#yet another tycutio au

[simstraffikcone]

Knightbalt

[alleyskywalker]

NEW R&J / RetJ Fics

Banality - 1,303 - PG - Montacrew OT3 Toho RetJ canon. The boys clean up and regroup after yet another fight with the Capulets.

Love Like a Phoenix - 611 - PG - Tycutio After Romeo and Juliet are married, Verona is reborn. And so is another love story.

Masquerade for Peace - 386 - PG - Montacrew (gen) AU fix-it. The Montacrew prepare for a masquerade party.

The Old Oak - 1,067 - PG - Montacrew (gen) Benvolio reminisces on the boyhood games he used to play with his best friends.

[aki-draws-things]

heyyy i've been binging your fics lately and i just love them so much hhhhh 💖 may i request, for the BTHB: mercutio/[surprise me] for 'slowly running out of air'? i love me some angsty merc, so please don't hold back :3

@theofficialiwillalwaysbealone

Hello dear!! I’m so happy you liked the other fics  💖💖

I’m not used to write Mercutio as the main one, he’s kinda complicate. (That’s why I ended up turning things up... sorry about that!) I hope it will be fine nevertheless.

Also... I have this AU in mind that really doesn’t want to leave me alone...

Prompt: Slowly running out of air

Fandom: Romeo et Juliette

Ship: Tycutio (and a bit of Death/Tybalt because yes. That’s the new AU.)

@badthingshappenbingo

Mercutio was scared. Scared like never before in his life, scared for his life. Him! The one person in Verona who claimed there was nothing that could scare him, he was terrified.

It was strange; despite the fear he couldn’t help himself but feel drawn to the man, a pull he couldn’t fight not even if he wanted to. - Somehow he didn’t want to. -

“Come with me.” His voice was soft, sweet, Mercutio swore he could taste it on his tongue, his fingers long and cold, brushing on his cheek gently. Inviting.

Mercutio gasped softly and held his breath without realizing, like a spell suddenly fell on him.

He was so beautiful, so ethereal, so unreal. Mercutio wanted to follow him. And he did. He stood and let the man guide him. “How could anyone could even think of deny him that?” He wondered.

“Mercutio?” Tybalt dropped on his knees beside him. There was nothing. No wounds, no signs of a fight or a sickness, absolutely nothing but him. Breathing slower every passing minute, weakly gasping for air every now and then, his face pale, his lips blue. Why? How?

Come with me.

It felt like a dream, Tybalt’s attention shifted briefly from the dying man in his arms to the eerie voice he was sure he heard. - Mercutio moaned, he trashed slightly in his arms, his breath froze for a moment. -

Join me.

“No…” Tybalt whispered, not in fear, no, he stopped being scared long time ago. “Don’t. Don’t take him. Don’t take him. Don’t!”

Mercutio hit the ground, he would have yelped in pain if he had been conscious, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t even breathing anymore in truth.

Tybalt felt suddenly small. Like the first time he stepped in that gray and white and silver space. At the time he really was small, and young, barely seven years old. He still felt small now, many many years later, stepping into it willingly. - How, he would never be able to explain. - He looked around spotting the familiar red hair of Mercutio and –

“Why him?” He sounded small too. So childish and young and naive. He clenched his fists and stared ahead. “Why him?” He asked again and ran. Ran until he was standing right in front of Mercutio, beautiful Mercutio, almost shining in the fake light of the place, scared Mercutio, struggling Mercutio. Behind him the man had his hands set on Mercutio’s shoulders, his breath got caught in his throat as he stared at Tybalt, but he didn’t speak. He couldn’t. All the air left in him was for the body outside that unreal space, the real world, the living world. And even there he was left with so little air that he would soon die. And yet Tybalt wasn’t looking at him. - He wanted. Oh, God, he wanted so desperately. He wanted to tell him he was there to help him, to save him, to free him. He couldn’t. -

“Did you go tired of me already?” There was something in his tone, or maybe in the way he casted his look downward. Resignation, acceptance of the refusal. “He’s prettier than me, but it’s not fair.”

The man finally looked up, acknowledge his presence there and smiled.

Mercutio gasped softly, a hand shot up to his neck as he tried to breathe. Tybalt almost stretched out a hand. He almost took his face in his hands. He almost kissed him. Almost.

“I thought you loved me.” He said instead. Staring at the man’s eyes was like staring at a silvery void, Tybalt knew that look, he knew those eyes so well.

“So does he.” And well he knew the voice too. And the cold touch of his fingers. For once he didn’t move away. He let the pale hand caress his cheek and lips.

“No. He thinks he does. He doesn’t, not really. Not like you do.” The man took a step, then another toward him, Mercutio dropped on the ground, or whatever one could call what was beneath their feet, hands clawing at his neck, coughing and trembling.

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question, the voice was just as cold as the hand and yet Tybalt couldn’t hear anger, his touch remained light and gentle. “You love him so much you’re willing to take his place.”

“Yes. Yes I do.” Tybalt thought. Mercutio gasped and fell on his side, his eyes almost rolled back in his head.

“Why should I love someone who won’t love me back?” He asked. He tilted his head just slightly so his cheek could fully touch the hand. “Why, when I have someone already?”

