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babygirlyusuf · 10 months

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j/n fluff with some immortal family feels for @ournextdoorneighbor who deserves all the fluff in the world!!! <333

Nicky hefts the laundry basket higher in his arms and wanders past the kitchen, breathing in deep as the spices Joe is cooking with drift out into the hallway.

He means to walk to the living room and set the basket down, but the sight of Joe stirring at a pan in front of the stove stops Nicky in his tracks.

Joe is wearing what would look like a randomly cozy assortment of clothing if Nicky didn’t know better. The gray oversized hoodie, hem hanging down past his hips and sleeves scrunched up to his elbows is Booker’s. The sweat-shorts are most certainly Andy’s, recognizable by the fraying at the bottom where Andy had taken a pair of scissors to them the last time they were all at this house.

Joe must’ve dug through Andy and Booker’s closets for them, which means he’s missing them more than he’s let on. They’ve all been apart for 6 months now, and though they’ve gone much longer without seeing each other, Joe had taken it hard when neither Andy nor Booker had been eager to set a reunion date. Nicky understands— neither of them have handled long periods apart as well as they did before Quynh.

He doesn’t seem too upset right now though, a slight sway in his hips as he moves to the tune he’s humming. Nicky’s heart beats a little faster, watching the evening sun glint through his curls and the muscles shift in his thighs.

Nicky sets the basket down by the kitchen door. “Do you need any help, my heart?”

“Hm?” Joe clicks the burner off and turns, smiling when he sees Nicky. “Oh, yes please, Nicolò. Will you come taste this?”

Nicky smiles back instinctively. “Of course.”

But when Nicky comes up to take a bite of the baby carrot he’s offering, Joe’s smile turns mischievous and he quickly takes the bite himself, holding the carrot between his teeth with one end sticking out.

Joe tilts his head expectantly, smirking around the carrot.

Nicky huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Joe only has to pout dramatically for a second before Nicky relents, and leans in to take a bite. As soon as he’s close enough, Joe’s hands find their ways to Nicky’s hips, tugging him close for a messy, closed-mouth kiss.

They’re both smiling too much for it to be much of a kiss at all but Nicky leans into it, slipping his hands under Joe’s sweater, just happy to have Joe warm, playful, and close. Eventually, they each take half of the carrot for themselves and Joe leans back, chewing his bite with a twinkle in his eye.

“Good?”

Nicky finishes chewing too. He tastes the warmth of cumin, the bite of chillies, and the familiar sweetness of Joe’s lips. He brushes their noses together, then kisses the freckle that adorns the apple of Joe’s cheek. “Good.”

Mischievous expression softening, Joe smiles then hugs Nicky close, rubbing his nose against Nicky’s shoulder. Nicky holds him as tightly as he can, rucking up his hoodie as he strokes the warm skin of Joe’s back.

“Will you get the plates, darling?”

Nicky nuzzles his cheek against Joe’s curls. “Of course.”

They separate and set the table in tandem, comfortable silence filling in the empty space of the room. By the time they sit down, the sun has sunk heavy and low, dark enough that they have to turn the dining room lights on.

Their meal is silent too, just the clink of silverware on their plates, their glasses knocking against the wood of the table. The stir-fry and jasmine rice that Joe had whipped up is perfect for this kind of night. Flavourful, filling and comforting.

Though they don’t speak, they wordlessly move their chairs closer together so that their knees stay pressed together throughout the meal. Nicky can’t help but be watchful of Joe’s expressions, of his body language, vigilant for a turn for the melancholy but it never comes. Joe’s soft smiles remain whenever he catches Nicky’s eye and he even has second helpings.

When they’ve cleaned up as much as either of them are willing to on a quiet night like this, Joe pulls out his little basket of crochet materials and Nicky pulls out a book he’s been finding dense but compelling.

They settle in on the couch for the evening with their respective entertainment but, as it has been true for hundreds of years, Nicky soon finds himself distracted by Joe. Distracted by Joe’s hands, specifically: the quick, nimble movements of his elegant fingers, the graceful turn of his wrist as he loops the thread into an easy pattern. Joe makes it look easy anyway.

