#anyway nicolo is having a great time. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kepamount · 2 years

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part twenty-one - wag life

blue moon 🌙 - MM19xreader, smau, crack comedy, fluff, angst and smut

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warnings: explicit sex (don’t read the written part if you’re under 18 please!!), fingering, edging, unprotected penetrative sex, pet names, dirty talk, degradation and praise (best of both worlds 🤩), hair pulling, choking, teasing, slight exhibitionism, I think that’s it but pls let me know if I missed anything!!

a/n: and here is the twenty-first part of blue moon! the second written part is here and it’s so long, I got so carried away 😭 lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

taglist 🤍: @masesangel @moneymasnn @kepaarrizabalaga1 @rmvb24 @sad-fridge2323 @masonm19 @shannon-jade-99 @lazysportsfanfornhl @gotbangtanlads @blazingmount @chilwell-21 @user8292 @japanesekel @ofxinnocence @heli991113 @silverlightprincess

He knocks on my bedroom door, and I let out an irritated sigh. I’m wearing Nicolo’s shirt again, lying on my front in bed, scrolling through my phone and trying to cool my irritation. I came straight up here as soon as we got back, and I haven’t left the room since – he doesn’t deserve my company right now.

I remain silent, letting him stand on the other side of the door and wait. He knocks again, louder this time, before calling my name. ‘Come in,’ I huff, turning onto my back so I can see him, and he opens the door. He’s stood there in just a pair of grey joggers, torso bare, and it makes me even angrier. How dare he look… half-decent when I’m angry at him?

‘I’m making pasta. Do you want some?’ he asks, and I pull a face. ‘After the state of that scrambled omelette you attempted to make the other day? I’ll pass. Rather not get food poisoning,’ I say cattily, and he raises an eyebrow.

‘You have to eat, y/n. You’ve barely eaten all day. You didn’t touch your food at the wine-tasting,’ he says quietly, not making a mean comment in return to mine. It only makes me more annoyed. ‘Yeah, well, I lost my appetite. And I’m still not hungry now. Definitely not for your cooking anyway,’ I mutter, rolling back onto my front, and he lets out a sigh.

‘Okay, what’s the matter? We were being civil. Even getting along at some points. Why are you being a bitch again?’ he says tiredly, and I let out a humourless laugh. ‘Getting along? That’s a stretch.’ ‘Don’t lie. We were enjoying each other’s company,’ he says, and I turn onto my back, sitting up so I can look at him. ‘Speak for yourself,’ I say venomously, and hurt flits across his face briefly. Great. Now I’m feeling guilty.

‘Fine. I don’t know why I bother,’ he mutters angrily, turning to walk out, but then he pauses, turning around again. ‘You know… you did this last time. You’re the reason we fell out in the first place, and now you’re trying to do it for a second time,’ he accuses, and I roll my eyes.

‘Not this again. We’ve already discussed this. I don’t know what your obsession with the past is-’ ‘And I don’t know what your obsession with hating me is. Do you know how shit it is, that you get along with everyone but me?’ he asks in an angry tone, and I let out a laugh. ‘Don’t act like you’re blameless. You know exactly why we fell out, and it’s not entirely my fault. But anyway, I don’t wanna discuss this again,’ I sigh, and he takes a deep breath trying to compose himself.

‘Fine, we’ll leave the past alone. But that doesn’t mean we can just forget about today,’ he says, and I let out a noise of irritation, getting up from the bed. ‘Yes, actually. We can forget about today. Just leave me alone,’ I say over my shoulder as I head into the bathroom. ‘No, y/n, I’m not moving on. We still have a week together, and I don’t really want to spend it in a villa with someone who isn’t speaking to me,’ he says, following me to the bathroom and standing in the doorway.

‘Why do you care? You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. Let’s stop pretending otherwise,’ I say, brushing through my hair harshly. ‘What made you decide that you’re not going to pretend? Because you were fine yesterday, and this morning. But then, at the wine-tasting, you stopped speaking to me. What happened for you to change your mind?’ he demands as I collect my hair at the back of my head.

‘I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave it,’ I say through gritted teeth, avoiding his eyes in the mirror, but I can still see the realisation that appears on his face, followed by an arrogant smirk. ‘No way are you this angry at me because you’re jealous. Surely not,’ he says, half-incredulous and half-amused. ‘Jealous?’ I demand, tying my hair back with the bobble on my wrist, looking at him in the mirror.

‘About what, exactly?’ I ask, and he raises an amused eyebrow. ‘That sexy waitress at the wine-tasting,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. ‘Seriously? You think I’m jealous… because we had a sexy waitress?’ ‘You know what I mean. You’re jealous because I was flirting with the sexy waitress,’ he says as though it’s obvious, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps look… bigger than normal. God, y/n, focus!

‘Why would I be jealous?’ I ask, turning to look at him, and he raises an amused eyebrow. ‘You tell me, y/n,’ he murmurs, lips quirked up at the corners, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. ‘You’re not seriously insinuating that I like you or something.’ ‘Like I said… you tell me,’ he repeats, endlessly amused, and I let out a long sigh.

‘If you must know, that was what pissed me off. But not for the reason you think,’ I begin, and he just stands there, leaning against the doorframe, smirking like a dickhead. ‘Like you said, we’ve been… civil. And at the wine-tasting, I was sat right opposite you, next to Tam and Leah who literally forgot there were other people in the world other than each other. And you barely even spoke to me the entire time. The first opportunity you get, you’re trying to get into the waitress’ pants,’ I say quietly, and he just listens in silence.

There’s a long pause before he lets out a gentle sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t… mean to make you feel left out. I know we’re starting to… make amends in our weird relationship, and I should’ve thought about that before I ignored you. I didn’t mean to, but I obviously did. So I’m sorry,’ he murmurs, head tilted down, looking up at me with darkened eyes, and my heart skips a beat. The lighting’s doing a lot for him, because he looks… good. For once.

‘God, why do you have to be nice? Can’t you just be a dick to me like you normally are?’ I demand, and he lets out a soft chuckle. ‘Why, y/n? Why do you want to hate me so much?’ he asks, head tilted with curiosity, and I’m rendered speechless at the question. ‘It’s not… I don’t want to hate you. You’re just… infuriating. You manage to get under my skin like no one else can, and I don’t know how,’ I admit, and he laughs gently.

‘That’s a shit excuse. And you’re not consistent. I’m infuriating, but you also wanted me to talk to you at the wine-tasting, and were annoyed about the fact that I flirted with the waitress,’ he says with a small smile. ‘No, nuh-uh, that’s not what I said. I wasn’t annoyed that you flirted with the waitress. I was annoyed that you flirted with the waitress instead of talking to me,’ I explain, holding back my own smile, and he looks even more amused.

‘Which begs the question,’ he begins, taking slow steps towards me, ‘why did you want me to talk to you so badly?’ ‘Seriously, Mount? Please drop this weird agenda. I do not like you,’ I say firmly as he stops a few inches in front of me, close enough for me to see the handsome details of his face. The lighting in here really is amazing.

‘Then answer the question. Why did you want me to talk to you?’ he repeats, lips curved up in a way that puts small lines in his cheeks. When I remain silent, his smile grows slightly, eyes sparkling in the warm glow streaming in through the window. ‘Did princess want attention?’ he teases, taking my hand into his, and I roll my eyes for what feels like the thousandth time, ignoring the tingle that travels up my arm at the contact.

‘Relax.’ ‘I think you’re the one that needs to relax, y/n. You’re so… tense,’ he says quietly, smirk on his face, and I feel frozen, looking up at him through my lashes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, lifting my hand to his mouth and pressing his lips to my skin, ‘for not giving the… ‘It Girl of this generation’ the attention she thinks she deserves.’ ‘And I’m sorry for not giving BTEC Phil Foden the adoration he seems to expect from everyone,’ I respond with a small smile, unable to bite my tongue, and he lets out a little laugh.

‘You are so fucking annoying,’ he says amusedly, tilting my head up with a light finger under my chin. ‘Maybe just shut the fuck up for once,’ he breathes out, and I raise an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he’s setting me up for. ‘Make me,’ I challenge in a whisper, and his lips curve up, his empty hand sliding around my waist and pulling me against him as he replies, ‘my pleasure.’

When our lips meet, my entire body sets alight. His mouth is rough, desperate, feverish against mine, his hands pressing into my back, bodies pushed up together without even a millimetre of space between us. I grip onto his shoulders, lips moving with his, senses flooded with the sweetness of the wine on his tongue and the fresh scent of his expensive aftershave. The kiss is deep, passionate and messy, his hands sliding down to my bum, giving it a light slap that makes me gasp into his mouth.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes out against my lips, lifting me up effortlessly and carrying me into the bedroom with my legs wrapped around his waist, not breaking our kiss even for a second. He falls back onto the sheets, bringing me down on top of him, our bodies slotting together perfectly as he slides his tongue over mine in a way that coaxes a whimper from me.

He breaks apart from me, lips landing below my ear and slowly pressing kisses along my jaw. His teeth gently nip at my skin, lips sucking softly, and I let out shaky breaths, hands resting on his chest. ‘You’re so much nicer like this,’ he teases against my skin, and I don’t have it in me to come up with a snarky retort, too focused on how good his mouth feels.

I feel his hands travel down my body, sliding beneath the t-shirt and pulling it up to allow him access to the area that is embarrassingly wet right now. He hooks a finger around my bikini bottoms, pulling them to one side as he lets out a soft chuckle. ‘So wet already? Does arguing with me turn you on, babe?’ he asks amusedly, clearly not expecting an answer, because he pushes a finger between my folds, the feeling making my mind go blank.

He removes his finger just as swiftly as he put it in, lifting it to his mouth, locking his eyes with mine as he tastes the wetness on his skin. ‘You taste so fucking good. Surprisingly sweet for such a sour bitch,’ he grins, turning us over so he hovers over me, reaching down and plunging his finger back into me before I can respond. His eyes are trained on my face, watching for my reactions as he pumps his finger in and out of me slowly, his cocky gaze only making me wetter.

I try my best to contain myself, biting down on my bottom lip, but when he adds a second finger, I let out a pathetic whimper. ‘I know, babe, I know,’ he whispers, half-patronising and half-comforting, and my head falls back onto the pillow as his fingers drag against my walls. ‘Why are you so fucking tight? Clearly your Nico didn’t do a good enough job.’ ‘That’s not how vaginas work, you moron,’ I force out in a strained voice, and he rolls his eyes.

‘I’m trying to fuck you, not get a biology lesson, you irritating know-it-all,’ he mutters, clearly holding back a laugh, and my response is cut off by the way his fingers curl inside me. ‘What was that, babe? What were you gonna say?’ he asks tauntingly. ‘Fuck you,’ I say half-heartedly, and he lets out a soft chuckle. ‘That’s what we’re doing, y/n. Keep up,’ he grins arrogantly, looking very proud of his joke.

He slowly pumps in and out of me, rocking his hand against me gently, and when he adds another finger, I can’t help but let out a soft moan. ‘That’s it, babe. Wanna hear you,’ he murmurs, his thumb beginning to rub slow circles at my clit, making me whimper desperately. I look up at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s still watching me, eyes studying my face as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my back arches up off the bed, a gentle moan escaping my lips.

‘Fuck, you’re killing me. You sound so pretty,’ he mutters, fingers curling inside me again, and I can’t help but clamp my thighs together. ‘That’s not helpful,’ he reprimands me, like a teacher telling off a student, and he pulls one of my legs up so it bends at the knee between our bodies, allowing his fingers to go even deeper inside me. ‘Fuck, Mason,’ I breathe out when his fingers brush against that spot inside me, and he curses under his breath at hearing his name on my lips.

The sheets are balled up in my fists as his fingers continue to thrust into me at a gradually-quickening pace, an obscene squelching filling the room. ‘God, you’re so wet. Soaking the bed. Dirty girl,’ he chuckles, and I let out whine after whimper as he starts to bring me to the edge. ‘Look at you, grinding against my hand. Feels good, yeah?’ he asks cockily, and I only realise after he says it that yes, I am grinding down onto his hand, each movement sending gentle waves of pleasure through me.

