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Thinking about....... Sun Onceler.........
#sometimes the sun is a twink and he loves you and he refuses to leave your brain apparently#he's just so fun! what if instead of knitting thneeds he spins water into clouds! and they can be anything bc they can be any shape!#i realize in hindsight i have a tendency to make characters that embody some aspect of nature and may or may not be a deity lol#so maybe the others could make an appearance! sunler playing a lyre or smth singing about them#the stars and how she knows the fate in the cards#the siblings summer wind and rain#the beast and her orchard#but of course ending with how he's totally cooler and more important than everyone else#and it turns out apollo is not only the god of the sun but also of art and music so it really fits him methinks!#i doubt i could ever pull off running an askblog. however#i like the idea of him causing mischief. oh someone wants this thing to happen? let's make it a game!#keep your friends close from epic comes to mind#i don't have much in the way of story but. there are these two scenes in my head that are SO good#i wanna talk about em so badddd but i don't wanna spoil in case i do something with em#but i will say that one of them is a really really fun reference >:D#and the line “RED IS THE NEW GOLD”#but anyways i think an important part of him is that he loves people. he loves these silly little humans running around more than anything.#because all of this ultimately stems from the idea of the sun missing you when you've been inside for a long time#wanting things to get better for you and being there to celebrate the little victories yknow?#my nonsense
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arin. (vine boom)
#my art#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago united#arin ninjago#cole brookstone#lloyd garmadon#jay is there but only for a split second so i’m not giving him an official tag#i’m playing in the space! i’m making shit up!#i like the idea that he could be a em of wind but i also like the idea that he’s an em of space#i mean. new color. realm shit. yellow baby on the bounty?#that’s just a theory. a lego theory :D#in the end. my controversial take is that he’s silly
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— FARE THEE WELL
PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader
SUMMARY — You're a barmaid who had a fling with a noble knight a few moons ago. Now he comes back for one more night to spend with you before he leaves to join the war.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s based on the idea for a fic by @peachysunrize that I really liked and since I usually write wife!Readers and noble born Readers in this Universe, it felt nice to explore a new trope. I couldn't help myself to make it a bit angsty as well, for which I am sorry... 🙈
WARNINGS — angsty ending, SMUT, bath sex, slight choking
WORD COUNT — 5,420
🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
FARE THEE WELL
It was a nice and peaceful afternoon at the Tavern where you worked. The sky was blue and clear with only a few clouds and a slight wind was messing with the reckless strands of your braided hair whenever you went outside with the mugs full of beer and bowls full of food for your customers.
“There are men coming,” your boss told you after walking downstairs. “I saw ‘em from the window. A few knights on the horses that will need water and hay. They have King Aegon’s banners,” he rubbed his hands together. “This war’s good for business,” he hummed to himself.
You only nodded at that and wiped your hands in your dirty apron. The war could be good for business indeed but it also meant lots of work with demanding knights and noblemen although you hoped for some generous tips if only you acted nice enough.
“Make it look presentable, will ya?” Your boss barked at you at the sight of the counter. The crumbs were scattered all over the surface and it was sticky from the beer.
You nodded obediently and cursed under your breath when he turned around. You collected all the crumbs with the side of your hand and threw them away into the bin nearby where you kept your waste before taking it out. Then, you began to clean the counter with the damp cloth.
Busy on taking care of every little sticky spot because your boss tended to be a perfectionist, you forgot about the men coming to the Tavern already. Therefore, when the doors opened loudly, you got startled and jumped in your spot before looking up.
Your eyes widened at the sight of the familiar looking armours. You had known once a man who was wearing armour like that – green and silver with golden ornaments and a symbol of the lighthouse on his chest. You had to blink a few times to snap back to reality.
“It is my favourite Tavern in these parts,” one of the men announced and your heart skipped a beat. Oh, you knew that voice but… Was it possible that it was your mind playing tricks on you?
He took his helmet off and rested it on his hip, holding it with his left hand as he ran his right hand through his auburn hair and you gasped.
Ser Gwayne Hightower. Oh, you knew that man.
It had been a few moons ago when you had met him. He had been staying with a Lord living nearby, discussing the matters such noble men usually discussed. He had been trying to explain it to you on those nights spent together in one of the rooms upstairs but you had never fully grasped it.
What you had understood from his story was that he was the eldest son of Otto Hightower who had been King Viserys’ Lord Hand at that time. He was running Oldtown in his father’s name and sometimes he travelled to different parts of Westeros to meet with the vassals and to make the new ones. You remembered that you had asked him about his wife but he had assured you of having none.
You could feel your cheeks heating up at all the shared memories from all those moons ago. You hadn’t expected to see him again ever in your life.
It was not like you were sharing bed with every man visiting your workplace. It was a Tavern, not a brothel and you were only a barmaid, not a whore. But Ser Gwayne was different. From the moment you had seen him, you had known he was special. Something about him was making you feel the way no other man had ever been able to make you feel. He was worth risking everything.
And to him you had been only another adventure, a girl to warm his bed while he was away from home. At least in the beginning. With time, after many nights spent together on talking and fucking, he had started to grow fond of you. He had admitted that himself. He had been confused by what he was capable of feeling towards a common barmaid. And you had been surprised by that as well.
His blue eyes searched the room and then he spotted you, right behind the counter. He smiled at you and walked up as you straightened your back, with the damp cloth still in your hand.
“Well, well, well, and look who’s here,” he looked you up and down with a smug smile. You furrowed your brow, a little confused by his approach. Not that you expected him to pick you up and spin you round. After all, you were no Lady, you were no Princess. “Cole?” He beckoned over another knight.
His armour was not a Hightower one but it was also grand. He had short black hair and big, brown eyes.
“That’s our new Hand of The King, Ser Criston Cole,” Ser Gwayne introduced you and you panicked at first. You had no idea if it was some jestering or was he serious, so you decided to bow down slightly and Ser Gwayne chuckled at you. “And that is my favourite… barmaid,” he introduced you and you swallowed a lump in your throat.
His arrival was not as sweet as his departure all those moons ago when he had nearly had tears in his eyes while kissing your hand goodbye. He had made you feel like a Lady then.
Now, he made you feel like a common whore. And that had to be what The Hand thought as well when he was nodding his head at you. Ser Cole didn’t spare you any more glance and he walked away to sit by one of the tables with other men.