Nicky gives up on the book completely, leaning against Joe’s shoulder instead and indulging in a favorite past-time: staring at Joe. He’s soothed by Joe’s repetitive movement and the warm press of Joe’s body against his.

Without ceasing his crocheting, Joe twists his head to drop a sweet, smacking kiss on Nicky’s head.

Nicky turns his face into Joe’s arm, breathing in the scent of mothballs and Booker’s preferred cigarettes clinging to the borrowed sweater.

“What are you making?”

“A scarf. For Andromache.”

Nicky lifts in an eyebrow. “Bright purple?”

“That part is for me.” Joe says, “I like to see her in color.”

Nicky snuggles in a little closer and hums in agreement.

“She told me once,” Joe continues, taking on that particular storytelling cadence that sends Nicky back to cold dusty night, spent around a fire when they were still learning each other, “that even though she thinks all of her earliest memories must be dreams by this point, that she trusts her touch-memories the most. One of those earliest ones is mending and weaving fabric.” The fondness Joe reserves for their little family is present in his tone, in the soft expression gracing his handsome features. His hands never stop moving. “She remembers it being impossibly soft. She didn’t say the material �� maybe wool?— but it made me want to make her something soft, as well.”

Nicky’s heart aches with love— for his sweet, thoughtful Yusuf, for their family, for this small moment right here. He reaches out to touch one of the finished parts of the scarf as gently as he can. The threads are plush and downy. “It is soft. Impossibly so.”

Joe’s hands stop moving. He turns to face Nicky. The hint of vulnerability in those big, brown eyes makes Nicky’s heart skip a beat.

“Will she like it, Nicolo?”

“I know she will.” He waits until Joe’s smile returns and starts crocheting again before adding, “What color is Booker’s going to be?”

“Who said I’m making Booker one?” Nicky waits him out, hiding his own smile against Joe’s arm. Only a few moments pass before Joe gives in, “I was thinking of a forest green. What do you think?”

“Hm. I think that’s perfect, my heart.” Nicky closes his eyes, letting the whisper of looping yarn lull him. “Perfect.”

#posting here bc im impatient and AO3 IS STILL DOWN.#my fic #when's the last time i posted fic here hmm....#joenicky fic #the old guard fic

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seanchaidh7 · 2 years

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Joe & Nicky 🧹

Ohhhh this fic has been living rent free in my head since my first read! The most perfect brilliant Joe/Nicky quidditch au that ever existed. It's pure perfection, and a SERIES ❤️‍🔥

#this is proof for why you should comment nice things on fics and art #bc then you can meet the creator and scream at them about your mutual loves!#this fic is OUTRAGEOUSLY good #this art is so self indulgent i went to bed at 2am what is wrong with me #the old guard #joe & nicky #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #my art #the old guard fic #kaysanova fic #luca marinelli #marwan kenzari #art inspired by fic #this scene fried my brain in the best way

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non-un-topo · 2 months

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For @spacegirlsgang

Part 2 of What happens in Vegas follows you back to Toronto

Rating: M

Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Trans Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Gender Identity, Gender Dysphoria, Parenthood, or lack thereof. no J/N babies here, Humor, Fluff and Angst, Family Drama, Cottage Country, Nurse Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Ensemble Cast

Summary:

Andy and Quỳnh, adventurous as always and the designated group event-planners, had rented an AirBnB somewhere in Georgian Bay. Joe and Nicky were promised a fire pit, a private bedroom, a beach, and plenty of hiking trails. Joe and Nile were frankly too excited about the hiking trails, and while Nicky loved to see them happy, he was really looking forward to sitting by the fire and finally finishing the stack of books he’d been neglecting all summer. So, yes, the fact that Booker was bringing his kids to the cottage set Nicky just a little bit on-edge. He liked kids. He liked his nephews specifically. But there was a feeling stirring in his stomach that he could not void. Or name, apparently. Or: Old anxieties surface when everyone comes together for a vacation in cottage country. A 'stuck on you' sequel.