My body squirms beneath his, walls clenching around him, and he knows that I’m close, his pace quickening as he whispers honeyed filth into my ear. ‘Close, babe?’ he asks, and all I can do is nod, letting out a loud moan. ‘Shh, y/n. Kai and Soph might hear us, and I’m sure you’d hate it if our friends knew you were letting me fuck you,’ he grins, the thought of being heard only prompting a fresh wave of arousal that soaks his skin.

‘Fuck, Mase, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, feeling myself get closer with every brush of his thumb at my clit and every curl of his fingers inside me. ‘Gonna cum, babe? You wanna cum on my fingers?’ he whispers against my ear, and I just let out a moan in response, teetering at the edge. And then his hand stills before he pulls his fingers out of me. ‘Too bad,’ he murmurs amusedly, pushing himself up off the bed and walking out onto my balcony without another word, leaving me in a stunned silence, my orgasm disappearing.

He has got to be having a laugh. I push myself up, climbing out of the bed with slightly shaky legs, and I follow him out onto the balcony. He’s stood there, watching the sunset, like he wasn’t just knuckle-deep inside me a few seconds ago. ‘What the fuck was that?’ I demand, and he raises an amused eyebrow at me.

‘I just wanted to know how much you want this. Clearly, you want it enough to let go of your pride and admit that you like me,’ he smirks, and I pull a face at him. ‘Are you serious? Me coming out here after you doesn’t mean I’m letting go of my pride, or admitting that I like you. It just means that I would very much like to be fucked by you right now.’ ‘And why’s that?’

‘Because maybe I find you bearable enough at this present moment to have sex with you,’ I say, and he gives me a look as if to say really? Is that the best you’ve got? ‘Okay, fine. Maybe I also find you slightly attractive,’ I say though it pains me to do so, and he just considers me for a moment before shrugging.

‘That’s good enough,’ he says, holding out a hand to me, and I take it, letting him pull me into his arms. He lifts a hand to my ponytail, pulling out the bobble and letting my hair fall across my back, his fingers running through it in a way that makes my scalp tingle. ‘Gonna let me fuck you on the balcony?’ he murmurs, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought. To be honest, I’d probably let him fuck me anywhere right now.

I nod shyly, and he grins a predatory grin, pressing his lips to mine in a slightly sloppy kiss. He pulls me up against him, his boner pressing into my hip, and I palm him through his joggers, the boy letting out a groan as he breaks apart from me, my lips finding his jaw. ‘Don’t tease. You don’t understand how hard it’s been for me the past couple days, with you walking around in your tiny bikinis, tight dresses and see-through cover-ups. Brushing my teeth while you were showering a few feet away from me is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,’ he admits in a slightly shaky voice as I kiss his neck lightly, my heart fluttering at the thought that I’ve managed to affect him so much.

‘Just wanted to get in there with you.’ ‘You should’ve,’ I respond against his skin, and he lets out a soft chuckle. ‘Let’s be real, you would’ve tried to drown me. So instead I’m stood there brushing my teeth, looking at fucking Nico’s shirt on the back of my door and wondering how he got to fuck you before I did. And now that we’re on the subject…’ he trails off, tugging at the hem of Nicolo’s shirt with a raised eyebrow. ‘Get this off before I rip it off you,’ he says darkly, the look on his face telling me he’d make good of his threat, so I let him slide his hands beneath the shirt, lifting my arms so he can pull it over my head.

He throws it back into the room, leaving me stood in a plain black bikini, but he looks at me like I’m a Victoria’s Secret model or something. ‘God, you’re so pretty when you’re quiet,’ he whispers, hands running up and down my sides, and I take the chance to put my hands on his chest, letting them travel down over his abs. I can feel the ridges of hard muscle beneath the skin, becoming tenser the lower my hands go.

I slip one hand beneath his joggers and his Calvins, wrapping it around his dick and tugging it slowly, his head falling back as a soft groan falls from his lips. ‘Sensitive,’ I observe amusedly, and he raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Says you. Nearly came after having my fingers in you for, like, three minutes.’ ‘Three minutes, my arse,’ I scoff, and he just laughs, leaning down to kiss me.

He pushes me up against the balcony wall, the edge of the white brick digging into my back as he slides a hand around to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling into my hair. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, feeling his strong back muscles beneath my hands, tips of my nails brushing against the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

‘Please, Mase,’ I breathe out against his mouth, and he laughs softly. ‘Okay, babe,’ he responds, breaking apart from me, ‘since I’ve been so mean to you.’ ‘Yeah, you have been,’ I say drily, and he raises an eyebrow, both of us knowing that I’m a lot meaner to him, all the time. ‘Turn around for me,’ he says, and I turn in his arms, feeling him press kisses down my neck and along my shoulder.

He’s clearly just as eager as I am, because he doesn’t wait long before one of his hands appears at the small of my back, bending me over, and I hold onto the balcony wall. ‘You’ve got back dimples?’ he asks, hands running across my skin lightly, finger circling the little dents in my back. ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘That’s so sexy,’ he groans, leaning down to press a kiss to one of them, sending a shiver through me. ‘Good place to keep my thumbs,’ he jokes, but I’m so desperate for him that I can’t even muster up a laugh, pressing my ass back into him.

‘Alright, alright. Spread your legs, babe,’ he prompts, and I do so, giving him more than enough space to hook a finger around my bikini bottoms and pull them to the side. ‘Such a pretty pussy,’ he murmurs, and I wait as patiently as possible for him to push his joggers and boxers down. I look back to see him with his dick in his hand, pumping it with a smirk on his face when our eyes meet. ‘Don’t worry, take your time. Acting like you’ve got all d-’ I say sarcastically, the end of my sentence cut off when he plunges all the way into me.

‘When will you learn to shut the fuck up?’ he asks, punctuating his words with hard thrusts, and I let out a loud moan. ‘Be quiet. Unless you want our friends to know,’ he hisses out, his thrusts hard and deep, making my head fall down so my chin hits my chest. He quickly wraps his hand around my hair and pulls it hard, making my head whip back up, his other hand digging into my waist with his thumb pressed into my back dimple.

He pounds into me, going slow and hard so I feel every single movement, but I’m so desperate to cum that I start leaning back to meet his thrusts, needing him to go faster. ‘Go on. Fuck yourself on my cock, babe,’ he prompts, stilling his own movements, and I curse him silently in my head as I begin pushing back onto him. I hate having to do the work. My movements are faster than his, but it still doesn’t feel as good as it did when he was fucking me. I try my best to keep going, but it’s not long before I’m losing energy and patience.

‘Mason, please,’ I whine pathetically, and he chuckles, beginning to thrust into me again, his pace faster now. ‘See that, babe? You need me. You can pretend that you hate me all you want, but you need me,’ he murmurs, still with one hand on my waist and the other in my hair. He tugs on it experimentally, a little moan falling from my lips at the sudden pain, and he chuckles softly.

‘You like having your hair pulled? Dirty girl. Next, you’re gonna tell me you like being choked,’ he says amusedly, his thrusts gradually getting rougher and faster, and my arms begin to shake with the weight of supporting myself. If he notices, he doesn’t care, continuing to pound into me, whimpers and moans escaping my lips every few seconds. He releases his grip on my hair after a moment, sliding a hand around to my clit, and I let out a loud moan of his name the second I feel contact.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ he curses, hand disappearing from my clit to reach forward and slip two fingers into my mouth instead. ‘I’d gladly let you scream my name and let all our friends know how desperate you are for me, so this is the last time I’m telling you to be quiet. If you wanna moan my name again, I won’t be stopping you, babe,’ he threatens, my mind barely taking in his words, too focused on the way his cock drags against my walls. I suck on his fingers, managing to keep myself quiet for a short while, but I can feel my orgasm slowly building, more and more with each thrust.

It’s like he can sense it, taking note of how my arms and legs shake and my walls clenching around him, and he pulls out, edging me for a second time. ‘Mason, I swear to fucking god-’ I begin angrily, but I’m cut off with his hand grabbing at my neck, pulling my body up against his. ‘You swear what, y/n?’ he asks softly against my ear, his free hand reaching around and slipping beneath my bikini top to grab my boob.

‘What are you gonna do, babe?’ he taunts me, knowing he’s holding onto my throat too tight for me to speak. ‘That’s what I fucking thought,’ he murmurs amusedly, turning me around to face him, and I give him a dirty look. ‘You can death stare me all you want,’ he begins, lifting one of my legs so that my ankle rests on his shoulder, my back pressed against the balcony, ‘doesn’t change the fact that you were moaning my name like a dirty little slut a few seconds ago.’

He pulls my bikini bottoms aside again, running the head of his cock across my folds teasingly, my eyes fluttering shut as I slide my arms around to the back of his neck. I tangle my fingers into his hair, the soft fluffy locks sliding against my skin with every movement. ‘Beg,’ he says, and I let out a little sigh. ‘Don’t make me,’ I whisper, having too much pride to beg someone that I’m supposed to hate, and he lets out a little laugh. ‘Come on, babe. It’s not that hard. You can do it,’ he prompts amusedly, still teasing me with the tip. When I remain silent, he lets out an impatient noise.

‘I swear to god, y/n, I’m not joking. Beg or you’re only getting the tip. I can cum from just this – it’s not as easy for you,’ he threatens, and I roll my eyes. ‘Are you seriously gonna make me do this, you dick?’ ‘Yes,’ he says simply with a lazy grin, and I have to stop myself from headbutting him. I want so bad for him to fuck me right now, but I have too much pride to give in to him.

‘I can’t, Mase,’ I breathe out, and he raises an amused eyebrow. ‘You can. You just don’t want to. You’re just too fucking stubborn,’ he murmurs, sliding all the way into me, the head of his cock brushing against the spot inside me that makes my head fall back, moaning his name. ‘Too stubborn to beg me to fuck you but happy to moan my name when I do. Fucking shameless little slut,’ he murmurs, thrusting into me so agonisingly slowly that I feel like I’m losing my mind. I can feel every inch of him like this, filling me up and stretching me out.

‘I don’t have to beg. I get what I want regardless. You should know that.’ ‘You want me?’ he asks with a smirk, and I shake my head tiredly. ‘No, I… that’s not what I meant-’ ‘Sure. You can say you hate me but we both know the truth.’ ‘God, you’re so fucking unbearable,’ I groan, knot in my stomach tightening with each rock of his hips. ‘You’re not exactly a dream either, babe,’ he says drily, reaching down between our bodies to rub light circles on my clit, making me let out shaky breaths.

‘So why are you fucking me then? You keep saying I love you really, but you’re the one who seems to love me,’ I grin, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Me hating you doesn’t stop me from appreciating the fact that you’re very pretty with great tits and a decent arse as well,’ he says proudly, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘So feminist of you, Mason.’ ‘I’m complimenting you.’ ‘You’re sexualising me,’ I correct him, and he looks at me with a slightly incredulous expression. ‘My dick is literally inside you right now. I don’t think anything I could say would sexualise you more than the fact that we’re having sex,’ he says slowly, as though he thinks I’m stupid, and I hold back a laugh.

‘Fine, I digress. The point is that I’m not the only pretty girl with nice boobs.’ ‘Yeah, I’m well aware,’ he murmurs with a smirk, and I stare at him in mild shock for a few seconds. ‘Fine. Go fuck your sexy waitress instead,’ I spit out angrily, and his smile grows into a cocky grin. ‘But you definitely weren’t jealous, were you?’ he laughs, still fucking into me, and I roll my eyes. ‘Why does everyone think I’m jealous? You think I’m jealous, Isla thinks I’m jealous, the receptionist at the vineyard thought I was jealous. I’m not fucking jealous!’ I exclaim, voice full of irritation, and he bites his lip in amusement.

‘You told Isla I was flirting with the waitress?’ he asks, and I want to kick myself for blurting that out. ‘Can you, like, stop making idle conversation and just fuck me?’ I groan in annoyance, and he shakes his head at me with a small smile. ‘Not even a please? You entitled little brat,’ he murmurs, suddenly slamming into me, and I let out a moan than sounds pathetic even to my own ears.

