#joenicky au

[laviejaguardia]

Technical Support - read on ao3

NOW COMPLETE

Joe/Nicky. F1 AU. Rated M. 96k words.

Formula 1 driver Yusuf "Joe" Kaysani has just signed with Old Guard Racing, under the management of Team Principal Andromache Scythian. Like in any new partnership, there's edges to file down to fit and roles to coordinate so it all goes smoothly. In between those questions is the matter of who will be his new race engineer and run comms for him during races. It's a big ask that needs a delicate balance, it can't be just anyone. Engineer Nicolò di Genova has been working at Old Guard Racing for a few years, putting his analytical mind to good use filing down milliseconds off their lap times. He's been content with his work behind the scenes, only briefly stepping into the spotlight when the occasion called for it. Despite the sport's unpredictability, it's been good steady work, surely this new partnership won't change things much for him. Or: Joe runs his mouth when high on adrenaline, Nicky's voice is soothing, and a lot of things can happen in a single F1 season.

Hope you enjoy this labor of love, try to drop a kudos or a comment if you do, they're the blood and bone of fandom :)

[linaxart]

Lupin AU from and for the fantastic @fruityculture <3

[materassassino]

The Old Guard Dæmon AU

Probably done before, but I wanted to write one myself, so I thought I'd make a guide to the Guard and their respective dæmons, to go with the fic I just posted for it.

Andy: Hwehnto (Przewalski's horse)

Yeah, a wolf or some other predator might fit, but let's face it, the supreme horse girl should have a horse for a dæmon. *h₂weh₁n̥to- is Proto-Indo-European for "wind", butchered into a modernly comprehensible Hwehnto/Hwento. He is a very serious and stoic dæmon, much like Andy, but his outbursts of emotion are striking. He is vicious in battle and will not hesitate to attack both human and dæmon, if necessary.

I did also consider a tarpan for Andy, but there is literally one photo in existence of one. I generally assume that actually it would be some European wild horse so old it doesn't exist anymore, and we've lost all modern knowledge of it. So Przewalski's horse will do.

Quynh: Minh Nhat (white-lipped pit viper)

Of course our viper would have a viper! Small, quick and venomous. He doesn't have a name yet because, frankly, I don't speak Vietnamese and I want him to have a cool name like most dæmons have. His name is Minh Nhat, which means "bright sunlight", in contrast with Quynh's name. More outgoing than most dæmons, will talk casually with other humans, and is prone to little acts of thievery (thimbles, small nuts, little trinkets), mostly out of delight with the object than any malice. Very tiny! Likes spending his time tucked up Quynh's sleeve. Will not hesitate to bite a human should the need arise, but tucks himself in Quynh's collar or scarf when in battle.

I was torn between this and a red-headed krait, but ultimately went to an actual viper (well, pit viper, close enough).

Joe: Tayyib (scimitar oryx)

(Oddly difficult to find a photo of one alone, with no radio collar, that hasn't been shot by some bastard trophy hunter).

Tayyib (named that way for obvious reasons and chosen by Joe's mother's dæmon) represents everything poetic and artistic about Joe, and is calm and wise. Dislikes fighting, but will if he must: watch out for those horns! Yes, he is a male dæmon, a rarity, another commonality Joe shares with Nicky. I wonder why? A very good listener who gives good advice.

I don't know why I decided on another ungulate for this hapless team (can they even go anywhere?), but I did. I figured a desert antelope of some kind would be good for Joe, and it was a toss-up between this and an addax. I admit I chose it just for the name.

Nicky: Bonamico (Luzon bleeding-heart dove)

Geographically, it doesn't make sense. Symbolically? I had to. Bonamico is quiet, contemplative and kind, barely speaks except to Nicky, Joe or Tayyib, but is always concerned for those about him. He is far more nervous than Nicky, but stores a lot of knowledge, a trait he does share with Nicky. His favourite place to perch, other than Nicky's shoulder, is between Tayyib's horns (although occasionally he likes to sit on Joe's head). He does the scouting for the group, as the only bird dæmon.

This bird is the entire reason I made this damn AU. It's just too perfect. Look at this Catholic-ass bird!

