Could you write height difference and possibly wearing someone’s clothes for Joe/Nicky? With short Joe like in the comics ❤️❤️❤️❤️
59 - a height difference
23 - wearing someone’s clothes
it’s well past four in the morning when nicolò finally pushes the door open and makes it home.
he places the case where his sniper rifle is on the floor as carefully as he can, leaning back against the hard wood of the front door and sighing, adrenaline leaking out of him slowly. the job went off without a hitch, of course, yet there is always an added level of stress whenever he takes on assignments alone, especially now.
especially after merrick’s.
nicolò closes his eyes, inhaling deeply to ground himself. i’m home, we’re safe. he’s here, he’s alive, no one can touch him.
speaking of him, nicolò reopens his eyes then, tiptoeing around the back of their couch and finding yusuf there, curled up against the cushions wearing one of nicolò’s t-shirts, the tv forgotten on some animal documentary channel.
nicolò smiles fondly as he approaches the couch, green eyes drinking in the sight in front of him. the shirt covers yusuf’s thighs completely, his knees hugging one of the couch cushions, his lips partially open as he sleeps peacefully. nicolò could watch him for the rest of the night (something he has done in the past) but tonight he’s got other plans.
he kneels close to him, lips brushing the shell of his ear, and rasps, “i thought you were going to wait for me.”
yusuf barely stirs, his lips forming a pout that’s too adorable for words. “‘m waiting for you,” he mumbles, turning his face towards nicolò’s, eyes still closed. “c’mere.”
nicolò goes willingly, kissing him with intent, left hand snaking under his shirt to touch his hip bone. yusuf whines against his mouth, holding the back of his head firmly, fingers toying with the short hairs there. “you’re wearing my shirt,” nicolò states breathlessly, kissing the freckle on the tip of his nose just to watch him struggle to squirm away, smiling.
yusuf finally opens his gorgeous brown eyes, darker now with mischievous intent. he’s definitely awake now. “it smelled like you, i needed to have you on my skin while you were gone.”
fuck. nicolò shivers visibly, entranced as he gives him a once-over, green eyes focused on how his shirt looks on him. he licks his lips in anticipation. “are you trying to seduce me?”
yusuf leans his elbows on the couch, eyes heavy-lidded. “i don’t know. is it working?”
the colors on the tv cast a mesmerizing glow on yusuf’s skin, making him shine in varying tones of yellow, green, orange and red. nicolò watches him in awe, heart beating wildly against his ribcage as he wonders for the billionth time how he got so lucky to have him by his side.
you’re a work of art, and you’re mine.
nicolò climbs onto the couch, straddling yusuf’s hips and leaning forward until their lips brush again. “let’s go to bed and i’ll show you if it’s working or not.”
when yusuf nods enthusiastically, nicolò remembers what is the best part of doing solo missions - it’s coming back home.
OVER TWO THOUSAND DAYS!! There I was blissfully reading through and going aww the happy ending okay things are good things are good things are--TWO THOUSAND DAYS oh my god that's over five years I have no words. This was sooo beautiful and I absolutely love the two thousand days phrasing and the beautiful atmosphere and the gentle days in Malta and the memories.
SARAH!!!!!! im so happy u liked it 💕💕💕💕 really sorry abt putting u all thru the two thousand days tho 😬😬😬
nothing to lose part 3 healed my soul UNTIL I saw you said it had 2043 days - TWO THOUSAND AND FORTY THREE DAYS of Nicky suffering - I am glad you didn’t spin out the pain so long for those of us reading but DAMN you love your angst
I thank you though for the happy ending and the answer from Joe especially that there’s no sunset that matches Nicky
SCREAM i would never make their pain last for too long anon that’s literally one of the main reasons why i dont have the mental stability to write multichapter fics (angsty or otherwise) bc. i normally have a very specific place where i want my story to go so my mind just jumps straight to that place sdkhskdjskdjdk
and thank u sm for reading it!!!!! i promise the next ones will be much sweeter 😊😊😊
EXCUSE ME SOVEREIGN MONARCH pls take a break from breaking my heart and making my soul cry to answer me a question?