With a moan Mercutio stopped trashing, he fell limp on his side, eyes rolled back and showing only a bit of white. Tybalt leaned forward to the man forcing himself not to look at him.

He kissed him. Grabbed his head and dragged him against his lips, held him there by the hair, - Never violently, sudden, yes, but always gentle. - and when they parted Tybalt exhaled slowly, his body getting heavier and only the arm secured around his back prevented him from falling.

Come with me.

Everything turned a dazzling white.

Mercutio gasped. He opened his eyes and sit up as fast as he could coughing and taking in all the air he could get. If later someone would ask him what happened he would answer he didn’t know, he couldn’t remember. He would say there was a man in a silver coat, the most beautiful man he had ever seen. But nothing else. - He remember his lungs screaming for air. The man almost kissing him. He remembered Tybalt’s voice. -

He turned when he found out his lungs were still working as they were supposed to be, and he saw him. Tybalt. His Tybalt. Laying there, right beside him, laying on his stomach with the face against the concrete. When he turned him on his back he fell limp in his arms like a doll. A broken doll.

If someone asked him what happened he would say Tybalt saved him. How, he didn’t know. From what he didn’t know either. But he saved him.

And still, sometimes, there was a voice, soft as silk and sweet as honey, whispering in the streets behind him.

Come with us.

It would say, but when Mercutio turned all he always felt was a cold wind and a suffocating feeling.

So he ran.

- Until one day he would turn, held out a hand in the empty alley and whispers back to the unknown. -

[tycutiovevo]

another tycutio prompt for @thatdreamersoftenlie (though i wouldn’t really call it tycutio, but eh whatever)

this is also one of several of my aus so i hope you enjoy it :0

38. “Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?” (send me prompts from here!)

 When he’d been hired for the job, he expected it to be fairly straightforward: find the dragon that was terrorizing the kingdom, enter its lair, and kill the beast.

 Tybalt had not expected to be held captive by a giant reptile that thought it was funny.

 “Oh come on, little knight, not even a tiny chuckle?” The dragon laughed, baring its deadly fangs.

 Tybalt simply glared, unable to do anything from his position. Clearly, the dragon had expected him because as soon as he entered the cave it had scooped him up in its talons. Its grip wasn’t tight enough to suffocate him, luckily, but he still couldn’t move. And now he was being subjected to jokes, of all things.

 “Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?” The dragon asked, but it didn’t seem bothered. Amused was the word Tybalt would use, but he didn’t know why it would find Tybalt’s attitude funny.

 “I could scorch you, you know, so you might want to humor me, tiny one.”

 “I think I’d prefer that,” Tybalt muttered, and the dragon let loose a puff of amused smoke.

 “I like you,” The dragon said, setting Tybalt on the floor. Tybalt’s hand moved toward his sword, but at this point, he knew he couldn’t beat the dragon physically. He’d have to try something else.

 “Tell me something, knight, why do they send such puny fighters to face me? I mean, all humans are small compared to me, but you’re absolutely minuscule,” The dragon mused, piercing yellow eyes fixed on Tybalt.

 “You can blame that on genes,” Tybalt replied, deadpan. His reply must’ve been funny to the dragon, however, as a noise erupted from the beast. It was halfway between a growl and a laugh, but it was close enough.

 “Yes, I suppose that’s the blame. Are you really the best they could send, though? I’ve handled more, well, physically imposing knights before you. They must be running out.”

 “You have an unfair advantage, dragon. If it was a fair fight, I’m sure I could beat you easily,” Tybalt wished he’d kept his mouth shut, now he was just inviting the dragon to eat him.

 “A fair fight, hm?” If the dragon had eyebrows, they’d probably be raised. “I think that could be arranged.”

 Tybalt didn’t like the sound of that, but it was too late. Before he could think to make a move, the dragon was standing fully upright, looking ready to shoot a jet of flames. Instead, it looked as if the dragon’s form was collapsing, its wings and tail shrinking and its features becoming shorter. Tybalt thought he might be terrified of what was happening if he wasn’t so shocked.

 Almost as soon as the transformation started, it was over. In the place of the terrifying dragon stood a person, or what appeared to be a person, anyway. Purple scales dotted their face and body like freckles, and their eyes were still the same golden yellow as before.

 And, they were also naked. Tybalt reflexively covered his eyes, feeling his face grow hot.

 “Oh, you humans and your ‘decency rule’,” The former dragon grumbled. “You just watched me transform from a twenty-foot dragon into a man and me being naked bothers you!? Unbelievable.”

 Tybalt would’ve told him that it was courteous to give someone privacy when they weren’t dressed, but he didn’t think he’d care.

 “Alright, you can look now,” He said, and Tybalt moved his hands from his face. The man was now dressed (in raggedy, sooty clothes, but still dressed) and he was also holding a sword. “You said you wanted a fair fight, so I’m willing to let you have one. Only because I know I can beat you, of course.”

 Tybalt smirked. Now the playing field was level. “And you’re sure of that? Even though I’m short, I think I can still outmatch you with a sword,” He pulled his own sword out of its scabbard, gripping it in his right hand.

