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writerscall · 4 months

Note

Enemies to lovers with spider hazel

author's note/s: 3.6k words. spider!hazel and fellow superhero/vigilante!reader, more of a one-sided annoyances to lovers, really. think kind of supergirl-esque for reader's powers (at least in the flying and strength aspect) and to help visualize reader's mask, click here for reference.

“So that’s, what, five bad guys down for me this week now and three for you? Maybe I’ll sit back and relax tomorrow so you can catch up.”

You can’t see the face behind that mask but you’re sure there’s a shit-eating grin on it. You roll your eyes at the quip. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not a competition.”

Not that that ever changed how annoyed you got whenever the tally was higher in her favor, though. But the webslinger’s count wasn’t what really got you riled up; wasn’t even how smug she could get about it. It was the way she executed the crime fighting skills that you assumed she was learning and making up as she went. Spiderwoman was messy and, ironically, uncoordinated half the time, but the worst part was that she drew too much attention.

You knew attracting the attention of the police and the papers was inevitable, but at least you had the good sense to not make a whole show of being a vigilante. Spiderwoman, on the other hand, just loved to stay and chat.

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that. You know I’m just messing around.” There’s a drop in her tone, clearly making an attempt to ease the tension. “You’re a lot faster than I am with rounding up criminals, so you get extra points for that.”

At that, you allow yourself to smile the tiniest bit. She can’t see it behind your own mask but if she was as observant as she claimed to be, she might see however little of it reached your eyes.

She clears her throat, bringing a hand to scratch at the back of her neck as she says, “So uh, I know it’s getting late and all, but I’ve got my backpack stashed somewhere not far from here and my lunch sandwich is still intact. It’s a pretty big one so you know, if you wanted a post-crime fighting snack…”

It’s a harmless, friendly gesture so you hold back a scoff and snide comment. You get it — the business you were in was best done alone but it could get lonely after doing it for some time. Besides, masked heroes like the two of you wore masks for a reason: nobody could know who they were, and even fellow vigilantes weren’t an exception to the rule. But you supposed it would be nice to have a friend with the shared experiences.

Just… maybe not her. Or just maybe not yet. This wasn’t like making friends in school, after all.

“Not hungry,” you tell her shortly before lifting yourself off the ground, signaling that your conversation was over and you were leaving.

You hear her say something as you take off, but you can’t be bothered to look back.

Despite it being the last day of the week, you found Fridays particularly hard to get through. Mostly because you were itching for the weekend to come but because the bad guys in the city always seemed to act up during that day. The feeling in your stomach about what your evening patrol might turn out like was a mixture of both fear and excitement, but you tried your best to push it down for the time being. It was only the second period.

“You and Miss Callahan, partners,” your teacher says with a tap to your table as she strides by, listing off other pairs. You look over to Hazel who apparently is already looking at you, her eyes wide with… shock? A hint of nervousness in them too.

Weird. You were sort-of friends through the cheerleaders she was surprisingly close with, Isabel and Brittany, but you’ve never really spoken much to each other. Maybe she was worried you guys wouldn’t click without the other girls around.

You cast her a smile as she gets nearer, sliding the worksheet to the midpoint of the table. “The total number of questions is an even number, 12, so we can each get a half. But we can help each other too, of course.”

Hazel mutters something that sounds like an ‘okay,’ but she mumbles something else under her breath that you can’t quite make out.

Overall, the class goes fine. The osmosis experiment wasn’t too hard to do and the questions were manageable. It was just how Hazel acted throughout the whole hour that threw you off a little. You knew she could be as awkward as she could get excited, and sometimes she talked too much and didn’t pick up on social cues easily, but the whole time she just seemed… uncomfortable, if that was the right word. Like she really wanted to say something or do something but she couldn’t for whatever reason.

Once you’re both done cleaning up, she wastes no time in removing her laboratory coat and shoving it into her bag, but you don’t want to let her get away that easily. Gently, you place a hand on her forearm to stop her. “Hey, Hazel?”

She pauses, eyeing your hand for a second too long before looking at you. Properly looking at you. She could barely do it throughout the experiment.

“I just wanted to ask if everything’s okay?” You bring your hand back and begin to slip off your own coat. “It could be none of my business, so feel free to tell me off if you want, but you just seem a bit out of it.”

Hazel opens her mouth to speak, but her gaze quickly moves from your face to something beside you. Rather, on you; your shirt was pulled to the side while taking off the coat and it exposed the bruise at the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone. Shit.

“Oh, that’s— don’t worry about that. I just tripped and fell hard in P.E. the other day,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand, pulling your shirt back in place. God, you hoped nothing in your voice or face was giving you away. You doubt her first assumption would be that you were one of the masked vigilantes featured on the news, but she couldn’t be thinking of anything good either if she didn’t buy your excuse.

And she didn’t. “That doesn’t look too good,” Hazel says with a frown.

“It’s fine—”

“Come with me to the locker room? I’ve got something that can probably help with that. I mean, it’s not in the locker room, it’s in my actual locker and I’ll have to go get it from there first before going to the benches, but uh… um, yeah. I-I’ve got something.”

Her ramble ends with a sigh and you can’t help but smile at how she stumbled out all those words. Funny how you were the one all concerned about her just a minute ago and now the tables were turned. You didn’t want anybody seeing your cuts and bruises, or at least didn’t want anybody asking about them, but you didn’t get to ice the one she saw just yet. You’d take whatever ointment or cream she might have stashed away in her locker if it would help.

So you nod your head and walk with her towards the door. “Alright, yeah. I’m sure you know a thing or two about treating bruises, what with all that fighting you do.”

You almost bump into her when she stops and whips her head at you sharply, that wide-eyed look back on her face. What was with her today?

“Your fight club? With Isabel and Brittany and all those other girls?”

Hazel visibly deflates and lets out a half nervous, half relieved-sounding noise at that. “Yeah, yeah! Always gotta be prepared.”

You say nothing in return and follow along to her locker, deciding not to overthink it. Hazel could just be a little odd and there was nothing wrong with that.

“Ah—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, being even more careful than earlier with moving your shirt and bra strap to the side to expose the bruise more.

“It’s okay, just… I think it would be easier if I took my top off for this?”

Hazel actually makes a sound when she gulps. You’re quick to add, “Only if you’re comfortable with that, no pressure at all. It’s just that the bruise kinda trails off to the back too, so…”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. Whatever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll just…” she trails off, turning away so you can take your shirt off.

“Haze, you don’t have to do that,” you say with a chuckle. But it was instinct as it was for everyone when somebody was changing in their presence, and you knew there was an extra kick to it now for her.

Brittany and Isabel were always just poking fun, but you knew they teased Hazel about you sometimes. Both girls even asked you about your possible interest in her more than once. Hazel was cute and you did want to get to know her more, especially see how she was in that fight club because they always said she was different in that element. But considering your own after-school activities, dating was just out of the question.

Silently, Hazel turns back, cap off the tub of gel in her waiting hands. It was obvious that she was trying very hard to look nowhere else but your face and the area of the bruise, so you reach out and smile at her reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about. I know you’ve seen boobs before.”

“Well, not your boobs.”

She says it so casually that you’re both taken aback, but you just laugh. Thankfully, Hazel laughs along with you too.

You lean against the sink and she comes closer, stopping once her knees knock against yours. “Tell me if I’m pressing hard, okay?”

You smile at her again, softer this time. “Okay.”

It’s comfortably silent as she applies the gel on your bruise. High in vitamin C, she tells you at some point, cause it apparently helps bruises heal faster. Hopefully you didn’t get hit there again tonight so you could actually see if the science behind the gel worked or not.

When you turn around so she can work on the bruise’s extension on your back, you say, “That gel looks like it’s barely used. Do you have a stock of those at your fight club or do you guys just tough it out when someone gets a hit in?”

“This is my personal one, but most of us prefer to use the traditional ice packs. And unlike the rest of them, I heal pretty quickly.” Hazel smiles at your reflection in the mirror and you immediately smile back. You didn’t think it was possible for her to ever have a hint of cockiness in her tone. You kind of liked it.

“Like a regular superhero then, huh?”

She looks away, her smile dropping slightly. “Nothing like that. Um, you’re all good now.”

Hazel reaches for your shirt before you can even ask her to. You thank her with another smile and she moves away so you can put it back on.

As you walk alongside her to the exit, you stop her for a moment before pushing the doors open. “Thank you again. I’m pretty sure the gel is working already.”

Her gaze falls to the ground and once again she’s all fidgety and bashful. You hesitate for a second, but before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean forward to kiss her on the cheek. Just a light, friendly peck, even though ‘friendly’ might’ve been teetering over the edge at that point. Something shifted and you weren’t so sure you’d just laugh it off the next time Brittany or Isabel asked you about Hazel again.

You walk out of the locker room together, shyly glancing and smiling at one another until you have to part ways for your next classes.

Christ on a cross, you were really fucking tired. The city had been quiet since you started surveying it at around five o’clock and you were highly considering calling it a day at around half past seven, leave whatever happened in the later hours to the other crime fighters your city had one too many of. Hell, even to whatever cops who might be able to do their job properly for a change.

But a trio of snatchers caught your eye as soon as the thought occurred to you. So much for an earlier end to the week.

And you had them subdued with ease. Two of them were clearly new to the life of crime or just greatly inexperienced, and the other one was yelling at them half the time. Despite your skill and inhuman qualities, however, they were all relatively bigger than you so knocking them all out still took some time. You were two down with one to go when you heard a thwipping sound by your ear, and in the next split second, the snatcher was webbed to the wall.

Then you heard that voice. “Looked like you needed a hand.”

You look over your shoulder, groaning. “I didn’t, actually.”

“Well, I wanted to help you anyway. You’re welcome!”

“I’m not thanking you!”

The blare of police sirens comes not long after and you and Spiderwoman flee the scene before any of the cars come to a stop. Flying got you ahead of her since she relied on buildings to swing off from, but she caught up to you in no time. In just a few minutes, you were both back on the rooftop you left her at earlier in the week.

“You know, you’re right for making sure to never have to talk to the cops after putting the bad guys down. I should do that more. Those people really don’t like us.”

“I think you just talk a little too much for their liking.”

It’s not meant to be funny, but she laughs at you anyway. You might’ve put your guard down and decided to not be so irritated if it weren’t for the throbbing pain near your shoulder. You were sure the bruise there got bigger and worse after one of the snatchers got a good punch in that area.

“Yeah, well, I’m calling it a night. The city’s been quiet enough except for that one incident today, so I’m going home.” You sigh, moving to walk past her. “You should, too.”

“Hold on, I…”

You stop, waiting like she asked. If she was gonna ask you to hang out and share a sandwich again, she still wasn’t getting the answer she wanted.

She’s in a silent debate with herself for too long and you really, really wanted to go, so you say goodbye and start walking again. But just as you come shoulder to shoulder with her, she reaches out to touch yours and you wince back in pain. It just had to be the bruised one.

“Oh god, sorry.” She says as she takes her hand away. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously not, but I’ll be fine the next time we unfortunately cross paths again.”

“Wait, I just—”

“Look, Spidey, I really don’t have time—”

“Just take the tub of gel home then, if you don’t want me to take a look at it.”

What the hell was she talking about?

Then it hits you, and you freeze in place even before she says your name. Your actual name, written on your birth certificate and school records, written on that worksheet you shared just a couple of hours before.

Slowly, she begins to take off her mask. You almost want to tell her to stop but that wouldn’t change anything. Even if she didn’t show you her face now, you’d see it in two days time on Monday. Maybe even earlier if you happened to bump into her on the weekend.

Your greatest annoyance was the same person you thought you might’ve been developing a bit of a crush on earlier. You could not deal with any of that right now.

So you don’t.

“I know you’re probably freaked out by now, but I promise I haven’t—”

“I need to go.”

A crease forms between her brows. She starts to say something again but you’re quick to cut her off. “I need to go, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Hazel lets out a resigned sigh, looking to the floor as she nods. You fly faster than you ever have to get back home.

Your luck doesn’t get any better over the weekend when you get a fever on Sunday evening, making you miss class for the next three days. A paracetamol usually did the trick after a day, but the fatigue and exhaustion of your secret life was probably getting to you, too. But even with the ugly feeling of a fever, it was actually really nice to just stay in bed and drink soup for a change. It feels like you haven’t properly rested in weeks.

Your mind, however, was still restless. You tried not to look at the news too much in case there was some criminal that got away and it would just make you feel awful for not being able to catch them. But you tried even harder not to message Hazel to talk.

“Hey kiddo, your friend from school is here. Says she has the notes and homework you’ve missed since Monday.” Your dad pops his head in as he speaks. You can’t see who’s behind him, but it was probably Isabel. She’s been checking in on you constantly.

“Yeah, just let Isabel in, dad.”

“Not Isabel,” says a different voice as the door shuts behind her. Speak of the devil. “But I do have Isabel’s notes because they’re way neater than mine,” Hazel adds, a sheepish look on her face.

You don’t say anything as you watch her cross the room, shrugging off her backpack and gently placing it on the seat by your study table. Then she turns to you, and you’re surprised to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Hazel, what—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…” She shakes her head, angrily rubbing at her eyes. “I thought something really bad happened to you.”

“It was just a fever,” you tell her as you sit up straighter against your headboard.

“You know what I mean.”

You did. You reach out and pat the space beside you on the bed. “Come on, come here.”

Hazel does as she’s asked. Her gaze was focused on your carpet but you could see that her eyes weren’t glistening with unshed tears anymore, although they were rimmed red. “I’m fine, I promise. The fever’s gone now and I’ve been cleared to go back to school tomorrow.”