The hugs from The Old Guard - which would you most like to receive? (Unless you do not do hugs in which case I apologise pls tell me to shush my face)
I always want the one Nicky gives to Andy when he opens the door, his arms reach right around her and it looks so tight and safe
GHJSDHJSHDJHSDJHDSHSD are u kidding me anon???? i LOVE getting hugs it’s one of the things i miss the most abt this whole pandemic situation going on rn :((((((
ooooh nicky’s hugs wouldn’t hurt rn……. but im very partial to a good bear hug from one mister yusuf al-kaysani 🥰🥰🥰 the way he lifts andy off the ground during the baklava sequence is so sweet!!!!
after joe finds the portrait, some things begin to slowly change.
nicky notices joe starts to talk to him more often - and that is, by far, his favorite change. hearing joe speak about anything at all has been the highlight of nicky’s day for the past six thousand years, and though he is not even close to his old enthusiasm for life, it makes nicky smile whenever joe tells him about something he has remembered.
joe also begins to spend more time with him, his quiet presence a balm to nicky’s weary soul. he goes back to cooking as nicky washes the dishes, and whenever their hands brush accidentally, joe gasps and flushes, brown eyes wide as saucers.
it gives nicky a sliver of hope.
then the dreams start and nicky can’t sleep anymore.
“touch me,” he hears it one night as he walks past joe’s room, his voice low and pleading. “don’t let me fall, nicolò.”
i got you, my life. i got you.
nicky goes back to their (his) room just as joe wakes up with a gasp, sweat dripping down his forehead as his hands clasp the sheets firmly, his chest heaving.
his lips still sting where nicky had kissed him.
joe never talks about the dreams and nicky never asks, although he catches joe stealing glances at him when he pretends not to see it more often than not these days. it’s like being back almost six thousand years in time, dancing around their unspoken feelings for each other until it became unbearable, absolutely undeniable.
nicky waits, heart beating out of tempo, wondering if he knows.
they’re tending to the garden on the morning of day two thousand and forty-three since the incident, the mediterranean sun’s warmth pleasing on their exposed backs, when joe suddenly mutters, “it’s nice here in malta. it feels–,” he pauses, gentle hands repotting a crown daisy with skill. “it feels like home.”
nicky nods, not daring to look at his face. “and it is,” he grimaces inwardly, trimming the overgrown shrubbery just to keep his hands occupied. “it used to be, before all of this.”
“i know,” joe sighs, staring down at his hands. nicky follows his gaze, aching to touch him. “i keep seeing us here, your arms around my waist and your lips on my neck, whispering the softest words i have ever heard.” their eyes meet at the same time and it takes every ounce of nicky’s self-control not to pull him into a kiss. “it’s like every corner of this house has a memory of us.”
“we’ve had this house for the past four thousand years, give or take,” nicky points back at said house, green eyes filling up with tears. “it was meant to be our secret haven though it never really was - andy, booker and nile always came by to visit, and that was the way we liked it. we watched every sunset together whenever we were here, and i used to tell you you were so much more breathtaking than any wonder of the world, and that made you laugh and laugh,” nicky shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek. “i’m sorry for dumping all of this on you, joe.”
“i laughed because there is nothing here, literally nothing i would rather watch forever other than you,” nicky nearly gasps when joe’s hand touches his tentatively, slender fingers brushing his. “i don’t remember what it was like to love you then but i long to find out now, if you still want me.”
if i still want you…
nicky stares at him openly, intertwining their fingers together firmly, heart racing when he hears joe’s quiet sigh of relief. there’s a smudge of dirt on his left cheek, a drop of sweat makes its way down his chest and his long eyelashes flutter as joe waits eagerly for his answer.
“i’ve never stopped wanting you, joe, and i never will,” nicky wipes the dirt off his cheek as they both lean forward, slowly closing the gap between them. “can i kiss you now?”
joe’s grin ignites nicky’s whole body. “thought you would never ask.”
Pls tell me starting from zero will end happily? Every word you write is twisting the knife in my heart - you do it beautifully but I don’t know how you can bear to write Joe (JOE who sat there in a van surrounded by armed guards and went yup this is it the moment to make the speech HE IS ALL AND HE IS MORE this man who looks at Nicky as being his entire world and the other half of his own soul) as having forgotten his love for Nicky, having forgotten this man is the air in his lungs and the centre point he circles - HOW CAN YOU DO IT BUT ALSO DONT STOP
SDJHSDJHSDJHSDJHSD anon i seriously have NO CLUE where starting from zero came from but it literally just took over my brain and hasnt let me go ever since im sorry!!!!! 😭😭😭 and trust me it hurts MY SOUL to write joe struggling like that 💔💔💔💔 but never forget that after the storm is over there’s a promise of clear skies………
Starting from zero just ripped out my heart! "My life, why do you run away from me"!!!!!! The emotions, the painting, the memories slipping through his fingers -- love this memory loss AU.