Booker: Amandine (black rat)

*wheezing* I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm not sorry.

Now, the problem with dæmons is that we have rat symbolism, which is of rats as dirty and sneaky, but we're also modern human beings that know perfectly well rats are cute, intelligent and affectionate creatures that make amazing pets. Amandine herself is mostly just shy and quiet, although she does like it when she gets the chance to roast Booker, but then again, who doesn't? She is their little reconnaissance expert, being sent in to buildings and small places to chew through wires and spy. She, unlike Booker, is always supremely well-groomed.

I did consider a ferret or stoat, something a little more noble, but I personally do love rats so much and so I wanted a positive rat dæmon, for once.

Nile: Dakarai (red wolf)

I wanted to give Nile something supremely American, but she was in the Marines, and soldiers of most kinds tend to have dog dæmons, so no stereotypical birds. But Nile is also smart and quick-thinking, and family-oriented, so the red wolf made sense to me. Dakarai is loyal and far more serious than his human, a bit more cynical. Having been trained in a modern Armed Force, post-Geneva Convention, he's never touched another human being and has exclusively fought other dæmons. He is, of course, a good tracker.

Someone had to have a canine in this group. Might as well be Nile!

Bonus (under the cut for cockroach reasons):

James Copley: Vindemiatrix (common raven)

The Odin symbolism of the knowledge-seeker raven, honestly. She perches in odd places, watches everything, and reports back. She is a secret-keeper and prone to keeping her own counsel, not interacting much with other dæmons. She, like Copley, misses his wife and her Pallas's cat dæmon something fierce.

Stephen Merrick: Unnamed (American cockroach)

Need I say more? He deserves it.

Dr Meta Kozak: Unnamed (hagfish)

A disgusting dæmon for a disgusting woman, who burrows into people's bodies and eats them from the inside out. She carries the horrid thing in a lightweight tank backpack, one of the many modern accomodations for people with water-dwelling dæmons.

Keane: Unnamed (Eastern black rhino)

A beautifully noble dæmon, unfortunately wasted on a bastard.

Lykon: Unnamed (melanistic leopard)

She was graceful, majestic and courteous, and absolutely breathtaking in battle. She would dispense affection to daemon and human alike, much like Lykon himself.

[highbeeans]

Joe gets himself a vampire boyfriend.

Also posted on AO3.

[zairaalbereo]

“This is your friend in the Norse countries, I think.” It is not quite a question. “What is his name?” Yusuf looks down at the paper again, and sighs. “Nicolò. Nicolò of Genova.”

— Frost and Fjords by Arkada I’ve been reading @ao3-arkada’s Frost and Fjords and couldn’t help but channel Yusuf.

If you haven’t read it you absolutely should! Plus it has a sequel I’m thoroughly enjoying as well. 🌌

[negotiumcrucis]

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.

---

read @ ao3

---

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

[krimsnkramsart]

✨ Art for the Old Guard Reverse Bang 2022 hosted by @theoldguardevents✨

Thank you to the lovely @nilefreemans for choosing my art and writing a beautiful story based on my drawing! 💕

Go read the story here: with you, always

[raedear]

I’ve had a great time catching up on the musicians AU so here’s an attempt at a first line prompt that you’re free to use or ignore or use for something else:

“Somehow, there was a splash of tea on the sleeve of his shirt.”

every single time I start one of these I have to look and see what tense I'm supposed to be in and then I still get it wrong. da capo was in past tense so that's what I'm using HERE WE GO.

--

Somehow, there was a splash of tea on the sleeve of his shirt. Joe chose to try and focus on that instead of the frustration building like a stormcloud in his chest. It was even working, until:

'You're rushing,' Nicky's voice was dry and tired, and Joe had to breathe very carefully so as not to snap his bow.

'I am not rushing,' Joe protested as calmly as he was able. 'You're dragging.'

They weren't even playing their programme yet. Nicky had suggested warming up (warming up! Like it wasn't the pinnacle of some musicians' repertoires) with Summer, and Joe had never been one to back down from a challenge.

He also had never been one to beat someone he was trying his hardest to be friends with to death with his bow, but it was looking very appealing.