She nods but she’s still not looking at you, so you take one of her hands in between both of yours in an attempt to make her. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted on Friday night. I just didn’t know what to say and it was… it was a lot to take in at the moment. I was so sure that nobody knew who I was. I panicked.”

“I haven’t told anyone, I swear.” Hazel looks at you then, holding your gaze like her life depended on it. “I know I talk too much but I would never do that to you. Never.”

You can’t tell if she’s quoting you from your last conversation or not on that last part, but you believe her. “I know. I’d never tell anyone about you either, Hazel.”

She looks down at your hands when you rub your thumb across the side of hers and, after a moment, she laces her fingers with yours. There was a burst of warmth in your chest and you could tell there was one in Hazel’s too. So much for your one rule of not dating anyone because of the dangerous part of your life.

Not that you thought the two of you were dating, though.

“So… now what?”

“Well, life goes on as it did before, I guess.” You scoot closer to her, smiling as you add, “But I guess we can hold hands every now and then, if you like.”

“Oh, I like. I very much like,” Hazel replies enthusiastically, a matching smile on her face. She holds on to your hand tighter. “Can I kiss you every now and then too?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

But that’s changed in a heartbeat, both of you leaning forward at the same time. You tug her closer, unlacing your hands so you can bury one in her hair as the other holds on to the side of her face. Hazel kisses you slowly, but there was an urgency to it as well; like something could happen the next day that would ensure she would never be able to do it again — but all things considered, that was an unfortunate thing that very well could happen. You kiss her back just the same, savoring the moment and praying to every god out there that your mom or dad wouldn’t come barging in any time soon.

She pushes you down onto the bed and pulls away with a grin, planting kisses across your cheek and down to your neck. You hold back from verbally reacting to that and the feeling of her hands on your hips, her thumbs gently caressing the skin there. It takes too much energy for you to manage to say, “Hazel, Haze… my parents are home.”

Hazel brings her face back up to yours. Instead of looking disappointed, she just looks pleased. “I know, sorry. Got carried away — I have been fantasizing about this for a while now, though, so cut me a little slack.”

You giggle out an ‘okay’, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Also, if there’s any of that fever bacteria still in me, I apologize in advance if you get sick in a day or two.”

“Don’t even worry about me,” Hazel says with a shake of her head, leaning down to kiss you soundly once more. “I heal fast.”

#i'm so proud of this one i hope y'all enjoy #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fanfic #requests

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honestsycrets · 10 months

Text

Amor y Respeto II: Corazón [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

chapter I: mi alma

❛ pairing | miguel o’hara x reader

❛ type | continuation of one shot.

❛ summary | you're trying to forget miguel with hobie's help on the field. but miguel isn't quite ready to let go.

❛ tags | jealousy, latina reader, slightly nsfw (only nudity), spanish is not translated, some mention of blood and wounds, violence, some paranoia, miguel is not pleased, an attempt was made at british slang, some creative liberties.

❛ sy’s notes | gif credit to aehanse. a little reference to gilgamesh with a golden bull in this chapter because i wanted a simple anomaly and for some reason a golden bull just makes me giggle a bit.

Miguel only left Nueva York for very important reasons. Very important reasons usually entailed a little stress relief at the end of a very stressful day. Very important reasons like your gentle fingertips running over his sweaty chest. Very important reasons like your plush lips wrapped around his--

“No chance,” Lyla chittered in his ear. “There’s the whole ‘I don’t love you’ thing. And that kiss?”

A headache was brewing: everything twinkled, glistened, and refracted light.

“I was there, Lyla. Could do without the reminder.”

“Really because--”

“I can fix it,” Miguel growled, clawing past the tall buildings rife with beautiful flowers. It was your favorite time of year. The perfect time to go to the balcony and wait for him to follow behind, to pick off the yellow pollen that dusted his burnt umber hair.

When he finally breached your plant-filled balcony, the window was open despite his warnings to keep it closed. You loved the light and drew the blinds open day by day to let in the bright light of the day. In contrast, he could have done without the bright light streaming in during his early morning visits. That wasn’t wholly the issue. The issue was anyone who wanted to watch you sleep in your love-rustled sheets could. He could.

Miguel’s hands hooked on his slender hips. He glanced at the offensive presence of a singular powdery pink rose in a vividly graffitied cup that he hadn’t given you. He didn't need to guess to know who had. As your shorthair cat trotted into your bedroom, he realized that the rest of the apartment was empty. He wouldn’t be mewing at him if you were singing in the kitchen and making cookies that he shouldn’t eat. It's little, you would guilt him and squish a bite-sized morsel in his mouth.

Miguel jerked his head to the side and threw a look at Lyla. She threw up her hands in response. They came to the same conclusion. “The roof?”

There wasn't a worse time to climb the last few floors of your apartment. Light battered his senses as the sun crested past the rooftops of your city and emitted pastel crystal hues. Soon, the night would fall on your busy city and cloak it in darkness. In the darkness, problems always arose.

"Se dice-- never mind, it's a pastellio," you brushed off the small chunks of crystal that nipped at your forearms and picked a chunk up off of a paper-thin napkin. The crumbly remnants held their own memories. Memories of your fingers sealing pastry dough over a cool picadillo, arguing about the quality of HQ cafeteria’s empanadas all by yourself despite knowing that he liked them. They didn’t taste the same lately.

“Tastes like a meat pie,” Hobie waggled a crusty corner. “Must be a meat pie.”

You brought the rim of an opaque brown glass bottle to your lips. The malt drink coursed down your throat slowly, leaving your throat cool and refreshed. Just the way you wanted to feel after a long day of work. “If that’s a meat pie, this is beer.”

Hobie-- Miguel sneered. There had some alternative, impure reason he was here. Maybe it was to piss him off, to distract him from the work really at hand. If that was it, he lamented, he was doing a good job. Why else would he be here?

“A kiddy beer,” he flicked over one of his empty beer bottles. “Listen. You coming to see the concert?”

“Whose?”

“Mines, who else?” he answered. “Gwen’ll be there.”

“It’s not really my scene, Hobie,” you said. “Don't you think I’m a bit old for that sort of thing?”

“Old?” Hobie chirped after you. You swayed under the force of his playful punch to your shoulder and returned one to his willowy arm. Your eyes turned back to the crystalized sun dipping beneath the horizon. He sucked his tongue against the roof of his tongue. “Letting that muppet shoot his cum in ya is the only thing that’s gonna make you old. Complicit. You wanna be complicit?”

“¡Fo! Gross, stop,” you dropped your drink to the side and flopped back onto the unforgiving concrete roof. But he had a point, your palm migrated over your belly. His spunk was probably still wiggling around in your stomach. Miguel simpered in the shadows.

“You never see these autocrats for who they are," he lamented.

“It has nothing to do with… Hobie. Hobie, my love isn’t politic--”

“Everything is political.”

“Hobie, I take care of him-- them,” you motioned to your city, glittering in the fading sunlight. “For love and laughter. That’s what we all deserve. Love and laughter. Miguel wants it too, he’s just,” Incapable or unwilling, you suppressed. “Complicated.”

“Complicated,” Hobie spat out as though it offended him. “It ain't complicated to me. He don’t love you. Half the time he don’t even like you.”

“But I love him.”

“His love? It ain’t enough.”

“It matters to me.”

A low growl emanated from his deep chest. It was enough to cause your heads to wrack around in his direction. Miguel steeled his body against the wall he dangled from, shielded in the dark crystally shadows of a mural.

“Should we--” you stared at the wall, eyes narrowing.

Fuck.

“Ain’t nothing to be worried about. Probably a rat— a big rat,” Hobie lurched over your body. His long and lanky arms caged your body beneath him. It was a universe apart from Miguel’s well-corded arms, broad and strong. Arms that, at the moment, Miguel used not to spring off the wall.

“It’s his muscles.”

“¡Ay cállate! Why is it always his muscles?” You ruptured into laughter and reached up to push him away by his thick wicks. You crawled out from underneath Hobie and stretched out your arms behind your back. Tension unwound from Miguel with an exhale of stale air from his lungs.

“You got a type,” Hobie lazed his elbow over his knee.

“You don’t know any of my exes, Hobie,” you swept up your trash and covered your head with your rebozo-like cowl. At that exact moment, your watch blared. “And you ain’t know mine, either.”

“Vente, Corazón. I have a call.”

Corazón?

“Can’t handle it yourself?” Hobie hopped up and adjusted his guitar, slouching off his shoulder.

“Just because I can, doesn't mean I have to,” you took a step to the edge of the rooftop. You turned your hands up. “C'mon, I’ll even make you cookies.”

Make him cookies. You would change out of your blood-smattered outfit into a little slip to make Hobie, a man that you knew he had a very poor opinion of, cookies. A man that was reckless in life, reckless in HQ, and would not take orders that didn’t benefit his perception of the world. His breathing hitched, heavy and sharp, to keep his rage in check. If you respected him, you would never invite Hobie anywhere near your apartment. Especially not at night. What were you thinking?

“That your way of keeping me for the night?” Hobie asked. “Think I’ll get lucky?”

“Is it working?”

You looked Hobie over once, starting at his boots and ending at Hobie’s pierced lip. Your lips budded in a terrible smile. A look that Miguel did not like, not at all. You turned and stepped off the building, out of his field of vision. Hobie followed soon after.

The sun faded far past the horizon, cloaking Miguel in solitary indigo darkness. His fingers teased the ochre face of his watch-- he had things to do.

You didn’t need backup.

You crawled out of the rubble of one of your favorite flower shops. Bits of lavender crystal embedded in your arm drew blood down your arm. As of late, it felt as though you couldn’t do anything right. Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life and fixed the amateur mistakes you were making day by day without mentioning your incompetence. He was good to you.

This time was different. You recognized this anomaly from another time, but not another place. It was here, at the intersection of Cereza and Trini, that months ago that Miguel and you-- No, you did not need backup. You didn’t need him.

The thick, muscular leg of the stupid bull stormed by. The thing was comically obnoxious. Just as obnoxious as the ache in your chest every morning when you woke up alone in your bed with Miguel visiting… not even once in the past few days. You wondered if he even thought of you.

“Miss Spider lady, are you okay?” a little girl with thick brown pom-pom puff hair and the warmest caramel eyes asked. Usually, she sold singular flowers at the cash register of her parent’s shop. You hated to think what hardship would come to them because of your inadequacy. If you could control your emotions, as Miguel rang true, this never would have happened.

“Si, si, Zaniah,” your head spun with the pain radiating from your side. You broke something, and of course, it wasn’t healing. You blamed him. Your feet stumbled forward in a line. You didn’t want to see the headlines of this one. Most spiders dealt with villains worth the name, villains with prowess. You? A shiny fucking bull from heaven. “No te preocupes, go, go.”

“Mami, mami!” the little girl shrieked and bolted, her flowy purple cape dissipated as she disappeared into the back. You felt bad for the mother that would have to deal with that for the next few days as you broke into a run, flexing your wrist for webbing.

If you could just-- trip the damn thing. Then, somehow, with enough time you could… oh, you didn’t know, bind its legs? Or bind its legs first then tip? But where would you even tip without casualties? Maybe, if you were lucky, you could lure it to the river-- but that was on the outskirts of town. You were running out of time. You had to deal with it. Had to. What would that little girl think? What would Miguel think?

“You sure you don’t need backup?” Lyla asked, her gilded frame bending at the waist. "Because you look like you need backup."

“Si,” you hissed. “I am sure, Lyla. I don’t need anyone. And I especially don't need Miguel. I got this.”

Your red boots connected with its fuzzy back. Its great, golden chain skid across the concrete floor, emitting an awful hissing noise. You seized its collar and jammed your heels into its back to try and force the thing to heel. It wasn’t. Despite your strength, you weren’t strong enough to do it on your own. The pressure on the side of your rib cage was becoming immense. Breathing became a chore.

“No you don’t,” she sang.

It was moments later that the bull howled pitifully. It slid on its side, crunching old cars and taking out rusty street lamps under its thick muscle. Despite digging your heels in, the damn thing whirled you off like a children’s dreidel. The force of the impact thrust you off its back and into a rusty tow truck. The pain burned low in your back. Hobie: to the rescue again. At some point, you were going to have to give him something better than cookies.

“Get up,” rasped your backup, cloaked in vast dark blue and red. Not Hobie, then. Your hazy eyes were playing tricks on you. You heaved out rattly breaths as you obeyed, or tried to obey the dumb big man in your life.

It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Heavy and hard, your limbs fought the attempt to move. Before you could complain a minute further about how fucking infuriating it was to have him run to your aid, your world eclipsed into the darkness.

You woke up with a pulsing headache and the very unwelcome sight of Jess. Through her yellowy glasses, you recognized her colorful kaleidoscope of emotions: annoyance, derision, and eventually… relief. It wasn’t the infirmary. The bed was too comfortable for that. You quickly realized that you were in his room with nothing but one of his annoying tech bandages mummified to your chest. You knew from that alone that you were in for it-- if not for her face becoming increasingly more stoic. They should have been siblings.

“You needed backup,” her arms encircled her belly. “Didn’t you?”

Your eyes fell to the soft sheets that tickled your skin. Breathing was still hard, harder with the anxiety of knowing a lecture was headed your way. You couldn’t lie to Jess. Tears pricked your cheeks and you tried to steel your heart from them.

It was impossible. His room overwhelmed you: from his rich scent that perfumed the sheets you laid on to the air you breathed. He was close by. That alone was more stress than you could handle.

“I know Jess. I needed backup. Pero, the anomaly, it was-- I thought I could handle it.”

“Pero nothing,” she held a gloved hand up. “Girl, I don’t need your excuses.”

“But I’ve called Hobie too much this week.”