He thrusts into me hard and fast, his hand disappearing from my clit to appear at the base of my throat instead, pads of his fingers pressing lightly into the sides of my neck, and I can already feel my orgasm nearing after being edged. ‘Fuck. So good,’ I let out breathily, and he smirks, cock hammering into me ruthlessly. I might be managing to keep relatively quiet but the slap of his skin against mine is so loud. Still, I can’t bring myself to care, too busy wondering why it took us so long to do this. If I knew it would’ve felt this good, I’d have let him fuck me years ago.

‘God, I’m gonna put this flexibility to good use. Never fucked a dancer before,’ he says in a strained voice, and I just can’t help myself. ‘I’ve fucked a fair few footballers and you’re nothing special,’ I grin, barely managing to get the words out before he tightens his hand around my neck, partially cutting off my airways. The pleasurable lack of air pushes me so close to my orgasm, my walls clenching around him, slowing down his thrusts.

‘Fucking knew you’d like being choked, you dirty little slut. Close?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod. I expect him to slow down or pull out completely, leaving me on the edge again, but he focuses his efforts on getting me there instead. The hand he has on my waist appears at my clit, rubbing forcefully, and the head of his cock brushes repeatedly against the spot inside me that has me moaning loud without any restraint, an arrogant grin on his face.

‘Are you gonna cum, y/n? Gonna cum for the person you hate most in the world? Come on, babe, cum for me,’ he murmurs against my ear, voice deep and soft. It’s all too much – his cock pounding into me, his fingers at my clit, his body pressed up against mine, his hand tight around my neck, his dirty talk – and my high hits me so hard. I let out a loud moan of his name, his hand around my neck appearing over my mouth to try and stifle it, and my legs shake, giving way and leaving my tense body leaning against him so I don’t fall over. My vision blurs, tears streaming down my face, and I clench around him so tight that he can barely move, rubbing my clit to prolong my high.

Once I begin coming down, my body goes slack, and his arms come around me to hold me up. ‘You okay?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Wanna stop?’ ‘No. Want you to cum in me,’ I breathe out tiredly, and his eyes darken, lips parting slightly in surprise. ‘Fuck,’ he curses softly, beginning to thrust into me again. I clench around him involuntarily, only bringing him closer, and I press soft kisses to his neck, hands on his strong back.

‘Come on, Mase. Cum in me, fill me up,’ I whisper against his skin, and he lets out soft groans, thrusts becoming more and more erratic. ‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum,’ he forces out, voice strained, and I can feel his dick twitching inside me. He buries his head in my neck, letting out a strangled moan of my name against my skin as he cums, filling me up with his release. He slowly thrusts into me until he’s come down from his high, and then he instantly lifts me up, carrying me into the bedroom and pressing his lips to mine in a brief and tame kiss.

‘Well done. You did so well, babe,’ he murmurs as he lays me down on the bed, cock slipping out of me and leaving me feeling empty. ‘Just gonna clean you up,’ he says softly, pulling up his boxers and joggers as he heads into the en suite bathroom, coming back a moment later with a towel and sitting on the edge of the bed.

He pulls my bikini bottoms down my legs, gently cleaning up the cum that drips out of me and the sweat that covers my body. He spots the tears on my cheeks, wiping them away with his hand, fingers featherlight on my skin, and I suddenly realise how intimate this is. I’m supposed to hate him. ‘Okay, Florence Nightingale. You can stop now,’ I say, voice embarrassingly hoarse, and he lets out a chuckle, retracting his hand from my face.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asks gently, and I shake my head. ‘I’m fine.’ ‘I can run you a bath if you w-’ ‘Mason! I’m fine! I haven’t come back from the war. You don’t need to, like, wait on me hand and foot,’ I snap, and he looks surprised, silent for a moment. ‘I’m not gonna be a dick and not give you any aftercare.’ ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. You can stop being nice to me,’ I say tiredly, and realisation passes across his face, followed by a small smile. He knows I’m panicking about us not acting like we hate each other when we’re supposed to, and have done for years. It’s scary how quickly he’s seen through me.

‘Alright. Go and shower at least, though. You stink,’ he grins, and I shoot him a dirty look as I get up from the bed shakily, relieved that he’s not continuing to be nice to me. ‘Thanks to you. Edging me that much. Of course I’m all sweaty,’ I say venomously, and he just leans back on the bed with a lazy smile. ‘You enjoyed it.’ ‘I didn’t,’ I respond darkly, grabbing some underwear and walking out of the room to go to his en suite on weak legs, and he laughs. ‘You did.’ ‘No, I didn’t!’

When I come back into my bedroom in after my shower, Mason’s lying on the bed again, watching some generic rom-com with Cameron Diaz in it. He’s changed into a pair of checked pyjama bottoms (the sexy ones – you know the ones I mean) with no top on again, hair slightly damp. There’s a tray sat on the bed beside him, the big bowls of pasta atop it, as well as a plate of garlic bread, my mouth watering unconsciously at the sight of it.

‘I know you said you don’t want to eat my cooking, but this pasta’s decent. And the garlic bread was from the freezer, so that’s definitely edible,’ he says offhandedly, and I raise an eyebrow. I could easily tell him to leave now. He knows I don’t want to be anything more than… frenemies with him, and this is definitely different territory. But at the same time, I’d be an even bigger bitch than usual to tell him to leave. He’s cooked and brought all the food here for me. As much as my mind is screaming at me not to do this, I just… have to. I don’t have it in me to send him away. And I’m feeling a lot more agreeable after that lovely shower and completing my extensive skincare routine for the night.

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ I say lightly, settling onto the other side of the bed and crossing my legs, keeping a safe distance between us. ‘Also… put this on,’ he says casually, handing me a white t-shirt of his, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘If you have to wear someone else’s t-shirt, I’d rather not be seeing the AS Roma badge all the time, so wear this instead. And if you want a football shirt, you can wait until we’re back in London so you can have a Chelsea shirt with Mount on the back,’ he grins, and I shake my head amusedly, biting back a comment about him being jealous of Nicolo’s name on my back.

‘In your dreams, Mount. I’d rather have a Lukaku shirt,’ I say drily, pulling his t-shirt over the top of my underwear. It smells of his aftershave, and it’s soft on my skin. ‘Don’t be nasty,’ he laughs, and I roll my eyes. ‘Trust me, that’s nothing. Scroll through Chelsea twitter for five minutes and it’ll make me look as nice as bloody… Snow White,’ I say, naming the first nice person I can think of, and he pulls a confused face.

‘Snow White?’ ‘Yeah! She cleans the dwarves’ house and she… chats to the animals. I don’t know, she’s just nice,’ I laugh along with him. ‘You’re much more of a Princess Jasmine than a Snow White.’ ‘Because I’m brown?’ I demand, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Well… yeah. But you’re also just as feisty as her, and god forbid a man ever tried to tell you what to do,’ he says pointedly, and I feel touched at his description of me, a small smile on my face. For fuck’s sake, y/n, pull yourself together!

‘Exactly,’ I grin, flipping my hair, and he just shakes his head amusedly. ‘Eat your food, stupid,’ he chuckles, both of us turning our attention to the film as we eat. The pasta’s actually not bad – I might even say it’s good, at a stretch – and I literally inhale it, absolutely starving after being railed by him. Once we’re both done, he takes our empty dishes downstairs before coming back up so we can finish watching the film, but there’s only five minutes left and I start to feel a bit panicky about what we’re going to do afterwards. Do I tell him to stay? What if he doesn’t make any move to go and I have to tell him to?

‘The pasta was really nice. Thank you for cooking for me too,’ I say shyly as he turns the TV off, putting the remote down on the bedside table. The sun is long gone but there’s still a pretty glow in the room, the sky outside just about clinging on to the pinks, purples and oranges of sunset. It’s definitely time for me to sleep, and I can’t supress a yawn, which he notices and takes that as a cue for him to leave. ‘It’s alright. Least I could do after railing you,’ he jokes, and I laugh despite myself, watching as he gets up from the bed.

‘Wait,’ I say without thinking about it, reaching for his hand, and he turns to look at me in surprise. ‘You… can stay. If you want,’ I murmur quietly, and he doesn’t react for a solid few seconds, just staring at me. And then a grin appears on his face. ‘What was that, babe?’ ‘Don’t call me babe.’ ‘You were fine with me calling you babe a little while ago,’ he smirks, and I roll my eyes. ‘You can only call me babe when we’re fucking,’ I say, and he tilts his head, eyes narrowed with amusement. ‘Wording it like that makes it sound like it’s gonna happen again,’ he observes, and I give him a deadpan look.

‘It’s not gonna happen again. I just worded it wrong. Now can we get back to the subject, please?’ I demand, and he grins even wider. ‘I didn’t hear what you said. Can you repeat it, babe?’ he asks cockily, and I bite my lip to contain my irritation. ‘Don’t do this to me, you dick,’ I say through gritted teeth, and he just laughs, collapsing back down onto the bed and pulling me on top of him, arms around me. ‘Of course I’ll stay, babe,’ he chuckles, pressing his lips to my forehead in a soft kiss, and I actually find myself… enjoying this affection from him. Ew.

‘Okay, okay, you can let go of me,’ I say, trying to get off him, but he holds onto me, hands finding my sides. He starts tickling me, and I burst into giggles, squirming on top of him as I desperately try to escape his grip. ‘Mason, please, please!’ I shriek, and he finally lets up, both of us laughing as I scramble away, lying beside him.

We fall into a comfortable silence, and he takes my hand after a few seconds, lifting it up to his face and pressing a kiss to it. ‘I won’t tell any of our friends, and you can carry on hating me. Nothing has to change,’ he murmurs against my skin, and my heart warms. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, and I feel his lips curl up into a grin as I turn onto my side to face him. ‘No problem, babe.’ ‘Stop calling me babe,’ I say mildly, and he chuckles.

‘I’ll save it ‘til the next time we fuck then.’ ‘Next time? It’s not happening again,’ I tell him, and he raises an amused eyebrow. ‘You sure about that, y/n?’ ‘Yes, I’m sure. So don’t get any ideas, Mount,’ I reply with a small smile, and he nods slowly with a little grin on his face. ‘Okay, y/n. We’ll see.’

And when I fall asleep – wrapped up in his arms, legs tangled with his, head tucked under his chin – I feel not an ounce of hatred for Mason Mount. And even though I thought it would, it doesn’t scare me. Not one little bit.

#mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount smau #mason mount social media au #chelsea fc

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tenthgrove · 3 years

Text

La Squadra 30s AU: Overview

(A/N: So I literally thought of this on a whim and decided to write it down. You're welcome to use this AU for your own stories since I probably won't, but please give credit where due.)

The year is 1934. In the throws of the Great Depression, poverty and crime continues to be rife across the urban east of America. But as many titans of the mafia world collapse with the end of prohibition, the growing syndicate known as Passione begins to swell in numbers and wealth like never before.

The recent immigrant, Risotto Nero (age: 28, real name: Rosario Nero) was picked up practically at the dock by Passione for his formidable appearance and fighting prowess, not to mention lack of other viable prospects in America. Indeed, his journey across the Atlantic was most certainly an act of desperation, but what he was running from, he won't say. Risotto guards the infamous Passione nightclub after which the syndicate gets its name. He also receives a number of orders to pursue the group's enemies in a more... direct manner of confrontation, and there are high hopes for his career as a Mafioso owing to his great sense of honour and budding reputation as unkillable. The greatest hindrance to this goal is at present, a simple matter of communication. He knows barely a word of English.

Hoping to remedy this issue is a Passione associate known to the group by the codename Prosciutto (age: 37, real name: Christopher Perkins), Professor of English Literature at a local university. Why this mild-mannered, rather stuffy young teacher is beholden to Passione is anyone's guess, though he staunchly rebukes any claims of Italian heritage. His impeccable skill at the language, however, speaks for itself. Christopher supports the syndicate financially through his great inherited wealth, as well as providing alibis for its members, many of whom are filed through the corrupt institute as 'students.' Prosciutto is one of the few Risotto would call a friend, and the two meet regularly for Risotto's english lessons. Unknown to anyone but the leaders of Passione, is the truth behind Professor Perkins' unfortunate predicament. In truth, Prosciutto is both a murderer and a patricide, his victim- his own father, the former Don of Passione. Back in 1920 when the Don was found dead in his apartments, it was dubbed the murder mystery of the decade. The case has since gone cold, however, all thanks to the new leadership of the syndicate.

