love speech?”

Grinning, she admits, “Yeah, he kind of does but honestly I’m here for it.”

Joe throws a small pillow at her but he is laughing, showing off the crinkles making him look even more likable. “Liar!”

 “So you’re not ‘being so disgustingly sweet that one has nausea’ as Booker put it?” Nicky digs deeper. The two immortal warriors evidently have a lot of fun playing this little game and Nile enjoys the relaxed atmosphere.

“Booker has bad taste,” Joe says loudly, clearly addressing the French man somewhere in the safe house.

“Shut up, jackass!” Booker shouts back.

Nicky tsks chidingly and acknowledges Joe’s shit-eating grin with a lopsided smile of his own. “Now that we’ve settled the matter I wanted to inform you that dinner is ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, vita mia.” Joe threads their fingers together, caressing each knuckle with a peck. “I appreciate your cooking wholeheartedly.”

“Not just you,” Nile adds and mentally takes note to look out for the color of Nicky’s eyes.

Her plan is astonishingly easy to carry out once she knows what to keep her own eyes on. 

More often than not Nicky’s eye color consists of various shades of blue mixed with splinters of green, turning his eyes in the right light into shards of seafoam, deep, mysterious teal lagoons on hot summer days, lucious, vast forests or the wide expenses of the sky.

She notices that they seem to get colder whenever something arouses his irritation: an insult spit at Joe on a mission, impoliteness in everyday life, injustice, an attempt to hurt Andy or when someone shoots Booker or Nile herself is in danger. Then the tempting, gentle mountain lakes freeze to merciless, piercing shards of arctic ice and blazing silvery steel, so frosty you can nearly feel the cold as thousand pinpricks in your skin.

If he is sad or in a bad mood there is a depressing gray outweighing the other colors in his gaze like clouds on a rainy day or a raging storm in fall, making them more washed out and muted.

On a mission as they’re in the crossfire Nicky pushes her out of the way, shielding her with his body and an “Uff” escapes her as the air leaves her lungs all at once. Carefully he braces himself with his arms above her and for a second she only stares into his eyes, intensively looking down at her in return, examining her body for wounds. 

“Are you alright, Nile?”

“Oh shit!”

Alarmed by her curse he starts searching for an injury. “What is it? Did you get hit?”

“There is fucking gold in them!” Nile exclaims, unaware that she is completely ignoring his concerned questions.

Confused, he pauses. “Prego? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

But Nile’s focus is on something else. “There are golden freckles in your eyes! Are you kidding?”

“I told you so!” Joe calls somewhere on their right, involved in a fight. “Nicky’s eyes don’t have one color!”

Despite the fact that they’re in the middle of a battle, bullets flying over them, Nile laughs and has to chuckle even more when Nicky shakes his head. “Unbelievable…”

The next time Copley makes them fake ID’s he asks Nicky: “What eye color do you have?”

And Nile goes: “You can’t answer that so easily.”

[bewires]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Characters: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Celeste (The Old Guard) Additional Tags: Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Nile Freeman, Alternate Universe - Football, Football | Soccer, This is a european fic and we use the european words, Alternate Universe - Sports, Semi-Public Sex, Oral Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Mixed Media, Discussion of Racism, Discussion of Homophobia, Both as related to being a professional athlete Summary:

The last time di Genova and al-Kaysani met on the pitch, it infamously ended with a red card for al-Kaysani and a media firestorm for di Genova. “Will you be able to work together?”

Al-Kaysani toys with the handle of his coffee cup. “We’re all professionals,” he says eventually. “I’m excited to see what he’ll bring to the pitch.”

Or: Rival football players Joe al-Kaysani and Nicky di Genova learn to work together on the same team.

[bearinarockingchair]

Something I’ve been working on and am finally sharing! Should be posting the rest tomorrow ☺️:

Hob's Adventures: 1640

Quynh doesn't let herself hope, not yet. She glares and asks, "Why?"

"Long story. Let's just say I've been in a similar position and wouldn't wish the same fate on anyone else.

———

Hob is sitting in an alleyway in Liverpool when he hears about the two demonic witches that refuse to die and an iron coffin being made for one of them. It hits too closely with his own witch trial and he's just crazy enough to think he might be able to help. It's not like he has anything better to do, and maybe it will be a good story to tell the stranger next time they meet.

[yuliares]

@cookiemom6067 recorded a podcast my Old Guard meet-cute You Flew Into My Heart!

This is the first time someone has podficced my work, and I’m so delighted! When I put up a blanket permission, it was more because I liked the idea - creators inviting other creators in, increasing accessibility - than actually thinking someone would want to dedicate so much time to reading one of my stories aloud. So this was a wonderful surprise and I had so much fun listening! Thank you @cookiemom6067 !

Listen here!

Header pose traced over this photo by sevendeman.

[rexsie]

No wonder the fanfic is a masterpiece

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065800

[zairaalbereo]

Destiny, Baby! — Chapter 2

Want to know more? Read all about how they get to know each other, and how they fall — reluctantly, but inevitably — in love. 🥰

In Chapter 2 of “Destiny,Baby!” (~ 2.5k words)

[quincette]

His breath is hot on Nicky's neck. And there is no mistaking the hardness pressing into his ass.