“We shall stay here for the night,” Ser Gwayne informed you and your boss standing behind you.
“That is an honour, Ser,” your boss nodded. “What are you in need of?”
“We want food, beer, baths and rooms to sleep in,” Ser Gwayne threw a few coins on the counter carelessly. “Our horses require tending as well.”
“I’ll fetch them some water and hay,” you cleared your throat and put the cloth down before fixing the reckless hair strands on your hair and walking out as quickly as possible.
Ser Gwayne’s confused eyes followed you but you didn’t look back since you already had tears in your own. All those moons of remembering a sweet, chivalrous knight who had stolen your heart… All those moons of dreaming about him and missing him… The fantasies and memories had all been based on an illusion. It did not feel nice to realise that.
You entered the stables and saw beautiful, armoured horses. They looked very elegant and you were taking your time with petting and feeding them. You wanted to spend as much time in the stables as possible. It was quiet there and the horses would never hurt you the way certain humans would.
As you were caressing one of the horses gently with your hand and watching him eat with a soft smile upon your face, you heard footsteps behind you. You sighed, assuming it would be your boss or another barmaid he had sent after you. But no, when you turned around, you saw Ser Gwayne himself; his face lit up just slightly from all the candles inside the Tavern next to the stables. The sun had set already while you were with the horses.
“Do forgive my tardiness, good Ser,” you cracked a smile at him.
“Sweet darling, why are you addressing me like that?” He approached you and stood right behind you. His hands touched your arms as he breathed in your scent. You were confused.
“Me, Ser Gwayne? Hasn’t it been you treating me like a common whore? Why are you back here, Ser, by the way? Were the brothels all busy or perhaps is our King Aegon running out of coins in his treasure, so you wanted to go back to a silly barmaid who is giving herself to you willingly, free of charge?” You asked but it was not asked with anger – your voice was filled with hurt as you looked down.
“Aren’t you adorable,”Ser Gwayne only chuckled before leaning in to cup your chin and force your head to turn around, gently. You looked up at him and he joined your lips together in a sweet kiss.
You gave in immediately and you hated yourself for it but there was something so charming and alluring about that man… You couldn’t deny yourself a gentle kiss from his lips.
“My sweet,” he cooed to you, looking intensely at your face with so much adoration that you couldn’t believe that a man as noble as him was capable of it. Such a look on his face should be reserved for the Princesses or pretty Ladies he would win tournaments for. Certainly not for you. “I couldn’t possibly reveal how much you mean to me in front of everybody, could I?” He explained to you. “There has been no day for me without remembering you, sweet (Y/N),” he whispered and your name had never sounded so pretty in anyone’s lips.
Your name was usually shouted by men rushing you to bring them their orders faster or by your angry boss. You had never expected to actually get a taste of what it would be like to be a real Lady. But when Ser Gwayne was whispering your name in such a delicate manner, you suddenly were a noble woman and your heart was at peace.
It brought heat to your cheeks immediately and you looked away since his gaze was getting too intense.
“I have been thinking of you, too, Ser Gwayne,” you confessed. “I have been praying to the Warrior for you and… to the Maiden… for myself.”
“Oh, have you?” Ser Gwayne chuckled and bit on his lower lip. “If I removed your skirts, I would find your knees scratched then?” He teased you.
You were taken away by his straightforward words and you walked away from him to finish your work with the horses but he kept standing there and observing you.
“I am on my way to war. A real one like I have never experienced before,” he confessed. “A real one like I have been trained to take my part in ever since I was a child, wielding a wooden practice sword.”
“It is a dangerous war coming, Ser,” you nodded, focusing on pouring the water for the horses. You didn’t want to look up and meet his gaze because you would burst out in tears if you saw his face now. “People talk that the dragons shall dance in the sky and it will be nothing but blood and fire,” you mumbled out. You didn’t want Ser Gwayne to leave for such an awful, horrible war.
“You do realise then that simple men like me do not stand a chance,” he tried to be playful about it.
“I do not wish to speak of it, Ser,” you interrupted him and shook your head, sniffling your tears back.
“Me neither, sweet (Y/N). I want my one last night of peace… Or at least an illusion of it. And I couldn’t imagine it anywhere else other than here. With you,” he informed you and nodded his head before walking out of the stables.
This time you hurried with the horses and you came back inside the Tavern as fast as possible. Your boss gave you an unpleasant look.
“What has taken you so long?”
“They’re no common horses. They’re fancy,” you rolled your eyes at him, coming up with excuses. “They demand special treatment,” you chuckled.
Your eyes sparkled while letting out that laughter and you spotted Ser Gwayne by one of the tables. Your gaze met with his for a brief moment and your whole body filled with so much warmth and nostalgia that you nearly exploded right there, in the middle of that awful Tavern.
Ser Gwayne would forever remain your what if. What if you had been born a Lady. What if he had been born a peasant. You would still love him, of that you were sure. If he was a miller, a smith or a carpenter, you would marry him in a heartbeat and perhaps your lives would be much simpler than as a Lord and a Lady.
Ser Gwayne beckoned you over with a wave of his hand and you fixed your skirts before approaching him. Some of his men were staring at you as well but you only cared for his blue eyes. Here, in the light of the Tavern, he looked even better than in the stables.
“Are you busy mayhaps, fair maiden?” He winked at you and you were trying very hard not to roll your eyes at the question.
“Depends on what you’re asking of me, kind Ser,” you bowed your head slightly.
“We have a long road ahead of us,” he answered. “I would love a long and relaxing bath.”
From the corner of your eye, you saw some of his men smirking. You just nodded your head at his words.
“I shall ask one of the girls to prepare it for you, Ser,” you teased him, pretending to sound as serious and professional as possible.
“Oh, no, no, my sweetling,” Ser Gwayne reached his hand out to squeeze yours. “You shall go upstairs now and prepare me one,” he told you.
“If you insist, Ser,” you bowed your head and turned around with a soft smile to approach your boss who was busy counting money at the moment.
“Ser Gwayne asked me for a bath,” you informed him and he only nodded without even looking up at you as he dismissed you with a wave of his hand.
You grabbed your skirts in your hands and rushed upstairs where some other girls working at the Tavern were busy with preparing the rooms for the knights.