Nowadays, Prosciutto finds solace in his students, of which he hopes the young post-boy he nicknames Pesci (age: 15, real name: Peppi Sciaccia) will soon be joining. Pesci is a poor but cheerful boy, raised by his ailing mother and doting grandparents. The identity of his father is subject to many jokes in the family, some even saying the man was a murdered mafia don whose illegitimate children were all whisked away to be raised in secret, but in truth, Pesci has no idea who he is. Anyway, he recently found work as a post-boy for the university campus, catching the eye of Professor Perkins for his polite and helpful attitude. The professor now tutors him regularly in the hope he might receive a scholarship once he reaches 18, and obtain a good career that would lift his family out of poverty. A pity that Passione, with it's secret ties to the institute, has its eye on the boy as well, and is using him to carry orders without his knowing.

Meanwhile in the Passione nightclub, one Illuso (age: 30, real name: Michelle Illuso), works his fraud. He is an attendant at the casino, though in truth he has full permission of the club's owners to scam and steal from his customers. His talents come from his side-hustle as a magician, tricks he frequently shows off to his victims as a diversionary tactic. His partner in crime is Formaggio (age: 26, real name: Danny Fabbri), a popular Jazz musician at the bar who frequently assists in the swindling. Formaggio, so nicknamed for his unbearably cheesy personality, was until recently impoverished, until coming across the abandoned loot of a bank heist totalling at $50,000. Passione would have killed him if they realised he had taken the whole lot, but instead they simply requisitioned his services at the nightclub. He continues to indulge his newfound wealth in secret. Illuso and Formaggio are friends by necessity to Risotto, who steps in to save their asses whenever a swindle goes wrong. They're trying to improve his social life by taking him out in his free time, but the friendship is a little stony due to the language barrier. Neither Illuso or Formaggio are entirely fluent in Italian, even less the thick Sicilian Risotto speaks.

A few streets away from the Passione Club lies a rather innocuous looking flower shop run by a pair of quote on quote "brothers in law" nicknamed Sorbet (age: 40, real name Nicolo Farina) and Gelato (age: 35, real name: Elia Farina - taken after an unofficial marriage to Sorbet). The pair are quite beloved in the neighbourhood, a kindly, approachable pair of businessmen who would happily offer their wares for free to those experiencing tragedy, but in truth the flower shop is a front for a life of criminality. The couple offer a variety of services to various local mafias, Passione included, and it is known in their past they were a ferocious pair of assassins. A murdered man's coffin is most often adorned with flowers sold from their shop, and quite frequently, his end was delivered by a hitman found through their network, purchased with a large commission, naturally. In terms of murder themselves, however, Sorbet and Gelato have long ago put down their guns, the reason quite domestic.

Sorbet and Gelato have one son, who they adoringly nickname Ghiaccio for his icy temperament (age: 18, real name: Arthur White). Ghiaccio was kicked out by his impoverished biological family at just age 8, after which he broke into the flower shop for shelter and was promptly taken in by the owners. The couple used their contacts to forge papers stating that Ghiaccio was the child of Sorbet and his late wife (who of course, never existed). Ghiaccio is incredibly zealous about keeping up this false story, to the point of putting on a fake Italian accent to visitors which is quite frankly, hilarious. Sorbet and Gelato are both very insistent that Ghiaccio stay out of mob life and as a result, sent him to university under the professorship of Christopher Perkins. They have no idea how much closer to the criminal underworld they've just pushed him. Ghiaccio's best friend is Pesci, who he beat up after Pesci accidentally drove his bike into him on campus. Sorbet and Gelato were incredibly angry with him for this and forced him to make amends, leading to the unlikely friendship. They take shifts at the flower shop together when Sorbet and Gelato are out on dates.

Finally, there is Melone, (age 25, real name Harry Nelson) who gets his nickname from his absolutely terrible handwriting when writing out his real surname. Melone is, quite frankly, a quack physician, operating illegally under a myriad of fake identities throughout the city. He made the mistake of swindling some senior Passione members and ended up being forced to run narcotics for them, a surprisingly easy task considering cocaine is still considered a perfectly good medicine at this point. He is a frequent at the Passione Bar through which he knows Formaggio and Illuso, as well as a student at the same university Prosciutto works at, which he is attending in an attempt to learn some actually viable medical knowledge. Against the odds he has managed to befriend the professor, with whom he discusses the many gruesome crimes the group perpetrates. There are rumours, it is said, that Passione wants to establish an assassination squad, and with many of the more obvious choices already known to the police, it is said some more unconventional individuals may be chosen for the role.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #illuso #prosciutto #pesci #melone #ghiaccio #risotto nero #sorbet and gelato

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nihaalart · 3 years

Note

oh i can relate abt shipping with u lol. i have a bunch of different ships i find cute but i dont looooooove any of them (i guess except yumikuri and sashanico bc theyre canon and had the most angsty love story that breaks my heart everyday) or read fanfic about aot ships other than yumikuri and sashanico, which i dont do a lot. im more into selfshipping in aot for some reason lololol. i dont like eremika either, i prefer them as friends or siblings (i think mikasa looks cuter with jean anyways...) i thought i was the only one!

haha im glad there are more of us!!

same, like i like bunch of ships, yumikuri like you said, or levi x erwin or sasha x nicolo or mikasa x sasha or eren x reiner or jean, (im a multishiper) like i really like a lot of them! when i see them im like - okay that's cute - but its all they do to me haha and i have no intention to draw any of them, im gonna draw everyone as friends but y'all can interpret my art however you want, im just letting you know how im interpreting it

and tbh i always thought about y/n fics as a guilty pleasure and i was a bit embarrassed that i like them, but now there are so many of them!!! and they are made by such great writers!!! i feel like those fics are one of the best now haha and very often y/n is a really cool oc the writer creates but at the same time they are letting us to choose how y/n looks and i think it's super cool, and it's the big part why i love those fics

#nihaalask #aot #have a great night/day everyone!

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things-happens · 3 years

Text

In Memory

Levi Ackerman x gn! Reader

Armin Arlert x gn! Reader

Erwin Smith x gn! Reader

Mikasa Ackerman x gn! Reader

hola 😎 i have a request for ya! which i do hope you like cause I literally spent hALF aN hoUR thinking of how it should go... anyWAYS, i’m gonna request it rn cause why not? .. anyways—maybe a hc for Levi, Armin, Erwin, Mikasa, and Pieck; their S/O’s favorite memories with them are playing in their mind. They wished it happened again. people thought they (they = pieck, levi, armin - yk)—people thought they went crazy. out of their mind insane. They do often smile, when they hear their S/O’s laugh. They cry when they hear their S/O’s screams. They couldn’t save them in time. they were now dead. // now do keep in mind, that this all happened weeks after their S/O’s death. they felt so useless at the fact that they couldn’t save them in time. the one they loved the most...

Note: I DELETED THIS AND HAD TO MADE THE POST so... please like and share thank you. Also I'm not caught up on season 4 but I know what has happened so I don't know Pieck's personality, I didn't want to get her wrong.

Prompt List

Mastlister

Summary: their s/o passed, they blame themselves and other and sadly cannot cope.

Warnings: Death, Blood, Feels and Fluff Words: a lot just a lot

Levi Ackerman (Sadderdaze)

Somethings never change for Levi losing the ones he loves left and right but why did he think that would change with y/n.

During the Battle of Shiganshina, Y/n was by Levi’s side the whole time.

They always was anyways, the lone survivor of Levi’s Squad after the 57th Expansion. Years ago, they vowed the loyalty for him then again 3 years later, till death did them part.

They both lead the group of soldiers to eliminate the Beast Titan.

As the Beast began to throw rocks everyone took covered in an abandoned town, after the first-round y/n and Levi resurfaced on the roofs.

They both noticed the beast was readying for another throw, yelling for the other to go bad into cover.

“GO BACK!” Y/N yelled into their cupped hands; they still couldn’t hear them.

Levi started to run to help them, only to be held back, y/n telling him there isn’t enough time.

Levi protested only for Y/n starting to push him back down to between the houses.

Suddenly, Y/n gave him a hard push on his back making him lad down on the ground. Looking back up to his love, their leg of in a now, missing part of the roof.

Levi quickly shot back up to help them out, grabbing their hands pulling as hard as he could.

“Levi… LEVI! Please take cover, you’ll die.”

“I’m not leaving you behind… not again.”

Levi had left Y/n in charge of his squad as he joined Erwin in the 57th Expansion. Nearly dying because of the Female Titan and protecting Eren.

Y/n pulled their arm away from him, giving him one final hard push in the chest right before the rock came pass them.

“I love you” they whispered.

As Levi flew back to the ground, he held eye contact with them all of his memories going through his head, knowing that this was the last time he would see of them, forever.

As for y/n, all their memories flew through them.

Late nights with Hanjie, mornings drinking tea with Erwin and Levi.

Levi… the night of their wedding, cake, slow dancing together, then stargazing. Oh, what they’d give to do that one more time with him.

Then they were gone.

Days later, everyone was concerned about the Captain. They could hear his cries and sobs when they’d pass his room. If you’d knocked, his cries would stop, and he’d stay silent till he watched your feet leave.

Every time Hanjie would open his door to bring breakfast or dinner, they could see the hopefulness in his eyes only for them to fall. Not like he ate till he was starving and knew he had too.

Years later, as Levi slept at night, he could still hear the whisper and cries of his love. That’s all he could hear ever, yet now he hid it well.

The nights he couldn’t sleep he’d walk through the halls of the fallen soldiers. In the middle of all the paintings, was Erwin. A gold frame shining in the moon light. Next to him was y/n.

They also had a golden frame and at the top were their favorite floor in their favorite color. Whomever painted it, Levi thought they did an amazing job.

The captured the brightness of their eyes, their gloss on their hair and the perfection on their hands.

Levi sat on his knees, lightly placing his hand on theirs. Wishing he could feel them just one more time.

BONUS:

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies…” Zeke sighed.

Levi looked down thinking about y/n for the first time since the battle. “I was popular enough…”

Armin Arlert (When Will I See You Again)

Most people admired Y/n relationship with Armin, never put a title on side thing but the two and others knew they loved each other.

And when y/n died… well it was hard on everyone.

Since Armin inherited the Colossal Titian he saw and heard y/n die with his own eyes or really with Bertholdt eyes.

They stood by Armin till the very end or what they thought was the end.

The two stood in front of the giant titan, directing him. The plan… they knew they were going to die but it was with Armin and that’s all y/n would ever want.

Bertholdt let out the burning steam, burning them alive. y/n’s eyes looked at Armin, they screamed and cried till nothing… black.

Armin on the other head was giving the Titan Serum, eating Bertholdt and becoming the monsters he hated.

From the second he woke from the shift, all he could thing of was Y/n.

Where are they?

Are they okay?

Then and dare he say naturally, the memories caved in.

Seeing through his predecessor’s eyes, he remembered his love burn to death. Hearing their caries and he saw them always looking at him.

He cried and blamed himself for their death, y/n thought they were dying together but Eren couldn’t let him live in peace.

“they died thinking they were with me.” He whispered.

He always tired to keep his resentment in around Eren and Mikasa, but everyone could here him scream in pain in the forest next to the HQ.

He used Bertholdt’s memories to see them together all the time, Sasha and Mikasa would become worried he wasn’t grieving well but soon like screams every night stop.

Instead, it was quite crying at night, which wasn’t any better for anyone.

Then they left to find the Sea, one thing that could make Armin come to peace with himself.

Reaching the ocean everyone would play and have fun their but looking down in the water, Armin could’ve sworn he saw his love looking back at him but alas he lost the sight as fast as he saw it.

He knew Y/n would and still is by his side everyday till death brought them back to each other.

Erwin Smith (My Kind of Woman)

Everyone knew Erwin as a very stoic man, a calm gentle giant but with a heart and will of Iron.

And that was true, but that was after someone not one would talk about.

