Old Guard hc #148

Nicky loves lying on the floor. He will always sprawl out on the floor even though there’s a perfectly good couch or bed right next to him. If there’s a super soft carpet, there’s no way Nicky’s not going to lie on it. He’s practically obligated to lie on it. He’s fallen asleep under the kitchen table, next to the couch, on their bedroom floor. He just really likes lying on the floor much to Joe’s chagrin.

Old Guard hc #147

Joe and Nicky with matching shoes. It’s less conspicuous than matching hats. They have casual sneakers that are a little bit more sophisticated than vans. They’re the same size so it really doesn’t matter if it’s the same pair. The only time they’re able to tell the difference is if someone steps in mud or paint gets on it. Even then, Joe and Nicky don’t care. As long as they have a shoe on each foot, everything’s good.

HE DOES. Think about the way his eyes never leave Joe’s after Merrick stabs him in the neck until Joe confirms he’s okay, the way he seems to just- orbit Joe, is constantly aware of where he is, how he’s moving - he’ll always know where Joe will be, and will always be there to hand him ammo, a gun, or pass off a kill, or just reassure Joe that he’s there, that he’s also thinking of Joe and that everything will be okay.

Imagine that kind of love, of someone who’s just so steady and constant, who is a calming, strong presence. No wonder Joe calls him his moon; he can always count on Nicky to guide him through anything, because for 900 years it’s Nicky who has been by his side when he turns, in his arms when he sleeps.

Old Guard hc #145

Nicky is an awful offensive driver, he speeds up on yellow lights, doesn’t let people in his lanes, cuts people off, makes left turns from the right-most lane, bumps into cars every once in awhile. He’s a little terrifying, especially in places that follow traffic rules. So it’s a little weird that he’s an amazing street racer. He can drift a semi-truck, can fit into the smallest alleys while going over 150 mph, complete a circuit in reverse. He becomes one of the world’s best drivers once someone makes it a competition. No one really understands why.

Joe was in the middle of mixing up some new colours when a hand extended into his view, holding a plate of pasta. 

“Pasta?” he said stupidly. He followed the hand and up the (very nicely-muscled) arm to Nicolo’s face, which was, as usual, impassive.

“You should eat,” said Nicolo. “It’s been five hours.”

“I’m not hungry,” Joe said automatically, just as his stomach growled. He flushed. “Right. Maybe a bit hungry.”

Nicolo raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“But I can make something for myself,” Joe added hastily.

Nicolo eyed him. “Do you not like pasta?”

“I love pasta,” Joe said honestly. “And this smells amazing.”

So eat the pasta then, said Nicolo’s expression, which was impressive considering it was the same expression he always had.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Joe explained. “It’s not in your job description.”

“If you fall over and break your head on an easel because you forgot to eat, that’s a hazard.”

“I’m not going to forget to eat,” Joe said indignantly. “I’m an adult, I even do my own banking!”

“Mr. Le Livre looks after your finances,” Nicolo said. “Also, yesterday you didn’t eat for seven hours.”

Had he? Joe couldn’t remember. “That was an anomaly?” he tried.

Nicolo’s brow furrowed, an expression Joe’s fingers itched to sketch. “You did the same thing the day before that.”

“Oh.”

Nicolo held out the plate and fork.

“Okay, okay.” Joe caved, reaching over. The plate almost fell from suddenly nerveless fingers as they brushed Nicolo’s. “Thank you. But please, don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I can’t have you withering away from hunger while I’m on the job, your manager would probably have me shot.” Nicolo crossed his arms. “Or sued. My contract states that all parts of your body are to be looked after.”

“Booker wouldn’t do that,” Joe said automatically, before the rest of the statement caught up with him, and he choked as his mind helpfully came up with all the other places that Nicolo could look after because nope, nope, he wouldn’t be the sleazebag that hit on people who were technically his employees.

“You’re not eating,” Nicolo said pointedly, apparently oblivious to Joe’s inner turmoil.

“I’m eating,” Joe said, quickly shoving a forkful into his mouth. “I’m - oh my God.” He broke off on a long moan. “Oh my God.”