“Which chambers are Ser Gwayne’s?” You asked and one of them pointed at the ajar door at the other side of the corridor.
“I’ve just finished preparin’ it,” she informed you and you smiled at her.
“Ser Gwayne wants a bath,” you told her. “Go to the kitchen and bring me buckets with warm water.”
She nodded and hurried downstairs as you entered the chambers that were prepared for Ser Gwayne. They were one of the nicest ones that the Tavern had for the guests but you knew it had to be nothing compared to his chambers in Oldtown.
However, walking around those chambers was bringing memories to you as you smiled to yourself. All those moons ago he had been staying in these chambers as well for some nights. And perhaps for him those were just dirty rooms at some common Tavern but to you those were the fanciest chambers you had ever slept in.
Your dreamy pacing around was interrupted by the arrival of a few girls carrying buckets with warm water. They placed it on the floor and went back to their other duties as you approached the bathtub and began filling it. You sat on the edge and took your time with it like you had before with the horses. You wanted to cherish every moment of that sweet gesture you were doing – taking care of Ser Gwayne. Like a wife would.
Well, perhaps noble wives were not known for such activities. But if you were peasants like you had imagined before, you would be the one responsible for preparing his baths every other day. And you would do it gladly, without complaints. You would love to take care of him when he’d be back from work, dirty and tired. But none of that would matter since you would have him for yourself and you would have him every day, falling asleep in his arms and waking up in them.
The door opened slightly with a squeak and you looked up to see Ser Gwayne himself walking inside with a loving smile.
“You look really domestic like that,” he told you before closing the door behind him.
“Do I, good Ser?” You asked with a sad smile as you dipped your fingers in the water to check its temperature.
“Will you help me to undress?” He asked of you and you nodded, although awkwardly.
You were not familiar with all those armour pieces, however you had a small experience in taking them off of him already. You approached him and started to work on his armour piece by piece, painfully slowly. You were glad the water your friends had brought was boiling hot because you didn’t want him to whine about it being too cold later but you also didn’t want to rush this moment.
“Your fingers are so soft,” Ser Gwayne pointed out when you were working on a chest piece. “Softer than my squire’s for sure,” he chuckled.
“I know it is surprising for a commoner to have soft hands, Ser, but I work a lot in the kitchen and the butter tends to soften the skin,” you explained.
“You must look pretty in the kitchen,” Ser Gwayne pointed out and you looked up at him, questioningly. “With flour on your cheeks and nose, busy little bee,” he explained.
“Who would have thought that a noble knight would be into that,” you commented with a smirk.
“There is still a lot you ought to learn about me, (Y/N),” he whispered. “Would you cook or bake something for me if I asked you to?”
“I would bake you bread and those cakes you liked so much the last time you were here,” you looked up to meet his gaze. He blushed a little at the remark about cakes. “What? You are spoiled, kind Ser, that is not a secret. But I would happily spoil you myself, too.”
“Perhaps I should take you with me to Oldtown and hire you in The Hightower. I think you would like it there, my sweet,” he teased but his voice was more serious than you expected. “Perhaps I shall fetch you on my way back home after the war is won.”
“Perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “My whole family lives here, however, and Oldtown is far away.”
In fact, Oldtown was like a place from the fairytales to you. It was far, far away and you would never really go there, realistically speaking. And it was a place where your Ser lived and in your imagination it had to be a beautiful and lively place… It was out of your reach in many ways.
A short, awkward silence occurred after that as you worked on the last pieces of his armour and there he stood, only in his underwear. You bowed your head at him.
“I believe my work here is done, Ser. I would recommend getting into that bathtub before the water gets cold,” you advised him.
“Oh, my sweet, won’t you stay to help me wash my back?” He grinned at you and you cracked a smile.
You were hoping for such words. So, you did not leave but stayed, with your hands clasped in front of you as you watched him get undressed completely. You tried not to give any reaction to his naked body while you watched him get inside the bathtub and let out a groan of pleasure at the feeling.
“Come here, sweet little thing,” he beckoned you over and you approached the bathtub slowly. “Join me,” he encouraged.
You hesitated but only for a second and you began to undress as he watched. His eyes were looking you up and down and you started with the apron. You wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible because it was the worst piece of your clothing, an awful reminder of your low status.
The blouse was next and then your skirts. Your corset was loosened from the whole day at work so it slipped off very easily. You were left in your underdress only but you untied your braid before taking it off as well and there you stood, naked and with your hair down as your eyes boldly met his. He had a smug smile on his face.
“You’re still as beautiful as I remembered,” Ser Gwayne remarked and reached his hand out to brush your knee with his fingers. “Come to me,” he invited you.
You joined him in the bathtub very slowly, starting with your right foot and then the left one before lowering yourself and sitting on the opposite side of Ser Gwayne.
“Your knees are scratched indeed,” he pointed out and you chuckled.
“They always are, Ser, for I am a barmaid. I spend half of my days on my knees, washing the floors,” you explained.
“Those pretty knees were made for different things, my sweet,” he assured you with a smirk as he moved a little closer to you.
He grabbed your knees softly and then he pulled you closer to him as you yelped and some of the water splashed out on the floor. You giggled and threw your hands around him to clasp them behind his neck as your faces were so close now that your noses brushed.
“And what have you been up to, kind Ser? Have you gotten married? Fathered a son?” You teased and he rolled his eyes.
“All my thoughts have been occupied by a pretty barmaid,” he confessed and caressed your thighs while you hummed to yourself.
“Oh, have they? And who is she? Is she prettier than me? Is she lovelier than me?” You rubbed your nose with his as you asked, playfully.
“She is exactly as pretty as you. Exactly as lovely as you and she even has your name,” Ser Gwayne answered before stealing a kiss from your lips.
The kiss started nearly innocently but it quickly turned into a more passionate one. It didn’t want to end and you turned out to be gasping into each other’s mouths as your hands tugged onto his hair and his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of your hips, pulling them as close to his body as possible.
“I’ve missed you,” he breathed out and moved his hands up to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed all of you. Your body, your voice, your smile, your cunt,” he confessed and his obscene words made your cheeks heat up.
And not only your cheeks. Your whole body was on fire now. To have him so close and to feel his hands on your skin was enough to make you feel dizzy. You let go of his hair and you placed your hands on his chest to push him gently. Ser Gwayne leaned back and you sat astride him, making sure that his hardening cock was brushing your soft thighs.