Their name is Y/n, Erwin Smith’s great love.

In 845, the Survey Corps returned from an expiation, but most do not know what happened.

“Four abnormals on the right wing!” some one shouted

Erwin looked at y/n who was smiling but still looking out for themselves and others. They looked over at Erwin and smiled even wilder.

Ever since training, Y/n saw bright side of things. It was their idea to recruit the Underground rebels.

In all most a flash of lighting, rain pored down soldiers dying all around.

10 abnormals flailing around, killing and eating people.

Erwin stared behind him, watching his comrades die under his orders. Then he locked eyes with y/n as they jumped off their horse as a Titan waved its arm at her.

“Erwin!”

Y/n yelled hoping he would turn and help them, and he did, yet despite the connection they had…

It was too late, they were harshly picked and swished, screams reaching everyone’s ears. Held above the Titan’s mouth their blood poured into then as the life quickly left their eyes they were dropped into its mouth.

If it wasn’t for Levi, Erwin would’ve been died too.

Ever second since then he blamed himself, knowing if he was just a little faster.

He paid someone to make a painting of her for his office, they were his right-hand person, but others knew it was more than that.

He would cry as quite as he could for years till it was small smiles or few tears while in his office or drinking tea with Levi or Hanji.

They both learned not to question it as it was a normal thing for the man after five years.

The new recruits would ask about the painting of a random person in his office, he would say someone special.

Yet it’s been years he would still become choked up that night.

Mikasa Ackerman (i wanna be your girlfriend)

Mikasa and Y/n met in training, two people how just sat not needing to say anything to enjoy each other’s company.

Eating dinner, they’d just sit and watch everyone else bicker and talk, nothing needed to be said. Despite being Sasha’s sibling, the older one seem to get all the personality then again there was nothing wrong with the way they were.

Although being close to death of a many of times, they lived and slightly loved Mikasa and watched her grow into a beautiful women she was.

Over the years, y/n become more vocal not wanting to miss out on the moments they had left with everyone. They and Jean would bicker and laugh about dumb things, Connie and they would just sitting and reminisce on old times.

Then Sasha met Nicolo and well y/n had never more vocal about anything before.

“Oooooh the cook, he’s perfect for you.”

y/n would tease Sasha along with Jean and Connie, although Nicolo didn’t seem to mind, Sasha would turn redder than a beet!

Then the war came, Y/n didn’t leave Mikasa side unless it was to save their ether extremely brave or stupid sister.

As y/n and Mikasa run to Eren’s ad after killing the War Hammer Titan, Mikasa yells at Eren.

Y/n watches the two argue, as the War Hammer Titan stands tall and definitely not dead.

Y/n watches as it starts to shoot a crystal goop at them, Y/n wipps around slamming themselves into Mikasa, holding onto her and they both flay away from the now hardened crystal.

“thank you, y/n.”

Y/n only nodded, looking back at the crystal. Again, they themselves in danger for Mikasa but they knew if it came down to it, they would die for their family.

After the battle, everyone was on the air ship, Mikasa had left y/n with Jean, Connie and Sasha. They talked happy to see each other alive.

“You guys are really special to me.”

Next thing anyone knew, both Jean and Y/n heard rumbling from the entrance. Turning around they saw a little girl with a rifle.

y/n quickly realized she was aiming for everyone of the ship, mainly their sister. Running in front of the fire, trying to do the same thing they once saw Hanjie do years ago still the girl shot.

The bullet went straight threw y/n’s stomach; push through the pain they grabbed the gun from the girl. They butted it into the little girl’s head, knocking her out.

The adrenaline wore off, y/n put their hand on their stomach. Their hand covered in blood, they turned around to see their sister on the floor surrounded by their friends.

“Guys…” they dropped the rifle on the floor.

The word came out their mouth, everyone with tears in their eyes slowly turned to look at them.

Jean watched as the blood dripped from their suit on to the light brown flooring.

Y/n began to walk to them, waddling side to side.

Mikasa entered the room watching Y/n fall over into what was now a pool of blood. She quickly ran over, flipping them over sobbing.

Jean quickly applied pressure into the wound, but it was too late. Y/n looked up at Mikasa, their bloodied hand lightly touching her face.

Mikasa sat head on her knees, in between both Blouse graves. She could still here the raspy breaths, the yells of Jean telling them to stay awake and the laugh Eren let out seeing the dead bodies.

She’d cry at nights realizing she loved them more than a friend, she felt like a piece of her was now gone.

During dinners Mikasa would push her food around till she couldn’t sit and not laugh or sob. Armin had become worried of her, but he knew she just needed time.

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karanoid · 3 years

Text

about top joe discord

LET ME ADDRESS A FEW POINTS:

There has been many fear and anxiety regardless the top!joe discord I made. I understand how it gives my discord a bad reputation. Somebody has kindly reached out to me to ask me addressing several points, which I’m now gonna clarify:

1. I am racist, I asked why, and they said mostly because of my dismissive behavior to people who called me out for drawing yusuf adorned in gold jewelry which made their friends feel unsafe. So, I am a muslim and was raised in a muslim household and community. I am fucking brown.

I didn’t say it because you don’t need to know that about me. What bothers me is how some people feel the need to come to my inbox informing me “maam yusuf is a religious muslim who prays 5 times a day and do all the supplementary prayers all while he drinks alcohol and fuck nicky in the dailies, he wouldnt be wearing gold maam no maam.” as if I didn’t know any better. so please, now don’t do that. If you care so much about the littlest details like wearing gold then you’ll also call out yusuf because he draws living beings and drinks champagne. yes it’s true muslim men are forbidden from wearing gold AND silk but let’s not forget, nothing in the comic and movies imply yusuf has ever been religious. It’s easier to see nicolo as religious because he was a fucking priest. Yusuf was a fucking merchant, it’s easy to see that he’d be less faithful because he would have been travelling and seen many kind of people to broaden his horizons and not contained to a little bubble of hyper religious community. However, let me remind you: whether yusuf AND nicolo are religious or not is entirely UP TO THE AUTHOR/ARTIST. It’s totally fine to make him religious and if you can respect it THATS GREAT, I ALSO LIKE HIM THAT WAY, but please remember it’s not even canon and hey sometimes I just draw things because I like the aesthetics. Also please, do not harass writers for getting a thing or two incorrect, even white people cannot get christianity correct, even between two muslims could be a disagreement whether this fic’s yusuf is problematic or not. I wouldn’t even expect anything more and THAT’S OKAY. Just don’t be an ass to muslims of color in real life and don’t fall into the believe that it’s a religion of violence. you can say that greg made him that way bc he knew nothing better but hey, I have no problem with that. again, it’s fine to make him religious, I’d be delighted but it’s ALSO fine to make him not religious.

2. I think that people only write Top!Nicky out of political correctness. OKAY. I apologize for this. I thought like this because I have accounts telling me that they were pressured into writing top!nicky or they wanted more readerships so I make a BIG assumption. I realized this is only a small part of switch and top!nicky fics and the big bulk of this must be out of genuine care. So yeah, I apologize for thinking that people only write top!nicky out of political correctness. I think writers should be allowed to write whatever they want. Yes this includes top!Nicky. And in whatever kinks they want it. However, this still doesn’t change that the discourses do scare people away from writing top!joe. Write top!nicky however you want, but stop vague-blogging about top!joe. racism isn’t inherent to top!joe and you can always remind people to be mindful with their writings but discouraging people from writing top!joe is not the solution.

3. Top!joe is racist and people in the discord are racist. Okay, I am gonna touch several aspects why top!joe discord is considered racist: (1) because I don’t like to switch them, therefore I am racist. Sorry that’s not how it works. I have a clear preference and that’s just how I roll. Besides, a lot of people in the discord (including me) think either they switch (because they are 900 yo) or joe just doesn’t like bottoming. I’m not the kind of people who refers to reality for fiction I consume but people who prefer to top or to bottom exist (2) i want to be away from accountability and responsibility. Nope. The reason I made it is because I wanted to gather people with same interest as mine.

4. I paint Yusuf as aggressive and the whole discord like him being an aggressive top. I think this is the only reason why the discord is seen in a negative light. Because wow what a coincidence that someone vagueblogged my discord at the day I celebrated about Nicky suggesting 20 years and wrote a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry. And beside someone made the WRONG assumption that we are focusing on Joe’s anger and violence (what). Okay, I don’t know how to break this down. But I will try. First, yes I was overjoyed at the news. Because I’m one of the people that do not like feral!nicky headcanon. I liked it at first bc it was funny but then it was twisted into Nicky being cold. So I don’t like it (lol), I still like it though but like I don’t seriously think that way. However, I never liked the idea that Nicky suggested higher than Joe. Because then his character just doesn’t click with me, there was a cognitive dissonance for me because joe clearly says nicky’s heart overflows kindness, you can see nicky as a medic in the credit montage. Also, from their body language and from the way the movie set em up, I think Joe is the one who suggested higher and I am glad to be proven right. Second, I did write a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry at Booker. People agreed with me, so I was not alone. But the reason I wrote that post is not because I wanted to paint yusuf as aggressive, but because I’m tired at people who think Joe shouldn’t display any negative emotions. I think it’s out of character. I do NOT think Joe is aggressive. That is NOT his wholeass personality. If you looked at my tog art tag, never once I portrayed Joe as anything aggressive. If I do, please show me. Third, people are conflating this with my post where I reblogged with a comment that implies aggressive Joe isn’t racism. Okay in this, the context is IN BED. It’s Joe being aggressive in BED. It’s literally BED ROLES AND FANTASY. I don’t even have a particular scenario in my head when I reblogged that, the original post clearly refers to bed roles with manhandling and kinks etc. like, why would you spank someone in public? Lastly, about the discord, NOPE, most people in the discord agree that Joe is either a GENTLE DOM or SERVICE TOP. But in my opinion, if someone likes Joe as an aggressive top (again, bed roles baby) I really don’t think it’s racism. It’s just... projection?

anyway, back to joe’s emotions, these are posts from a moroccan man (paragraph #7) and a brown woman whose posts I agree with. Let’s be real, people of color are expected to shut up in favor of white people’s fragile feelings.

Now, about racism in fandom. I understand the concern because muslim men are painted as violent and aggressive. You know what I will never forgive those radicals for taking away innocents lives and to leave a lasting damage in how muslims are perceived in the west. However, you have to keep in mind, Joe in the movie is far from being stereotyped. I mean, Gina and Marwan practically greenlit him? Now, you might have concerns that writers are gonna turn him into a walking stereotype which is... okay, I understand that concern. But the solution is to communicate this ‘hey I think you make him too stereotypical in this etc etc’ not “write more top!nicky AND shame top!joe” because again, top!joe is not inherently racist.

also some people mentioned that they hope I recognize racial bias in the ship. dude, that goes without saying, all aspects of your life will be influenced by racial biases. however, this kind of thing is not specific to fandom/shipping. Like I said I’m fucking brown, friends and families with facial features that cater to white expectation are treated better. I did say at the bottom of this post, yeah I did notice why it’s always a brown character who’s always openly mad. And that’s in itself a form of racial bias. Racial biases affect everyone, white or POC, it doesn’t matter. But I got an issue with how people think this is racism. like how convenient, if by falling to racial biases mean you are a racist then what about those white people who created this racial biases in the first place? and I noticed the persons who got the audacity to cry about everything in this fandom is white?? I mean okay, they don’t know what I am, but not everyone is comfortable with sharing their private information like ethnic group, faith, etc. what if they really don’t want to share it? Because like you said, racial bias, whether good or bad will affect me. Now, I don’t know what white people are feeling, I’m not white. However, based on my interactions with them. We’re all just people sharing same interest, it could be they fall into racial biases, but all we shared about are just regular HCs. Even people making a conscious effort to combat racial bias still in essence fall for racial bias. You just cannot escape it.