#sage writes #the old guard #the old guard fic #heyy here's a little stuck on you sequel after... (checks calendar) almost two years exactly #i hope you like it mary <3 and of course no pressure btw asdfghfds #your love for the first fic and all your support and positivity just really made me want to write a sequel #there's a tonal shift and some angst but it goes back up afterwards #'stuck on you' is my most popular fic to date which is interesting dfghfd but i'm so touched that people liked it!!#it was my very first getting-together fic i think. so i was wading in unknown waters #also apologies for all the trans fics lately i'm on a gender high

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destatihayati · 5 months

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In search of a Kaysanova fic:

In it, Joe and Nicky are immortal but take a drug for immortals that wipes their memories every ~30 years, supposedly so they don’t go insane. Nile is researching the drug and the truth behind it. Joe and Nicky meet but it becomes clear they have fallen in love in pretty much every life time but keep forgetting. They are determined to learn the truth.

It’s so GOOD and I somehow didn’t bookmark it and I’m desperate to read again. Does anyone recognize this gem? I’m pretty sure the title of the fic was the name of the drug.

HALP?

#the old guard #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #kaysanova #kaysanova fic #the old guard fic

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andrea-lyn · 4 months

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Everyone's been in a tight spot at some point in their lives. For Joe, it's a desperate for cash that leads him to joining a company with more red flags than he's ever seen before. The only reason he stays? Well, that happens to be the handsome coworker he meets on the first day. Soon, even that's not going to be enough to keep Joe in his role, but you never know when your next job opportunity might come crashing through the wall -- literally.

Finally finished the Joe/Nicky 'oops I think we're henchmen' piece about a year later than expected, but it also tripled in length, so! Enjoy corporate shenanigans!

#joe/nicky #the old guard #tog fic #kaysanova #the old guard fic #joe/nicky fic #modern au #unwilling henchmen

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eiirisworkshop · 5 months

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Snacks and Midnight Blues

An Old Guard oneshot Also available to read on Ao3 here.

Nile opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She had been laying here, not sleeping, for she honestly wasn't sure how long. They were in a safehouse in Europe; she wasn't clear on quite where in Europe—she'd asked on the way and Andy had answered, but Booker had shook his head and said no, not anymore. That was followed by about an hour of mostly Booker and Nicky discussing? Arguing over? Reminiscing about? A few centuries worth of warfare, political marriages, and border disputes, with occasional interjections and corrections from the others. By the time they got to the house, no one had actually gotten around to saying for sure where they were now, and Nile had forgotten to ask again. Wherever it was, the grocer in town—the only local any of them talked to all day—had spoken what Nile was mostly sure was German.

In the dark, the house was quiet. She could hear the even breathing of the rest of the Old Guard, the distant sounds of nocturnal wildlife, her own heartbeat. It had been a long day. Frankly, every day had been long since she died, the first time. She'd died a few times since then, and would die uncountable times more over the eternity that now stretched in front of her.

That's what kept her up now. The thought of dying over and over—and, maybe even worse, the thought of living.

She let out a breath, kicked off the quilt, got up, and padded out to the patio, barefoot on the smooth stone of the pavers. She dropped into a chair, inhaled the cool night air, fiddled with her necklace, and looked up at the sky—fewer stars than in the desert, but more than she grew up with in Chicago.

Just a couple moments after she'd come outside, deliberate footsteps and the faint metal-on-metal of the door latch grabbed her attention and she looked around to see Nicky leaning around the door, his hair scrunched on one side from sleep.

“Did I wake you up?” she asked softly.

He shrugged. “Apparently.”

“I'm sorry.”

He waved one hand dismissively and stepped the rest of the way outside. “You alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I'm,” she laughed once, “just having an existential crisis.”

“That's reasonable.” He smiled a little, a gentle, understanding, but almost teasing kind of grin. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe. “Wanna talk about it?”

With a sigh she shook her head. “I don't know. I—don't think I know how to. Yet.”