tysm julia 🥺🥺🥺 i really wasnt planning on writing more than one part for this but. it’s taking over whole areas 😬😬😬😬
Hi Cacau!!! Just wanted to drop by to let you know how much i love your writing! It never fails to suck me in and the world you create always feels so tangible, so anchored! It's just incredibly vivid and i'm amazed every time, so thank you for blessing us with your gift and for tagging me in all your poetic beauty 🙏 hope you have a lovely day! 💖💖
this is so kind and sweet coming from u!!!!! i love everything u write it’s always so soft and tender and pls NEVER stop tagging me in your writing i want to read everything always 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
here’s what yusuf knows for certain:
he knows his full name and where he comes from, knows the smell of his baba’s house and how he felt in his mama’s arms when she held him close, kissing the top of his head lovingly. he knows the best place to stargaze is the atacama desert, knows he can’t be killed (whatever that means) and that he can speak fluent ligurian even though he has no recollection of ever learning the language.
in the evenings, when coldness seeps through his locked door and settles heavily in his bones, yusuf wakes up shivering, two words leaving his trembling lips, “my life.”
he has no idea what that means.
the reflection in the mirror mocks him.
he knows practically nothing about the man with wide brown eyes, curly brown hair and a beard, who has at least two scars on his forehead he does not recognize. this man, who automatically reaches over to touch a silver chain around his neck whenever he feels uncomfortable, he has no idea about the secrets he hides.
yusuf stares wide-eyed at himself and feels like the oldest man alive. “what happened to you?”
let me find myself again.
one day, yusuf finds a rolled-up canvas forgotten behind the dresser in his room.
it’s covered in dirt and dust and he kneels in front of it as he opens it carefully, rolling it out on the carpet. it takes him a minute or two to find his breath again.
it’s a painted portrait of himself and nicky in bed, white sheets pooling around their waists and nicky’s cheek pressed against his chest, a lovely smile on his lips. yusuf is holding him close, left hand touching his shoulder and his eyes are on him, his grin the widest yusuf has ever seen on anyone.
on the back of the canvas, there is a dedication written in ligurian, almost fading.
to whom it may concern,
you said yes. you said forever.
to the love of all my lives i say,
forever is not nearly enough time to love you.
yusuf closes his eyes, feeling the ghost of a hand on his cheek, a mischievous look in a pair of light green eyes. “you want longer than forever, then?”
yusuf can almost hear himself say, through the haze of time and broken memories, “you think that can be arranged?”
nicky leans forward, closing the distance between them slowly, covering him with his naked body. in his mind’s eye, yusuf sees a ring dangling off a chain around his pale neck and touching his chest, making his heart race. “for you? do you still have to ask, my life?”
yusuf gasps, blinking back at the portrait, fingers tracing lines he’s painted years earlier, overwhelmed with emotions he couldn’t even nominate.
“my life,” he whispers to the portrait, holding onto the necklace nicky has given him, chasing memories that faded too quickly. “why do you run away from me?”
(he never notices nicky standing by his door, only waiting for him to see.)
EXCUSE ME WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO RIP OUT MY HEART WITH STARTING FROM ZERO?!
My soul hurts - you know when things are so beautiful you tear up not from sadness but just awe?
That is me except yeah the tears are also sad because a world where Joe and Nicky don’t know that they are Joe&Nicky is unbearable even in your beautiful writing
IM SORRY ANON!!!!!!!! if it makes you feel any better this pic was me as i was writing that one so yeah 😭😭😭😭😭
but!!!!! i won’t be making any real promises abt maybe writing some more of this memory loss AU but who knows………… 👀👀👀👀
he remembers the scorching sun on his exposed skin in jerusalem, sweat dripping down his back and clinging to his clothes like a second skin as he fought and killed and eventually died. he remembers the man who killed him, the man he killed, remembers the intensity in his brown eyes, the shine of the blade of his scimitar as it crashed against his longsword, the sound deafening to his ears.
he remembers not understanding, and seeing that same confusion in that man’s beautiful eyes.
nicky has more memories of joe than he has of his family, and though he has always valued them as treasures, now they feel like a curse.
because joe doesn’t remember him or anything they had lived over the past six thousand years.
now, nicky waits.