'You're leading, therefore you're the one rushing,' Nicky said primly, playing a tiny phrase with his left hand, the tumbling arpeggio rattling alongside offence down Joe's spine.

'Perhaps you've just forgotten how swiftly you need to play to keep up,' Joe snapped before he could rein himself in. He froze immediately after, unsure if he should apologise but also absolutely sure that he didn't want to. Past poor behaviour on his part didn't give Nicky carte blanch to be a dick.

Nicky's hands were very still on the keys. The already tiny practice room seemed even smaller with the weight of irritation and held breath inside it.

'Maybe we should come back to this later,' Joe said eventually, when it became clear Nicky wasn't about to dignify Joe's slight against his memory witha response. 'We have a lot to get through before technical rehearsals start.'

'Hmm.'

—

Joe dragged his feet on the way home, grateful he'd decided splitting rehearsals was silly. He only had his violin with him for once, and it was much easier to navigate the streets without the weight of his cello on his already slumped shoulders.

It wasn't often that Joe took the long route via Paddington station home. There were faster ways closer to the Albert hall, but he needed the walk to clear his head. It was exhausting, walking on eggshells around Nicky. It felt like they took a step forward, and then tripped two back before Joe could blink.

Nicky had made a habit of bringing Joe coffee every other day, so Joe brought Nicky coffee on the days in between. They didn't even acknowledge it beyond murmurs of thanks, but then they stepped from that detente straight into tense and frustrating rehearsals that went nowhere, and all their morning good will was gone by lunchtime.

Today Nicky had almost slammed the key cover down on the piano before he caught himself. He hadn't even looked at Joe when he excused himself for a smoke. No matter what they did, they just couldn't seem to play together.

The long walk to the station let Joe pull himself together where his edges were blurring. The guilt over how he'd treated Nicky had sat in his bones for years. It festered with every day he tried and failed to find new common ground with him.

It was dark by the time he reached Paddington, and the evening rush was almost entirely over, just late workers and people heading out for the night milling around the station. It was still busy, in that way transport in London was always busy, but it was quiet enough that for once the sound of the crowd was a murmur and not a roar.

Or, maybe they were being quiet on purpose. Over the sound of the tannoy and people on the move, Joe could just about make out the familiar sound of a piano. It was just incongruous enough to stand out over the usual miasma of noise; a bright and cheerful sound that had heads turning and smiles blooming everywhere Joe could see. Helplessly curious, already smiling, he followed the noise to its source.

Near the statue of the eponymous bear, someone with their hood up played the last few bars of the Succession theme to polite applause.

The pianist shook out their hands, sitting back from the keys, and as Joe watched someone approached them, phone in hand. The pianist leaned down towards it, listening by the looks of it, before they nodded and lifted their hands again.

The pianist started again, leaning into the keys with their entire body, and Joe couldn't help grinning in delight at the familiar song.

What a wonderful thing, he thought, staring at the pianist as they swayed slightly with the music. Their posture at the piano was perfect, but there was real joy in their playing. The person who'd requested the piece gripped her friend's arm in delight, smiling so widely Joe could see her dimples from halfway across the concourse.

Joe kept half an ear out for announcements about his train as he watched the pianist play, resting with crossed arms against an out of the way wall.

For all he tried to stay involved in the community, tried to do more than tours for the same people over and over, it had been a long time since he'd been anywhere near as publicly accessible as the pianist. There was a freedom to their playing that Joe ached for. He remembered vividly busking as a teenager to make a little extra money as he studied. Even that hadn't been the kind of playful fun this person was engaging in, not when the quality of his food and clothes depended on it.

Joe was tapping his fingers along by the time the pianist finished, improvising an accompaniment to the pianist's interpretation of the ending of the song. He wondered if Nicky would ever consider adding something like this to their repertoire. Maybe that's what they were missing. Something purely joyful.

As the pianist finished, they turned to face the person who'd requested the song. Their playing had knocked back their hood very slightly, and the spot on the wall Joe had picked changed his view just enough that in turning to acknowledge the girl with the phone bared the pianist's profile to Joe.

He'd know that nose anywhere.