“Is Hobie the only one here? You could have called me. Or-- and I’m just being crazy here. Miguel? Your man?” she rolled her head toward the back of the room. She must not have heard. You followed her gaze to where he stood, his uniform flopped unceremoniously about his waist. Your heart strummed and skipped a beat. With her words, Miguel turned his eyes up from the wound at his waist-- to your eyes. They pierced your heart in the darkness. He would have come.

“You know what? I’ll just leave you two alone.”

“No, no, no Jess, por favor--” She left without another word. Punishment in its own right. Your hand approached your chest, covering your cleavage from his sight. His hand swayed over the pad to lock the door shut.

Your head dropped back on his flat pillows. Whether it was the bundles of discomfort at his presence or actual shots of pain, the awkward silence was growing increasingly too much for you to handle. He brought you here, into his bed, for a reason you couldn’t understand. You both were done. Finished. Miguel didn’t seem to think so.

“You act as if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Maybe, he had seen you naked before. He had no right to anymore. You opened your eyes to look at him, noting the strong scent of sweat permeating his skin and the warm sheen that dusted his chest. You had your increased senses to thank for that. You swallowed air in forceful gulps and burrowed painful shockwaves in your chest. If nothing else, you could at least swallow pain with some honor.

Everything that Miguel did had a purpose. You couldn’t help but eye the way his thumbs looped around his waistband to draw his pants lower, freeing his swarthy skin from indigo fabric. Your eyes fell on his flaccid cock that sat on a tuffet of his thick black pubic hair, chased the curve sight of his shapely ass, and settled on his strong rideable thighs. It was the least egregious sight to stare at. He slipped the suit over his shoulder, raising his brown brows in unison.

“And as if you haven’t seen me naked before, either.”

“It… it’s been a while.” Your eyes darted past his figure to the door. You were sure it was locked.

"Has it really?" Miguel threw out as he disappeared into his bathroom. For a moment, you debated running. Your heart ached with the knowledge that he would just come to find you. He left knowing that you would not disobey him because, after everything, you respected his wishes.

What Miguel's wishes were today was up for debate. The only thing you were sure of was the gentle pitter-patter of water droplets, the steam that emanated from the bath, and his lofty figure swaying in the distance. The warm certainty that filled your body knowing that he would come back to bed. Because that’s what Miguel did when you were hurt: he paid attention.

He came back into the room nude, ruffling his hair with a fluffy towel. You couldn’t convince yourself to act as if you were asleep. His presence shattered any illusion of ignoring him, even with the expressionless way he considered you tonight. He was utterly intolerable.

After an eternity boxed in with your thoughts, reality came as Miguel, a smooth wall of muscle, clambered into the bed. The bed shifted under Miguel’s weight. Just as you predicted, the warmth of his chest was against your slight back and his large palm was flat against your stomach.

You broke up with him for a reason, you broke up with him for a reason— Miguel didn’t seem to care about those delicate details. He caressed your neck with his nose. His lips dragged over your unmarked skin. As certain as a clock was to click, your body became slick with anticipation. You knew he could tell.

You were weak. Weak out there. Weak in here. Weak everywhere.

“You smell… different.”

“Miguel, por favor,” you breathed, thready and thin. “It’s just Hobie.”

“Hobie?” he growled. Miguel’s hand encompassed the large space of your belly. Your legs shifted as Miguel held you a little firmer. You expected his hand to move lower, but he didn’t.

“Hm. Why would it be Hobie?” he asked, his voice dripping dangerously low. “Is there something I should know, Corazón?”

“No, I, no,” you stammered. He knew. Though you said the words, they felt cut off from what you were saying. As though the threat of his rejection took over all the confidence in your world. "You were watching?"

You turned in his arms to face him. His forehead creased in disapproval. You opted to press your forehead against his, running your nose against his, breath puffing his lips.

"You thought I wouldn't," he said. His eyes spun with sharpness, searching your face for evidence of the truth. As though he were asking if you’d been unfaithful despite the breakup. Your face was always pitifully easy to read. Even with the breakup, he could read your intentions as clearly as the words on his lab screens.

"I didn't think you cared."

You were used to a Miguel who crept into your bedside window, slunk into your bed, and woke you up from your slumber with the weight of his body between your legs. A Miguel that only had time for brief moments of pleasure and successful results. This Miguel was different.

"You know I do."

And there it was. He pushed himself free of the bed in search of pants. You watched him pull them over his ass before he flopped into the one chair in the middle of his room, head in his hand. Lyla, he rumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite hear. Your senses were dull, something you equated to the exhaustion and sleepiness that threatened to overtake you at any given moment.

“Something is different. And it isn’t him,” he sneered.

You missed the warmth of his body against yours. The ginger way he touched you just moments before. After days of being without his touch, you missed the simple things. Like the way he touched you. The way he focused on you alone in a room full of others. You hated yourself for craving it. You made a choice. Why couldn’t you stick with it?

“What did I do wrong now?” Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth. It was the very cottonmouth you feared you would have when telling Miguel about Gwen and Miles. Your mind was too hazy to rationalize what you possibly could have done this time. Miguel would always be an impenetrable castle, one you could admire from afar but never enter.

“Nothing!” He snapped. You recoiled from the shrill in his voice. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, easing his tone down to a murmur. He threw you a small, bittersweet glance. Almost a smile. “Muñeca, you did nothing wrong. Get some rest.”

He sat there a moment longer. A frown grew on his lips as Miguel stood up and walked toward the door. After one, two, then three attempts to open the door, his closed fist slammed a hole into the siding. It finally whirled open and allowed him to exit. It left you in the sea of silence that was his dark room. You never liked waking up in his room alone. It was bare, too bare, for anyone to live in. You worried that his mind was just like that.

“Lyla? Lyla, I want to go home.”

It was a long time-- too long-- before she answered. “You should sleep.”

And though she advised that, it was a restless night.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel/reader #miguel o'hara/reader #across the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader

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evelmiina · 7 months

Note

Love your work! I wanted to ask what your process is like when it comes to coming up with a design/composition to a piece? Do you have any specific methods you use or it is more improvised:)? Thanks!

I'd say both - method and improvisation. To me all pictures are basically shapes organized in a pleasing way. Even when I draw lines I think more about overall shapes together and how I feel about them. There's a lot to consider about design and composition, some pretty smart books on the subject are Marcus Mateu-Mestre: Framed Ink and Hans Bacher: Vision - color and composition for film. I'm still learning all the time and I make mistakes but I think method to making composition comes down to: readability and narrative intention, moving from simplicity to complex. But it's also fun and important to play around and see what works, that's why my process is not always the same and I can show some examples. Here are the sketches and final I did for my Magic card illustration:

This is my go-to method when I want to rely on tried and true process and I know I won't get lost once I start drawing/painting because I can rely on my steps. I don't always do things this way, but for paid work I want the client to have as clear idea of my intention as possible. The reasoning why 3 worked the best is because it's more dynamic and dimensional than 2, but more readable than 1. It also best showcases how the tower is supposed to be huge, something that was important for the design.

This on the other hand was personal work and I approached it in more relaxed way just to see where it goes. Still I think what made me want to finish it is I liked the variety of shapes and rhythm of the room, like how the screens lead towards the doorway, lot of rectangles but varied in their size and angle. If it was client work I probably would've been called out in the sketch, because the focal point is this empty wall that makes no sense. I came up with the idea of shadow of a window while making it and in the end it worked, but it was an example how I made a big design problem for myself that I was gambling on to figure out.

This one had very specifically just one photo reference, but I did the sketch to put down the essentials of what I was seeing in the photo. In the end I referenced dog's face and pose more from the photo so it looks more natural, which was also funnier than my own initial interpretation

Sometimes the initial comp just doesn't pan out exactly. I did the sketch for this Unicorn fanart and I even drew the interior at some point, but it just Did Not Work for me, I also discarded the idea of medieval dragon in the statue for same reason. So it sat in my folder for a while until I could look at it again and after taking a break, I still liked the statue and the general idea, but decided to make the surroundings easier to look at so that the statue stands out better.

When I did the sketch for this dragon I wanted it to feel big and heavy, like lifting its head from the ground. But I didn't want to do vertical picture which lead me to painting over digitally and extending the picture, then painting the whole thing traditionally anyway.

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splitster · 8 months

Text

answering more asks!!

featuring pom wraith, pingo, ocs?!, and older art check it out (three's some art 💖)↓↓

THANK you!! ohhh i do have old pikmin ocs... i actually revamped my old captain a while back, i can share him:

i had a whole crew of pikmin ocs who were a part of the S.S. Harmony, they were gonna be SUCH a nuisance to everyone they ran into...

i thought about making a rescue corps oc for fun. hrmm! maybe...

AHHH thank you!! i've seen a shocking number tags and asks from people saying that I'm apparently the reason they like Dingo now? and i have to say that is so mind boggling to me, because when i first played Pikmin 4 I didn't care about him at all!! he was a nothing sandwich to me... but then i drew him a few times... and started thinking... and then things went downhill and now i REALLY like him...

(referring to this post) i think dingo is better when he's withered

(referring to this comic) I HEAR YOU... I HEAR YOU... but if any tear at all would cause oxygen poisoning, i wouldn't be able to draw them all battered and cool :(

i imagine that there's a seal around the neck in case there's a breach in the suit's lining. so as long as their backpack (life-support) works and is connected to their helmets, then they can breathe✨

(referring to this post) Olimar would be horrified because he knows Louie, and if he sees that note there's only one thing it could mean! his coworker tried to eat pom!! if pom hasn't been outed as wraith and Olimar is questioning her, she'd just say Louie bit her and then refuse to answer any follow up questions 💖

Shepherd would be... concerned. she might think they have a weird fling going on and louie's talking about a kiss? she probably wouldn't realize Louie quite literally means he ate something from pom. oops!

that's a really good question... I'll be honest, with a lot of the "when and how did x happen" questions, there's not an official timeline or anything; the pom wraith au is sort of an umbrella with a bunch of different stories and what-ifs underneath it. although there was one story where louie does find out her secret!

louie and pom end up bridging their differences (with the help of olimar), and become good friends while pom is continuing the rescue effort. then there's a very unfortunate incident where pom and louie are away from the base and they're attacked... pom has to reveal herself to defend them and she accidentally hurts louie :(

its fine though, louie doesn't care what pom is. they're both freaks in his mind and that's all that really matters. he does end up having to defend pom from olimar (who's been made vindictive through his trauma with the plasm wraith) sometime later!! here's some older art:

sure

me too! they do NOT get along... louie's kinda pissed at her for chasing him around on PNF404 and beating him in dandori battles when he just wants to stay there and vibe. pom meanwhile doesn't understand him, he pisses her off too! she likes olimar a lot, and as an outsider it looks like louie doesn't appreciate the friendship olimar offers him. to someone who's trying to understand and participate in this whole friendship business, she thinks he's ungrateful and weird. they do not get along!! at the beginning at least...

AHHHH!!! THANK YOU!!! WAHH...🥺💖💖 i'm very glad you enjoy my silly little art style!! i want to make things very squishy so i appreciate that 💖

i don't think that man is going to live!

wait actually if you eat enough maybe you just turn into a wraith. that'd be scary! hopefully olimar's there to stop him

that's a fun thought! he would probably be able to sense that something is off about her. but he'd also probably just think "she's weird like me." honestly, the whole wraith thing doesn't really matter much to him -- the only thing it changes is that pom can now offer her tendrils as a skewer for his cooking at any time and location!

i think i'm gonna call her rose wraith!! and ohh, i didn't know that... i was just gonna call her rose wraith since she has a rose head. i'm creative i promise

(referring to this post i think) AHHH hehe... honestly, when Pom first learns about Dingo's fear of blood, she only tries to keep him from it because it's really annoying dealing with your coworker when they faint. he's like a sack of potatoes when he's knocked out. but yes, as they become actual friends pom will (subtly) do her best to keep blood away from dingo. it's fortunate she doesn't have any!

she might not get phobias, but she understands what its like to have a crippling fear, so she's empathetic!

THANK you. he has sunglasses. he's pretty cool

AHH THANK YOU... i like them a lot... 👉👈

let the marching pikmin give you the energy you need to practice🫡

#modpost #modask #pom wraith au #pingo #thank you for all the asks!!#i have more to get to so i'll make another post...

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 11 months

Text

Paris (Superstar Chapter 5)

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing

Drew a map on your bedroom ceiling

No, I didn't see the news

'Cause we were somewhere else

Privacy sign on the door

And on my page and on the whole world

Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours

Roy and the Reader continue to see each other in secret while the AFC Richmond goes on a road trip.

Roy Kent x Reader

6.2k words

Warnings: Language, suggestive references, mentions of adults drinking adult drinks, Roy Kent showing lots of green flags, fluff because boy did I need it after the last couple chapters

“Don’t fucking go,” Roy grumbled, grabbing a fistful of the too-big Richmond shirt I wore and pulling me back towards him.

“Just getting some water,” I murmured, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

Moonlight made his skin glow pale as he started to sit up, groaning quietly. “Lemme get it for you.”

I pushed his chest back down, my fingertips brushing against thick hair. “I’ll be right back,” I huffed with a giggle. I pressed a hard, sloppy kiss to his lips before climbing out of his bed, tugging at the hem of the shirt he’d given me to wear in place of proper pyjamas.

Despite my drowsiness, I practically skipped down the stairs, my heart full of something I wasn’t quite ready to name yet. After we’d had a good talk about everything that happened at the fundraiser and what we wanted out of our newly established relationship, Roy had pulled out a homemade chocolate dessert to share, and things had escalated in ways that made me blush to think about.

A mumbled love song lingered on my lips as I opened and closed cupboards to find a cup I could use, straining to see in the dark. The glowing green numbers on the stove read 3:56. Perfect. That was plenty of time before I had to head home and get ready for brunch with Keeley and Rebecca. I could go back to bed and cuddle and maybe even wake up Roy for another round-

“Good mornin’.”