“My cunt’s been missing you, too,” you whispered before joining your lips together once more.
You kissed him sloppily, with your tongue and teeth clashing. One of your hands was placed upon his chest for balance and the other you moved down to grab his cock. He let out a moan into your mouth when you started to pump his length. You could feel it growing harder and harder.
Ser Gwayne kept his hands on your back but now he let them run freely all the way down as he cupped your ass and squeezed the soft flesh. His fingers wandered all the way down and brushed your folds, teasing your entrance in a way that was making your pussy throb in anticipation already.
“Have you taken another cock since our last time?” Ser Gwayne asked you and you sincerely shook your head. “Aw, my sweetling, you must be so eager,” he teased.
“And what about you, Ser? Have you been good?” You smirked at him.
You knew already that in the intimate moments the power difference between you two due to your birth status did not matter anymore. In fact, Ser Gwayne liked it when you challenged him.
“There is a brothel in Oldtown I find very enjoyable,” he confessed and bucked his hips slightly when you picked up the pace of your hand wrapped around his cock. “But none of these women could give me what my sweet little barmaid had given to me,” he added.
“Your sweet little barmaid would not be as special as you claim her to be if any common whore would give you what only she can give you, Ser,” you raised an eyebrow at him.
“I even chose the ones who looked like you – who reminded me of you – but they were doing nothing to me,” he breathed out and you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his.
“Aw, you must be so eager,” you teased him with his own words and a smirk as you guided his cock to your cunt.
You both gasped in unison at the feeling you had been missing for so long. His cock twitched inside of your wet, warm pussy that welcomed him with spazmatic throbs. You threw your head back and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, savouring the feeling of fullness.
“Fuck, my sweetling, aren’t you perfect,” Ser Gwayne mumbled out and you looked down at his face through your lashes. Your eyes were hazy from lust and the look you gave him had to be as sultry as if you were one of the whores who had only been pretending to be you in those past few moons.
Keeping your intense gaze on him, you began to move your hips up and down until you found your steady pace and continued to bounce on his cock as the water splashed. Ser Gwayne helped you to ride him with his hands on your hips but he quickly got distracted with your breasts that were right in front of his face. He moved his hands up to cup and squeeze them while you hissed at the feeling.
Feeling confident in your pace and rhythm, you let go of his shoulders and moved your hands to his neck. You looked into his eyes, searching for the confirmation and he nodded at you slightly, so you squeezed your hands a bit. He had taught you all those moons ago how such a simple action would increase the pleasure. You watched with satisfaction as his eyelids fluttered before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he let out a deep groan.
Your back arched as if you were a cat when you lowered yourself onto his body to feel more of him and to allow his cock reach deeper inside of you, brushing your sweet spot with each thrust. Your breaths were nothing but gasps now, accompanied with soft moans coming out of your parted lips. Riding him in that bathtub, with your hands around his throat and his pretty, flushed face right in front of yours, suddenly nothing else mattered – this Tavern did not, these chambers did not either and certainly all his titles mattered the least. This life and the world were so complicated sometimes but at the end of the day all that mattered was this – two people being close with each other, intimate, sharing pleasure.
“Gods,” you let out a shaky whisper when you felt a knot forming in your abdomen. Your sweet release was close after all those moons of missing him with every fibre of your being.
“Let go for me, my sweetling,” Ser Gwayne encouraged you, his voice was raspy from your choking as he forced his hazy eyes to open and watch you coming undone for him with a loud moan.
You threw your head back and kept riding him while your cunt clenched around his cock and your hands squeezed his throat even tighter. That sensation and the sight of your face was enough to make him reach his high, too. He spilled himself inside of you and your cunt milked him eagerly, taking in every single drop.
The movements of your hips slowed down gradually and Ser Gwayne’s cock softened inside of you but you had no strength to move. You laid down on his chest and tried to catch your breath, still shaking slightly. He wrapped his strong arms around you and caressed your back, letting his rough fingertips wander up and down your spine.
“The water’s getting cold, my sweet,” he pointed out after a while.
You raised your chin up to meet his gaze with a delicate smile.
“You are so spoiled, Ser,” you remarked. “I believe you have never taken a cold bath.”
He winced at that and you chuckled before placing a kiss on his throat, where your fingers had been pressing not so long ago. After that, you moved up and left the bathtub although your legs remained pretty shaky.
You leaned down to pick up your underdress but Ser Gwayne stopped you.
“Don’t,” he said, getting out of the bathtub himself. “You shall stay here for the night. I am not yet done with you.”
It was early morning and you were feeding the horses in the stables. The sun was barely up but the knights had to come back to their camp before leaving with the rest of the men and continuing their march. You had barely had any sleep on the previous night but you did not complain about it.
“I knew I would find you here,” Ser Gwayne walked inside when you were caressing one of the stallions. “I wanted to give you a proper goodbye,” he walked up to you.
You looked up at his face and you smiled to yourself. He looked pretty tired himself and you knew the reason behind that. But the exhaustion was not making him any less handsome.
“Fare thee well, my kind Ser,” you turned around to squeeze his hands that he had reached out for you.
“Can you give me your blessing before I leave?” He asked and there was surprisingly no teasing in his voice.
“I’m no Princess nor a Lady,” you looked down slightly as your cheeks heated up.
“I do not care. I will not be at peace without your blessing, my sweet,” he insisted.
“I do not have a handkerchief to give you, Ser,” you looked up again as you confessed and stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his forehead. “That is all I can offer.”
“That is more than enough,” Ser Gwayne smiled sadly at you. He let go of your hands and reached to his chest. He took off a necklace that he was wearing – a small ring on a chain. You had asked about it all those moons ago and he had confessed then that it had belonged to his Lady Mother once. “I want you to have it,” he gave it to you and you froze.
“I… I cannot accept it, Ser,” your eyes widened.
“You must for I insist,” he closed your hands around it and squeezed them. “You shall give it back to me when I visit you after the war,” he bit on his lower lip as he looked at your face in anticipation, curious of your reaction.
“That is… The most generous,” your eyes filled with tears. “I shall keep it safe for you, Ser,” you promised.
He nodded at that and watched you put the necklace around your neck before he took your hand and placed a soft kiss upon it as if it was a hand of a Princess or a Lady and not a common barmaid.