“Well, you have time to figure it out.”

“Yeah, that's part of the problem.”

He nodded.

They fell quiet. She looked down at her lap, fist closed around her cross at the hollow of her throat where there should have been a scar. He pushed off from the doorframe. “You want something to eat?”

She glanced up at him. “Are you...offering to cook?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

Smirking, he gestured at the sky. “Night.”

She leveled a “thanks, Captain Obvious” look at him.

He chuckled and shrugged. “I have no idea but there's a clock in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” She got up. He opened the door, bowed her through in front of him, clapped her shoulder as she passed.

In the kitchen, Nile reached for the light switch—it wasn't even on long enough for the florescent fixture in the ceiling to completely blink to life before Nicky smacked it back off, eyes shut against the moment of brightness. He reopened his eyes slowly, went to rummage through the end cabinet, set a bunch of candles out on the table, lit one with a match then used it to light the others.

“If you weren't very married, I might think this was romantic,” Nile noted, voice low to not disturb the others still asleep.

“I really hate florescent lights,” he admitted. “Especially at night. They're so harsh.”

“Yeah, yeah, they are,” Nile agreed. “So, what?” she asked. “Am I about to be introduced to proper Italian comfort food?”

“No.” He leaned on the table. “That would take about six hours, and can only be done correctly by a grandmother, which I am not.”

“You don't get honorary grandma status after a couple centuries?”

“Depends who you ask—but no.” He rocked his weight back, opened the fridge and squinted into it against the glare of the internal lightbulb. At least it was incandescent. “As for what I am making, that depends on what Andy bought earlier.”

“You were there.”

“I was busy.”

“You were standing around having your hair played with.”

“Like I said, I was busy.” He flashed her a playful grin over his shoulder and she couldn't help but laugh a little. He pulled out a block of cheese, nudged the fridge closed with his elbow, set the cheese on the counter along with a downright cute hen-shaped bowl of eggs, reluctantly switched on the—again, incandescent—light over the stove, went through the cabinets, and pulled out a skillet, a sack of potatoes, and a bottle of olive oil. “I'm assuming you like potatoes.”

“I have never met anyone who doesn't like potatoes, and I used to know a girl who was allergic to them.”

“She was allergic to them,” he asked as he started rinsing potatoes, “but she still ate them? You're allowed to sit, you know.”

Nile pulled out a chair and sat in it backwards, nodding as she did. “She's allergic to most food, so it's pretty much impossible for her to avoid all her allergens entirely. She'd pop a Benadryl and dig into a bag of chips. We—” she grinned, then her expression sobered and darkened. “We used to joke that she feared neither God, nor death, nor Lays. And that feels really different in hindsight now.”

“That's how hindsight works. You live through something and experience it a certain way in the moment, then later looking back with knowledge and perspective you didn't have at the time, your perception changes.” He shrugged. “The...nature of our situation means that we are blessed and cursed with a unique perspective on things like death.”

She nodded thoughtfully, watched him set the skillet on the stove, pour some oil, click the heat on, twirl a knife from the knife block between his fingers, and start slicing potatoes into it. “Have you ever lost a finger doing that?”

“Lost one, no,” he chuckled, “but I have cut myself very badly a few times. And not so badly many more. Not often.” He paused. “But I cook often. When you do something frequently enough for long enough, two things happen—you get better at it, so the likelihood of you fucking it up any given time you do it goes down, but you rack up more and more chances to fuck up, so the amount you fuck up overall still goes up over time.”

“And I figure it's only humanly possible to get so good at things, even with ridiculous amounts of time to practice.”

Nicky made a non-committal sort of sound through his nose. “Enough time starts messing with what 'humanly possible' even means.”

“Fair point.” Nile crossed her arms on the back of the chair and leaned her cheek on them. She watched him finish cutting the potatoes then go through a couple drawers until he found an appropriate utensil to stir with. A passing thought made her frown and she lifted her head to rest her chin on her arms instead. “You—you wouldn't have grown up with potatoes, would you? Or did you? I know the factoid about tomatoes being a pretty recent addition to Italian food because they're from the Americas, but I don't think I've ever thought about the history of potatoes until right now.”