[nicolos]

"I know what you're thinking. Why does he complain when he is always paid correctly and on time, and how can he when he is ignoring his grinding for it? Well, you'd be curious about the mysterious Witch di Genova too if you were me. I haven't seen him once! I suppose you must know all about him. Cruel and unfair not to tell me a word. But I suppose it's only fair—you won't tell him what I said, either, will you? Of course you won't. You're a good friend, owl." Owl Nicky: so true

[queen-of-badomens]

For @morvith ! Happy CSH Winter exchange!

AU of werewolf!Joe and modern knight!Nicky

[lovelikedestiny]

I wrote a little something for Halloween. Hope you enjoy🎃

Nicky likes Joe. Very much. Way too much, in fact.

He always seems to be in a good mood, and the effect of his easy grin and the vibrant, mischievous sparkle in his warm eyes spreads out to others too. Joe is literally a pure ray of sunshine.

He always makes you feel welcome and is such an attentive listener even to unimportant small talk that you feel like the crux of the entire universe.

He's always brimming with passion when it comes to the things he likes to do like tell you about the piece of art he's working on or recommend a hot drink suitable for fall, or talk about the pair of ducks he saw on his way to work.

Nicky likes Joe more than is probably good for him.

The only problem is that Joe is dead.

And Nicky hasn't the faintest idea why he decided to appear in the middle of Nicky's tiny dump of an apartment. A lie.

Just to be clear: seeing ghosts isn't exactly anything new to Nicky, and practically part of his job description, as the sign on his equally puny shop states - Spiritual Worlds.

But usually the spirits of the deceased don’t come to him until the dependents do, to which they continue to cling without being able to detach.

The main purpose of Nicky's freelance job is to help spirits pass from this world to the afterlife. He is the bridge between them and the world of the living, which they are still stuck in because there is something they couldn't do while they were alive and now want to finish.

Medium is what many call him. Weirdo, most of them.

When it comes to things that they do not understand and that have no logical origins and explanations for them, people tend to meet them with rejection and skepticism and are content to dismiss them as nonsense and never deal with them again, because they are afraid.

Which, conversely, implies that they usually react very hostilely when they have to deal with things that make them feel uneasy due to their strangeness.

And that in turn means Nicky often has to deal with repulsion of this sort in his job, especially at the beginning of the whole process, which he can't even blame those involved for.

Losing a loved one is a painful blow, no matter how you turn it. There is no set way of grieving, after all everyone is an unique individual with their own handling process.

What Nicky finds absolutely disrespectful and outrageous is not embracing and accepting a variety of methods, but for instance, labeling a person as heartless and cold simply because they don't show their emotions as openly as someone else.

To grieve is to take the time to clean and bandage the wounds in one’s heart.

To grieve is to take the time to acknowledge and allow the sheer pain within.

To grieve is to take time.

Though it must seem bewildering to many to deal more with the dead than with the living, Nicky loves his job, regardless of how sad and stressful his tasks can be.

Because he takes the time to assist troubled spirits find their way into the light and peace. And just knowing that their loved ones have found peace often helps those left behind just as much.

Nicky's work provides a symbolic line after the bumpy path of grief, the end of the suffocatingly dark tunnel, the light of hope for final closure.

During his séances, he is able to communicate with the loved ones his clients have lost because the spirits cling to their relatives, friends, beloveds or neighbors like delicate cobwebs.

Despite numerous people not taking it seriously, most can sense the attendance of ghosts, in the form of shivers, rising temperatures, or even the mere sense of the presence of the deceased.

However, this presupposes that the ghosts do not make themselves known by their own powers through the creaking of wooden floorboards, flickering lights, billowing curtains or falling glasses.

Everyone experiences at least one ghostly encounter in their lifetime, but dismisses it as a draft, technical problems, or imaginings due to a lack of sleep.

But no matter how many people Nicky's work has enabled to come to terms with the death of a loved one, or how many souls he's shown the way to the other side, one thing has always remained the same.

One single thing that gives his profession a bitter aftertaste, like a biting wind on an otherwise bright, sunny autumn day. The ulterior knowledge that the brightly colored leaves that danced like elves from the trees were, in truth, only performing this spectacle of beauty because they had died. Dead foliage.