“Fuck!” I shrieked, trying to pull down Roy’s shirt to cover my lower half as a bright light shone on me. I squinted at the figure across the kitchen. “Jamie?!”

Jamie Tartt stood there, dressed for a run and wearing a shining light on his head. “Er, is Roy home?” Even in the dark, I could see him trying to avert his eyes from my figure. “We’re supposed to go for a run. I let myself in, sometimes he forgets to lock his side door…”

My entire body burned with embarrassment. “I, um, I-” I tried desperately to think of a reason, some excuse, to explain why I was half naked in Roy Kent’s kitchen, but nothing came to me.

“Oi! Tartt!” Roy stormed down the stairs, still in the sweatpants he’d worn to bed. “The fuck d’you think you’re doing here?” he bellowed as he flipped on the kitchen light. “I fucking texted you to run on your own today.”

Jamie’s mouth formed a perfect O as Roy towered over him. “Shit, I lost my phone at the party on Friday. Think one of the papps nicked it. Keeley’s picking me up a new one today after brunch.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Coach.”

Roy’s face and whole chest were red with rage. “Well now you fucking know. So get the fuck out.” His eyes landed on me as I tried to strategically hide myself behind the kitchen island. He glared back at Jamie. “And don’t fucking tell anyone about this. Or I’ll slice your prick off, have it properly taxidermized, and give it to Keeley as a fucking Christmas gift.”

“We’re just trying to keep things private for a bit,” I clarified to Jamie, who still looked confused. “This… thing is still new, and we’d just like to not tell everyone at work yet.”

Jamie nodded, blinking a few times. “Nah, I geddit. Don’t need the other gaffers and the guys givin’ you shit.” He gave a small salute to Roy. “See you Monday, Coach.” Then he shot finger-guns at me. “And you have fun with Keeley later, yeah? I promise I won’t tell her about-” He pointed back and forth between Roy and me. “-this thing.”

Roy shadowed Jamie all the way from the kitchen to the front door, slamming it shut behind the player. When he came back into the kitchen, his face instantly softened. “Sorry ’bout that,” he grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes. “Fuckin’ Jamie Tartt, losing his fucking-”

I approached Roy and wrapped my arms around his middle, blushing at the feeling of his bare skin. “Don’t worry about it,” I assured him. “I highly doubt Jamie’ll tell anyone. That threat of yours was painfully vivid.”

Roy’s body relaxed against mine as he wrapped an arm lazily around my shoulders, pulling me close so he could plant a kiss on the top of my head. “I know a real good taxidermist, too,” he grunted.

“Lovely,” I snorted, lifting my head to look up at Roy’s face. We exchanged sleepy smiles. “Hi,” I hummed.

“Hi,” he whispered. He bent his head towards me, touching his lips to mine so softly I could barely feel them. “Wanna go back to bed? Get a bit more sleep before you gotta head home?”

My cheeks warmed as I gazed back up at him, my heart purring. “I wanna go to back to bed,” I began slowly. “But… I don’t want to sleep.”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up. “In that case-” He lifted me and threw me over his shoulder, giving me a light smack on my butt as he carried me back upstairs, my squeals of laughter echoing throughout the house.

It took all my strength to pry Roy’s muscular arms off me later that morning. He proposed that I cancel on Keeley and made several other suggestions about how I could spend my time, all of which had me red in the face and rolling my eyes as I gathered my clothes off his bedroom floor.

Roy Kent is absolutely smitten with me, I hummed to myself as I drove to brunch, my mobile vibrating to let me know that Roy Kent⚽ was texting me for the dozenth time since I’d left his house that morning, asking me to change my mind and come back. After finding a parking, I silenced my text notifications, not wanting to give either of my friends an opening to ask why in the world my officemate was texting me so obsessively on my day off.

Heading into brunch. Call you after I typed as I walked towards the restaurant, not bothering to hide the wide grin on my face.

“Ooh, is someone sending you a dirty picture?” I jumped as Keeley hooked her arm through mine. “Is it Roy?”

I quickly stuffed my phone into my purse, hoping she hadn’t seen the number of heart-emojis on the screen. “Ha. Hello to you too, Keeley.”

Keeley kissed my cheek as we entered the restaurant. “Come on, I need all the details,” she demanded. “Please, I’m dying!”

We quickly found Rebecca and settled in with drinks and food. The conversation almost immediately turned to Rebecca’s party, which she declared a success.

“Oh, but what about…” Keeley nodded to me. “You know…”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows as she swallowed the champagne she’d been drinking. “What? Did I miss something?”

Before I could explain in a way that didn’t worry my boss, Keeley leaned forward. “Okay, Roy thought that Richard had done something, you know, unseemly to this one.” She waggled her eyebrows and nodded towards me. “So, Roy tried to actually murder Richard, and Jamie and I took them to a side room so they wouldn’t cause a scene- yes, I know, I’m a great PR person, you’re very welcome- and these two-” Another nod towards me. “-had some weird, very sexy energy between them. Then they were alone in that room for a while and when they came out Roy actually danced. Twice.” Keeley smirked at me. “Let me repeat, Roy Kent danced.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows flew higher and higher with each word out of Keeley’s mouth. She gawked at me. “Holy shit, are you and Roy shagging?” she gasped.

“I mean this with all due respect because you’re my boss, but sod off, Rebecca,” I grumbled. “Keeley’s exaggerating. There was a misunderstanding with Richard, Roy was a tad drunk and got carried away trying to be protective, we calmed him down, and he was a perfect gentleman to me, his friend.” Girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend.

“Don’t listen to her Rebecca,” Keeley teased. “She’s completely in love with Roy and he’s just as smitten. In fact, Jamie was telling me-”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “What did Jamie say?” I tried to keep my voice even and my face uninterested; deep down, I knew I was failing. There is no way Jamie would tell her. No fucking way.

Keeley smiled; she knew she was winning this game. “Just that you and Roy are always holed up in your office together. He brings you lunch all the time. Sometimes gives you a ride home from work. And Jamie swears that Roy’s been less brutal during their training since the day you started at Richmond.”

Rebecca nodded. “I can’t help but notice that you two are practically attached at the hip at work,” she added sheepishly.

“Well, yeah, Roy says I give him a break from having to talk to Ted and Beard all day.” They didn’t need to know that he’d mumbled that while half-asleep in bed that morning.

Keeley was now completely smug. “The man’s in love with you,” she declared with finality.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s called friendship, Jones. Try it sometime.”

“It’s called romance, babe. And you and Roy Kent should try it sometime.”

“How about Much Ado About Nothing? With Emma Thompson?”

“Fuck no!” bellowed Roy from the couch as I walked back into his living room, carrying a beer for each of us.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on Roy, a little Shakespeare won’t kill you.”

He sat up, baring his teeth at me. “I fucking hate Kenneth Branagh,” he growled, accepting the beer I handed him. “With his fucking around on Emma Thompson. What a prick. The woman’s a treasure.”

“Oh.” I stared at him for a moment, ever amazed at the things that flew out of his mouth. “So, do you hate Helena Bonham Carter as well then?”

Roy shook his head, making room for me on the couch. “Nah. Emma Thompson and her made up. No bad blood there.” He took a sip of his beer. “But fuck Branagh.”

“But Emma’s in Much Ado,” I pointed out as I plopped down. “And Keanu Reeves. You can’t let Branagh ruin it.” Roy rolled his eyes. “How about this,” I offered. “Emma Thompson double feature. Much Ado About Nothing, followed by Sense and Sensibility. That way you get to see her win an Oscar and meet the love of her life Greg Wise.”

“Hmmf.” Roy narrowed his eyes at me, debating my proposal. Finally, he settled into the couch, wrapping an arm lazily around my waist to pull me back with him. “Alright. I could go for some Jane Austen. On with the fucking Branagh movie then.”

Satisfied, I grabbed the remote to Roy’s massive television and found the movie. As soon as Emma Thompson appeared in the opening scene, I laid down my beer picked up my work laptop from the coffee table and opened it. Roy groaned louder than usual beside me.

“Fuck, are you really doing work right now?”

“Sorry, someone’s got to double check the reservations for the Paris game.” AFC Richmond would be playing in an exhibition against a French club team, and Rebecca had tasked me with making sure the lodging was all arranged. I suspected it was mostly because I had casually mentioned taking one French class in school, but it was nice to have responsibilities besides editing the grammar on Coach Lasso’s tweets and returning Coach Beard’s library books.

There was a small pressure on my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy leaning on me, his eyes skimming the room arrangements spreadsheet on my screen. “Oi, I think there’s been a mistake,” he hummed. “You’re in room 218, and I’m in room 222. Shouldn’t I be in 218 too? Would help save a few pounds.” He raised an eyebrow at me, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

Unable to resist, I planted a kiss on his scruff. “Or, I could let the club pay for the rooms, and if you want to see me, you can put in the effort of sneaking down the hall like a gentleman.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless you want to announce to the whole club that we’re dating, and Ted can spend the whole trip calling us his OTP and making comments about being in the City of Love.”

Roy was clearly weighing his options as he stared at me. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, he put his beer on an end table leaned back onto the cushions. “Fine. Just make sure you slip me a key to your room. I’m not going to be standing in a hotel hallway knocking like some fuckin’ creep.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.” I made myself a note to ask for two keys for every room; less suspicious than just asking for myself. “Any other requests?” I asked dryly.

“Hmm.” Roy feigned thinking. “Throwing Jamie Tartt off the top of the Eiffel Tower might be a fun team-building activity. Montlaur too while we’re at it.”

“Thought you were over that,” I hummed, checking my confirmation email from the hotel and using Google Translate to make sure I didn’t misunderstand anything.

Roy shrugged, his hand lightly grazing my hip. “Still don’t like the way that prick looks at you.”

I snorted as I sent Rebecca the confirmation email and room assignments for her approval. “And what way would that be?”

“The way I look at you.”

Email sent, I closed my laptop and returned it to the coffee table. “Roy,” I said slowly, straddling his lap and taking his face in my hands. “No one has ever looked at me the way you do.” I kissed his neck tenderly. “Besides, why would you want to waste your time in Paris on Jamie and Montlaur? Wouldn’t you rather be with me?”

“So, you’re saying we can skip going to fucking Paris and just spend the weekend here?” His nose nudged my cheek. “I’ll even let you put on more Kenneth Branagh movies.”

“Oh, hell no,” I scoffed, sliding off his lap and leaning back to watch the movie that had gone ignored during our conversation. “You are not talking me out of a free trip to Paris.”

“Alright, so I’ve got some Albert Camus for Beard, sudoku for Ted, and a sleep mask for Roy.” The coaches held their hands out for their requested road trip items. I held tight to the hardcover copy of The Stranger that Beard reached for. “No writing in the margins,” I ordered. “Library says you can’t do that anymore.”

He rolled his eyes and took the book. “Fine.”

Ted smiled as I handed him the book of sudoku puzzles I’d picked up on my way to work. “Thank you so much,” he gushed. “This is real sweet of you to get these little presents for us. We might have to start callin’ you Willy Wonka.”

I shrugged. “Honestly, no problem, Coach. We’ve got a long trip ahead, might as well enjoy it.” I just don’t want to play “I spy” all the way to Paris. I turned to Roy. “And sleep mask, as requested.”

His eyes narrowed as he took the sleep mask out of my hands. “It’s pink,” he grumbled.

“Goes well with your eyes,” I answered cooly.

Roy glanced around, making sure the other coaches were out of earshot. “Is this from your fucking nightstand?” he hissed, biting back a laugh.

I shrugged, now completely grinning. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d recognize it.” I playfully batted my eyelashes at Roy. “You’re gonna wear it on the bus, right?”

The man was seriously fighting a smile. “Maybe,” he growled quietly.

Before I could make another flirty comment, Ted came back, rubbing his hands together happily. “Alright ya’ll, should we get these puppies onboard this puppy?”

Roy sighed and turned around, glaring at the players who were milling around the parking lot while Will finished loading their luxury-brand luggage onto the team bus. “Whistle!” he shouted, getting their attention. “Oi! Get your asses onboard now, or else you can fucking walk to France!”

When the Paris exhibition game was first announced, Rebecca had planned on everyone just flying; it was the team, particularly Sam and Jamie, who insisted that a six-hour drive would be fun. Part of me was not looking forward to six hours on the road, but knowing I’d spend those six hours next to Roy made it bearable.

I nudged Roy as we watched the team load onto the bus. “Sit with me?” I whispered.

“Like you even have to fucking ask,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing for me to climb aboard.

An hour later, we were on the road, and the boys had finally gotten sick of singing “Richmond Til We Die”, much to Roy’s relief. Now they were all having their own conversations, or listening to music, or watching movies on their phones. The quiet time meant that the coaches and I could finally chat at the table at the back of the bus. As usual, Roy sat next to me and spread himself out a little bit, his thigh pressed against mine and our arms brushing; he often did this “manspreading” at meetings as a way to have physical contact without drawing suspicion.

“Alright, so lay that schedule on us,” Ted was saying as he tossed a handful of the trail mix I’d packed for him into his mouth. “What’s on the itinerary, Ben and Jerry?”

Unable to resist cracking a grin at his little rhyme, I opened the document on my tablet. “So, once we arrive, we’ll have a team meeting to go over strategy with the boys, followed by team dinner at a local restaurant, Rebecca and Higgins’ll join us for that, and then movie night.” A shiver went down my spine as I fent Roy’s knuckle graze my arm. “It’s all arranged with the hotel. Then tomorrow, team breakfast at the hotel and head to the stadium for the game. And after the game everyone’s on their own until we meet at ten the next morning to come back to Richmond.”