He snorted and reached for the eggs. “I was several hundred years old before I ever ate a potato but now, well,” he started cracking eggs on the side of the skillet, “if by some cruel twist of fate I somehow developed an allergy like your old friend, I, too, would take a pill and just keep eating them. Potatoes are great. I would die for potatoes. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I have.”

She blinked at him. “You know what, I'm not going ask. Hang on—allergies. Do we do allergies?”

“Good question.” He tossed the last of the eggshells into the garbage from clear across the kitchen and Nile applauded softly. He gave a cheeky little bow and went back to cooking, intermittently tending the contents of the pan while he busied himself with the cheese. “Not sure. The idea of allergies is quite new, so none of us would have known if used to have them. Booker used to be prone to summer colds, now he's not. Maybe that was allergies he stopped having, or maybe it was colds. None of us get sick like we used to. Then again, I up and stopped breathing in the middle of dinner one time. After I came back, Joe tried my food to see if it was poised, he was fine. I tried some more, didn't die again. Maybe there was one piece that was poison. I don't know.”

“Was it—what's that puffer fish called? Fugu?”

He shook his head. “Some kind of noodles I think.”

“I really don't like the idea the idea suddenly, randomly not being able to breathe.”

“Wasn't fun, but not as bad as a lot of ways I've gone, and it's only happened once.”

“So far.”

“So far,” Nicky amended. “Don't think it's ever happened to Andy, though, so it's probably not a just a matter of time sort of thing.”

“Yeah.” Nile drummed her fingers on the chairback. “That's part of what's freaking me out. The idea that anything that's only a matter of time, I'm gonna go through. Some things, I'm okay with that, 'cause they're gonna be cool, but other things….” She gestured vaguely and got up to pace a few steps to find the words. She leaned against the fridge. “Like—I don't know. I don't know what I mean.”

“I do.” He clicked off the stove, wrapped his hand in the bottom of his shirt, and quickly moved the skillet to a trivet on the counter. “The dread of eventualities, and of watching dominoes fall, knowing there's nothing you can do to stop them at that scale—or, worse, wondering if you could have stopped them if only you'd done it sooner. Get a plate.”

She guessed at which cabinet held plates, guessed right, and got two. “How do you live with that?”

“Not much choice.” He took the plates from her. “Try not to fixate on that 'if I'd done something sooner.' If you could have and knew to, you would have. If you didn't, then you didn't, and that's just how things are.”

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

“Exactly.” He used the same spoon he'd been cooking with to serve, flicked the stove light off, found forks, and he and Nile settled with their food across the table from each other. “Wait.” He got up again, got two wine glasses down, and went hunting through cabinets that did not contain tableware.

Nile stifled an incredulous laugh. “Are you looking for wine to go with our—” she twisted to actually look at the clock “—three am fancy scrambled eggs?”

“Yes. Aha!” He'd stretched to open the smaller set of doors set up above the fridge and found a stash of bottles. “I knew there had to be some somewhere—Booker stayed here a while not that long ago.”

“When, the eighties?”

“Uh, probably.”

She rolled her eyes. “At least wine keeps.”

“Doesn't just keep, it gets better.” He snagged a bottle. “Unless it turns to vinegar.”

“Right, right.” She leaned on her elbows. “So, what's the best wine pairing for three am fancy scrambled eggs?”

“Strongest one you can find. Or, in this case, easiest one to reach.” He winked and she snorted a laugh into her hand. After another brief hunt through the kitchen for a corkscrew, he poured them each a glass of wine, handed Nile's to her over the candles, and resumed his seat.

Just before taking a bite, she stopped. “Do you wanna say grace?”

Already chewing, he held up his fork in a shrug, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the question.

“I'll take that as a 'no.'”

“I stopped particularly caring a long time ago. You're welcome to, though.”