“i’m sorry,” joe says one afternoon as nicky walks past what used to be the empty guest bedroom in their house in malta, but that for the past year has become his room, where he usually sits alone painting and ignoring nicky.
they have barely spoken in a year and it hurts.
nicky stops in his tracks, leaning against the doorframe. “you don’t need to apologize, joe.” and he really didn’t. i should have kept you safe, nicky remembers whispering as he held joe’s hand after, barely breathing.
i should have protected you.
joe is sitting on a single bed that is comically small for him, tousled curls falling across his forehead, brown eyes reading him like a book. “i really want to remember,” joe says, and the intensity of his words makes nicky’s soul ache. “i want to remember us.”
nicky shivers, looking at the silver necklace joe is idly touching, fingers gently running up and down the chain. as perceptive as ever, he notices where nicky’s gaze flickers to and asks in arabic, “this is from you, right?”
nicky feels the weight of the ring dangling from a chain around his own neck and nods, too raw for words.
“do you like it?” he can’t control his grin as a pair of arms wrap around his waist, his back pressed up against a wall. “because i can change it if you–”
a kiss, long and passionate, a playful tug on his lower lip, a ragged groan escaping kiss-bruised lips. “i will never take it off, nico, no matter what happens.”
“it’s beautiful,” joe says now, kissing the pendant the way he has done a million times before, the way nicky has done whenever they made love. “did i give you one too?”
nicky can’t breathe. “yes.”
you wrote me a poem too on the day you gave me the ring, you called me a masterpiece, you held as a cried, you whispered i love you in countless languages, you loved me, you love me.
joe tucks the necklace inside his shirt and nods, a bashful look on his face. “i must really love you.”
nicky nods again and smiles because their connection is not really broken. “you do.”
28. Spadeliano <3
28 - pulling someone in by the waist
eventually, they heal together.
aureliano’s days are filled with unbridled joy, a well of happiness and love that feels everlasting, truly endless. every smile, kiss and gentle touch he gets from spadino is a priceless treasure aureliano cherishes immensely, and every time they make love he feels so, so warm.
loving spadì is his cornerstone, his one and only religion.
one balmy summer afternoon, aureliano wakes up in their bed completely alone. it’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence nowadays but given how they had ended up the night before (naked and spent, wrapped up in each other’s arms, spadì’s brown eyes heavy-lidded and warm, a dopey smile on his rosy lips), it’s suspicious enough that aureliano slides into his sweatpants and leaves their room quietly to investigate, avoiding squeaky floorboards as he reaches the ground level, hearing noises coming from the kitchen.
aureliano pads down as quietly as he can and grins widely when he sees spadino on the stove, cooking up something that smells divine. he is humming under his breath, wearing only one of aureliano’s worn out t-shirts and an apron, sock-clad feet sliding to the beat of the song playing in his head.
aureliano observes for a while in complete silence, heart aflutter with so much love for him, so much affection. he watches as spadì stirs a red sauce in a pot and tastes it, moaning in approval.
that sound alone does unspeakable things to aureliano’s body.
he moves before he can second guess himself, pulling spadino flush against his chest as he moves over to the sink, kissing the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. “what are you up to here all alone, hmm?” aureliano sways with him, his smile growing fond when spadino leans his head back against his chest, brown eyes fluttering shut. “i thought we had agreed to stay in bed all day today.”
spadino chews on his lower lip, a beautiful sight paired up with his flushed cheeks. “and we have, but you’re going to need your strength, remember?” he opens his eyes again and presses back against aureliano, the naughty bastard. “we can eat in bed.”
aureliano’s grip on his waist tightens, his teeth sinking on the sensitive skin of spadino’s earlobe. he groans, lean body shaking like a leaf in his arms. “and get the sheets all dirty?” aureliano rasps, right against his neck.
“only if you can’t behave yourself.” spadino finally turns around to face him and smirks, his black hair brushing his cheeks.
aureliano pushes it back behind his ears, allowing his hands to linger there, fingertips brushing his scalp. “i can be on my best behavior for you, spadì.”
(turns out he couldn’t.)