Ted smiled. “And the movie is set to go?” Despite the publicity surrounding the exhibition game, the man absolutely knew what his priorities were.

We quickly finished confirming the team’s plans for the trip, with Ted making a few jokes about eating fries and frog legs and toast. The entire time, Roy strategically pressed himself close to me, making me want to finish our meeting so he and I could retreat to our usual seats together, where we could stealthily hold hands between our seats. Instead of dismissing us, though, Ted announced that he had one more topic to chat about; Roy groaned loudly, but a sharp look from me shut him up.

Beard cleared his throat. “So, we’re currently looking very seriously at this Spanish player, Dario Vargas. Skilled striker. Would be a great asset to us.”

“And he’s actually going to be in Paris at the same time as us,” Ted explained. He turned to me. “D’you think you could find a good place for me and Rebecca to have dinner with him tomorrow after the game? We’re hopin’ to wine and dine ’im and reel in the big fish before we head home.”

“Sure, Ted,” I assured him, starting a search on my tablet. “Dario Vargas….” I cocked my head at the men. “Why do I know that name?”

Coach Beard sat up a little. “Well, he’s been a pretty big name on a couple of Italian and French teams in the last few years. So maybe you’ve seen his name on a sports network or something?”

No, that wasn’t it. This guy’s name was so familiar, but I didn’t associate it with football. For some reason, his name made knots begin to appear in my stomach, and I didn’t like it.

“Hmm, maybe,” I agreed, wanting to end the meeting already. “Anything else?” Roy growled beside me.

Ted shook his head, all smiles. “Nope. We’re all set, Mookie Betts.” He nodded to Roy. “You can go take a nap now.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he grumbled, jumping up. Internally, I rolled my eyes at his dramatics.

About fifteen minutes later, I had Ted’s reservation settled and could put my work away. With a sigh, I collapsed in my seat next to Roy, who was indeed wearing my sleep mask. I pulled out my phone, quickly typing a text complaining to Keeley about her decision to stay home from the trip.

A hand brushed against my thigh. When I glanced up, Roy had lifted my sleep mask slightly and was staring at me from under it. “Oi, what fucking movie are you making us watch tonight?”

“Bridget Jones’s Diary,” I answered as my mobile vibrated, letting me know Keeley had sent me a reply. “It’s one of my favorites.”

The sleep mask was now entirely lifted and resting on top of Roy’s head. “Because you fancy that wanker Hugh Grant?”

A snort flew out of my mouth. “Colin Firth, actually.” I glanced at the words on my screen; Keeley was suggesting that I ask Roy about his baguette. In return, I sent her several middle finger emojis.

“You like that whole Mr. Darcy shit?”

I rolled my eyes; Roy was talking as if he hadn’t just been completely invested as he watched the five-hour miniseries of Pride and Prejudice with me a couple days ago. “Yes, I like that whole Mr. Darcy shit. Have you seen Pemberly?”

“No wonder you like my house,” he muttered, grinning. His eyes flickered to my phone. “Why’s Keeley sending you so many eggplant emojis?”

“No, I like you very much. Just as you are,” Colin Firth said to Renee Zellweger onscreen.

In the back row of the hotel conference room turned private theater, I let out a breathy sigh. Roy eyed me carefully, the lights from the screen playing on his face.

“You like this?” he whispered, barely audible.

I nodded. “I like anything Colin Firth says,” I answered.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “And the grand gesture shit?”

“Obsessed,” I replied, grinning.

“Good to know,” he muttered, slumping in his seat a bit, his knee knocking into mine. He leaned over once more. “What’re you doing after this?”

I craned my neck to make sure everyone was preoccupied by whatever antics Bridget Jones was getting herself into. “Going to bed, probably. Yourself?”

A smirk graced the face I always found myself thinking about. “Probably going to your bed.”

Sure enough, I woke up the next morning curled up in Roy’s arms. It had quickly become my favorite way to start my day: turning around and seeing that bearded face still half asleep, tracing shapes on his arm as he squeezed me a bit tighter to himself, and murmuring sweet nothings back and forth before starting our day.

The light coming through the space in the curtains told me that we didn’t have much time before Roy had to sneak back to his own room before the team started milling around the halls and heading to breakfast. And my mobile ringing on the nightstand told me that I wouldn’t even get to enjoy the time we did have.

“Hello?” I grumbled into the phone, giving a small stretch as Roy stirred beside me.

“Good morning, darling!”

The sound of my mother’s voice had me scrambling to sit up and cover myself with the blankets, as if she could see the way I had turned Roy’s black shirt into pyjamas. “Morning Mum,” I blurted out. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry it’s so early, I just wanted to catch you before you get busy. How’s Paris?” Her voice was nonchalant, oblivious to the scene on my end of the call.

I cleared my throat as Roy began to wake up, squinting up at me with a scowl on his face. “It’s great, Mum,” I answered, raising my eyebrows at Roy, who nodded in understanding. “Text me what you want me to bring you as a little souvenir, yeah?”

“Sure, love.” In the background, I could hear dishes clanging; she was probably getting breakfast ready.

“So, everything’s good? The team’s treating you well?”

My hand rested on Roy’s arm as I completely sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Yeah, they’re great. They’re basically big kids, really.”

“And the gaffers?”

Roy turned over to wrap his arm around my waist, gazing up at me with a sleepy grin. “Very nice,” I assured her.

“And how’s Roy?”

I nearly choked. “Roy?” I repeated, shoving his arm off me.

She chuckled into the phone. “Yes, Roy. You know, tall, brooding, handsome, football star. Photos of him all over your walls since his Chelsea days. Disappeared upstairs with you at Dad’s birthday dinner. That Roy.”

Roy tapped my shoulder, tiredness all over his face. “Can you ask your mum when I can come over for dinner again? That was some of the best fucking pasta I’ve ever had.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line while I swallowed hard. There was no way my mother didn’t hear Roy. And she was definitely capable of recognizing that it was way too early for me to have company. Finally, whisper came from her end: “Is that Roy?”

The options weighed in my head. Flat-out lying and telling my mum that she was crazy, that she’d just heard the television, no way was Roy Kent in my hotel room, was probably not an option. She’d had dinner with the guy; she knew his voice. There was always telling her that the team was getting together for an early-morning breakfast, but the room was too silent to believe twenty-something football players were horsing around a hotel dining room.

That only left me with one choice: the truth.

“Yeah, Mum, that’s Roy,” I admitted, biting my lip.

To my surprise, she laughed. “Well, I’ll be! I was wondering what happened after Dad’s dinner. You hadn’t mentioned any other fellas in a while.” She paused thoughtfully. “Does he treat you well?”

Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard. “I’m so glad, darling. When you’re back from Paris, we’ll have the two of you over for dinner. No birthdays this time.”

My gaze fell to Roy, who was watching me curiously, eyebrows raised. His eyes were full of the adoration I had quickly gotten used to as his fingers traced circles on my hip. “Really well,” I promised my mum, smiling down at Roy. “The best, actually.”

Relief and joy filled my chest. “That would be great, Mum. Roy’d love that. He still asks about that pasta you made for Dad’s birthday.” Roy smiled at the mention of the food he’d been bothering me about since the dinner in question. “Listen, I gotta go, we’ve got some team things to do before the game. But I’ll send you and Dad pictures, and I’ll call you when I’m back in town, alright?”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. When I placed my phone back on the nightstand, Roy was sitting up, watching me carefully.

“You told your mum about us,” he observed quietly. The look in his eyes was unreadable.

I pulled my knees to my chest, nodding. “Hope that’s okay,” I murmured. “I… I hadn’t planned on telling my folks yet. But I know they won’t tell anyone til we tell them we’re ready.”

To my surprise, Roy leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Of course it’s okay. Just promise me one thing.”

I leaned my head against his, nodding earnestly. “Anything.”

“Get me that damn pasta recipe.”

The game went magnificently. The French club had a stellar reputation, but the Greyhounds were up to the challenge. Two remarkable assists from Jamie, incredible goals each from Sam and Colin, and an unbelievable penalty kick from Dani led to a Richmond victory.

Back at the hotel lobby, the boys made plans to go out on the town to celebrate, with Richard taking the reigns thanks to his own experiences in the city. Ted and Rebecca bowed out to go to the dinner reservations I’d made for them and the player they were trying to court, and Beard had already left to meet his girlfriend who had made the last-minute decision to fly in that afternoon to spend the evening together.

That just left me and Roy.

“You didn’t want to go out with them, did you?” he asked quietly as we watched the guys debate where to start their night.

I shrugged. “They invited me,” I admitted. “But someone had given me instructions to pack that red dress I’d worn to the charity ball, so I was hoping I had plans tonight already.”

Sneaking another glance at the team, who slowly made their way back up to their rooms to change into their clubbing outfits, Roy slipped me a piece of paper, scrawled on in his sloppy handwriting. “Go outside at eight. There’ll be a car waiting for you. Give the driver this address.” He paused, his eyes flickering to my mouth for a brief moment. “Wear the red dress,” he added.

“Aye, aye Coach,” I agreed, shooting him a puzzled grin. With a short growl, Roy turned and walked out of the lobby, leaving me with the paper in my hands and several questions in my head.

At eight on the dot, I made my way down from my room to the lobby. With the red dress and heels on, as well as the inordinate amount of time I’d spent on my hair and makeup, and a night in Paris ahead of me, I felt a bit like a movie star. A few of the guys were lingering in the lobby, waiting for the group to assemble. They waved when they saw me and called out compliments; I even heard a joking wolf-whistle from Colin.

“Thanks guys!” I called out as I approached them. “You guys going to get into some trouble?”

“You comin’ out with us?” Isaac asked, gesturing to the group. “Richard’s got a great night planned for us. We’ll all take turns dancing with you and you won’t have to buy a single drink, it’s all on us.”

Dani winked. “Unless you ditch us for a French guy and we don’t see you until mañana.”

“I don’t think Roy would like that very much,” Richard chirped, cackling to himself.

The guys all turned and glared at him, hissing at him to shut up and reminding him that we all agreed not to tease her and giving him a warning that Roy’s going to kill you.

I cleared my throat, hoping they’d assume the blush on my cheeks was just makeup. “Um, I’m sorry, what’s happening?”

The guys all looked at each other helplessly before Colin finally spoke up. “We just all noticed there’s a bit of… tension between you and Roy? The good kind,” he added quickly. “We all totally ship it.” There was a murmur of agreement among the team.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Come on guys, leave ’er alone. They’re friends. Roy’d murder all of ya if he heard the way you’re talking.” He smiled at me. “You, go. Have a good night, whatever you end up doin’.” The wink Jamie shot me had me wondering if he knew what awaited me once I walked out of the hotel.

After wishing each other good evenings, I left the team and headed outside. Indeed, there was a black car waiting for me with a driver, uniform and hat and all. He nodded at me as I approached.

“Mr. Kent’s friend?” he asked, smiling.

“Um, yes,” I confirmed, pulling the piece of paper out of my clutch. “He said to give you this.”

The driver took the paper and opened the door for me. “If you’re ready.”

I gazed out the window as we drove, glancing down at my mobile every few minutes. I had sent Roy a text when I got in the car to let him know I was on my way, and all I got was a thumbs-up emoji. While part of me was enjoying the mystery of it all, I couldn't help but feel nervous. Where was he taking me? Some small café on the outskirts of the city where no one would notice us? Another hotel, where we could actually share a room? Wherever it was, it would probably be somewhere dark and quiet where we could hide in a corner.

Instead, we slowly pulled into a parking structure. Fuck, maybe Will was right when he told me he thinks Roy might be a serial killer.

The driver parked and turned to me. “We’re here,” he announced, although I couldn’t figure out where “here” was.

“Er, thanks,” I mumbled as I opened the car door. “Will you wait here or…?”

“’m not going to kill you,” a familiar growl called out.

There was Roy, hands in his pockets, standing under the light of the parking structure. He wore the same black suit he’d worn at the gala; if he was a serial killer, he was the most attractive one in history. He smiled and waved me over.

Click, click, click went my heels on the sidewalk as I approached him. He reached out and took my hand before planting a firm kiss on my lips.

“Roy, where are we-”

“Just watch,” he chuckled as he led the way. The street was shockingly empty, considering this was Paris of all places.

Before I could ask Roy any more questions, we turned a corner and my heart jumped into my throat. “Roy, is that-”

“Yeah, that’s the fucking Louvre.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “What’re we doing at the Louvre?” I asked incredulously.

Roy rolled his eyes and tugged me onwards towards the lit-up pyramid. “Stealing the Mona Lisa.”

“Roy.”

A smile graced his face. “Having dinner. Happy?”

I shook my head, my mind spinning. “How… I mean what… Holy shit…”

“Sometimes being a retired footballer comes in handy,” he joked. “I called a guy, wrote a check, and they closed the most famous museum in the world for us.” He shrugged. “No big deal.” The sparkle in his eye told me that no, he wanted me to think that this was a big deal.

Which it absolutely fucking was.

We made our way into the museum, with the security guard tipping his hat to us and greeting “Mr. Kent”. Our steps echoed on the marble floor as we walked from room to room, Roy never letting to of my hand. He pointed out a few paintings as we walked, softly sharing the names of artists he particularly liked.

Roy Kent likes art, I thought to myself. Every new thing I learned about the man made my heart fall a little bit further in… No, don’t say that yet, I scolded myself, trying to focus on the name Roy was whispering to me now.

We finally arrived in the room that held the most recognizable painting in history: the Mona Lisa. But my eyes were drawn away from her and to the table that had been set up and the waiter who stood beside it. I looked at Roy.

“We’re having dinner with the Mona Lisa?” I hissed.

He shrugged and led me to the table, pulling my chair out for me. “Hope that’s okay.”