“Nah, I—actually….” She clapped her hands together, grinning, and in one breath quickly rattled off, “God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food, amen.”

Now Nicky laughed. “That was efficient.”

Nile nodded, laughing too as she started eating. “That—mm, this is really good—that was painted on the wall of the Sunday school classroom at the church I went to growing up, right next to a mural of Noah's arc and the rainbow and a couple gay lions. I actually left out the last line or two….”

“There were gay lions?”

“Whoever painted it gave both the lions manes! They were both boys!”

He shook his head, chuckling into his wine. “Ecelénte.”

“It got repainted when I was in high school.” She smiled wistfully between bites. “Replaced it with a bunch of different colored sheep, which was cute, but a lot less cool.”

Bleary and dragging his feet, Joe appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Good morning.”

Nicky smiled warmly and returned the greeting through a bite of potato, but Nile clapped a hand over her mouth. “Did we wake you up?”

Joe shook his head and came to drape himself across Nicky's shoulders. “Went looking for my love, found the edge of the bed first—then I heard laughter.”

Nicky murmured something Nile couldn't understand and kissed Joe on the jaw—Joe responded in kind, then stole a bit of Nicky's food.

Nile reached for her wine. “On the one hand, I really oughta learn Italian, on the other hand I'm pretty sure if I could actually understand what you say to each other on a regular basis I would get diabetes from the incessant sweetness.”

“Learning Italian won't do that,” Nicky said between bites.

“French is more useful,” Joe noted, then gladly let Nicky feed him some egg.

Nile pouted. “I don't want to learn French, it has too many vowels, and Booker can fight me.”

“He absolutely will,” Nicky said. Joe handed him his wine and he continued, shaking his head for emphasis. “But I don't speak what you call Italian. Italian isn't even a language. What you call 'Italian' is Florentine. I,” he put a hand to his chest, or he would have if Joe's arm wasn't in the way, “am and speak Genoese. It is not the same language. Most of the peninsula still speaks different languages from each other. The idea of 'learning Italian' is nonsense.” He took a long sip of wine while Joe smirked into his hair.

Nile gestured contemplatively with a slice of potato on the end of her fork. “I have seen a map of Italy divided up by regional terms for vagina.”

“I want that map,” Nicky said decisively.

“I want it framed,” Joe said, chuckling.

Nicky shook his head again, stabbed at his last bit of food with his fork, offered it to Joe who took half of it, then ate the rest himself. “I swear, every time a country unifies on paper, everyone forgets almost over night what was there before, no matter how long it was there, and no matter how much in practical terms things haven't changed.”

“To be fair,” Nile shrugged, glass in hand, “Italy's been around a long time.”

Both men looked at her flatly and said, as one, “Italy is a newer country than the United States.”

Nile almost spat her wine. “You're shitting me.”

“No.” Joe took Nicky's empty plate and fork and put them in the sink while he nursed the tail end of his drink. “You just think it's older because it preserved the history it was built on, while your country has tried very hard for its entire existence to erase the history it was built on—and a fair bit of its own history, too.”

Nile cringed. “Oof, yeah, good point.” She finished up her food, threw back the last of her wine, and put her own dishes in the sink. “Thank you, Nicky, for cooking.”

“Happy to.” He stood, stretched, set his glass to be washed, and leaned against Joe.

“Time for you to come back to bed.” He rubbed Nicky's arm then looked over at Nile. “What are you even doing up?”

“I couldn't sleep,” she admitted with a downward glance. “Went out for some air. He came to check on me.”

Joe frowned a little. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Nicky took her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, she looked up at him and nodded more firmly. “Yeah, I'm okay. Just,” she squeezed his hand back, “needed a snack and a more ancient perspective, I guess.”

“Ancient?” Nicky echoed, sounding slightly affronted. “I don't think I'm ancient.”

“Andy's ancient,” Joe countered.

“She's going on prehistoric, but you are, like, a thousand years old.” She dropped his hand.

“How old is 'ancient' then?” Joe asked.

“It's consistently been 'before the middle ages' the last several times I've checked, and we,” Nicky gestured between himself and Joe, “are solidly medieval.”