According to this post, fandom assumes that the bottom is the proxy of writers, I don’t think this is applicable to everyone but let’s just say it’s true and people tend to write about their projection better so I’m gonna assume the racism part comes from the fact that..yeah I do think the bottom usually gets more fleshed out as a result of them being the writers proxy, so somebody posted this in the discord which I agree because yes I do think there’s a lack about yusuf’s background especially when it comes to crusade era:

but since I know most writers aren’t muslims, to me it’s not so much about racism but they simply know nothing about it, and not always out of ignorance either but in this climate, if you get a thing or two wrong you’d get harassed. so *shrugs* I understand the reluctancy. But here’s the thing, this is not about top/bottom issue but because most of the fandom are white so they have more freedom in writing the white character. Anyway, plenty of people have projected themselves into yusuf already, the whole “top/bottom” thing in this fandom is not even a thing. Yes, some writers project on the bottom so if you prefer bottom!joe that’s fine, somebody in the discord is doing a research and it turned out top!joe wasn’t even a CLEAR majority in JULY. So clearly they got their share already?

so please, let’s stop with the vitriol. if people are preferring top!joe it’s clearly because of different preferences. it’s not that deep. it’s the same way with how some people are preferring top!nicky. But we’re being driven out based on a hypothetical scenarios? like what do you want? for us to cease existing??? don’t be ridiculous.

I know people won’t listen to me. So this is my suggestion: LETS JUST IGNORE THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE. LET’S ALL JUST AGREE TO DISAGREE.

#discourse #the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands

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sindirimba · 3 years

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⭐!

you are a darling and a scholar <3 mwah.

okay i'm full of thoughts for rapprochement because i put in a lot of thought to its world building that i didn't actually get to at ALL, and i probably won't write more of that story so these thoughts have to go somewhere, so

i took the TOG universe and boringified it: made it fluffier, sillier, more pacifist, and more chronologically compressed:

- andy was the horse whisperer in her village. any time someone had a sick horse or a horse who wouldn't do normal horsey things, people would bring them to andy, who would talk it over with the horse, figure out what the problem was, and have it solved in no time flat. her first death came as she approached one of the gentlest mares she'd ever collaborated with, who unfortunately thought she saw a snake nearby and panicked, kicking andy square in the noggin.

meanwhile, in vietnam

- quỳnh was a master potter, whose work was known throughout the land. she had a strong affinity for green glazes, the brighter the better. unfortunately her method for achieving these colors involved lead. a lot of lead. one day she got a terrible headache, an atrocious pain in her gut, and she went to lay down. when she woke up she felt like a new quỳnh, better than she'd felt in years!

then the weird dreams about a woman obsessed with horses started to happen

later

- yusuf was a merchant, very successful with a lot of associates around the known world. when you needed a particularly special gift for someone you're romancing? you go to yusuf. his friends weren't so great, though, and one day one of them gave his dear friend yusuf a poorly preserved jar of pickled plums from an unspecified source. they smelled okay, so yusuf had a few. his first death came a few days later from a terrible case of food poisoning and the associated dehydration sickness. he doesn't like to talk about it.

meanwhile, somewhere in italy

- nicolo was a cook for some intolerable land owner with bad taste in food. still, he liked his job, and found it suited his nature well. imagine if he'd gone off to join the army like his father had wanted? anyway, one day he experiments with a new method of food preservation he'd heard tales of, and it seems to produce good results at first. he sends a few jars off with a travelling merchant who pays him well. a few days later he's slicing a fresh loaf of bread when he cuts his thumb deeply. he bandages it and thinks nothing of it, but unfortunately his first death comes some time later due to a staph infection. if only he'd believed in germ theory.

nile was the pov character for this story, but a bit more for her bc i can:

- her father was a cowboy, her mother was a cow-woman, but that exact life never really suited her, so with a little savings her father had left for her in case of his untimely demise, she bought herself a little farm and struck out on her own. once she figured out how she'd died (lightning strike) she found it darkly funny, because she'd always loved thunderstorms. hardly seemed fair, you know?

- booker found himself heading out in america with a fellow french-speaking group going out west looking for gold, because he desperately needed the money and he didn't want to have to go back to france. he figured this was a good way to see this new land he'd heard so much about, and he found it largely pleasant as they travelled, though his gold-seeking companions struck him as a little paranoid. unfortunately he was right about this, and one day while he was out taking a piss in the woods, one of the especially paranoid in the group tackled him and put a knife in his gut. somehow he managed to drag himself out of the woods and in the direction of a house in the distance before he finally keeled over.

but where's lykon, you should ask? he hasn't been born yet!

- lykon is a talented bassist in a two-tone band steadily growing in popularity, some where in the 1980s english midlands. one night after a gig with a lot of well-known-in-the-scene faces (they may get a chance to share a stage with THE SPECIALS!), he and his friends are stumbling home, buzzing with glee, when lykon trips over a curb, falls over, and hits his head on a post box. cue his friends panicking and freaking out in the way only non-sober people can panic and freak out, but no worries-- after a couple of minutes lykon wakes up again. phew, he'd just knocked himself out. not a big deal after all, why’s everyone panicking?

a few days later he leaves his flat and runs into the six weirdest bastards he'll ever meet, who are out in his hall having an argument over who's going to be the one to knock on his door.

and that's all she wrote. you'll notice basically no dates here, yes. i never got to that level of research. :)

#<3

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ye4gerismarchives · 3 years

Text

the bachelorette chp 2 final part

an: sorry for taking so long! here's the masterlist!

tags: black reader, fem coded reader, lots of drama, minor vulgar name calling

tag list: @taybird

The first thing on your mind when you woke up was Bertie's kiss. It was so unexpected but so sweet. You almost forgot about Mikasa possibly stealing a guy you didn't really know. That's how nice Bertholdt's kiss was.

This morning you were having breakfast with Mikasa and Sasha, as usual. You knew this time was going to be different, however. You got ready for the day, thinking about what to expect from today's breakfast.

"So, I heard Bertholdt came out of his shell...oooh," Connie teased. As expected, Bertholdt's face reddened. The rest of the guys turned their attention to Bertholdt, curious about what he had done. "What happened, Bertholdt?" Porco asked. He was sitting near Bertholdt, so he was leaning into the taller boy's personal space. "N-nothing," Bertholdt says, looking away.

"A little BERTIE told me that you kissed y/n," Connie continues. "Connie, you're so corny," Onyankopon says jokingly. "You kissed?" Porco is now all up in Bertholdt's face. "Now, why would you do that? We're two weeks into the competition and you're kissing?"

"Hey, Porco, calm down," Eren jumps in. "Nah, because Bertie thinks he can just jump ahead. I mean, Eren, have you gotten a chance to be with y/n?" Porco huffed.

"He's too busy making out with Mikasa, y/n's best friend, he's probably not the best person to ask," Jean jeered.

"You shouldn't say anything at all, Jean. She has you wrapped around her finger. You're her pet dog," Eren snapped back.

"Isn't that the whole point? We're all supposed to give y/n our attention and seem interested in her," Armin jumps in.

His response shocks everyone the most. "So...you're not genuinely here for her?" Connie asked. His funny demeanor drops. "No...I need the money for medical school," Armin admits. "Nothing about y/n impresses me."

"Let's read what people are saying online!"

Levi had let you, Sasha, and Mikasa know that people had a lot to say about the show so far. He gifted you all a phone to take a look at during breakfast.

"Ok...so this first one is about Jean," Sasha starts. " 'Jean likes money...hence why he's here. He also has a short attention span in relationships."

"That...that doesn't sound like Jean..." you say. Unless?? Jean was a nice guy...a "nice guy". You couldn't believe it was all an act. He seemed like a sweet guy but that could also be a façade. "Ok...that one makes my brain hurt. Next please!"

Sasha passes the phone to Mikasa, who doesn't seem like she was there. "Mikasa, the phone," you point out. She jumps slightly, which is very not Mikasa-like. "Sorry," she says softly before taking the phone. You want to ask her what's up but, one, you have your own assumptions and, two, you didn't want something new to blow up in your face.

"Levi and Mikasa are planning on going against y/n. Their uncle/niece relationship says a lot. Mikasa needs to hop off the guys and let y/n have her moment."

Now, that one you could believe. Maybe not the part about Levi (he didn't seem to care) but you did feel that Mikasa was trying to interfere. You did laugh with her about her attraction to Jean and Eren but you couldn't help but consider that she could be plotting against you. The only role Levi would have in this is green-lighting her attempts. His job was to guide you and keep the drama going. He would have alerted you that something big was going to happen.

"That's kinda silly. You and Levi wouldn't pull something like that, right?" you nervously ask. Mikasa is quick to look you in the eye. "No, I wouldn't try that."

'No, I wouldn't try that.'

"Thanks for calming my suspicions," you reply. Mikasa's eyes widened. "What are you getting-"

"Can you hand me the phone, Mikasa?"

Mikasa moves her arm across Sasha and forces it in your direction. You've clearly hit a nerve. You snatch the device from her. "Thanks."

You read the next opinion. "'I'm on the edge about Jean and Eren'."

This was the second message about Jean and you couldn't help but be concerned. You would need to have a one on one conversation with him to make sure his intentions are right.

You weren't too surprised about the comment about Eren. However, You wanted to talk to him too.

"Well, Mikasa, it was nice seeing you. I'm sure you had a lot of fun last night. Get some more rest while Sasha and I go out. Alright?" you finally say.

Mikasa doesn't meet your eye.

(pick your fit!)

You hoped that this date would clear your mind and even give you some people to eliminate. You were excited about this date. You were going skating. It'd be more interactive and you wouldn't have to rely on subtle messages.

You and Sasha entered the same room where you met your previous dates. Today, you had Onyankopon, Armin, Nicolo, and Porco.

To your surprise, the energy in the room seemed off too. "Hi, y/n!" Onyankopon said cheerfully. There was a shaky feeling in his voice. Almost like he was nervous. Onyankopon was never nervous around you. He could easily walk up to you and you would converse for hours.

"Hey guys," you soon reply. Armin doesn't seem interested at all, Nicolo looks like he's in space, and Porco has an angry look in his eyes and can barely meet yours.

Suddenly, you don't even want to go on this date.

"Hey, what's going on? Why are you guys so...gloomy?" you ask. Porco finally looks up. "You know what's wrong? We're competing for a whore."

You felt like someone had just pulled your lungs on your chest. Did he just call you a whore?

"Hey!" Onyankopon barked. "You don't call her that!" You were taken back by Onyankopon coming to your defense. You had never seen him like this.

"Honestly, I'm so disappointed. I can't believe I have to go on a date with you guys! You're so ignorant. Armin, honestly, I can't believe you. You don't even want y/n. You're here to pay your bills off. And Nicolo? Why are you even here? We don't even see you around. And Porco, I don't even have to say anything to you. I think we all know what type of person you are."

The room remained silent for a moment. Your eyes began to water. You were overwhelmed. "I-I'm sorry. I need to step out." You turn on your foot and ignore Sasha's pleas to come back.

It was only the second week and there was so much going on. You understood that drama was key but this was too damn much.

"Oof-."

"Oh! I'm sorry- are you crying?"

You had bumped into someone. When you see who it is, your eyes widen. "Eren...what...no." You place your hands on your cheeks. You were crying. "Aren't you supposed to be on a date? Who made you cry?" Eren's tone became more hostile. You never thought you'd see him like this. "Eren, don't worry about it. I'm fine," you reassure him. Before Eren can open his mouth, you walk around him. You really wanted to find Levi. You knew who you wanted to eliminate.

Today's elimination was different. You were doing this out of anger. Eliminations were being held outside, where a limo was waiting to pick the next three guys up. You were also running elimination. Levi was just tap dancing in the back because yay drama.

"I'm so disappointed," you start. Only a few of the guys could make eye contact with you. "First, I wake up suspecting that one of you is in love with one of my friends.

Eren squirms slightly.

"And two guys aren't even interested in me. One of them is here to 'pay their bills' and the other is doing god knows what.

You look at Porco.

"Finally, I learn that I'm a whore apparently. Thank you, Porco, I'm so glad that you said what you said. You made eliminations very easy. We didn't even have to go on a date. Get your stuff and get out. The same goes for you too, Armin and Nicolo."

The boys don't even turn their heads to look at the three mentioned. Armin, Nicolo, and Porco go inside to grab their stuff. They don't look at anyone either.