It was more than okay. It was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard of, probably the most grand gesture I’d ever seen.

“When’d you set this up?” I asked as the waiter poured two glasses of champagne.

Roy cleared his throat and bobbed his head a bit, a nervous habit I now knew well. “Late last night,” he mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a smirk on my lips. “Before or after Bridget Jones?”

“After,” he growled, pink tinting his cheeks. “Satisfied?”

My smile grew. “So, after we watched Bridget Jones and you asked me what I thought of grand gestures, you went and planned the grandest gesture of all time?”

A laugh escaped his lips. “I take it this is more impressive than Pemberly?”

“Much more impressive,” I confirmed, taking a sip of champagne. “Thank you, Roy.”

He leaned forward and laid a hand on top of mine. “Well, I figured we should celebrate.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “What’re we celebrating? Not today’s win, I assume.”

“Fuck no.” He took a deep breath and gave my hand a squeeze. “I just figured that the longest relationship I’ve ever been in is worth celebrating.”

Numbers flew in my head as I quickly did the math. “But Roy, we’ve only been-”

He shook his head. “It has been four months and six days since your dad’s birthday. I know it’s not the official day we got together or anything, but I figured it's…” He shrugged, trailing off. His eyes were begging me not to laugh at him or tell him he was wrong.

As if I could.

“Something worth celebrating,” I repeated, lifting my champagne.

Roy smiled and lifted his own glass, tapping it to mine with a clink. “To really fucking liking each other.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “To really fucking liking each other.”

#Roy Kent Superstar #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #Roy Kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fic #ted lasso #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic

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blubffsd · 1 year

Text

The Great War - WC | Bonus

summary: let's unpack the meaning behind The Great War of these two worlds colliding.

note: you should play The Great War by Taylor Swift.

read Worlds Collide before reading this, you can find it on my masterlist :)

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

This part is a representation of Mia's emotions towards Kylian throughout the World Cup final match, all the frustration she felt being mad at him because she didn't want to be.

Spineless in my tomb of silence

"Tomb of silence" refers to everything that happened with Mia's father in the round of 16 of the World Cup, something that she never told anyone and that Kylian only knows a little about.

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

"The Battle" represents Mia's internal duel with her father, his absence, and how he always chose his sport over her. During the final of the world Mia "tooks her own battle underground" trying to avoid the real situation with her dad thinking about the dream of his whole life was about to come true.

And maybe it was ego swinging

Perhaps the real reason the worlds collide is because of both Mia's and Kylian's egos of wanting to win the biggest prize.

Maybe it was her

Or maybe the real reason was Melissa's manipulation of Mia and her desire to talk to Kylian.

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

No matter how hard Mia tried, she couldn't help but remember her battle: the situation with her father, even after winning the World Cup. She always kept him in mind, even though she tried not to.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

All the "spilled blood" represents all the pain of Mia and Kylian and the evil of those who tried to manipulate them into not being together. "The crimson clover" where the blood is spilled represents their relationship.

Sweet dream was over

For a moment, Mia and Kylian's illusion of continuing together had ended.

My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War

"The Great War" represents the World Cup final. Despite all the differences and the thousands of reasons his environment gave him for not doing it, Kylian always looked for Mia, even during the great war.

Always remember, tears on the letter

Mia's suffering was always caused by her father and his absence, the World Cup final was the trigger for everything she had been hiding. And even more so when his boyfriend was involved. The tears in the letter to Kylian are not for him, they are for her dad.

I vowed not to cry anymore if we survived the Great War

Mia will stop crying and suffering because of her father if she survives with Kylian because it would be a way of leaving everything behind.

You drew up some good faith treaties

Kylian looked for Mia at all times, even during the ceremony when they gave him the golden boot because he needed to talk to her.

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

But Mia decided to run away from him and torture herself with her thoughts and the guilt that wouldn't leave her alone.

You said I have to trust more freely

Kylian never felt betrayed seeing her support her country.

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

But Mia can't help but feel guilty.

And maybe it's the past that's talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did, so I justified it

The past with her father and what happened in the 2018 World Cup torments her too much, making her believe that Kylian will do the same to her as her father did, which is why she justified leaving.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

The bombs were close and my hand was the one you reached for all throughout The Great War

Kylian at no time during the game did he stop thinking about Mia or how much he needed her there, not even after the defeat.

Always remember, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the Great War

If they survive, Mia will stop fighting in the battle with her father.

It turned into something bigger, somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

This verse represents three situations:

1) Mia towards her father on the call after supporting Kylian in the match against Argentina in the 2018 World Cup.

2) Kylian towards Mia when he saw that she wasn't there.

3) Kylian towards his entire family when he saw the treatment they had with Mia.

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

If it hadn't been for Kylian, Mia would never have fully accepted the situation with her dad.

Soldier down on that icy ground looked up at me with honor and truth, broken and blue

The "soldier down" represents 8-year-old Mia who lived in the illusion that her dad would change one day and that she always tried to mean something to her dad, but with the conversation with her father when she returned to Argentina it ended up wiping out all the hopes she had.

So I called of the troops

That was how Mia decided to stop fighting her battle with her father and leave things as they were.

That was the night I nearly lost you, I really thought I lost you

Both Mia and Kylian believed that this was the end of their relationship.

We can plant a memory garden

"Memory garden" represents all the events that made everything get out of control and that ended up causing the great war. Mia's partying, the fight with Ethan and more.

Say a solemn prayer

This part represents Kylian and Mia's decision to put an end to the whole problem.

"—I promise I won't go anywhere or leave you ever again.

—I promise too."

Place a poppy in my hair

The red poppies are a symbol of recognition to all those who have fought in a war conflict. In the story, it would be a metaphor to indicate that Mia and Kylian survived and are now going to fight together.

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

Regardless of the outcome or who won, it was still an unfair war for both of them.

And we will never go back to that bloodshed, crimson clover

Despite everything, Mia and Kylian understood that what happened was not their fault.

The worst was over

They were able to survive the worst part.

My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War

Always remember, we're burned for better

The war taught them that their love is stronger than before and that they will always be able to face anything together.

I vowed I would always be yours 'cause we survived the Great War

They will always belong to each other. Mia belongs to Kylian and Kylian belongs to Mia. Because they survived. Because their worlds collided and they still kept looking for each other. Even when their families didn't approve of them together, even during all throughout great war, it wasn't their fault. It was never their fault.

I would always be yours 'cause we survived the Great War

I vowed I would always be yours...

note: this is the real "there's actually a taylor swift song that explains it"

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian x reader #mbappe imagine #mbappe x reader #mbappe one shot #mbappe #football imagine #football one shot #football x reader

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lettheladylead · 3 months

Note

Hi! I was looking through Magica De Spell’s Wikipedia page today and it says that Magica has a sister named the Wicked Witch of the West, who has children named Witch Child and Warlock. I couldn’t find any information of them online so I was wondering if you knew anything about them, if they exist at all.

If they don’t, do you think you could instead do a character post on Magica’s cousin Matilda? Your old family tree posts helped me a lot in understanding Duck lore.

Aw I'm glad those posts help!! I'm still down for making them 'cause it's a lot of fun for me to find old comics and do some research.

So before I talk about Witch Child, I wanna clarify some things that are relevant to the character.

This is another case where Americans can't stop themselves from taking "sister" and "aunt" literally. Aunt can be used to refer to any older woman in someone's life. Sister is frequently used in stories about witches (because a coven is like a sisterhood/sorority, it's a whole thing). Neither imply blood relation! Even "cousin" is often used to refer to friends/neighbors. Different cultures and languages treat words like that very differently than Americans do.

Witch Child, Warlock, & Witch of the West are all from a very specific time period of Brazilian duck comics where Magica and Madam Mim (from The Sword and the Stone) were living together/dating/???? and interacted with other Disney movie characters. In this specific timeline, the ducks live amongst regular humans which is very strange but you just gotta accept it. Magica also lives in Duckburg I think? It seems like she and Scrooge just run into each other randomly so I believe she and Mim have a house in Duckburg for whatever reason

"Witch Child" is not her name and I don't know why she's referred to like that on InDucks/other wikias. Her name in Brazil (where she was created) is Magali, in Italian she's Maghetta/Maghina/Streghella (inconsistent names in translations are very common), and in French she's Seraphine. None of her comics have an official English publication so again idk where "Witch Child" comes from! But I'll probably refer to her as Streghella for the remainder of this post 'cause it's easier that way.

OKAY now for details:

In Streghella's first comic, Magica gets a letter from a friend asking her and Madam Mim to babysit her friend's daughter. Streghella is whiny and rude and a troublemaker. She ruins a magical career opportunity for Magica and it's pretty funny

Then there's a whole bunch of comics where she just appears for no reason, making trouble. She's a surprisingly powerful witch but she just loves to piss everyone off, especially Mim.

Another important note about Streghella - she was only really drawn by two comic artists during the height of her appearances (in the 70s, pretty much). The above drawings were all done by an artist named Jim Fletcher. But she had a lot of appearances drawn by an artist named Glenn Schmitz, who drew her completely differently.

I don't know if I would've realized these were even the same character if it wasn't documented lol but y'know they didn't have the same resources in the 70s that we have now so they did what they could.

Anyway, from what I can tell her personality stayed mostly in tact through most of these comics. Whiny, stuck-up, nosy, but also very funny and magically powerful. She would occasionally interact with Scrooge or HDL but mostly her appearances were in Magica and Mim comics.

Oh there's one comic where she looks like this for some reason?

BUT THEN what's interesting is Streghella making a few appearances years after her comics all came out. First there was one comic in 1995, then twice in 2011 and once more in 2016. There's also apparently a 2020 appearance but I couldn't get my hands on it :(

In her 1995 appearance she looks really cute but her personality is, well. Personality-wise she's completely unrecognizable. Now Magica makes comments about Streghella always trying to be good and getting in trouble for being good all the time.

(Ignore the bad english translation I was just popping pages into google translate lol)

She's still a troublemaker in the sense that she tries to trick Magica and Mim into consuming a potion that will make them good, kind people. But then the comic ends with Magica doing something nice by choice and it's cute but yeah the character is nothing like her original self.

Her first 2011 comic is where she...wants to go to a Jonas Brothers concert and chats with April May & June online to try and make it happen. Something like that. It follows along with "Streghella is too kind and Magica tries to teach her to be evil" from the '95 comic, but for some reason the colorist made Streghella a brunette. Idk! They also forgot her iconic hat!

Next 2011 comic has Huey Dewey and Louie accidentally traveling to a magic academy. It's very Harry Potter-y? I guess? Streghella is friendly and does some magic. You can tell it's her 'cause of the pigtails and bows. But still no hat :(

In her 2016 appearance, she's been reading April May and June's blog and wants to help them with some problem. Magica is like no be mean and Streghella's like no I want to help! You get it.

This comic is pretty fun. Magica turns herself into Grandma Duck and puts a truth potion into some cake Streghella bakes for the Duck Family and gets a bunch of secrets out of them.

There's also a joke at the end where Daisy accidentally reveals Brigitta's age to everyone (we don't get to see it) but according to this comic, Brigitta is much older than she looks lol Not that we didn't already know that.

Anyway so that's all there is to know about Witch Child/Streghella. She's cute!

Warlock time!

Warlock is Streghella's brother. He's only in four comics total and they're mostly very early comics - his real name is just whatever Streghella's name was at the time but with an -o at the end. If she's Maghetta, he's Maghetto. If she's Maghina, he's Maghino. You get it. He'd probably be Streghello if he had a named appearance more recently.

His personality is not very distinct from Streghella's. He's also magical and a troublemaker. In his first comic he arrives in the mail, in a, like...little jail cell? Crate? Idk? And then Magica and Mim eventually box both kids up into the crate and ship them away.

(Yes that's supposed to be him, apparently.)

He appears in the magic school comic as well...

And that's it! There's not really anything else to know about him.

Last but not least...the Witch of the West! Actually, that's a lie. Least. She appears just the one time. And I'm gonna be honest. I don't think she's the biological mother of these bird children.

'Cause yeah she's a human witch. Idk if she's from another Disney property or if she's supposed to be the witch from the Wizard of Oz. Idk man. But Streghella calls her "mama" and she refers to Streghella as her daughter so I'll take those ones literally.

There's nothing much to say about her - she doesn't have a name and all she does is drop her kid off with Magica and then reappear when Mim and Magica threaten to lock Streghella inside a bottle.

NOW if you're wondering...how do these characters connect to the previously known characters that are related to Magica De Spell?

They do not! The fact that Streghella has made a few recent appearances means you can decide how you want her to fit in, but trying to blend these different canons will not be seamless. You just gotta take what you like. Streghella frequently refers to herself as Magica's apprentice so you can always take that route, too.

Aaaaaaaaaand since you asked, I'm happy to talk about Matilda! God there are too many Matildas in duck comics. I have never met a woman named Matilda in my life. It's fine.

Matilda De Spell (not an official name but I call her that anyway) - Magica's teenage cousin! Is she actually, biologically, Magica's cousin? Probably not. But it's fiiiiiiine.

I did actually scanlate all three comics that Matilda appears in, so you can read them if you'd like:

There's not really anything to know about her outside of these comics. She's tomboyish, spunky, fun. Really looks up to Magica. I think their dynamic is fun and I always like to see more teen characters lol I think I've portrayed Matilda as Amelia De Spell's younger sister but that's definitely not canon, just me trying to stick the blondes together.