“Okay, okay,” Nile laughed. “You're well past antique, though.”

“We're relics,” Joe said reasonably. “And you are an infant who should really get some sleep.”

“I should,” she sighed.

Nicky moved away from Joe just enough to blow out the candles on the table. Smoke curled barely visible in the faint moonlight coming through the window above the sink and the three of them headed back to bed, Nicky hand in hand with Joe on one side, arm comfortably around Nile's shoulders on the other until she turned to her own bed.

In the dark, the house was quiet. Nile could hear the faint rustle of fabric as Joe and Nicky settled, Andy's even breathing as she slept, Booker's soft intermittent snores, the distant sounds of nocturnal wildlife, her own heartbeat as she drifted off.

#eiiri made this #fanfiction #the old guard #the old guard fic

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lisea18 · 11 months

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🍀

Chapter 26 is up!

💖

Title : Ball and Chain

Author : Lisea18 (me)

Rating : E

Pairing : Yusuf / Nicolò; Joe / Nicky

Summary:

Today, Yusuf is getting married. Today, Yusuf is going to be mated for life. It’s what he always dreamed of… well… almost.

Art by the lovely Grimm18 ( @stop-all-the-clocks ) (go give them some love 💖)

Tags : Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani ; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova ; Alternate Universe ; Alternate Universe - No Powers ; Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics ; Omega Verse ; slowish burn ; Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani ; Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova ; Arranged Marriage ; Alpha Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani ; Omega Nicky | Nicolò di Genova ; Virgin Nicky | Nicolò di Genova ; Threats of Rape/Non-Con ; but no actual rape ; Attempted Rape/Non-Con ; (not by Yusuf) ; Penetrative Sex ; Anal Sex ; Scenting ; Nesting ; Knotting ; Mating Cycles/In Heat ; Rutting ; Verbal Abuse ; Breeding ; (but not to make children lol) ; Light Bondage ; (arms tied that’s all lol) ; Other Additional Tags to Be Added; if necessary I think I put everything planned that “needs” a tag; slowish burn, slight dubious consent, forced heat

If you enjoy the story, do let me know with a comment 😘

Reblogs are appreciated

#kaysanova #immortal husbands #joe x nicky #yusuf x nicolo #joe/nicky #the old guard fanfiction #yusuf/nicolo #the old guard #joenicky #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #omegaverse #fanfiction #the old guard fic

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negotiumcrucis · 4 months

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a heart like mine

Joe/Nicky, Omegaverse, Mature (wip)

When Joe’s bag gave way, spilling all its contents on the corridor floor, it took every ounce of willpower not to fall on his knees and weep like a child. Of course, Hana had finally settled down in her carrier, and she continued to sleep despite the crash of a half dozen cans of baby formula hitting the carpet, so Joe merely blinked back unshed tears and took a deep breath, finding his key and unlocking his flat. He left the door ajar as he carefully put Hana’s carrier on the sofa and quickly went back to retrieve the scattered cans.

After the tragic passing of his omega sibling, alpha Joe got custody of his newborn niece. Unfortunately, things weren’t progressing as well as they should and now Joe has found himself in dire need of a wet nurse.

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read @ ao3

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I have a new omegaverse wip... please mind the tags and the author notes!

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quincette · 1 year

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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

#joe x nicky #kaysanova #the old guard fanfic #the old guard #the old guard fic #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova

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isabellehemlock · 1 year

Text

Hi everyone,

In honor of my TOG fic “Their souls were knit together (and he loved him as himself)” reaching 10k (thank you readers!!) I wanted to compile my (80+) resource links I used during the plotting stage and throughout the fic - divided by category as best as I could manage.