One single thing.

As Joe's wide, doe eyes meet his, vulnerable confusion and undeniable fear flaring in them like fire in water, Nicky's heart clenches to the size of a walnut, and an iron fist crushes his throat.

It is not fair. The one thing that never changes.

Whether it's a little girl standing in front of him whose parents are desperate for a way to move on. Whether it's a young woman whose girlfriend has never had a chance to say goodbye. Whether it's an old man who has experienced so much and yet hasn't had enough of life.

Life and death walk hand in hand, two different sides of the same coin, and yet it never seems fair.

"Oh Joe..." Nicky whispers, setting aside the plate of pasta and his glass of red wine, not taking his eyes off Joe's apparition in the middle of his living room, suddenly far from ever being hungry again.

The infinitely deep sadness filling him and turning his heart to stone surprises Nicky, even though it shouldn't.

Because it was predictable.

But just because something is foreseeable doesn't mean that the force of the impact will be mitigated immediately. A blade can always hurt, even if it's dull.

For a brief moment that feels like an awful eternity to Nicky, giving him too much time to memorize every last detail of Joe, they just stare at each other and the silence cracks like melting ice in Nicky's ears.

When Joe finally speaks up, Nicky flinches, he recoils. From the flat, resigned tone of the otherwise so warm, cheerful voice, the missing spark in the glowing eyes, the whole of reality and its bone crushing weight.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

All the air escapes Nicky in one fell swoop, and he doesn't dare to say more than a quiet "Yes".

Joe nods, having already expected this answer, and Nicky thinks he's taking it rather calmly. Yet, there is something disturbing about the picture, because although Joe is obviously aware of being dead and the typical emotions of grief, despair, confusion and disbelief surround him, Nicky almost thinks he can perceive something like...regret from him.

Regret for what? A matter that is still unresolved?

"And you can see me?"

"Yes." Again, the same answer, a broken record player of damnation.

"Why?" Such a simple question, getting right between Nicky's ribs anyway, aimed at a fixed target with deadly precision.

He needs several attempts to swallow. His mouth is bone dry - how exceedingly macabre. "I wish I could give you a satisfactory answer, but I don't know."

The smile that Joe's beautiful lips twist into lacks radiance, and Nicky wants to scream until his throat is sore. "I have an inkling what it is." The brown of his eyes becomes the enlivening, comforting sweetness of hot chocolate and towering hickory trunks that surround you, safe and secure in their wild center, and Nicky forgets how to breathe because it hurts so much. “Through your kindness, Nicky. The kindness you extend to everyone you meet."

"You don't think it's weird?" Nicky asks hoarsely, recovering his voice, dropped and shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor. Joe's weak, short laugh is a needle in his ear canal.

"Considering that I seem to have died and am now standing in your living room, even though I've never been here before, I don't think it weird." Joe scratches his cheek, a nervous gesture. "Now it also makes sense why you were so mysteriously vague when it came to your profession." He points to a stack of flyers on the table. "It's more than just a spiritual store for books and stuff, right?"

"Yes." A third time. "I...hold sessions for people who have lost someone and want to get in touch with them."

The affection suddenly so evident on Joe's face is searing his gut. “Like I said, kindness.”

But Nicky feels anything but kind right now, confronted with Joe's form, in his familiar leather jacket, now tattered in places, indicating the last vestige of the cause of his death, positioned on the completely opposite scale of existence.

He feels shabby and guilty and awful for living while Joe's time is already up and it's not fair.

He wishes he could trade places with Joe. A lightning impulse that sets his nerves tinglingly on fire.

Nicky wants to trade places with Joe, but he is powerless.

And he cannot bear the warmth with which Joe continues to watch him, as if Nicky wasn't a symbol of everything he's lost through his passing.

"Why are you here?" The question is far too weak to be considered a solid part of their conversation.

Joe shrugs. “Maybe because you have a cozy interior? That painting over there is amazing.”

The revival of Joe's good-natured humor is akin to the exhilaration of flying before free fall. "No, why are you here?" With me?, fades into the insurmountable space between them. "Do you need my help? Do you want to deliver a message to someone? Do you want me to tell Booker something?" To be honest, Nicky really doesn't want to know how Joe's closest friends are doing right now. Wants to stay away from the pain.