Anyway sorry this ended up being such a long response. I haven't had the opportunity to research random duck characters in a while. I hope this has the answers you wanted :)

#streghella de spell #matilda de spell #magica de spell #madam mim #streghello de spell #duck comics #topolino #thekrakenexperiment #carro answers #family tree #duck family tree

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marukrawler · 6 months

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Yeah there would need to be some reshuffling. I think many suggested Barry as Pyros as it would need minimal design alterations. Though it feels... a little boring ... you know. Ace can work as Aquos if we add Lancelot theme (lol) to his bakugan evolutions. We can even play with arthurian themes. Yes, it makes Mira his Arthur and we can pull so much from this. It doesn't matter that the original may not have been that deep. Doesn't matter.

it would mean no Marucho but! I think him having screentime in Gundalions was a right call because his Ren dynamics were good. So he is still represented. Mira must stay subterra for gus parallel purposes (and salt mines). Speaking of Gus, gus as bastard theory is good so maybe it would have worked as canon.

continuation of this ask and this ask.

couldn't help myself so i drew my version of pyrus!baron and aquos!ace ashjdjsksk

some notes:

pyrus for baron works surprisingly well with his energetic attitude and canon catchphrase 「激熱!」 gekiatsu! → "let's fire this up!"

added some tails to his headband. i was gonna replace the lightning bolt with flames but i can't draw flames so 😭pyrus symbol it is rip

his overall fit is pretty nice so i didn't want to change anything. although i didn't draw the rest of him, i can imagine swapping his pants and boots for dan's since dan won't be in the resistance in this au lol

ace was lucky enough to get some of shun's gender ambiguous swag. the gloves and exposed shoulders are an obvious reference to shun's resistance fit. kept the big sleeves bc that's ace's thing™️but he will have to fight hatsune miku for the trademark tho.

the rings in his hair are actually a reference to elyon from w.i.t.c.h. for no other reason other than i thought it'd look cool. but it also works because marucho's resistance outfit has a lot of circles on it.

could be nice if there was some lady of the lake stuff sprinkled into ace's ability cards especially after percival evolves into knight percival but alas, i know nothing about the legend of king arthur so im leaving this up to you guys lmao.

and yeah, i totally agree with you. marucho is really not needed for the first half of nv so i don't mind swapping him out for runo or alice. mira of course should stay because she started the resistance and she needs to be the driving force behind the whole bakugan liberation movement. the spectra/gus and mira/ace parallels would be even more pronounced with ace acting as mira's lancelot 🫣

as for the gus theory asjhdjksask i don't mind if it's there in a possible s2 rewrite or not. i feel like that kinda plot twist would need a reason to be there so i'll think about what it could mean for gus' character arc to be zenoheld's bastard child because it would change a lot.

#bakugan #this ask was sooooo overdue sorry it took so long ajsdhajskasjl

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nayialovecat · 7 months

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The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 31. Revival

Day 31. Revival Crossover: Bendy and the Dark Revival I'd say, Bendy, you can't be that rude... but I feel exactly the same way. I know it's not BATDR Bendy's fault that he is the way he is - but that doesn't change the fact that this is how I feel. So, if anyone else wants to ask me what I think about Ink Bendy from BATDR - I will refer to this image.

Yes, I consider it a crossover because I don't consider BATDR to be a sequel to BATIM in any way. It's a completely separate creation that is simply heavily inspired by BATIM. However, in places he rewrites the stories, changes the characters' personalities, adds new threads... This is not an expansion of the world. This is an alternative version of the Workshop - and you won't convince me to think otherwise. So a separate game with which I did a crossover called "Bendy doesn't like his alter-ego".

Actually, the only thing I like about Ink Bendy from BATDR is his voice. When I heard it first time, I felt a shiver down my neck... and then, unfortunately, I focused to the words - and all the charm was disappeared. Seriously. There are reasons why Bendy has been mute so far - and apparently the main one is how much he talks f**cking nonsense. I don't like the shape of his head. His hideous teeth, which are not scary - are disgusting. Hoofs instead of feet is a nice idea - but why both legs? Where is the wonderful asymmetry of the original? Why does he turn into a hedgehog (those spines in strange places - they make sense when they are spine vertebrae). No. Absolutely no. And what's with the skeleton arm? Someone used acid on his ink there?

As for the game itself... Uh... I was impressed at first. First chapter - great. New possibilities of moving the character, beautiful backgrounds, delightful details, an interesting ritual of starting the machine... I was delighted. My slight discouragement began when I first heard Wilson's voice over the speakers and the subsequent behavior of the Lost Ones afther that proclamation... In the second chapter, the game started to piss me off on a regular basis. Then I just watched gameplays and... I don't regret that I didn't keep playing. The game is frustrating, the characters are warped (but not in the realities of the game as they should be warped - warped from the ones we knew and liked). A lot of stupid things happen: Tom being treated like a pet, Wilson acting like a villain from the start, Allison being a fucking deus ex machina, Twisted Alice's death scene and Sammy's death - I hate them both, no physical Bendy (appears out of nowhere and instantly kills - a very lazy solution, game creators), Henry's whole entrance, that weird puppet character what's-her-name Betty... Ok, I like Porter's character a bit - but that's probably only because of his resemblance to my OC Brody.

So you've asked many times what my opinion of Dark Revival is. That's it: I hate this game. It killed my passion for creating SATIM and made me stop looking for images with BATIM on tumblr or on dA - 'cause people don't know how to hashtag and they tag BATIM when they make arts about BATDR. Okay, I'm not saying I have nothing but hatred for this game - but it disappointed me just in the way like BATDR Bendy is disappointment for SATIM Bendy in the picture. And it pisses me off when I see on dA that people add my art to folders called "Dark Survival", "BATDR art" or so. It's like a slap in my face.

That's why I made this picture as quickly as possible. An unspectacular finale - but I've been waiting to say this openly for a very long time, so appreciate the solemnity of this art.

And finally, something positive: I FINISHED ON TIME! Yeah, I did it again!

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. Bendy and the Dark Revival (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat

#The Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Sammy and the Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Dark Revival #BATIM #SATIM #BATDR #Bendy #Ink Bendy #Ink Demon #and that abomination from Dark Revival #well I regret nothing I said here #The Ink Demonth 2023 #crossover #I DID IT!#I DID IT AGAIN!

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gumnut-logic · 1 month

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Thinking of Scott and my headcanon that he’d have a multitude of kids, both blood and adopted, and I can’t help but compare him to Bruce Wayne…

I could so see Scott as Batman…

But.

But that got me thinking. Thinking of Virgil.

Virgil as Robin.

Adult Virgil.

In Robin’s outfit…

The tights…

Thank you for sending me an ask :D

I doubt this answers your question and really, I'm not sure what it is. I've seen a few Batman movies, old and new, but he's never really been my fav. I also haven't seen the Batfam series that I see bouncing all over Tumblr, so I really have very little knowledge of the Batman family you are referring to.

However, when I presented the concept to Virgil, this was the result. He didn't answer your question, but he definitely expressed his opinion. You have my apologies.

Have 900 odd words of weirdness ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

No.

This wasn’t happening.

What was he thinking?!

Virgil caught the elevator down to the hangars, ignoring the chill in the air as he strode out with a fist full of fabric. He stomped past the hulking mass of the ‘new, more effective’ Thunderbird. Slim, black as midnight, and decked out in all the stealth tech they had. She no longer even sounded like a Thunderbird…now more a creature of the silent night.

But he could paint it any colour he wanted, the rocket plane was still Thunderbird One.

Scott’s Thunderbird.

Their father’s Thunderbird.

As always, the thought of Dad clenched his heart. The reasoning behind all of this…this stupidity…was understandable and clear.

It just made it harder.

He jumped down the few remaining stairs and strode down into what had once been a storage cave.

The glow of electronic equipment outshone whatever darkness had originally been there.

A silhouette sat in the cacophony of electronic read outs.

Virgil set his feet down hard and straightened his spine.

“Scott Carpenter Tracy!”

The silhouette rotated slowly on the office chair he had designated command central. Blue and green lit up a face shadowed by life and tragedy. “What do you want?”

“I’m not wearing this!” He threw the fistful of fabric in his brother’s face.

Scott didn’t even flinch, letting the material hit his face and drop into his lap. Calm eyes, ever so dark, looked up at him. “Why not?”

“Because it’s stupid!” He gestured around the room. “This whole thing is stupid.” He drew in a breath. “Do you think Dad would have wanted this?”

Scott shot to his feet far too smoothly, belying the weight the man had lost rotting down here in his ‘batcave’. “Dad wanted to save people. And they killed him for it.”

“So, you’re doing what? Skulking in the dark, sneaking around, seeing threat everywhere? For what purpose? What do you hope to achieve except losing your family.”

“He took our family! He killed Dad and with that…everything!”

“So we don’t matter?”

His brother stepped closer, his voice dropping into a whisper, his hand reaching up to cup Virgil’s face. “Of course you matter. You’re my brothers.” An indrawn breath. “I’m doing this for you. To protect you. All of you.” His voice caught. “I can’t lose any more.”

“But we can lose you?” His own voice broke. “We never see you any more. You’re distant with Allie, you argue with Gordon, and we’ve all lost John…he’s almost as bad as you, disappearing into the darkness. Scott, it’s all falling apart.” A steadying breath. “Dad would never have wanted this.”

Scott turned away, silent a moment while the room flickered dark light over his features.

He slowly bent down to pick up the crumpled fabric off the floor. “I wanted you with me, Virgil.” He turned, holding up the costume in one fist. “This was me offering you a place at my side.”

“As what? A vigilante? In tights?” He had tried it on. Tight was an understatement, he might as well parade around naked. That outfit wasn’t hiding anything. “I thought I always had a place at your side. That is where I’ve been all my life. Do I suddenly need tights to prove it?”

“Virgil-“

“I love you, Scott. More than you know. You are the centre of my world. I will follow you into hell itself. You know that.” A shaky breath. “This is me asking you not to go there.” He swallowed, so much hanging on this. “Please.”

“It’s just a costume-“

“You’re kidding me, right?” Grief fought with anger. “You’ve disassembled Dad’s dream, warped it beyond recognition-”

“How?! We’re still saving people!”

“No! I’m saving people. You’re playing judge and jury! We are not the police, Scott!”

“He’s out there! Someone has to step up and stop him! To save everyone, to save you, he needs to be stopped!”

“If this is what you are saving me for, then I don’t want saving.” There was such bitterness in Virgil’s voice, it chilled even him. “Please, Scott.” Please. “Come home.”

His brother turned away and Virgil’s heart broke.

“I have to do this.” It was little more than breath.

Virgil swallowed and straightened again. he knew he would follow his brother. He meant it when he said he would follow Scott into hell.

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight to save his brother with tooth and nail.

“Dad said everyone was worth saving. Even Gaat.”

His brother snarled. “Get out.”

“Scott-“

“I said get out!”

Virgil stood his ground. “Make me.”

It was a play on trust, one Virgil was terrified he was beginning to doubt. Scott had never raised a hand to him, ever. But this man, consumed by his obsession with Gaat, was not the man he had grown up with.

When Scott didn’t answer, a glimmer of hope sparked in Virgil’s heart.

But then his brother turned away and sat back down at his parade of monitors and simply refused to engage. He ignored Virgil as if he didn’t exist.

Virgil’s heart slowly sunk into his belly. But he stood there for a long time, desperate for a glimpse of the brother he knew.

But the silhouette just sat staring at the monitors tracking activity across the planet, waiting for a sign to launch.

For a situation.

For a signal.

Eventually Virgil turned and slipped away, the battle lost for yet another day.

But there would be more days and more battles, and as long as Virgil lived, he would fight.

To save his brother.

Because that is what he did.

Everyone was worth saving.

Especially those he loved.

And especially from themselves.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #nuttyfic #though not my best #Virgil isn't very happy #this is no where as light-hearted as it should be

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trashyswitch · 1 year

Text

Luigi's Secret

Chapter 2: 2 Plumbers Vs The Princess

Mario tells Peach all about their morning after work, and it ends up resulting in a big tickle fight between the three. Who ends up winning? Let's find out!

CHAPTER 2 IS OUT BABY! And today's also my 15th adoption anniversary! Meaning today was the day I walked into the court room an orphan, and walked out of the court room with a forever family! So I wanna dedicate this fanfic to my parents, my brother, and my extended family and friends. It's insane how one single day can change everything. I love you all so much, and I look forward to many more years of love, fun and happiness.

After their silly morning, Luigi managed to get his phone back and read through the story. The truth was, the fanfic Mario was reading, happened to include a specific theme that Luigi was quite embarrassed about enjoying. Mario was already making fun of Luigi for reading fluffy, unrealistic stories…so if he found out about this specific theme, then…who knows how Mario would react!

Luckily, Mario had stopped reading only a couple lines before the secret theme of the fanfic had been revealed to him. What was that theme exactly?

Well…Tickling. Tickling was the theme. The story Luigi was reading was a tickle fanfiction. Or, tickle fanfic, as the internet usually shortened the basic concept so it was easy to say. While the story Mario read for the moment was about some Roman guy conjuring up cute puppies, the fanfic would change into a tickle fanfic later on, that involved too many puppies dog-piling Patton and tickling him to death. So the fact that Mario stopped reading before that, was a huge stroke of luck for Luigi.

And before you ask, yes…tickle fanfics exist. Not only that, but there is a whole community of people (mostly teens and adults) who drew, wrote, and chatted about different characters being ticklish while coming up with realistic scenarios where tickling each other would be incorporated.

This community was called the Tickle Community…because duh.

And telling by what you saw this morning…Luigi was secretly a part of that community…and he would rather take this secret to his grave, then let his brother find out about this…as would almost everyone in this entire community. Everybody in this community had roughly the same mindset: READ MY MIND, and GIVE ME TICKLES. Because as much as everyone in this community wanted to have tickle fights, NO ONE WANTED TO BRING IT UP, OR ASK. Because judgment is the ultimate enemy.