"Don't even ask me about the roses. None of y'all are getting anything. None of you are getting the last laugh. Do better," you say before following your recently eliminated inside.

(SPACER I MET THE LIMIT)

CONFESSTIONALS

connie: i had such a great time with y/n. it's such a shame that a few of us pissed her off today.

bertholdt: i regret kissing y/n now. there's nothing wrong with her but see how much drama a kiss caused? i don't even know how connie found out.

armin: i do have my regrets. i didn't know that y/n was going to get that mad.

nicolo: no comment.

porco: oh no, stay out of my business. i'm not answering any questions.

(SPACER)

yeah, that was a lot. anyways, here's the elimination link. i’ll see y'all when I see y'all :)

#bertholdt x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x black! reader #black!reader #reiner x reader #bertholdt x black!reader #eren x reader #porco x reader #onyankopon x reader #armin arlert x reader #nicolo x reader

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non-un-topo · 10 months

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random ass questions about ur stories: ok I don’t remember the title but ur recent long fic that was like. the aftermath of losing quynh and they were on that island with the fun-shaped stone that Nicky found? if ur happy to share I’d LOVE to hear about like. what part of the story u came up with first. like what image/vibe/plot point etc stuck in ur head so much that u wrote a whole fic about it yk? I absolutely LOVED that fic and would love to know!! hope ur having a good day and also no pressure to respond 🫶💕

🥺🥺 Ohh friend, thank you!! I'm so glad you liked it, and I'm sending lots of love to you!! The fic in question is Axis! (you're gonna get me talking about this big baby of mine and I won't shut up lol, I'm shy but I've had a lot of caffeine and I'm excited) <33

So I actually went looking through my old docs, phone notes, and physical journals for the first idea I had of this fic after I read your ask, because I could not seem to remember?? From what I managed to dig up, it was based on vibes first. I have some journal notes on "aporia", a state of ambivalence, and liminal space. I think I started writing it in October last year, during a very weird time where my mental health was... not great. In short, and hopefully without oversharing, I thought I was having a psychotic break. Turned out it was likely the CBD capsules I was taking for my chronic pain, which had a psychoactive effect I hadn't anticipated (like 0.1mg of THC and somehow it was enough). Anyway, at that time I started writing a lot of garbled philosophical thoughts, and I'll share this one for you because I'm almost certain it's what inspired Axis: (also putting the rest of this under a read-more so I don't annoy anyone sdfghfd)

What is the present? I wonder, because the moment you put your attention on it, it becomes the past. It vanishes. We think about present moments, but they’re already gone. All that exists is this idea of ‘happening’: All that will happen, and all that has happened. Neither is tangible. Neither can be held or kept. In thinking about the future, we imagine possibilities. In thinking about the past, we revive in our minds what has already happened. The only present that exists is the imagination. The dream. That which removes us from our reality, from our position in time and space. Where exactly is that? Rather, where are our selves in that state? Do we linger? Do we go? And if so, where? How long is the length of a single present moment? Can our lives exist as this single thread, if we spend it in dream-state? Are we forever suspended, or do our recollections of the past, our imaginings of the future, tether us to something tangible after all?

Anyway, right below this is the first line from Axis: "It is wondrous how quickly things can change in a moment."

Besides vibes and themes (suspension, stasis, indecision, fear of being lost, grieving, surrendering to the will of nature, being a fixed point in a broken group, being tethered together or untethered, things happening in reverse, being upside-down, being consumed, yadda yadda), I think the first scenes that popped into my head as visuals before I got writing were 1) Nicolo standing in the valley and catching a flake of ash in the air. 2) Yusuf and/or Nicolo in a hot spring. 3) Larus' frozen lambs. 4) The argument between Andromache and Nicolo, but no dialogue yet.

I know I wanted to write something sort of dream-like, that dipped in and out of flashbacks and liminal states, and I'm genuinely proud of myself for seeing it through. The last school year I had was intense to say the least, and there was a long stretch of time where I just left this fic as one scene and a bunch of nonsensical notes. Then, being real transparent here, a couple different tragedies happened one right after the other, and I just opened the doc again. I think my nana dying slowly had a lot to do with the direction my writing took. Thoughts, feelings, general atmosphere from real life creeps into my writing every time, and often I don't even notice until the project is done and I've read it a few times.

Anyway, I'm WAY overselling this fic dfgfds. It just means a whole lot to me and I know you can tell, so I appreciate you asking about it <3 Hope you have a fantastic day. Sending love and hugs <333

A bonus angsty snippet that didn't make it into the final work, just for you <3

It happens like this sometimes: Yusuf begins. “What if we never found you?” “You did.” “But what if. Just humour me for a moment.” You do. You love this man, so you do. “I wasn’t fast enough, and you slipped. I didn’t grab you. I didn’t even pull you from the water.” “You know it is not your fault.” “Andi didn’t— you didn’t see. I tried to jump in after you—” “And you would have been lost, too.” “No, I would have gotten you back.” There is no way to prove this. Nothing is certain. It already happened. You’re going around in circles. Yusuf says again, in a whisper, “What if we never found you?” You’re finding it hard to speak. To say anything in this moment. Yusuf presses his hands over his mouth, but it does nothing to contain his stilted gasps. He presses his words against his palms, but you hear them clear as ice: “What if we never find her?”

#spoilers below. sort of.#good lord i talk a lot #thank you my friend ;_; <33 it makes me so happy to know you liked the fic #sage writes #axis

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

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If/when they make a Joe/Nicky prequel movie, what are some of the Dos and Don’ts for them, with regards to historical accuracy. Like, what do you think they should include, and what do you think they should avoid?

Oof. This is a GREAT question, and also designed to give me a chance to ramble on in a deeply, deeply self-indulgent fashion. That is now what will proceed to happen. Consider yourself warned. So if they were miraculously to be like “well that qqueenofhades person on tumblr seems like she knows what she’s talking about, let’s hire her to consult on this production!”, here are some of the things I would tell them.

First off, a question I have in fact asked my students when teaching the crusades in class is whether you could actually show the sack of Jerusalem on screen. Like... if you’re making a film about the First Crusade, what kind of choices are you going to make? What narrative viewpoint are you going to uphold throughout the story? Are you actually going to show a slaughter of Muslim and Jewish inhabitants that some chroniclers described as causing enough blood to reach up to the knees of horses? (Whether it actually did this is beside the point; the point is that the sack went far beyond the accepted conventions of warfare and struck everybody involved in it as particularly horrific.) Because when you’re making a film about the crusades, you are also making it by nature for a modern audience that has particular understandings of Christian/Muslim conflict, religious warfare and/or tolerance, the War on Terror, the modern clash over ISIS, Trump’s Muslim ban, and so forth. The list goes on and on. So you’re never making a straight, unbiased historical adaptation, even if you’re going off the text of primary sources. You’re still constructing it and presenting it in a deliberate and curated fashion, and you can bet that whichever way you come down, your audience will pick up on that.

Let’s take the most recent example of a high-profile crusades film: Kingdom of Heaven from 2005. I’ve written a book chapter on how the narrative choices of KoH, aside from its extensive fictionalization of its subject matter to start with, make it crystal clear that it is a film made by a well-meaning Western liberal filmmaker (Ridley Scott) four years after 9/11 and two years after the invasion of Iraq, when the sympathy from 9/11 was wearing off and everyone saw America/Great Britain and the Bush/Blair coalition overreaching itself in yet another arrogant imperial adventure into the Middle East. Depending on how old you are, you may or may not remember the fact that Bush explicitly called the War on Terror a “crusade” at the start, and then was quickly forced to walk it back once it alarmed his European allies (yes, back then, as bad as America was, it still did have those) with its intellectual baggage. They KNEW exactly what images and tropes they were invoking. It is also partly why medieval crusade studies EXPLODED in popularity after 9/11. Everyone recognized that these two things had something to do with each other, or they made the connection somehow. So anyone watching KoH in 2005 wasn’t really watching a crusades film (it is set in the late 1180s and dramatizes the surrender of Jerusalem to Saladin) so much as a fictional film about the crusades made for an audience explicitly IN 2005. I have TONS to say on this subject (indeed, if you want a copy of my book chapter, DM me and I’ll be happy to send it.)

Ridley Scott basically sets it up as the Christian and Muslim secular leaders themselves aren’t evil, it’s all the religious fanatics (who are all made Templars, including Guy de Lusignan, going back to the “evil Templar” trope started by Sir Walter Scott and which we are all so very familiar with from Dan Brown and company). Orlando Bloom’s character shares a name (Balian de Ibelin) but very little else with the eponymous real-life crusader baron. One thing Scott did do very well was casting an actual and well-respected Syrian actor (Ghassan Massoud) to play Saladin and depicting him in essential fidelity to the historical figure’s reputed traits of justice, fairness, and mercy (there’s some article by a journalist who watched the film in Beirut with a Muslim audience and they LOVED the KoH Saladin). I do give him props for this, rather than making the Evil Muslim into the stock antagonist. However, Orlando Bloom’s Balian is redeemed from the religious extremist violence of the Templars (shorthand for all genuinely religious crusaders) by essentially being an atheistic/agnostic secular humanist who wants everyone to get along. As I said, this is a film about the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq made three years after 9/11 more than anything else, and you can really see that.

That said, enough about KoH, back to this presumable Joe/Nicky backstory. You would obviously run into the fact that it’s SUPER difficult to make a film about the crusades without offending SOMEBODY. The urge to paint in broad strokes and make it all about the evil Westerners invading is one route, but it would weaken the moral complexity of the story and would probably make it come off as pandering to guilty white liberal consciences. Are we gonna touch on the many decades of proto-crusading ventures in Iberia, Sicily, North Africa, and other places, and how the eleventh century, especially under Pope Gregory VII, made it even thinkable for a Christian to be a holy warrior in the first place? (It was NOT normal beforehand.) How are we going to avoid the “lololol all religion sucks and makes people do crazy things” axe to grind favoured by So Very Smart (tm) internet atheists? Yes, we have to demonstrate the ultimate horror of the crusade and the flawed premises it was based on, but we can’t do that by just showing the dirty, religiously zealot medieval people doing that because they don’t know any better and are being cynically manipulated in God’s Name. In other words (and the original TOG film did this very well) we can’t position ourselves to laugh at or mock the crusader characters or feel confident in looking down on them for being Dumb Zealots. They have to be relatable enough that we realize we could BE (and in fact already ARE) them, and THEN you slide into the horror and what compels them to do those kinds of things, and THAT’S when it hits. Because take a look at the news. This is happening around us right now.

Obviously, as I was doing in my First Crusade chapter in DVLA, a lot of this also has to spend time centering the Muslim point of view, the way they reacted to the crusade, the ways in which Yusuf as an Isma’ili Shia Muslim (Kaysani is the name of a branch of Isma’ili Shi’ites, he has a definite historical context and family lineage, and hence is almost surely, as I wrote him, a Fatimid from Egypt) is likewise not just A Stock Muslim. In this case, obviously: Get actual Muslims on the set to advise about the details. Don’t make stupid and/or obvious mistakes. Don’t necessarily make the Muslims less faithful or less virtuous than the Christians (even if this is supposed to praise them as being “less fanatic” than those bad religious Catholics). Don’t tokenize or trivialize their reaction to something as horrific as the sack of Jerusalem, and don’t just use dead brown bodies as graphic visual porn for cheap emotional points. Likewise, it goes without saying, and I don’t think they would anyway, but OH MY GOD DON’T MAKE THIS INTO GAME OF THRONES GRIMDARK!!!! OH MY GOD!!! THERE IS BEAUTY AND THERE IS LIGHT AND THERE IS POETRY AND THAT’S WHY IT HURTS SO MUCH WHEN IT’S DESTROYED! AND THE CHOICES THAT PEOPLE MAKE TO DESTROY THOSE THINGS HAVE TO BE TERRIFYINGLY PLAUSIBLE AND FAMILIAR, BECAUSE OH MY GOD!!