A noise escapes his mouth as Joe's hand dips below the waistband of his pyjama pants.

"Shhh, you'll wake the kids."

Nicky's cock jumps at that. Didn't he watch Santa porn like this once? Dio, this is probably a mandatory scene in any Santa porn.

Then all thoughts flee his head as Joe licks a hot, wet stripe along his neck, capping it with a nip to his ear.

———

Merry Christmas, wonderful messy fandom. Here’s a fluffy filthy meal for your cold cold days courtesy of @karanoid’s wonderfully horny Santa!Joe art for @topjoediscord ✨✨✨✨with fic by yours truly. Link and nutritional facts below!

UNSAINTLY MIRACLE

[acupofqueercoffee]

“With her earth brown hair, her arms hard and lean”

Andromache the Scythian x Witch Reader

more or less a sequel to "with her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean" as per @nightly-polaris 's request

tagging as requested : @charlizetheroncansteponme

6th of January was my birthday, so consider this a present from me to you, although it ain’t my proudest work since i’m in a bit of a slump :'))

────────────────────

The images of Andy that had kept you company in the dead of night for the best part of your life made into a fine montage of the Scythian’s life. A born and bred warrior though she was, throughout the centuries, she had been a wearer of many hats, an assassin, a friend, a foe, an outlaw, a salvation, a traveller, even a god to some, but above all, she was a Baklava aficionado.

It was a relatively slow day in the safe house. Andy and Nile were away to get rations which was originally the task for you and Nile. The Scythian had volunteered to go in your stead since you were still low on stamina courtesy of yesterday’s strains, some of which were still in the process of healing. It was decidedly one of the repercussions of being a witch. Whether you were in possession of immortality with fast recovery rate or not, overexertion and energy depletion could, more often than not, expose your body to lasting injuries.

With nothing urgent on your plate, you had deemed it an ideal day to put your plan into motion. The last piece of Andy’s indulgence had run out about a couple of weeks ago, and since then, you had been toying with the idea of rectifying it. Although the chasm between the two of you had compelled you to think better of it, now that the rocky affair had been remedied, you no longer had any qualms about realising your resolution.

“If unfortunate, this might land you in another feud with Andy. I doubt she’ll tolerate if you butcher her treasured treat, even if unintentionally.”

“Don’t underestimate her love for Baklava. It’s positively peerless. I’d strongly advise you to tread lightly.”

The two lovebirds’ playful warnings that were designed to discourage you boiled down to futility as they left you undeterred. Even though there was a good chunk of truth buried beneath their words, you knew that they were not so much a genuine caution as a quip about your baking skills that were nothing short of non-existent.

The coming to be of your very first Baklava was achieved through trial and error. You were not as dexterous with kitchen equipments as Andy was with her vast array of weapons, meaning that your baked goods were not the most beautiful. Baked to near perfection and drenched in ample syrup, even though they did not taste too good to be considered divine, thankfully, they were good enough to be deemed delectable.

Unfortunately, your confidence that had remained steadfast throughout the day started to wane considerably as the time of Andy’s arrival approached. The nearer it got, the more restless you became. From “what if it does not suit her taste” to “will she find it insulting like Joe had warned” , doubtful thoughts were bombarding your mind.

By the time the Scythian made her return with Nile, the decision had been reached. No way in your right mind could you present your sloppy attempt at a Baklava to the very connoisseur of Baklava. You did bake her treasured treat to the best of your abilities, however when your only experience in baking ended with you very nearly burning down your previous home, managing something as simple as turning the dough into recognisable, solid blocks was a considerable feat in itself.

When night fell, you pulled Nile aside instead, asking her to temporarily play the role of a taste tester to tweak the recipe if necessary in your future endeavours. You handed her a block of the sweet treat, before you took one of your own into your hand. As Nile nibbled on her snack, you took a bite out of yours, and expectantly, awaited her feedback.

The crumbs that were sticking to the corner of the marine’s mouth compelled your fingers to fly towards them, gathering the fine dusts with the pad of your thumb. It was done out of reflex, the same way you would usually wipe mucus off Leo’s eyes.

“No offence, but it’s-”

An unforeseen interruption put a halt to Nile’s speech as it did to your action. Following the snug lock of fingers around your wrist, you felt a gentle crawl of calloused digits on your jaw before in a heartbeat, your head was angled slightly for your lips to be enveloped in heart-melting warmth. After the soul-stirring experience from last night, it was impossible not to remember the familiar velveteen feel of the Scythian’s lips.

Wide-eyed and mouth ajar, you were positively kiss stunned as you stood stock still, hypnotised by the tantalising tip of a tongue that poked through pink lips to trace the upper arch of the tender flesh.

“Mmm” She moaned, the mesmerising green of her eyes disappearing behind her eyelids. “The scent of rose was a little too overpowering,-” She had brought your wrist that was ensnared in her fingers to her mouth where her teeth sank into the baklava that was held betwixt your thumb and forefinger. As she did so, her line of sight shifted from your hand to your face, causing the collision of your gazes. The golden specks in her eyes, like fine grains of sand swirling in sea green waves, shimmered and shone. “-but not too shabby for your first attempt.”