Kisses when they’re mad + Kasanyova? 👀
29 - kisses when they’re mad
tw alert: graphic descriptions of violence, torture, gore
“what are you?!” the punch lands right in yusuf’s solar plexus like a ton of bricks, a pained hiss escaping his bloody lips. the chair where he’s tied to topples over and he falls, the back of his skull hitting cement, and that hurts even more than the punch. “tell me what you are!”
yusuf smirks, staring at the dirty ceiling through his swollen left eye. “i can only say the same thing in different ways a certain amount of times, man. i hate repeating myself.”
the man snarls at him, black eyes flashing with pure rage. yusuf’s seen that look before on countless faces, all of them dead and gone from this earth, never to harm another innocent person again.
he thinks about the people being kept hostage in this maze and steels himself for another blow. “you won’t be laughing when i find him,” the man says, yanking him by the lapels of his ruined suit until he’s sitting upright again. yusuf’s vision gets blurry yet he keeps his face stoic, unreadable. “when i bring mister di genova here, i’ll be making sure he watches you drown, a cinder block tied in a chain around your ankles.” the man’s smile is repulsive, his threat settling low in yusuf’s stomach like lead and the next thing he knows he’s headbutting him, pleased to hear a telltale crack where his forehead collided with the man’s nose. “you fucking piece of shit!”
the punch is worth it and yusuf laughs, his tied hands clenching into fists. “you’ll be dead before you speak his name, asshole. better save your breath right now.”
he never sees the blade the man had pulled from the back pocket of his jeans until it pierces through his flesh right below his navel and twists, a searing pain flaring up his whole body, tears filling up his one good eye. “why don’t you save your breath, mister al-kaysani? i’m not done with you yet.”
yusuf groans, blood dripping down the corner of his lips as he looks down at his abdomen, his once pristine white dress shirt now crimson red with blood. the dead bolt latches itself in place as the man leaves him alone in this dirty, windowless cell, listening to his own ragged breaths, silently praying that nicolò never comes looking for him.
when yusuf wakes up again, it’s daytime and he’s in a bed that is truly a mattress with two pillows on it, naked from the waist up with no signs of a scar below his navel. he gently touches his wrists but there are no marks on them either, no signs that he was recently handcuffed and tortured by some psychopath.
he sees movement on his right and reaches for a pistol that’s not there, gasping when he sees who is watching him. “two weeks,” nicolò leaves the bathroom door ajar, leaning back against the bedroom wall, his eyes piercing right through yusuf. “that’s how long it took for us to find you.”
yusuf winces, looking down at his ruined shirt, firmly clenched in nicolò’s hand. “i wanted to keep you out of it.”
“your wounds weren’t healing when i found you, yusuf,” nicolò clenches his jaw, tears clearly visible in his light green eyes and that hurts more than any knife to the gut, any punch, any torture ever could. nicolò looks back at his shirt as if he’s seeing it for the very first time, his lips trembling, “you barely even had a pulse– i thought i’d lost you.”
“never,” yusuf is out of bed and crowding into nicolò’s personal space in a second, gently prying his fingers loose from his bloodied shirt and holding his hand in his, feeling its weight and warmth for the first time in nearly three weeks, trying to hold his fleeting gaze as well. a single tear has fallen down nicolò’s cheek yet he doesn’t face him, still looking down at the discarded shirt on the carpeted floor. “you’re never going to lose me, my life,” yusuf kisses his knuckles lightly and nicolò tries to pull his hand away, yusuf’s heart clenching in his chest. “are you still angry?”
nicolò finally faces him, wide eyes swimming with unshed tears, and yusuf wishes to take his husband’s pain for himself. “i thought i had lost you,” he repeats in arabic now, leaning his head against the wall, his shoulders sagging. “how do you think i feel?”
“furious,” yusuf caresses the back of nicolò’s hand the way he knows relaxes him, the pad of his thumb brushing each of his knuckles slowly, very softly. he would have felt the same if the situation was reversed, of course - the very thought of losing nicolò at the hands of some torture-loving psycho was enough to make his blood boil, desperation and anger running through his veins like poison. “i should have told you what i was doing, i’m really sorry,” he whispers quietly, leaning forward until their thighs are brushing, nicolò’s gaze lingering on his face, devastatingly open and warm. “i had to help those people.”
nicolò nods, swallowing around a lump in his throat. yusuf watches the bobbing of his adam’s apple in a trance, his fingers stilling around his hand. “i could have helped you,” nicolò looks down at his lips for one fleeting moment, green eyes falling shut immediately after. “i could have protected you.”
yusuf shivers, releasing nicolò’s hand to encircle his arms around his waist, pressing his nose against the curve of his neck. nicolò’s hand flies up to his curls, fingers twisting against the ones on his nape, a warm breath leaving his lips. “i’m here now,” yusuf says against his skin, kissing him right against his pulse point, letting his scent fill up his nostrils. “i’ll never leave you.”