“Farewell, my sweetling,” he whispered.
“Farewell, Ser Gwayne,” you whispered back.
You stared into each other’s eyes for a while and then he nodded at you again and moved away at the sound of other men walking inside the stables.
You watched them mount their horses but your eyes were truly only on him and he kept watching you from the corner of his eye, too. You walked outside to observe them as they rode away and Ser Gwayne turned around one last time before disappearing down the road. You squeezed the ring on the necklace in your hand and your heart moved all the way up to your throat, forming a lump that was hard to swallow.
A few years later you would give the necklace to your son – alongside with the tale of his brave and noble father from Oldtown.
MASTERLIST
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Light Roast Mosaic
Five stages of a relationship, little moments captured at a small café in Monte Carlo, one melting into another. Is it one story? That is for the universe to know and for us to wonder.
warnings: fluff, angst featuring: Franco, Lando, Oscar, Charles, Max
//
Franco's first sip
"Another espresso?" the not-so-polite waitress glanced over both of them, her thick French accent pushing through.
Franco needed to look confident. Third coffee was totally fine and probably on brand with him, so what that his fingers were shaking?
"Yes, exactly," he smiled at her, doubting whether he kept the eye contact for too long or not enough. He was trying not to let his composure down.
His palms were already sweating, they had been for the past hour. Part of him wanted to get up and run away, the other would do anything to make sure you were glued to the chair you were sitting on forever.
The waitress left, leaving her opinions to herself and you were back at the semi-awkward conversation break again. He looked back at you, you averted and blushed, missing the part where he blushed too. The French waitress had just interrupted you telling a story about your sibling, one that still made you laugh years later. Your heart was beating fast - because you managed to make him laugh too.
"I'm sorry, so what happened next?" Franco asked leaning forward towards you.
You fiddled with your fingers. "Um, nothing, that is it, I believe," you replied, regretting that the wind was taken out of your punch line. You were nervous, hell, nervous times seven. And yet, the conversation flew back and forth, as if you wanted to use up all of your words on him and choke on his.
"Sounds like a fun childhood," he remarked naturally. You could feel his gaze burning through you. For some reason, you dared not to look back. Was this a date? You had just met few days ago at random and he kind of asked for your contact. Few DM's and one post-poned meeting and now you were here. Across him. No idea why his presence felt so exhilarating. This was a coffee in the afternoon. Just talking. Why did it produce the same chemical reaction as a rollercoaster ride?
"It was, but definitely not as cool as Argentina must have been," you replied and nonchalantly grabbed a sugar packet of the table and broke it apart on your small plate. You just had to do something with your hands, it was getting riddicculous and he would notice unless you did something. "Tell me about Argentina."
"I will, one day," he responded and your stomach exploded with butterflies at the thought of him suggesting another date, "but, first you tell me what you're doing," he asked, hinting at your sugar creation. In the meantime, another coffee cup landed in front of Franco.
"Um, nothing. It's something I always do. A habit, I guess." Lies, lies, lies. You'd never done this. But it was either this, or staring into his incredible eyes and you were not ready for that yet. Freaking him out was not the plan.
"Looks like you're drawing something," he observed and took a sip of his third coffee. Not that he was such a big of a fan of the bevarage. He just wanted to keep sitting there with you. You smiled, mindlessly. Perhaps yes, it did appear like a drawing. A flash of the memory of your grandma, pretending to be a tea leaves fortune teller, when you went young, came to your mind. You looked at him with a challenging look.
"Do you want me to read your future?" you asked, gaining some confidence from unknown sources. It was as if your body wanted to tease him. To lure him in and then never let him go. But you were also scared of the attraction you felt, so you know, casual confusion going on there.
"Can you read the future from, em, sugar?" he raised his brows with an amused, skeptical look. Then he took a big gulp on his coffee and failing at keeping it cool, he choked like a little kid. You couldn't help but laugh at the sudden loss of his "suave" look.
"You ok there?" you said, trying to push in your laughter.
Took him few coughs and deep breaths to compose himself before he spoke. "Ay, don't worry. Three coffees might be just enough...But, guess what?" he spoke, quickly back at his irresistible self.
"What, Franco?" Oh, you were so doomed.
"I just saw the future," he challenged you and licked his lips. Not that you noticed, no. Definitely not.
"And what did you see?" you replied, keeping a firm eye contact.
"Next Tuesday."
"Hm, so not that strong coffee, I guess," you diverted.
"Strong enough," he countered, not letting his gaze of your face.
You took a breath and surrended. "So, what did you see?"
"You and me on another date."
//
Two sugars
A quick coffee run before going back to the safety and comfort of your apartment. You and Oscar had a good run of days lately. Maybe too good. Your core almost ached when you walked, but that was a fair price for the bliss he made you feel. How many times in one day is too much? It looked like you were about find out. But first, coffee and some carbs.
You two picked a quiet corner away from the window, trying to enjoy the privacy Monaco offered sometimes. Sitting next to each other rather than across and having a whole table dividing you provided you both with a clear view on the café. Oscar was about to give a cheeky kiss and pushing you further into his embrace when you lightly pushed back and nodded to door. Oscar let a loud sigh out when he finally spotted Colapinto and Bearman walking in to get a take out after their run.
"God, I hope they don't notice us. I am not in the mood for F1 bullshit today," he murmured and sunk deeper into the chair.
"Uuh, beware, the young ones are coming," you teased and watched them. It was a relief to see them walk away immediately, locked in their own conversation and not noticing the self-absorbed couple in the back corner.
Oscar looked at you, puzzled. "Young ones? They are our age."
"I'm not talking about me, but you! Age works differently in F1," you said lightly and put your hand back on his upper arm.
He brushed your cheek with his hand. "Sweetheart, two years ago, you had no idea racing existed. Look at you now, almost ready for your own podcast!"
"Uuh, what would I talk about? Interesting..." you pretended to be lost in the thought of it and he did not buy it at all.
With a smirk, he made a simple comment. "Knowing you, you will always find something."
"I could talk extensively about prep before a race," you replied and stole a quick kiss from him.
"Is that so," he said and pulled you even closer to him and locked your lips again.