Like in every other community, there is slang they liked to use. Short forms of words that showed their preferences within the community. But there are 3 main slang words: Ticklee, Tickler, and switch. People in the community will often shorten two of these words. Ticklee to lee, and tickler to ler. Switch usually remains the same.

A lee is a person who likes being tickled by others. They often enjoy different types of teases, and get highly embarrassed whenever people refer to tickling in any way. Even the word ‘tickle’ will make them burn up and cower in embarrassment…but this is just code for “Please tickle me I’ve been waiting my whole life for this”. Lees often imagine themselves being tickled by certain people they trust and love…and when tickling casually shows up in the media, lees are secretly wishing they could experience that same playfulness too…to the point where it affects them psychologically. Lees have 1 hyphenated word in common: Touch-starved. They are all touch-starved in one way or another. So if you see a lee in their natural habitat, consider getting to know them and helping them out…they may love you forever.

A ler is a person that enjoys tickling others. They often enjoy coming up with fun teases and games to play with their lees. Lers often enjoy seeing their lees in giggly moods of embarrassment. They often find it endearing, cute, and funny all at the same time! Lers also seem to enjoy feeling like the one on top. For some reason, lers often represent themselves as a step up from lees...As if they had a leg up in the situation. Which…they kinda do? Let me explain: If you put the 3 words in a pyramid hierarchy, you will see that lers are always at the top of the pyramid. Switches are in the middle, and lees are at the bottom. However, the lees must always be treated with more respect than the lers, because of their position in the community…Because if it weren’t for lees, then the lers and the switches would be forever alone. So…thank your lees next time you see them.

A switch is a person who switches between being the ler and being the lee. Most of the time, switches express their switching through percentages based on how often they are in lee moods, or ler moods. Example: 70% ler, 30% lee. They are in ler moods 70% of the time, and they are in lee moods the rest of the time. You often have to ask them what mood they are in, to determine what side they want to take. But lers must fear switches…because they can go from a cute little lee mood, to the ultimate ler mood in the flip of a switch. And using their experience in both leeing and lering, they can often put the most evil ler into a lee mood in a few minutes and change things up. The reality is, switches should be on the top of the pyramid, but they are not because they are too powerful to be given such responsibilities. Either way, never mess with a switch.

Now Luigi…He would say that he is a switch. More specifically, 50% ler, 50% lee. Being the younger brother often meant he was usually the lee between the two brothers…but thanks to their height differences, Luigi has often changed roles.

But thanks to his brother’s evil shenanigans this morning, Luigi was stuck in a never-ending lee mood…and he was NOT okay…

And to make things worse? Mario had decided to tell Princess Peach about their embarrassing morning.

“And then- then the dude has the AUDACITY to tell me he’s ‘taller, and cooler, and therefore smarter’ than me! Like- He was just asking for it!” Mario reacted.

“Mario…” Luigi groaned, covering his face in embarrassment. “What?! It’s true!” Mario added.

Princess Peach giggled. “I mean…the ‘taller’ thing isn’t wrong…” Peach teased.

Luigi raised his head up and gasped. “YES! See?! Peach gets it!” Luigi reacted, pointing to Peach.

Mario narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about it, Princess.” Mario warned.

“Why not, shorty? Think you’re strong enough to fight me?” Peach asked.

Mario growled and rolled up his sleeves as he got closer to her. “You messed with the wrong plumber.” Mario warned again.

Peach smirked and picked up Mario under the armpits. “Oh, I know not to mess with Luigi. That’s why I’m taking his side instead!” Peach declared as she wrapped her left arm around Mario’s middle.

“HEY! PUT ME DO-OOOOOHOHOOO! WAHAHAHA! WAHAhahahait nohohoho!” Mario yelled, throwing his head back and cackling in her arms.

“Awww, look at this! The other brother’s just as ticklish! Maybe even more!” Peach teased.

Luigi chuckled and just watched the two of them for a moment. “Y-Yeah…He kinda is.” Luigi muttered.

“But which side is more ticklish?” Peach asked as she wrapped both her arms around Mario. “This side?” She squeezed his right side.

This earned her a squeak, followed by a fit of laughter from the boy. “STAHAhahahap! Leheheave mehehe alohohohone!” Mario reacted.

“Or this side?” Peach squeezed his left side next.

Mario kicked his feet and squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to cover up his face as giggles and laughter left his lungs.

“Not so tough and mighty now, are you, Mario?” Peach teased.

Luigi could quickly feel the blush just filling his own cheeks. And he himself wasn’t even the one being teased! And yet, his stupid mind was making him all blushy and embarrassed. Maybe this was his way of showing empathy for his brother?

Or maybe this was…something else…

“LUIHIHIGI HEHEHELP MEHEHE!” Mario yelled. “DOHOHON’T JUHUST STAHAHAHAND THEHEHERE!” Mario ordered.

Luigi widened his eyes and shook himself out of his momentary trance. Mario was right! He should not just be standing here! “Hold on, Mario! Imma coming!” Luigi declared, running over.

Peach looked behind her out of the corner of her eye. “You, so much as touch me, and I will tickle you even more than I’m tickling Mario at this moment.” Peach warned with a smirk.

Luigi paused and thought for a moment. Now, any other person would choose not to help at that point…Cause who wants to face the punishment?!

But Luigi…Luigi was not that type of guy. So Luigi resumed his run back up to Peach, and started tickling her sides. “I’ve gotcha now!” Luigi declared.

Peach yelped and jolted up, dropping Mario in the process. Then, Peach turned to look at Luigi with shock. “Did you just-”

Luigi quickly caught his brother and placed him down. “There you go, Mario.” Luigi told him.

Mario was breathing somewhat heavily, but managed to get out a ‘thank you’ before patting his back. Luigi then turned around to face Peach, and crossed his arms with a smirk. “And yes. I just did, Princess.” Luigi declared.

Peach smiled in both shock, and excitement. “Ohoho, I can now understand what Mario meant.” Peach reacted, wiggling her fingers at him. “You really ARE asking for it~” Peach teased.

Luigi’s confidence flew away from him in a single heartbeat. He gulped a slight bit at the wiggling fingers, before backing up slowly. “Ohokay, maybe I made a small-” Luigi shrieked as he tripped over something, falling onto his back.

Mario chuckled and brought his leg back to his chest. “Payback.” Mario teased.

Luigi widened his eyes and looked at Mario with confusion. “Wha- Mario, I saved you!” Luigi yelled, showing utter betrayal as he got up onto his feet again.

“You took too long!” Mario argued.

Suddenly, something grabbed at Luigi’s sides from behind him. Luigi squeaked and clamped his arms to his sides, suddenly bursting out into helpless giggles. “eEEHEHEhehehee!” Luigi giggled, covering his mouth.

“Now I’ve got YOU~!” Peach tripped Luigi down, and literally started dragging him across the grass with both her arms under his arms.

“EEEEP! WAIT-WAITNO-” Luigi yelled, struggling in her grip and attempting to get out. But quickly taking his position under consideration, Luigi moved his hands back behind him and squeezed her sides without even looking.

“eEEK!” Peach squealed, almost dropping him in the process. “YOU-”

“What? You should’ve looked where you’re goi- OHNO!” Luigi reacted as he was thrown to the ground.

“Now let’s see which brother has the most ticklish sides.” She declared as she started squeezing both of Luigi’s sides at the same time.

Luigi threw his head back and bursted out cackling almost right away. “HAHAHAHAhahahaha! EEEEHEHEHEEK NAHAHAhahahahaha!!” Luigi laughed, kicking his legs wildly.

“Oooooh! I think we know who the clear winner is~!” Peach teased.

“It’ll always be Luigi. He’s more ticklish than me.” Mario added.

Peach giggled. “I thought we established that you’re more ticklish?” Peach reminded Mario.

“You didn’t tickle him yet. So you’ll have to be the judge of that.” Mario told her with a smirk. “MAHAHARIO SHUHUHUSSHHH!” Luigi yelled.

“Only one way to find out:” Peach moved her fingers over to Luigi’s hips, and started digging in with her thumbs.

Luigi let out a HUGE squeal, before spazzing out and absolutely ROARING with newfound laughter.

“Well…I can already tell who’s more ticklish.” Peach teased, slightly shocked at Luigi’s voice flexibility.

Luigi whined and covered up his face in pure embarrassment. He was already such a blushy mess at this point, it wasn’t even funny anymore…At least, to Luigi. To Mario and Peach? It was HILARIOUS!

“Ahahawww! He’s all embarrassed! How much cuter can you possibly get?!” Peach teased.

Mario dropped his jaw and frowned. “HEY!”

Luigi tried to mumble something against his hands. “Mhmhmmm mmmm MMMMm!” Luigi mumbled.

Peach giggled at this. “I’m sorry, what was that?” Peach teased.

Luigi uncovered his face and started hugging himself. “IHIHI’M NOHOHOHOT CUHUHUHUTE!” Luigi yelled.

Peach laughed. “He says with his face all red.” Peach teased.

“Shhhhuhuhush.” Luigi mumbled, shaking his head with pure embarrassment. As much as he liked the tickles, the teases were beginning to drive him up the wall.

Peach smirked before looking at Mario. “Any suggestions for tickle spots?” She asked.

Mario chuckled. “Oh yes. Belly button, ribs, armpits, Luigi’s basically a walking ticklish spot.” Mario told him.

Luigi whined and shook his head again. Mario had just told the princess every single ticklish spot on his body…and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, then I don’t know what is.

“Oh! And if you try this…” Mario walked up and sat down beside her. He wiggled his fingers at Luigi before bringing them mere millimeters from his ribs. Luigi squealed and covered his face again, already giggling up a storm. The man wasn’t even being touched, and was already a giggly little mess.

Peach tilted her head. He…wasn’t touching his ribs…and yet, the man was giggling and laughing as if he WAS!

Peach stared at Luigi, before looking at Mario. “How are you doing that?” Peach asked.

Mario chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Sometimes you don’t even have to tickle him in order to get him laughing.” Mario replied. “But when you touch down like this,”

Mario finally placed his skittering fingers all over Luigi’s ribs, And poor Luigi uncovered his face and guffawed with surprise cackles.

“Yohou get…the most happy little reaction out of him.” Mario replied, sounding like he genuinely loved hearing his brother’s laugh.

“But what if he tries to get you back?” Peach asked with a smirk.

“Oh! Then I just do this:” Mario took in a big breath and blew a large raspberry onto his brother's ribs.

“eEEEEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Luigi screamed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“That usually stops him from trying anything else.” Mario finished with a laugh.

Peach giggled and watched as Luigi slowly fell into a breathless state. He curled up into a ball, and took in breaths to try and recover from the heavy tickle attack.

“So…having any regrets?” Peach asked, poking his side.

Luigi giggled and attempted to push her hand away. “Quihihit ihit.” Luigi mumbled.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Peach told him.

As much as he loved the tickling, he knew he was gonna need a break soon. So Luigi nodded his head, and said what she wanted to hear. “Yehehehes. Ihihi regrehet ihihit.” Luigi replied.

Peach smirked and gently squeezed his hip. “Good.”

Luigi kicked his feet like a little ballerina, letting out a couple more giggles before going breathless again.

Mario chuckled. “So you’ll keep fighting against me, but you’ll give up for Peach?” Mario teased.

Luigi groaned. No matter what Luigi did, Mario always seemed to find a way to make fun of the man…and it was just not fair.

“It’s because you’re not nearly as scary.” Peach teased.

Mario looked at Peach with shock. “Is that so?!” Mario reacted.

Peach bursted out laughing at Mario’s reaction alone. Luigi couldn’t help the little laugh that left his own mouth too.

Mario only smiled and shook his head. “We’re all gonna have a long talk about this later.” Mario decided before offering his brother a hand. “Need help up?” Mario asked.

Luigi nodded and took his hand.

But when Mario started to pull, Luigi gave a quick little surprise tug.

“WaAH!” Mario yelped as he fell right into Luigi’s arms. “Luigi!” Mario yelled.

Luigi started tickling his brother’s belly and ribs, while cheering excitedly. “Reveeeenge!” Luigi declared. “Reveeeenge is miiiine!”

Mario squeaked and wiggled around in his brother’s arms, laughing helplessly while he threw his arms around and kicked his feet. “LUHUHUIGIHIHI GAHAHAhahahahaha!” Mario laughed.

“You shoulda seen this-a coming, Mario~” Luigi teased.

“You just don’t know when to stop…do you?” Peach asked.

“Nope! We could do this all day.” Luigi replied.

“MAHAHAYBE YOHOHOU COHOULD, BUHUT NOHOHOHOT MEHEHE!” Mario yelled back.

Peach smirked and gently separated the brothers. “How about I end this once and for all?” She offered.

Luigi looked up at Peach with confusion, before widening his eyes as he was grabbed by the collar. Peach then held Mario in one hand, and Luigi in the other. With both boys in her arms, Peach started tickling both their bellies at the same time.

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHahahahaha! PEHEHEACH WHYHYHY?!” Luigi cackled, wiggling around slightly.

“WAHAHAIT NOHOHOHAHahahaha! WAAAHAHAhahaha stahahahap!” Mario laughed, kicking his feet helplessly.

“Now I’ve got TWO ticklish boys in my hands! No one can stop me now!!” Peach declared proudly.

And so ultimately, Peach ended up winning this round against the two brothers. But it wasn’t just Peach that won…Luigi also managed to get the reward he really wanted. 2 tickle fights in one day?! That’s absolutely unheard of! What are the chances of that casually happening?!

…Very low, as it would turn out.

#tickle fight #luigi's secret #teasing #raspberries #brotherly bonding #3 person tickle fight #ticklefic #switch!mario #switch!luigi #switch!peach #fluff

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