"I..." Joe stops, uncertain. His tongue restlessly sliding over his upper lip, and Nicky struggles to take his eyes off him. "...I am not sure. Does there have to be a reason? I have no idea how this works, I died for the first time." The joke is a germinating seed in a barren wasteland, and Nicky tastes rot.

"All the ghosts that haven't...passed over yet" Nicky almost chokes out those words, ash on his tongue. “have something that keeps them here. A task they couldn't finish, a conversation they still have to have, a wrong they want to right, a…” His voice fails miserably.

What's your reason?

But he already knows the answer.

Knows it's in the left drawer of his desk, between pages thirty-seventh and thirty-eighth of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

And Nicky wants to deny it, wants Joe to say it and put it into words, even though he's so afraid of it.

Furrows dig into Joe’s forehead as he frowns in strained concentration, desperately trying to remember. “I don't know…I feel like I was going somewhere or waiting for something. Something important, I think…” He growls in frustration, tugging at those wonderful curls Nicky wanted to touch so badly. To see if they really are as soft as they look. Looked. "W-why can't I remember?"

It's not uncommon for ghosts to have memory lapses shortly after they die, and the thought that Joe might have died only hours ago is nauseating. As well as the realization of how he died.

There's a stifled gasp, someone struggling for breath like there's no oxygen in the room, and as Joe takes a step toward him, a hand outstretched, concern in his eyes, it occurs to Nicky that this someone is himself.

"Nicolo?" It's the first time Joe says his full name and the way his tongue curls around the syllables makes Nicky die a little more inside. "What's going on?"

But Nicky can't answer. No sound penetrates the wall of misery and pain that plants his mouth with thorns. How can love hurt so much?

Realization washes over Joe, like the evanescent twilight outside the windows, and Nicky thinks his heart stops beating. "You know it, don't you? You know where I was going...can you please tell me?"

Crucial is the pleading in Joe's voice, fearful and desperate, and Nicky knows deep down he can't do it to him. Joe should never have to beg for anything, and Nicky has no right to keep anything from him that concerns him because he's filled with fear of it.

To love something is to let it go.

"To whom." It's no more than a faint breath.

"What?"

Nicky swallows against the growing lump in his throat. "Not where you wanted to go, but to whom." Inhale, tearing shards. "You wanted to see me, Joe." I'm the reason you're dead.

As Joe's eyes widen in horror, Nicky braces himself for the revulsion, the blame, the hatred, and he's sure he can't hold out. Not this. Not with Joe. Even though it's his job, even though Joe needs him, even though Joe's death is his fault.

Lost in himself as the memories gradually return to Joe, Nicky doesn't dare move a muscle, wanting most to blend into the background, to cease to exist to escape the coming destructive storm that is about to engulf him.

The aching understanding that Joe's lips - beginning to tremble - tell of is far worse. The anguish in his eyes - the dark mirrors of his soul that always so expressively reveal his emotions - threatens to shatter Nicky into irreparable fragments.

"That's right..." He notes timidly, oh so timidly. "I wanted to see you, to find out what you decided..."

The heart is a vital organ - made of flesh and blood, tendons - a muscle. And yet Nicky hears his breaking in two in that very breath. Wordlessly - there are no words, how could there be, what is there to say - Nicky moves to his desk, not knowing how he manages to use his numb limbs at all, and opens the drawer.

The book shakes in his hands as he opens it and grabs the piece of paper that rested between the pages, carefully hidden like a precious treasure.

The image of the small drawn smiling coffee cup and the question written in Joe's italics - Would you like to go on a date with me? Mark with a cross… - blur in front of Nicky's eyes, washed away by the bitter salt water.

Breathlessly, he shows Joe the note and bites his lip so hard he tastes blood as Joe clutches his chest as if he were still able to feel that endless heartache making your spine freeze. "No...no, no, no, this must be a nightmare...please..."

Behind the answer choice “Yes” there is a clear cross. And a smiley face because Nicky felt reckless answering Joe's question, a silly smile on his face that now seems foolish to him.