"Yeah. You know," you whispered between kisses "..stroke first, the touch the balls before you take him in your mo-"
He pulled away and put his finger on your mouth, trying to hide his amusement and quickly stepping in to avoiding finishing so easily. A habit, one might say. "Ok, ok, stop, there are people here," he pointed out, observing the cafe again. He was not that keen on PDA, but you managed to break through that wall, especially if you managed to keep him comfortable for longer period of time.
"Fuck people," you hoped one day he's become less worried about other people.
"You wanna fuck people? " he frowned, mildly disgusted once he eyed the cafe again. "Not an impressive crowd, interesting choice on your part," he teased you with his dead pan expression.
You rolled your eyes, typical Oscar. "Well, maybe not people, a person."
"If you say Lando again, I swear to God.." he added without missing a beat.
Oscar smirked and you mirrored his action. Even after a year and a half of teasing each other 24/7 it still felt fresh, like a ripe strawberry, still warm from the sun. You had each and every of his freckle mapped, he could tell just by the way you did your hair in the morning what kind of mood you'd have throughout the day.
"Come to the next race with me. Please," he pleaded, changing the tone of the conversation to more of a serious one, as he fiddled with a random strain of your hair. Then he licked his lips, as he would always do when something bothered him.
During the time you'd dated you visited only two races. People kept constantly nagging him about it, but he tried to put as little pressure on you as possible. Remembered more than vividly how a crowd of fans surrounded over you the first time around, nearly causing you a panic attack. You were never a crowds person. There wasn't much of a choice during a Grand Prix. You loved supporting him, sent him videos of your reaction to the race whenever something happened, for him to watch on the plane ride home. His favorite one was the one where you went on a five minute rant after his dive bomb in Baku. Like a parent who is trying to explain to a child that jumping of a cliff might not be the best idea. He found it adorable. Just wished he could have you there in person.
"I'll think about it."
//
Cold Brew
"Lando, you're lost in your thoughts again."
At the beginning it was easy. No drama, hard conversations avoided. Just pure fun and light weight life. She was willing to drop everything for him, come out to races and twirl around him, without needing any extra care. She was easy. But she was not you.
Lando smiled apologetically and tried to push the train of intrusive thoughts back in and focus on what his current girlfriend was saying. But it was so hard, when a Taylor Swift song was playing and a raspberry macaroon was just brought to the table next to them. Punch to his guts came free with that. It's been months now since you last spoke together. First two months were fairly easy, he found distractions and one of them even made it to this cafe as well and was now sitting across from him. With seasons turning, it was like you started to creep back in from every corner of each room. Impossible to escape your ghosts.
Lando felt like a prey, trying to escape attacks from everywhere. But there was no one attacking him, apart from his own brain. It's not that you were suddenly all over any place he was at, it's that his brain searched for you.
Was that your car outside? Did he just smelled your perfume? He could have sworn he just heard your heels.
He fiddled with a spoon in his almond milk latte. You hated when he would order that and joked about never kissing him again. It should make him happy that the girl sitting across from him has ordered the same drink as he had. She was a good match on paper.
Just not you.
"Lando, can you please listen to me?"
//
Second batch
"Y/N?"
You turned around, nearly dropping your phone and purse. It was a middle of a busy day for you, emails popping off like crazy and your mind was anywhere but present. The plan was to get a quick coffee and get into the office and join the emergency online meeting your boss initiated.
His voice was something you could recognize under any circumstances. But maybe, just maybe you were mistaken. You turned around slowly, just to make sure that you were correct. As your eyes met, it became clear you made no mistake. For few seconds, you just stared at each other.
"Hey, Charles."
Time stopped. There he was, once again in his full casual glam. He was really good at that, always had been. You never felt like you could keep up, back when you used to date. But it was a long time ago, you both grew up and years added on seemed to suit him well. Just like you observed him, he did you. It was clear you were in a rush, but also rushing somewhere where you were important and needed.
"How are y-"
"Your coffee, madame," the rude waitress interrupted Charles, a signature move you were more than familiar with as a local customer. Unlike Charles. He would usually avoid this place.
"Thank you," you turned your attention briefly towards her and took your coffee, balanced your things and took few steps away from the counter, not to disturb the lady more. Charles ignored anyone, but you. When you regained your composure, he tried asking again.
"How are you?"
His piercing blue eyes were dawning on you, a painting of conflicting feelings locked in them, begging to be set free.
"Um, yeah. Very busy currently," you spoke in a muted tone, still not fully comprehending that you just randomly bumped into him on a day like that.
Soft smile crept on his face. "You look busy." His eyes were trying to catch yours, without much success. Then they flashed to the top of your head and you knew that your hair was probably all over the place.
"Oh, fuck, is it that bad?" you asked, hoping for an honest answer. At least this one time.
He nodded. "It's just the-em..bun?"
"Can you please hold this?" you sighed and started handing him your things.
Without questions, he took your bag, coffee, another bag, notepad and held all of that while watching you trying to fix your hair. It was shorted than it used to be when you dated, he observed. Curlier. He wondered what kind of person you grew into.
"Ok?" you checked geniuenly for his approval, first time you fully locked eyes with him. Stood there, waiting for what he had to say.
Wondered was an understatement. His curiosity was burning him from inside. You used to never leave a stone untouched when you dated together. A quality he searched for ever since with no luck.
"Yeah, perfect," he managed to get out of him and began handing you your things back.
"Listen, I really gotta rush, so..."
It was obvious you were not lying, so he figured trying to keep you there would just make you mad. "Yeah, of course."
"Uh, see you, I guess," you said, barely waited for his response and hopped off to where ever you were originally headed to.
So many things he never found the guts to say. Never apologized. He was ready now. The forgotten notepad he held in his hand served as a glimmer of hope he might get a chance to fix what he once fucked up.
//
The usual, thank you
"Lady, I am sorry, I am showing you on a map, what else do you want from me?" Max said with his signature dead pan annoyed tone and wiggled his phone in front of a poor lady, who barely spoke English. Originally, he thought she was a fan asking for a photo, instead he got stuck in trying to explain the concept of left and then long straight walk to whichever place the tourist was looking for.
You watched him struggle impatiently as you waited by the door with two coffees in hand, amused as usual. Whenever he was frantic like this, you just could not help yourself.
The two finally parted ways, Max waved her goodbye and then rubbed his face. Annoyed and tired, he was like that the past few weeks.