“you can’t make that promise,” nicolò’s fingers flex against his curls and yusuf kisses him more firmly, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his neck.
yusuf pulls back to look at him, feeling alive for the first time in weeks. “i can, my life. this is a promise i can keep.”
nicolò clutches his feelings in his hand like a fragile bird, usually blunt fingers careful enough not to crush them, the pad of his thumb caressing its feathers as gently as he could. his eyes, wide and hungry, stare at yusuf, lying on his back with his hand loosely grasping the hilt of his dagger, brown eyes narrowed to slits as sleep finds him slowly, like a wave rolling lazily to shore. nicolò cannot hear his tired sigh but he notices how his lips slacken a little, eyelashes fluttering as he finally - finally - surrenders.
every watch night is torture.
nicolò inhales, unspeakable words trapped inside his throat, teeth clattering with his effort to keep them inside. he should not, he must not utter them, for nothing good will come from it - ultimately it would mean rejection and awkwardness between them, disrupting their tender truce, their hard-earned trust.
yusuf trusts me, after everything. i should value it above all else.
his feelings try to flutter away, reminding him of the truth.
nicolò rises quietly, dust rising as he walks towards him, carefully crouching down to observe. yusuf might be an artist but to nicolò no sketch or painting will ever be as handsome as him, carved in flesh and chiseled like an angel, like a god. the curls that fall across his face beckon him in, fingers traveling towards yusuf’s forehead before he could stop himself. nicolò touches one and his heart leaps in his chest, cheeks burning as he savours that softness against his fingertips, wishing he could bury all of his fingers in them and finally find out how yusuf would react to his touch.
i will never hurt you again, nicolò thinks as his finger travels downward, lightly enough as it traces the shape of his eyebrow, caresses one tiny freckle on his temple and the coarse hairs on his beard, green eyes hungrily taking in every detail of his beautiful face. this is a promise i am going to uphold.
he pauses as he reaches his lips, rosy and chapped and parted, and his grip on his feelings falters as he gets to his knees and leans forward, pausing an inch away from his lips. nicolò shivers when yusuf’s warm breath brushes his cold cheek and it takes every ounce of his inner strength not to give in and claim those tempting lips, his finger trembling against the side of yusuf’s neck.
nicolò licks his lips, chest heaving and heart aching because he could never have this.
as he stands up and turns to move back to his spot, a hand tugs on the hem of his tunic firmly.
nicolò freezes where he stands. “i see you, you know?” yusuf’s voice is a murmur nicolò can recognize anywhere, his tone wavering a little.
nicolò turns around to face him and it feels like time sits perfectly still in that moment, when green eyes meet brown. what he sees in them leaves him breathless, a lightness settling right behind his breast bone. “what do you see?” nicolò leaps, barely breathing, almost hoping.
yusuf smiles shyly, and nicolò flies. “everything.”
hello everyone! just dropping by to thank everyone who’s sent me prompts ❤️ and to say that i might take a while to reply to them now since im back at school 😔 but never worry cause i will get to all of them ✌🏽
Locked in a small space prompt kasynova? 🥺🥺🥺
58 - being locked in a small place
as far as infiltration ops go, this one is (finally) going off without a hitch.
yusuf is not exactly sure how many hands he has shaken over the past half an hour, but he’s more than pleased to be left alone after babbling about pharmaceutical stocks with a bunch of rich assholes. he finds safe haven as he leans back against the door that leads to merrick’s coat room, a glass of dry martini in his right hand and his brown eyes on his mark, still laughing in the dining room with a couple of investors.
if he could punch merrick in the teeth and get away with it, he would.
yusuf takes a sip from the drink (done to perfection) and sighs, weariness catching up to him after a whole month of undercover work. he eases up the knot of his bowtie, longing to be back in his warm bed soon, curled up with a great book.
just focus on the job, yusuf. focus on it and you’ll be out of here in no time.
he is looking down at his drink when a broad hand curls up around his waist and yusuf meets nicolo’s light green gaze, his lips curled up in a clipped smile that is clearly fake. “can we talk for a second, babe?” he asks and immediately opens the door behind yusuf and shoves him inside, his drink spilling all over his suit as he stumbles back, colliding with a rack of winter coats. nicolo locks the door behind him and yusuf sees red.