He looked up to thank Nicolo, only to stop short at the sight of those pale cheeks flushed, for the first time in the whole two weeks he’d known the other man.

“Glad you like it,” Nicolo said quickly, voice a little thin. “I’m going to let you get back to your work. Please finish the whole plate, and drink this glass of water, too,” he added, sounding like himself again. And then he was gone, leaving Joe to stare after him baffled.

“What’s up with him?” he asked the plate of pasta, which, predictably, stayed silent. “Oh well, I’ll have to thank him later.”

I saw this post on Tumblr yesterday about Joe being an artist with Nicky as his bodyguard, but couldn’t find it to reblog with this snippet? (Please if someone could link me so I can give credit to whomever came up with the idea, I would be very grateful. I am, to my great shame, not great with this site).

Berlin, only you and me…

Old Guard hc #144

Joe and Nicky definitely use emojis and stickers when they text.

Joe: Coming home!

Nicky: Drive safely! I love you 😘😘😘

Joe: I love you too! 😘🥰😍

Nicky: 🥰😍🥰😍

Aida au chapter ten!!!

i’m into the aesthetic of joe and nicky smoking but i’m curious, do we think they’ve quit smoking? what was that like?

Berlin, 1932. Sunset.

Nicolo looked over his shoulders at Yusuf, who was experiencing his life’s first European downpour and everything, that followed with it.

“Need any help?” Nicolo offered Yusuf, who was struggling with getting his horse going, who refused to walk another step in the mud, because of the thunderstorm, and Yusuf was forced to jump down from the horse, which meant his feet got soaking wet as the last thing.

“If I could get two horses plus six camels to Jerusalem, then how hard can it be to get this stupid animal through this mess??” Yusuf asked and looked at the horse, who somehow seemed offended over how he talked to it and decided to dig its hooves further down in the mud as a response.

“As I recall it, you had a manservant to deal with the camels.” Nicolo replied with a smirk and placed a reassuring hand on his horse’s neck when another thunderclap could be heard.

“He wasn’t much help. If it stood to him and the camels, we had given up in Cairo.” Yusuf complained while trying every trick he had in his book to get the horse going but in vain, and when he once again pulled in the harness, the horse made a move and he ended face down in the mud, so not alone was he soaking wet, he was also dirty, which was something, he really hated. He then looked at Nicolo with a defeated look, who was trying extremely hard not to laugh over the sight in front of him.

“What is all this damn water even good for?” Yusuf demanded to know as soon he got up and tried to shake some of the water off him, but it was in vain.

“According to the monks it’s God’s way of helping the peasants with the harvest, so we can get our daily bread!” Nicolo replied as he looked briefly up at the sky before he jumped down from the horse and tied it to a branch.

“I’m not in the mood for a religious conversation right now, Nicolo!” Yusuf said even more irritated over the whole situation, and Nicolo knew, that it was Yusuf’s way of asking for some help.

“It also has a beautiful side to it once the rain stops. I’ll show you when the rain stops.” Nicolo promised and cupped Yusuf’s cheek, and because Nicolo’s hand was so warm, Yusuf leaned into it trying to suck so much warmth out of it, because for the first time in Yusuf’s life, that he was truly freezing.

“I do hope so because right now I can’t see it!” Yusuf replied, but Nicolo hadn’t the heart to tell him that the weather could carry on for days before it would get better, so instead he changed subject.

“Wasn’t it you who told me that I always should treat my horse with more dignity and respect than myself?” Nicolo asked with a mischievous smile before he walked over to Yusuf’s horse, where he placed a hand on its muzzle and caressed it gently before he with any problems got the horse out of the mud and handed Yusuf the harness, who couldn’t resist giving Nicolo a kiss as a thank. “We should find some shelter. I don’t feel like being struck by lightning.” Nicolo said when another thunderclap could be heard.

“Is that a real thing?” Yusuf asked in disbelief and mounted his horse.

“It kills both man and animals,” Nicolo replied and the look on his face told Yusuf that he wasn’t kidding. After some searching, they found shelter in an abandoned cabin.