"Tough day the office?" you joked and handed him his coffee.
"I wish. Give a photo-hungry fan over this anytime, please."
You grabbed his hand, an subconscious gesture at that point. "Come on, we still have some time before we need to leave for the plane. Let's enjoy this walk."
He kissed you, not bothering to turn his head around and search for people with their phones ready to photograph. Max stopped doing that a long ago. His "not giving a fuck" attitude was a turn on for you in any shape or form.
The two of you walked for a few moment before you had your first sip of the coffee. A small frown escaped your face upon the first sip. "Never liked the coffee here, it's so bitter."
He had a different opinion, as per usual. "Yeah, but I like the place. They keep their bullshit levels on low. The staff is pleasant."
Max was always about getting to the point straight. Made it a very interesting quality when you fought. But you would not have it any other way.
"Is that why you wanted us to take the longer route and come here today?"
He calculated his response. "Hm, not really. Apparently they might be closing soon. Slow business."
"Ah, shame. Great location," you replied, not exactly affected by that new information.
"See, knew you'd like it," he said with a suspicious joy in his tone.
"Why are you so interested in me liking that place?"
"Well. I was thinking of buying it if they really go under," his response came with a tone suggesting he had already made that decision.
This time, you couldn't hide your shock. "Max Verstappen, what the fuck?"
He just chuckled. "Oh you'll love it. We'll have our cute little place."
"Is it because of Leclerc's ice cream? Are you jealous?" you asked, still baffled. This man will probably never stop surprising you.
He stopped and looked at you. "Good thinking, we can get his ice cream here. That'll dram crowds. I'm happy you're on board," he said and gave you a small kiss on the cheek.
"Never said that," you tried to protest, but knew it was a lost battle.
"But you'll be. For me, please? I'll make sure you always get free coffee?" he asked, with a hint of sarcasm, but you knew better than that.
So be it. You searched for a hint of doubt in his deep blue eyes, but only found determination and devotion. "Free bitter coffee, what a win!" you cheered sarcastically, but an honest smile formed on your lips.
"And a kiss with it," he bargained with a devious smile.
Was there ever any other choice than the magnificent man standing in front of you? The answer was clear to you. Where ever he went, you followed and vice versa.
"And a kiss with it."
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x you#f1 x reader#lando norris x you#franco colapinto fanfic#oscar piastri x you#lando norris fanfic#max verstappen x reader#formula 1#max verstappen x you#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#fluff#lando norris fluff#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 fanfic#ln4 x reader#ln4 x y/n#lando norris x y/n#formula 1 one shot#f1 one shot#lando norris imagine#ln4 fic#f1 requests#franco colapinto#charles leclerc#oscar piastri imagine#max verstappen
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Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.
Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.
(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)
-
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.
A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.
It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.
Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.
Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.
But they were still kids.
Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.
Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.
Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.
Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.
They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.
Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.
Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.
They all knew why.
The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.
That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.
Robin II was an Alley Kid.
A true child of Gotham.
Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.
Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.
He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
Bad things happened to good kids all the time.
And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.
Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.
The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.
Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.
Or so the rumors said, at least.
That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.
Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.
And then the news came in.
There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.
Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.
Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.
Alone.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.
The Joker wasn’t most folks.
And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.
Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.
And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.
Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.
But the Bat would find him.
They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.
It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
The Clown still lived.
The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.
No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.
That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.
They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.
And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.
Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.
Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.
Not Robin II either.
Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.
No.
It was a new Robin.
A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.
Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.
The Clown had killed Robin II.
Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.
Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.
The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.
But he never did.
Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.
Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.
And then the Bat stepped in.
Revived the fucking Clown.
A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.
He was a good kid.
He deserved better.
Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.
Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.
It was their turn.
#batman#batman au#batman rogues#batman rouges gallery#dc penguin#dick grayson#jason todd#jason todd robin#dick grayson robin#bruce wayne#the joker#tim drake#dc robin#gotham city#open season au#i don't go in for Jason being the 'angry' robin or the 'violent' robin#he was the lil chainsmoking ball of sunshin robin that made sure to do his homework first before going out to fight crime#dick was the scariest robin because he was BOTH incredibly violent & full of rage AND a ball of sunshine & unrelenting hope#Jason was a Gotham kid (an Alley Kid) and I think a lot of the rogues would have respected that#dick got his respect by teaching them how many of their bones a tiny 9 year old could break in a single kick#feel like there's a scene in the extended au in which Tim gets kidnapped but instead of being held for ransom or threatened#it's just the Rogues aggressively mother-henning him and trying to make sure he's alright#Dick gets a call from Harley later that the newest Robin is fine he and Riddler are coming up with deadly traps together#No she doesn't see anything wrong with that - it's just some enrichment activities for them - why do you ask?
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Hey, babes!
Honestly I have brain rot for the idea of the ‘woman of the group does sexy dance to help mission’ trope and like LOTR boys. I also have brain rot for them hearing her sing ‘I Wanna Make Love To You’ by Etta James.
Anyway can I request the elves reactions to reader do a sexy burlesque/strip style dance? Like they in the audience and how they’d react.
By elves I mean: Elrond, Lindir, Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir and Arwen
OK I’M YELLING (I went ahead n threw our girl Galadriel in there cuz gotta catch em all right? 😁) there’s not really a mission lol but hope this does it justice! My latest D&D session the other night ended with burlesque performance so this feels like the perfect time to post this hehe
The Elves Reacting to F!Reader’s Burlesque Performance
Warnings: suggestive obviously 😆
Thranduil
Sure, he knew you’d all but been dared to set foot upon the stage, but something in your resolute expression and the long robe you wore had Thranduil’s eyebrows raising. Nary did he expect the way your hand shot out, grabbing the pole the moment the lights dimmed, or the way your robe dropped, revealing the lowest-cut, highest-slit dress he’d ever seen you in. Breath hitching, he watched as a long wave of fabric draped between your gorgeous legs, which wrapped around the pole as you climbed it. Eyes darkening as you spun, he could hardly help imagining what, or whom, else they could wind around so, and if he would ever be so blessed to see the confident air overtaking you again…
Legolas
Frowning, Legolas disappeared further into the gathering crowd. Gimli was the one who’d dared him to attend the show, telling him he was sure no pointy-ear could handle it. How could it be so, simply a performance? The crowd looked far too eager for you to be putting them into any sort of- oh. You emerged onto the stage, forearms and down covered with feathers like the wings of a great bird. Your legs were almost entirely bare, skirt minimal and bodice little more than a corset. Twirling and pirouetting into poses the woodland prince could only describe as suggestive, you beamed innocently at the crowd and hid behind your feathers, lashes fluttering. Another performer emerged behind you, hands on your waist and fingers deftly loosening your corset… Gripping the arms of his seat tighter, Legolas leaned in, a yearning in his own fingers readily accepting his friend’s latest challenge.