In the twinkling of an eye, you found yourself trapped between the Scythian’s body and the kitchen counter. Caged in her wonderfully toned arms, your heartbeat was a frenzied staccato inside your chest. Meanwhile, the hard muscles of her arms rippled beneath your palms as her face gravitated to yours. You watched one corner of her coral-coloured lips tilting skyward into a mischievous smirk.

“Excuse me? Uhm…what the hell is going on?”

“I uh- wow I’m completely ignored- alright then I’m just gonna disappear real quick. Evidently, you have more pressing matters to attend to than getting my feedback.”

Whatever Nile had uttered was not so much an intelligible remark as a background noise.

Nothing reached your ears except Andy’s voice, smooth and spicy as honey mulled wine. “You made my favourite snack and decided to keep it from me?” The warmth of her breath softly teasing the shell of your ear, coupled with her sultrily low cadence of a hum, brought about an eruption of goosebumps. “How bold of you.”

“I merely wanted to perfect my baking skills before I have you taste it.”

“Oh? Even when I liked them alright as they were?”

“Are you quite certain?”

The question created an arch in an earth brown eyebrow, some strands of the same hue deliciously curtaining her eye as a shadow of amusement dawned on her lips.

“Who do you think know more about Baklava, hm? You or me, or the rest of the team?”

“You, of course.”

“Precisely.”

“It’s just that I-” The feeling of hands fitting flawlessly into the curve of your hips punched a breath out of your lungs, if only for a moment, rendering you speechless. “-I know it’s your only indulgence. So, I wish you would truly enjoy them instead of acting otherwise for my sake.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. Sugarcoating isn’t my forte.”

One of her hands had abandoned its place on your waist in favour of plucking your chin between a thumb and a forefinger. Her touch was nothing but delicate as she coaxed you into seeking her eyes.

“Your Baklava has something very unique in it which I’ve never been, and certainly will never be able to find anywhere else in the entire world.” Gentle fingers had travelled along your jaw, taking your cheek into a palm where she cradled you with great tenderness. The bone-meltingly soft touch of battle-hardened fingers had your tummy butterflies dancing jovially.

“Do you know what that is?”

Your response was a subtle shake of your head, given while nuzzling the warmth of her hand like a cat basking in the sun.

“Love.” Calloused pad of a thumb softly caressed the apple of your cheek. “The love you had put into making them is what makes them all the sweeter, all the more meaningful. I’m certainly not faking anything. It truly was scrumptious.”

“So, thank you for the sweet surprise. I love it.”

You detected no lies in her eyes for there was none to begin with. Instead, you drowned in a sea of startling green, bright, beautiful, and brimming with things that you were not yet privy to.

And then,

“I love you.”

The declaration did not come as an absolute shock, nonetheless it still instilled in you a trickle of surprise and instigated a whirlwind of wings as the little hummingbird went berserk behind its bony cage. Although you had been made aware that she harboured strong feelings for you following her apology, you were not expecting her to voice it aloud. Later down the road, perhaps. In a subtle way, definitely. But certainly not as quickly and candidly as she had just done.

So, as you eagerly threw yourself into her chest, heart doing giddy somersaults, and face finding home in the little dip of her throat, all too happily, the Scythian kept you cocooned in her arms, both kind and unyielding.

At the same time, the pair of you were oblivious to the curious eyes of your teammates. Having unintentionally borne witness to the sickeningly sweet display of affection initiated by none other than their positively lethal boss, Joe was in disbelief of both his ears and eyes.

“Nicky, I think my ears are malfunctioning.”

“It’s not your ears, Joe. I heard it too.”

“Nicky?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you seeing this as well?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not my eyes playing tricks on me, is it?”

“I don’t think it is, my love.”

“Andy finally getting a partner after thousands of years? Hell must have frozen over!”

“It’s about damn time though, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No disagreements there.”

────────────────────

[ladyjanstories]

I read a decent (indecent?) amount of Joe and Nicky fanfiction. There’s lots of stories I love reading over and over. There was one I wanted to reread but despite looking through my history on Archive of Our Own more than once, I have yet to find it. That is not the point of this post (tumble?)

Side note: I joined Tumblr awhile ago and have yet to figure it out beyond that I will occasionally post things, often repost things and generally gain pleasure from it. I stumble (tumble?) across lots of great stuff, but I’m not quite sure how this place works.

The point of this tumble (I’m rolling with it) is that not finding the one story I was looking for made me realize that I could lose all these other stories I love. I started downloading them, adding them to my iBooks library. I’ve done this before, but not so many.

The authors whose work appears most in said library are:

Incurableromancer

Dana_norram

Liadan14

Mellyflori

and JaneX.

I don’t know if an author gets a notification if someone downloads their work. But I hope they do. (And don’t wonder if there’s something wrong with me.)

Side note: The fanfic that started the search is one where Joe starts as a new flatmate of Nicky despite Booker not informing Nicky of this arrangement. Nicky who is a nurse, but turns out to be a pregnant Omega. Alpha Joe, an artist, takes care of him. It was rather endearing.