“what the fuck is your problem?!” he moves forward, trying to reach the door but nicolo takes his hand in his, pressing him back against the coat rack, nicolo’s solid chest touching yusuf’s firmly.
“your cover has been compromised,” if yusuf didn’t know him better he would almost say nicolo sounds… alarmed, his green eyes wide and a little too distracting, strands of brown hair falling across his sweaty forehead. “i need to get you out of here.”
yusuf scoffs, breaking away from his hold and dropping the empty glass to the floor. “you have to be fucking joking right now, nicolo. i’m not going anywhere until i figure out what that man’s been up to,” he stands right in front of him, their breaths mingling as yusuf glares at nicolo, voice low with barely contained anger, “now, you either move aside or i’ll use you to break down the door.”
nicolo smiles for the first time since they had started working together, the skin around his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for one second yusuf just cannot remember why they were arguing in the first place.
what the fuck is wrong with me?!
“you are very welcome to try it, al-kaysani,” nicolo leans forward, leaving practically no space between them, their noses brushing as he stares at yusuf, sizing him up. “but it will raise suspicion when all the guests hear you asking me to let you go.”
(yusuf is not exactly sure why this sentence is turning him on.)
“well, let’s see about that, di genova.”
Reading your writing for Nicky and Joe gives me the same feeling of soft comfort as taking a hot bath, putting on flannel pjs and getting into clean bedsheets to have a cuddle. In short - I love them and you
oh my goodness!!!!! this makes me feel all fuzzy inside anon 😍😍😍😍😍💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
21 for the intimacy prompts? 💖
21 - listening to someone’s heartbeat
“do you remember the first time someone killed you in front of me,” nicolò starts, green eyes lost in the vastness of the starry sky above them, resting his head on yusuf’s chest. “after we became lovers?”
the hand on the crown of his love’s head stills for a second, yusuf’s eyes looking down at him. “does this remind you of that?” yusuf asks teasingly, chuckling when nicolò turns around to roll his eyes at him. “and yes, i remember. it would be hard to forget that.”
nicolò’s cheeks turn pink as memories from a warm evening like this come back to yusuf in disjointed flashes; he feels the sting of an arrow piercing through the muscle on his upper arm, his grip faltering on the hilt of his scimitar, then his blood runs colder through his veins, eyes watering as nicolò screams his name like he’s never heard him do before, killing their attackers so swiftly it feels as if he is cutting through nothing but air, a desperate look in his green eyes as he calls his name over and over and over. yusuf remembers the numbness, the paralyzing fear that this poisonous arrowhead could steal him away from his nicolò, that his eyes might never see him again, that his hands and lips might not get another chance to touch him, to love him.
yusuf remembers coming back to life to find nicolò’s ear pressed against his chest, desperately waiting to hear his heart beat.
“this is my favorite sound in the world,” nicolò whispers in arabic now, resting his head back on yusuf’s chest, one broad hand sliding up to touch his waist. “more beautiful than any love song or poem, more calming than the murmur of rain or the roar of the sea.”
yusuf leans his elbows on the grass, poking a finger on top of his love’s head. when nicolò turns around to look at him, yusuf’s grin is blinding. “and you say i’m the incurable romantic, huh?”
nicolò crawls until their noses brush together softly. “i guess we both are.”
48 - offering the other your coat
it’s a wonder that spadino agrees to meet him after… well, everything.
aureliano hears a car approaching and he knows it’s him before he turns around to check, before the engine stops running and spadino doesn’t walk out, not yet. aureliano knows it in the way that spadino hesitates, probably (and rightfully) weighing in all the pros and cons of meeting him after…
they are not in ostia anymore, and this beach is cold and lifeless like him, just another liminal space tucked way in the belly of this cruel world. aureliano shivers when he hears the click of a car door opening, closing, and hesitant footsteps nearing the sidewalk and becoming muffles as they reach the wet sand, coming to a stop somewhere behind him.
aureliano could recognize his scent everywhere.
silence descends except for the loud roar of the waves and aureliano, who usually thrives in the quiet, cannot handle it any longer. “thank you for coming,” his voice wavers and he lets it, too far gone to care about how pathetic he must sound like.
“you made me think you were dead,” spadino sounds hurt, broken, and aureliano closes his eyes, embracing his pain like an old friend, the only one he’s ever truly had.
no, that’s not true, his mind provides. i had spadì.