 “Well, we aren’t even quite yet,” The man said, a toothy grin spreading across his face. “You still have armor on. If you really want this to be fair, you’ll need to take it off~.”

 “Excuse me?” Tybalt asked in disbelief. “How do I know you can’t still breathe fire?”

 “Don’t be ridiculous, I can’t breathe fire like this,” The man scoffed. “Besides, you wanted this to be fair. I can still turn back to a dragon, you know.”

 Tybalt mumbled something about dragons being unreasonable under his breath before he sighed, taking off his armor. If it kept him from being eaten alive, he decided he’d think about this stupid decision later. Once the last piece of armor was off, Tybalt picked up his sword once more, ready for a fight. “Better?”

 “Yes,” The man smiled, noticeably eyeing Tybalt a little closer than he wanted. “Now we can fight properly,” He pointed his sword at Tybalt, taking a ready stance. “If you manage to escape once I’ve beaten you, you can tell every human that no man can beat the feared dragon Mercutio.”

 Ah, now there was a name to the man’s scaly face. Interesting for a dragon to reveal that, though. Tybalt copied Mercutio’s stance, at the ready for whatever the dragon thought he could throw at him.

 “We’ll see about that.”

[simstraffikcone]

Companion piece to this one

Tybalt Capp in my probably very cliché, very soft au where Tycutio reunites later in life, by happenstance. The AU where Tybalt’s life all goes according to plan. Albeit his grandfather's, not his own. Until it doesn't. Now he's a single dad, in a job he hates, in some branch of the family company far away from Veronaville.

Seeing Mercutio again throws a bigger wrench in his plans to somehow recover his life. Because now he really doesn't want to go back to how it was. Trying to fit in a mould that was never really his shape to begin with.

Bonus:

Tybalt is wrapped around his daughter's little finger. His toe nails are probably painted and really glittery because of her.

Bro will work on an extra six hours for fifteen minutes to see his little girl's play, where she's a tree for all of twenty seconds.

He's really not prepared for Mercutio to make a reappearance in his life.

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Dadbalt

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"Don't be ridiculous, of course, I'm not in love with..."

"...him."

"What have you done."

[simstraffikcone]

Mercutio Monty in my probably very cliché, very soft au where Tycutio reunites later in life, by happenstance. Neither of them really where they had seen themselves when they had last seen each other.

Companion piece

Bonus little Tybalt reaction

[aki-draws-things]

How it all began

In all fairness, many years later, Prince Escalus would claim it as an unfortunate mistake, he who always spoke of control and attention and justice made a mistake.

It started when a man killed another, for sure not the most uncommon thing in Verona but that particular time it led to vengeance. It led to Lord Montague coming to his palace in the first lights of the day to claim – Claim! At him! The Prince! - Lady Capulet’s brother death. If he wasn’t the Prince he would’ve probably sighed, maybe even groaned at his so called claim, possibly turned his back at him and went back to sleep since the bells had yet to sound the beginning of the day. Instead he had to sit there listening to Lord Montague embellished story of how Lady Capulet’s brother killed his dear cousin. How else could he describe it if not embellished? As Lord Montague called the young man a monster, hungry of innocent blood, selfish and – well, somehow he managed to call him monster and beast three more times.

In all fairness he really wanted to go back to sleep, he was tired and words escaped his mouth without him noticing them. They were just words, after all. Just words in a world where magic was led by words. How stupid he had been that day.

“I will not kill him. - Lord Montague was ready to start speaking once again, face red in fury. - If I had to kill every man for every killing both your families and this feud would be over decades ago. He will die, not at my hand or at yours, - he quickly added. - I curse them and their monstrous actions.” He waved his hand to send the man away and forgot of that morning.

But magic ran deep in his family and blood, and words held much more power than what a common man could even begin to understand. Words had to be careful, thoughts had to be spoken in the right way and curse, oh, curse should have been forbidden centuries ago.

No one ever find out how the man died, one day he had been found floating in the river with no wounds and a look of terror imprinted in his still wide open eyes. The Prince thought nothing of it. Men drop dead everyday, one more, one less, it didn’t make a difference for him.

But he had a wife, waiting for their first child, only the closer relatives knew what happened. Died while giving birth to the boy, the rest of the Capulet said. Except they never called him, it, a boy, or a child. No, they called it the beast.

She went mad, even more mad than what she already was after the death of her husband, grabbed the wailing baby and pushed him in the water screaming at him to shut up, to stop crying, to die in silence for he was not her son. Three days later she died, the boy, a little thing, smaller than a normal baby, curled up against her side, small golden ears tucked back and the short tail curled against his legs.

In all fairness the Prince didn’t know what happened after he spoke those words in a sleepy, distracted voice. It had been a mistake.

And that mistake led to stories and legends of a beast living under the Capulet’s roof and howling in their gardens, guarding the roses.

A legend and nothing else. Or so they said.

[Just as information, I’m writing that beauty and the beast AU with Tycutio but I realised there was something missing so now I’m fixing it.For now, here’s to you all how it began, with no names or anything, really.  And no, the so called beast is actually a lovely kitten. How can people be scared of him?]