In the morning Nicolo went outside to check on the horses and suddenly the rain stopped. He looked briefly up at the sky before he walked inside to wake Yusuf. “Come. I’ll show you the beautiful side to the downpour.” Nicolo said and Yusuf just followed him still half asleep.

“That’s beautiful. I have never seen anything like that before.” Yusuf said, when he saw the rainbow and took Nicolo’s hand.

“I promise to show you more things, you have never seen before. Just like you did with me back in the Maghreb.” Nicolo promised.

“I couldn’t ask for a better guide than you.” Yusuf replied and pulled Nicolo in for a kiss.

My creation

nicolò wakes up in his arms, head nestled on the crook of his neck, lips brushing his collarbone, right hand directly above his floating rib, thighs tangled in his beneath the soft sheets. yusuf is a wall of warmth in his welcoming arms, his scent the finest perfume nicolò has ever had touching his skin. he inhales him, fingers slowly travelling upwards, cupping his ribcage tenderly.

there is no rush right now, no urgent need to get up and take the first flight out to the other side of the world, no grand task to fulfill at the moment. andy said she would keep in touch but for now they should all rest and lay low, and they didn’t have to be told twice.

nicolò places a featherlight kiss to the curve of yusuf’s neck, feeling his heartbeat flutter against his lips, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste him. yusuf makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, not quite a whimper but close to it, eyes still closed. nicolò smiles softly, the pad of his thumb caressing a freckle close to the small of his back, one he had kissed and worshipped far too many times in the past.

yet still not enough times.

he presses another kiss to his neck, this time directly below his ear, and yusuf whines through parted lips, his own hand tightening its hold on nicolò’s hip bone. “you pay far too much attention, my life,” his voice is heavy with sleep and nicolò grins wickedly, pulling back to look at him. 

yusuf’s eyes are heavy-lidded, long eyelashes fluttering as he blinks slowly, taking him in like it’s the first time they have slept together. nicolò lets him stare and does the same, eyes travelling lazily from his beautiful eyes to the adorable freckles on his cheeks and nose, to his sharp jawline and very rosy, very kissable lips that he couldn’t wait to taste again.

he hears yusuf’s sharp intake of breath and leans forward until their noses touch, his hand coming up to cup his face delicately. “should i stop?” he teases lightly against his lips, feeling his shudder in his own body as if they are cut from the same mold.

when yusuf presses closer to his hand and sighs, nicolò has no doubts that immortality is a gift. “never.”

say what you want about the old guard but it was extremely cool and sexy of greg rucka to be like hm. what if there were a handful of extraordinary immortal individuals who work together to try and make the world a better place, and get this. they’re all gay, because that’s just what immortals are like,

Lovely Yusuf al-Kaysani

(Lyrics: “To Know Him is to Love Him” by The Teddy Bears - and isn’t this just perfect, for a man who gives the best bear hugs ever?)

Instagram AU: Joe x Nicky

Joe is a thrist trap posting Instagram influencer. It supports him as he works on his art and poetry.

Nicky is a technological dinosaur who doesn’t realize he has used his full name as his Instagram handle and has his actual real phone number in his bio.

Joe notices this poor guy liking his posts has zero digital self preservation. He visits the account. It’s has one post: a blurry shot of a handsome man being hugged by two older women on a night out. The captain says “Quynh made me post this”

Nicky gets a notification. His embarrassing Instagram crush has sent him a message! “Did Quynh make you like every post I’ve made in the last 2 years too?”

Joe falls out of his chair laughing when Nicolo di Genova responds, “You can see those?!?!?”.

11 - both of you wore the same ugly christmas sweater to a party

lykon can’t take one long look at him without chuckling.

nicky rolls his eyes at his friend, taking a sip from the red wine he had bought specifically for the party. “i really don’t see why this is so funny to you, lykon,” he grumbles, meeting nile’s gaze across the crowded living room and smiling because she is his best friend in the entire world and he would do anything to make her happy.

even wear a lumpy, huge christmas sweater with a dancing gingerbread cookie sewn on his chest. 

Keep reading

*joe growls happily*

Today in fic ideas I don’t want to write: various things Joe and Nicky did between first and second sleep.