Next, re: Nicolo. Evidently he is a priest or a former priest or something of the sort in the graphic novel, which becomes a bit of a problem if we want him to actually FIGHT in the crusades for important and/or shallow and/or OTP purposes. (I don’t know if they address this somehow or Greg Rucka is not a medieval historian or whatever, but never mind.) It was a Major Thing that priests could not carry weapons, at least and especially bladed weapons. (In the Bayeux Tapestry, we have Odo, the bishop of Bayeux, fighting at the battle of Hastings with a truncheon because he’s a clergyman and can’t have a sword). They were super not supposed to shed blood, and a broadsword (such as the type that Nicky has and carries and is clearly very familiar with) is a knight’s weapon, not a clergyman’s. The thing about priests was that they were not supposed to get their hands dirty with physical warfare; they could (and often did) accompany crusade armies, bishops were secular overlords and important landholders, monks and hermits and other religious preachers were obviously part of a religious expedition, and yes, occasionally some priests would break the rules and fight in battle. But this was an exception FAR more than the rule. So if we’re going by accuracy, we have Nicky as a priest who doesn’t actively fight and doesn’t have a sword, we have him as a rule-breaking priest with a sword (which would have to be addressed, and the Templars, who were basically armed monks, weren’t founded until 1119 so he can’t be one of those yet if this is still 1099) or we just skip the priest part and have him as a crusader with a sword like any other soldier. If he was in fact a priest, he also wouldn’t be up to the same standard of sending into battle. Boys, especially younger sons of the nobility, often entered the church at relatively early ages (12 or 13), where it was treated as a career, and hence they stopped training in arms. So if Nicky is actually out there fighting and/or getting killed by Yusuf several times for Important Purposes, he’s... almost surely not a priest.

Iirc, they’ve already changed a few things from the graphic novel (I haven’t read it, but this is what I’ve heard) so they can also tweak things to make a new backstory or a hybrid-new backstory in film-verse. So once we’ve done all the above, we still have to decide how to handle the actual sack of Jerusalem and massacre of its inhabitants, the balance between violence comparable to the original TOG film and stopping short of being exploitative (which I think they would do well), and the aftermath of that and the founding of the new Latin Christian kingdom. It would have to, as again the original film does very well, avoid prioritizing the usual players and viewpoints in these events, and dig into presenting the experiences of the marginalized and way in which ordinary people are brought to the point of doing these things. It doesn’t (and frankly shouldn’t) preach at us that U.S. Invasions Of The Middle East Are Bad (especially since obviously none of the characters/people/places/events here are American at all). And as I said already but bears repeating: my god, don’t even THINK about making it GOT and marketing it as Gritty Dramatic Medieval History, You Know It’s Real Because They’re Dirty, Violent, and Bigoted!

Also, a couple tags I saw pop up were things like “Period-Typical Racism” and “Period-Typical Homophobia” and mmm okay obviously yes there are these elements, but what exactly is “period typical?” Does it mean “using these terms just because you figure everyone was less tolerant back then?” We know that I, with my endless pages of meta on medieval queer history, would definitely side-eye any attempts to paint these things as Worse Than Us, and the setting alone would convey a sense of the conflict without having to add on gratuitous microaggressions. I basically think the film needs to be made exactly like the original: centering the gay/queer perspectives of marginalized people and people of color, resisting the urge for crass jokes at the expense of the identity of its characters, and approaching it with an awareness of the deep complexity and personal meaning of these things to people in terms of the historical moment we’re in, while not making a film that ONLY prizes our response and our current crises. Because if we’re thinking about these historical genealogies, the least we can do (although we so often aren’t) is to be honest.

Thanks! I LOVED this question.

#history #medieval history #kingdom of heaven #joe x nicky #long post #persephone-rose-r #ask #the old guard meta

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cryhardanddanceharder · 3 years

Text

Andy’s headcanons because we need to talk more about her:

She’s 6732 years old. She says she doesn’t remember her age, and it might be true, maybe she forgot to keep counting, but she thinks she’s somewhere between 6500 - 7000.

She’s a warrior since she’s a teenager, because the time she was borned was the “eye for eye, teeth for teeth” period.

She’s more an action person than a word person, because her first language was everything related to gestual actions. She can read body language better than anyone, so she can make you feel the more comfortable or uncomfortable you ever felt in your life depends the situation. She does little actions to show her love.

She’s ambidextrous. She can use her weapons perfectly with each one of her hands. (and later write too)

She’s been worshipped as a goddess at least in two or threes comunities she’s been part of. She actually thought she was a goddess at the beginning, because she was the only one who couldn’t die. But then, when years passes and she’s the only one not dying, but she loses all the people she loves and trascend generation after generation, she stops thinking it like a goddess thing and starts seeing it as a curse.

She used to wear clothes made of extinct animals skin, necklaces made with teeth, flowers and horns crowns.

When she was a goddess she had slaves, but once she overcome her goddess complex and realises how wrong it is (because all humans are equal, they all die no matter their social status, their nationality, their religion, skin color, gender, sexual preferences) she stops it. She starts fighting against it, every time she can. She still fight against it in the present time (human trafficking).

I feel like she could also been a slave or prisoner in some period time. Maybe as a punnish from her inmortality? Because mortals see her as a threat?

She loves storytelling and stargazing. That’s why in present time she loves to go camping, she loves sleeping outside. She’s so old that even she had seen the sky change. The stars constellations changes but she learns those changes. There is something comforting about stargazing, so she keeps doing it.

She has very good location sense. She can always find the way to get to where she wants to go.

She’s been there when the first language was created, that’s why it’s easy for her to learn new languages.

She was there when the pyramids of Egypt were built, maybe she worked in the construiction of one of them (?

She’s gender fluid and bisexual (or could be pansexual).

She knew the Sahara dessert before it becomes a dessert. She knew it with trees and vegetation.

She loves horses more than (most) people.

She was the lider of the scythians.

Her name “Andromache” comes from all the legends, that actually are true. She’s the amazon who defeated Heracles and once upon a time she was married to Hector of Troy.

She was the one who trained the amazon warriors on how to be warriors.

She was a gladiator for some time and had fights in the roman colliseum.

She writes mixing languages, because why not? That’s how her thoughts are anyway, in mixing languages. “Let’s put this word in scythian, and that one in greek, and the other in saumerian or tamil, and let’s finish in italian because italy it’s actually the country i am at the moment”.

When she starts dreaming about Quynh she thinks she’s crazy, untill she starts dreaming about Lykon too. She tried to indentify wich languages they speak in the dreams, so she could learn them before meeting them.

She met Jesus once. She doesn’t find him that special. He didn’t come back to life, at least not in the way inmortals do.

Lykon, Quynh and her have a chaotic dynamic. They always die to save the others, to save them from the pain; wich in some way it’s ridiculous because they are all inmortal. But they always fight about it like children.

She can speak all the languages (even those that are extinct), only she sometimes forget how to speak in some of them, but remembers once she hears someone speaking it.

She knows more way to kill than entire armies will ever learn.

She can use any kind and type of weapon. She’s as good as archer as Quynh and as good as a sniper as Nicky, but if she can choose another weapon she will do because she prefers hand and hand combat.

She feels every death. She might have been a warrior all her life, but she doesn’t take pleassure on killing. We can see that in the church scene, her face tells us all how much it takes from her to be that lethal.

She’s very protective of the others inmortals. They are her family. And she feels like she has to protect them, because she has been alone for so long that she doesn’t want to take chances on that ever happening again.

She’s become more protective after Lykon’s death, because now they know even them don’t last forever. She wants to protect the time she has with the other and thinks the best way to do it is to be the one who always goes first.

She hates to dream about Nicolo and Yusuf at the begining because it hurts her to see them killing each other. For someone who has been alone for so long, it hurts to see that. Because for her they are lucky to have started their inmortality together.

Lots of deaths and trauma. She probably been raped at least once.

She died from dehydratation and hunger more times that she can count. That’s why she’s not picky with food, she’s happy as long there is something in front of her to eat. She can cook good enough, but she’s not fan of doing it.

She died from every tipe of weapon: spears, swords, arrows, axes, throwing stones, daggers, knives, cannons, guns, grenades, bombs. Also she died from being dismembered, from being hanged and burn alive.

Once Quynh’s is taken to her ocean prison, Andy was tortured and burned alive. They chose water methods for Quynh and fire methods for Andy.

She have tried to kill herself sometimes when she was depressed. They way i see it probably three times: one when she found out her inmortality and wanted to see how it worked, two when she lose her goddess complex and was tired of being alone for so long, and three after she realised that finding Quynh was impossible.

She spent lot of years looking for Quynh with Joe and Nicky, untill they realised it’s an impossible mission. She still checks new technological inventions and andvances to see if they have a chance. But as long as she knows it’s impossible and technology doesn’t help, even the marines and ocean experts says it would be easier to find something in the moon than in the bottom of the ocean.

The only time she prayed in her life was to ask for Quynh’s death, so she would stop suffering from constantly drowning. And for hers, because she doesn’t want to keep living without Quynh.

She keeps Quynh’s belongings saved in one of her fav caves.

She likes wearing things from the other inmortals because it gives her comfort and help her feel ground. She always wears Quynh’s necklace. And sometimes she wears Joe’s cap, Nicky’s hoodie, Booker’s jackets. She also shares t-shirts with them, or more like stole t-shirts from them.

Wars she probably fighted in: Achaemenid conquest of the Indus Valley, Corsica civil war, war between Corinth and Corzira, Expedition of the Ten Thousand, Latin wars, First Peloponnesian War, First medical war, Thasos Rebellion, Roman-Etruscan wars, Samos War, Second medical war, Wars of Veii, Trojan war, Sicilian wars, Alexander The Great conquest of Persia, An Lushan Rebellion, Mongol Conquests, Conquests of Tamerlane, Qing dynasty conquest of Ming dynasty, Dungan revolt, Hundred Years’ War, World War I, Russian Civil War, Ten Years’ War, World War II, Vietnam War, Afghanistan War.

Some modern revolutions and independence processes she possibly was/could be: French Revolution, Haitian independence, USA independence, Russian Revolution, Cuba revolution, LATAM independences, India independence, Australia independence, New Zeland Independence, Africans independences.

She died from electrocution, trying to find out how electricity works.

She died learning to drive a car and learning to pilot a plain.

In World War II she was a pilot of the night witches.

Baklava and really anything that is sweet are her comfort food.

The first time she had ice cream she became a fan and only eat ice cream for like an entire year.

She likes percussion music: all types of drums, cymballs, tambourine, maracas, bongos, castanets.

She likes theater more than cinema.

She likes tea more than coffee.

She can sleep everywhere. A chair? Good. The floor? Good. The earth and grass in the middle of nowhere? Good. A cave? Good. A tree? Good. The train. Good. A Car? Good. The bus? Good. A plain? Good. The couch? Good. An armchair? Good. All is good. Sleep when you can moto is big on her, because beds are a modern concept she still can’t fully incorporate. And without Quynh doesn’t feel like doing it.

She’s very good on learning new things because she’s used to everything constantly changing. And when she finds something hard to learn she is patient, after all she has all the time on the world to learn it and master it (she’s kinda perfectionist).

She’s okay with technology, she could understand more if she wanted to. But she let’s Booker have that place and handle it, because she sense he needs to have something as his responsability to feel he’s useful to the team.

There’s personal things (clothes, weapons, paintings) of her in lot of museums. Joe and Nicky would try to recover some things of her (and them) from time to time.

Hard on the outside, soft on the inside. Ironic and dark humor.

She’s the best at dissapearing when the team takes time out of their missions, if she doesn’t want to be found there is no way you could find her.

She’s been nomad most of her life. She can’t stop moving. She loves traveling with no destination in mind, just for the act of it.

She gives up sometimes because she’s old and she’s tired, but if you give her a good reason to keep fighting she’s all in.

She has the biggest heart (even if she tries to hide it) and actually loves humanity, if not she wouldn’t have fight for so long… and still does.

(if you want to read more headcanons: here are the ones i have for Quynh)

#if you have more headcanons please share them with me #andromache the scythian #the eternal warrior #fav ♥#the old guard #tog headcanons #andy's headcanons #some of these headcanons are actually inspired in my tog fic a million ways to die #sorry if there are any typos #english is not my first language #andy defense squad #andromaquynh #should i do andromaquynh headcanons after this?

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