“i had to keep you safe, spadì,” he finally turns around to face him, his stupid heart clenching in his chest at the sight of spadino in his beanie, shivering minutely in the poorest choice of clothes for a dreadful weather like this. “you’re trembling,” aureliano moves closer and spadino immediately steps back and it hurts so deeply it sobers him up, because they need to talk about this.
whatever this is.
“i would have been safer knowing you were still alive,” spadino’s dark brown eyes are unflinching, piercing through whatever carefully constructed armor aureliano had spent months building, the corners of his eyes welling up with tears. “i would have done anything to be closer to you.”
aureliano draws in a deep, shaky breath, his heart hammering in his chest. “that would have killed you. i needed you to survive, to move away from all the killing and destruction,” he looks down at his boots, sinking in the sand the same way he feels himself sinking into hurt he saw reflected in spadì’s eyes. “it was the hardest decision i’ve ever made, spadì.”
“you’re a fucking asshole,” spadino’s tone is angry and aureliano merely nods, looking back up at him. he still shivering, lips and cheeks cherry-red from the cold and something about his eyes makes aureliano walk up to him, unzip his long coat and wrap his arms around spadino, who tries to pull away only once before giving in with a huff, sinking into his warmth, cold cheek buried on the curve of his neck. “i should fucking kill you for this,” he mutters weakly, holding onto aureliano so tightly it makes it hard for him to breathe.
he presses onto him just as firmly. “i would let you,” aureliano pulls back just enough to stare at him up close, stormy blue eyes taking in every detail of his face. “but i would rather love you, if you’ll let me.”
he waits, heart in his throat as spadino takes his time staring at him now, warm breath touching spadino’s chapped lips. behind him, the roar of the sea matches the thuds of his heart as spadì finally - finally - closes the gap between them and kisses him.
(this time, aureliano doesn’t even think about pulling away first.)
unfortunately, they do need to breathe eventually and spadino breaks the kiss, still holding onto aureliano’s back tightly, their bodies pressed flush against each other. “do you think i would have come all the way here if i didn’t want you, aurelià?”
aureliano gasps, overwhelmed by the intensity of those words. “you still want me?” he asks breathlessly, resting his forehead against spadì’s, warmth spreading all over his body.
spadino smiles softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “in any way i can have you.”
18 - playing with hair
56 - playing with their hair
it’s a quiet night in between jobs and yusuf lies in bed, an old book held like a precious gem in his hands. nicolo is by his side, newspaper forgotten in his lap as he unabashedly stares at his husband’s profile, his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. “what is it, my life?” yusuf asks without so much as a glance in his direction, yet the corner of his lip curl upward, exposing one of his adorable dimples.
nicolo places the newspaper (and yusuf’s book) on their bedside table and straddles his hips before he can move, watching his brown eyes widen playfully. “i think you’ve given far too much attention to that book, haven’t you?” nicolo kisses him softly, gentle fingers caressing his stubble-covered cheeks and slowly sliding up to the side of his head, fingertips rubbing his sensitive scalp.
yusuf’s groans are an absolutely lovely sound. “so that’s what this is all about, then,” he sinks his teeth in nicolo’s bottom lip in sweet retaliation, staring at him through his eyelashes. “you want to pet my head.”
nicolo wiggles his eyebrows just to make him laugh. “well, can you blame me, mister jones? we don’t get to spend much time together anymore.”
yusuf snorts, scrunching his nose. “you have been living with him for the past eight hundred and fifty-seven years, mister smith,” he whines when nicolo’s long fingers rub his temples, touching the edge of his hairline. “nicolo, please.”
nicolo leans forward, lips brushing his earlobe. “can you lie on your side for me?” he places a kiss on one of yusuf’s freckles, making him shiver as they rearrange their positions quietly, nicolo leaning over to turn off their bedside lamp.
when he lies down against the pillows, yusuf rests his head on his chest, one leg covering his, yusuf’s right arm draped protectively around nicolo’s waist. nicolo kisses the tip of his nose and one hand rests on his abdomen, while the other oh-so-gently massages his scalp. “nicolo,” yusuf breathes, kissing him through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt, fingers twitching as he presses closer to the touch, purring like a cat. “you are a very bad man.”
“the baddest,” nicolo’s thumb grazes the back of yusuf’s head and he shivers, a sigh escaping his parted lips.
“and you’re all mine.”
nicolo will never grow tired of hearing this.
“i’m all yours, my life.”