Yes.

A crooked grin, frayed at the edges by underlying nervousness, flashing in a dark beard as Joe sets Nicky a plate next to his coffee, distracting him from the book he'd buried his nose in.

Confusion and pooling of warmth in Nicky's stomach because Joe is so close to him he can see the individual threads of his apron. "I didn’t order a chocolate cake."

"I know." A folded note slid across the table to him. "It only serves as compensation in case I’m crossing a line with this." An exchanged, sheepish smile, heat rising in Nicky's cheeks.

"What is that?"

"It would be unfair of me to spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?"

The simple question next to the drawing, the electrifying joy, invigorating like the sun's kiss after the gloomy winter. His prolonged silence, Joe shifting his weight uneasily. "And? Is there an answer or does the chocolate cake need to clean up the misstep I made?”

Nicky's mischievous grin, which is not at all typical of him, spurred on by Joe's interest in him. "It would be unfair of me to spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?"

Joe laughs in surprise, and Nicky finds himself chuckling too. "Oh? And how am I supposed to find out the surprise?”

“Come to my apartment this weekend and get the answer in person. I'll give you my address."

"And what if the answer is no?"

"I guess there's only one way to find out."

Joe's flirty wink. "I love a challenge."

In the here and now, Nicky's voice cuts through the yawning chasm that has opened between them, unexpected and unbridgeable by any force on earth, like a butter knife meeting stone. "I would have loved to go on a date with you, Yusuf."

Joe silently begins to cry, his mouth formed to a soundless sigh of agony, and Nicky forces himself to continue. To help Joe whose soul had led him here - to the only thing still keeping him in this world. "And I...can't tell you how sorry I am...if I had answered you straight away, none of this would have happened..."

His words don't matter because they can't erase and rewrite what happened. But Joe is here for one reason only, caught between the worlds Nicky can both visit, and it is in Nicky's power to bring Joe's soul the peace he truly deserves.

Regardless of the external circumstances. Regardless of Nicky's feelings.

So he goes on, verbally taking one step after the other and pretending that Joe is a ghost like any other and not his love, whom he never even got the chance to know that way. Couldn’t get to know that way.

"I would have suggested a picnic in the park." Nicky ignores the husky sound of the syllables, eyes firmly fixed on Joe, anchoring himself with him. “to watch that pair of ducks you always talk about. I would have confessed to you, stammering and red-faced, that I've been trying for months to work up the courage to ask you out because you're an amazing person, Joe. And, that I couldn't believe my luck when you asked me out in that sweet way. I would have loved you with all my heart, I'm absolutely sure of that. I would have told you every day how much you mean to me, but now that we don't have time, I'll do it at this moment.”

Nicky fights for control, putting everything he can never say now into the emphasis of his words. "You mean everything to me, Joe...and that's why...you have to let go now."

"How can you expect me to do that?" Joe demands with a quivering bitterness that springs from the battlefield that was once his heart. "After everything you just told me. How can you expect me to let you go?"

Nicky has the feeling of drowning in Joe's tears, notices his control slipping, unstoppable. “Because you can't stay here, Joe. If you do, you’ll eventually lose touch with reality, become a mere shadow of yourself, and you can't expect me to let that happen. I beg you…”

His dam bursts as Joe rubs his face in palpable distress, as if he could thus hide the tears wetting his cheeks. Rivers of silver pour from two clear mountain lakes, creating a reflection of Joe on Nicky's skin.

"I've already lost you." Stating the truth corrodes his mouth, salt in a wound that's only just begun to bleed. "Don't ask me to condemn you to such an existence as well."

A date that will never happen. That precious taste of more, snuffed out like it never existed.

Nicky has never despised his job so much.

"I do not want to go. There is so much to live for."

The pain inside Nicky is a living thing, wreaking havoc in his body. "I know. I...love you Joe."

For a fraction, Joe is at a loss for words before  - finally - a tiny smile breaks through the desperation, like a ray of sunshine through thick fog, and Nicky knows that look on his face. Found peace.

Before Joe can return his words, Nicky asks tonelessly, "Do you see a light? You have to tell me if you see a light."