In case you’d like additional resources, please check out @actualmermaid historical resource upload here, and/or the The Old Guard Character Resource Hub. Here’s a list of books as well:

Genoa & the Genoese 958-1528 ( x )

The Crusade Indulgence: Spiritual Rewards and the Theology of the Crusades, c. 1095-1216 ( x ) - a post with excerpts linked below

Housing the Stranger in the Mediterranean World: Lodging, Trade, and Travel in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages ( x )

The rest under the cut in case you’d like to avoid potential spoilers (nothing descriptive)

For Genoa

San Siro ( x )

San Lorenzo ( x ) & St. John the Baptist ( x )

The Mahdia Campaign of 1087 ( x )

Nicolò as a Genovese crossbowman ( x ) ( x )

For Mahdia

Yusuf’s potential backstory with Mahdia ( x ) ( x ) and the Zirid dynasty ( x )

And his family’s intergenerational trauma in relation to the Battle of Haydaran in 1052 ( x )

For the Crusades

Some other ways a non noble Nicolò might have found himself in the Crusades ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

General timeline of the first crusade ( x )

The Siege of Antioch ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

The Siege of Jerusalem ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

Visual maps of the city of Jerusalem and surrounding area ( x ) and general climate ( x )

For Constantinople

Daily life in the city ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

Procession of the Theotokos icon ( x )

Maps of the city from that time ( x ) ( x )

Their apartment and general housing ( x )

Little Hagia Sophia ( x )

Church of Sts Sergius and Bacchus ( x ) - and why that would have been meaningful to Nicolò ( x ) as the setting for their Adelphopoiesis ( x ) & here are the Byzantine instructions for it ( x )

For Islamic spiritual practices

Barzakh ( x ) & Jinn ( x ) (both referred to in a blink and you’d miss it sort of way)

Qur’an scroll ( x ) - technically a 19th century copy, but was using it as a visual reference

Islamic calendar for that year ( x ) & the significance of Yusuf’s first death of rajab ( x )

The verse Yusuf reflects on when he internally refers to Nicolò as his dearest ( x )

The verse Nicolò inscribed on Yusuf’s wedding present ( x )

For Catholic spiritual practices

Lay Orders (what used to be called Third Order) for Nicolò to be an oblate ( x )

Eleusa icon (a gift he received from Brother Gabriel) ( x ) - here’s a 12th century version ( x )

The cross necklace gift Nicolò received before leaving Genoa ( x )

Excerpts from the book linked above about how indulgences played a part in the Crusades ( x )

Lenten practices in the middle ages ( x )

Some Bible verses Nicolò reflects on during his love confession ( x ) ( x )

For some interfaith dialogue moments

The Canticle of Zechariah in the Liturgy of Hours ( x ) & Verse 95 for corresponding references to the dawn ( x )

Why Zechariah is important in both faiths ( x )

Encouragement for open dialogue and friendliness ( x ) the rights of Non-Muslims as laid out in the Constitution of Medina ( x ) and protection via the Testament of Muhammed ( x ) though there are some doubts to the authenticity

Lent & Ramadan similarities ( x ) ( x )

Interfaith marriage rights between Christians and Muslims from Muhammed ( x )

For some other historical context

Context for same sex attraction in the middle ages ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

Some LGTB+ historical figures and Saints Nicolò might have been aware of ( x ) ( x )

Brother Gabriel from chapter two was based on Marina the Monk ( x )

Wiki about illiterate popes ( x )

11th-12th century trade maps ( x )

Tunisian Arabic ( x )

The Great Schism of 1054 ( x )

The Seljuk Empire ( x )

The Byzantine-Venetian treaty of 1082 ( x )

A poem by Abu Nawas that Yusuf reflects on before the love confession ( x )

For the Biblical references and significance to Nicolò of Gortyn/Crete ( x ) and some visual references ( x )

Why Chandax as a honeymoon site would have been comfortable for them both ( x ) & ruled by the Byzantine Empire at the time of their visit ( x )

The book Yusuf gave to Nicolò as a wedding present ( x ) & some context ( x )

#thank you readers!#their souls were knit together fic #tog fic #tog #the old guard #the old guard fic #tog resource #the old guard resource #immortal husbands #joe x nicky #yusuf x nicolo #tog joe #tog nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolò di genova #for queue

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