"I do." It entails a certain relief to see Joe no longer so distraught and helpless, but it doesn't last long. "I love you Nicky."

Nicky's smile feels like a snarl, but Joe seems to get what he's trying to tell him. "Thank you for everything. You were my dream." There is no magical gust of wind, no earthquake, or gleaming flash of light. It’s over in the blink of an eye, painfully unspectacular.

"And you were mine." It's a hollow whisper swallowed by the deafening silence in Nicky's room, where no one can see the tears on his cheeks in the darkness. And the clock strikes midnight.

[laviejaguardia]

Hi hello 🚨 new fic alert 🚨

for time and place to align

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova ; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Original Character(s) ; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting ; Alternate Universe - No Powers ; Unrequited Love ; falling in and out of love ; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; emotional angst ; Friends to Lovers ; Happy Ending ; Explicit Sexual Content ; Implied/Referenced Homophobia

Summary:

Sometimes people meet in the right place at the wrong time, and then reconnect at the right time but wrong places. This story is about what it takes for time and place to align. text I sent a friend while writing this: just this idea of looking and someone you can't be with and thinking "we could be so good together" ya know?

Hope you enjoy!

[materassassino]

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Characters: Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre's Wife, Various Daemons Additional Tags: dæmon AU, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Misunderstandings, Team as Family, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, taboos and social mores and how to break them Summary:

Sébastien Le Livre has died and come back to life, and been saved by three mysterious and completely incomprehensible people. He doesn't understand them, or their dæmons, or the nature of the bonds between them.

Or how they might change him.

Preview:

Sébastien Le Livre was a married man. He knew how being lovers worked, had known since his wedding night, when Adèle had cradled Amandine in her cupped hands and kissed her tiny head, and Sébastien had let his fingers run across the smooth, soft expanse of Clarambaut’s colourful feathers. It had been more intimate than anything he’d ever felt before, a caress to his very soul. The pinnacle of it all. They’d made love before – and that was blatantly obvious despite attempting to hide it that they’d been… hasty – but that shared touch had been something altogether different. He’d felt it inside him, as if Adèle had reached inside and held his beating heart in her hand.

To touch another’s dæmon was the deepest of taboos. It was trust that ran deeper than any other trust ever could.

[highbeeans]

Hello everyone. I’ve partnered up with the lovely Lilja for @theoldguardevents reverse big bang! Do check out her fic over HERE and don’t forget to leave kudos/comments! 💜💜💜

[zairaalbereo]

Joe Al-Kaysani, conductor 🚂

Nicolò di Genova, detective 🕵🏼‍♂️

My second set of art for the @oldguardbigbang and the lovely @falyakonmp3 and her intriguing Orient Express AU:

“right and wrong and everything in between”

Go and check it out! The first four chapters are up and more to come.

[negotiumcrucis]

Menagerie

Joe/Nicky, Werewolf AU, Explicit (wip)

Nicky patiently waits in line just outside the Menagerie, the decadent red neon letters a constant, eerie presence in the moonless night. The name is a little on the nose, he thinks, but it does get the point across. It is the same one in the app he allowed Nile to install on his phone when he got drunk after his exams and confessed all about his secret desire to be fucked by a werewolf. Nicky knew that Nile, of all people, wouldn’t judge him for it. She had a weak spot for vampire ladies with a firm hand and had used the app herself a few times before. The next day, while nursing a headache, Nicky didn’t pay attention to any of his classes, too busy messaging a werewolf who matched with him in the app. They hit it off, and after exchanging a couple of pictures, Nicky was ready to kiss Nile in gratitude. That was Wednesday; today is Friday, and he feels like he has been waiting his whole life for this. Even now, a shiver runs down Nicky’s spine as he sneaks a glance at the picture on his phone for what must be the hundredth time today. Though he’s quite sure “Joe” is just some fake name, he can’t bring himself to care much about it. Because Joe is without a doubt one of the most gorgeous creatures he has ever laid his eyes on, and, more importantly, he has agreed to meet Nicky and see if they still like each other in person. And maybe, maybe they will fuck then.

continue reading @ao3

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a little something I'm writing for @topjoediscord's Monster Fucking Event! =)