Haldir
A dancer you were. That was a known fact whispered among those familiar with you, often calling you something of a knife-dancer. Curiosity got the better of Haldir when scandal colored whispers of your performance right outside the woods. Was it dangerous, perhaps? Pride flowed into the little smile of anticipation he wore as fast-paced music filled the room and flames were snuffed, leading you to slide gracefully into the dim. Crouching, you crawled to the edge of the stage with a bloodthirsty grin that sent shivers down Haldir’s spine. Flicks of your wrists revealed your famed blades, which you twirled, tossed, and dragged gently along the length of your tongue. Brows raising, he found himself leaning forward with new interest. What sort of dance was- Coherent thought ceased immediately when you tossed your blades, caught them, and began slicing away at purposefully shoddy seams upon your outfit, revealing more and more until the elf was on the edge of his seat…
Galadriel
Hearing of a new form of entertainment served only to pique Galadriel’s curiosity and draw her from her frequent solitude. After all, if it was making her people happy… She did not expect to see a lone performer upon a platform, elaborately feathered fans covering most of her figure, but there you were. Clad all in white, at least from what she could see near your feet, you slowly closed the fans. The long swaths of fabric that hung near the ground begun only at your hips, the expanse of your legs utterly bare as you extended them, moving gracefully across the stage as your fans accentuated every curve and undulation of your body. Jerking, you rotated, hips swiveling as you happened to face the Lady of Lórien, and watching you through her lashes Galadriel felt a devilish smile rise to her lips. She saw exactly why there had been such a buzz…
Lindir
There had been talk of you giving a performance of some kind, but all Lindir had been able to retrieve on the subject was that he should quite like to be in the audience, so with a light heart he shuffled into the crowd, pleased to be quite close to the stage set up for you. Perhaps you’d learned a new instrument under his nose and wishes to surprise him with a performance! Perhaps- You slunk to the center clad in, oh dear, quite a sheer skirt. Feeling a rush of heat to his face, he tried to focus upon the swell of music, largely successful until you ripped your top off, hips swinging lower as your layers thinned and thinned… You froze momentarily, wearing little more than your corset, and made direct eye contact with Lindir, whose eyes widened and body felt quite faint. Slowly, deliberately, you took up your dance once more, grinning at him as you began unlacing the back of your garment. His hands shot up, half-covering his face, but he couldn’t help himself peeking again and again.
Elrond
Housing a troupe of performers was certainly an unusual set of circumstances, but not in the slightest beyond the reach of the great homely house. Indeed, at encouragement from Lindir to let music fill his halls, Elrond acquiesced to a performance, unknowing of the so-called ‘dancers’ who would emerge after the exuberant wind section. In fact, it wasn’t until they called you out that Elrond’s eyes widened, brows expressive as ever as they flexed in great shock. You were lowered down on ropes, sitting with your legs largely bared and swinging. Garments- quite the loose term- of drapery covered the rest of your form, but as you leaned back in your swing, you began twisting, swiveling, removing one veil after another… Elrond found himself looking this way and that, but his eyes could never leave you for long. Feeling his gaze darken and his hands flex, he wondered what he had gotten himself into…
Arwen
How scandalous could it be? Many a friend or even a family member or two had rolled eyes and whispered harshly about your performances, but Arwen was not afraid. No matter what it was said to be, she would experience it for it to be so in her mind. Thus she found herself in the audience of the very subject of contempt, the somewhat smaller ratio of maids to men not lost upon her. A great fount was all Arwen could see at the center of it all, at least until one bare leg slowly arched from its edge. Blinking, Arwen watched as it was followed by another, each of them kicking some water onto the crowd before your hands gripped the other side, flipping over to render most of your body visible. Hanging from the sides, you swiveled your hips, head innocently rested upon your folded arms as if your…ahem…rear end were not moving so. Sitting up, you let go, dropping back into the water with a splash before emerging again and grinningly tossing water on more patrons. Arwen found herself mirroring your expression, following your every motion with interest and a strange sense of elation.
Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰
#lord of the rings#the hobbit#lotr imagines#the hobbit imagines#lotr x reader#the hobbit x reader#thranduil#legolas#haldir#galadriel#lindir#elrond#arwen#female reader#ask#fly-on-my-sweet-angel#requested#suggestive#this was a fun one thank you 😌
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Euphrasia n Jordana roleswap?
HELLO??? YOU CAN'T JUST INFECT ME W THE BRAIN WORMS THEN LEAVE LIKE THAT REVEAL YOURSELF ANON!!!
LIKE oevelwvqkve antagonist euphrasia??? Omg???
We already know ras was the one to put a curse on the worns buf omg what if he was in cahoots with euphie
No idea why she'd choose the darkside but we could say she noticed that destiny writing doesn't work anymore a while ago n isn't taking the change very well
N JORDANA!!! I'm choosing to also give her the wind element alongside the role swap cause i can do whatever i want
BUT ALSO imagine how imperium as a whole would react to her powers? Like the only other em imperium knew about was zeatrix n she was literally the next to the thone so maybe the powers would actually be a good thing for Jordana?
Even if the rest of imperium aren't too excited about a new em maybe Beatrix would just take advantage of her n just benefit from having an em on her side (or maybe she'd hate her like she hated zeatrix but shhhhh)
I imagine she'd be like a secret allay trying to help the ninja behind Beatrixs back the beef w sora is still there she's just begrudgingly helping her
Anon i demand a follow up on this idea
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for some reason i've had another idea for a request LODGED in my damn brain ever since i wore my platforms the other week: [they are comfy to me, and the heel isn't very high, just the platform adds like- 4inches lol] someone who has tall ass shoes, and nobody notices until they take em off or something and suddenly they're shorter it sounds bad, cause why would someone be wearing platforms, but i swear i can run in em. [took some trial and error though....] also its just really goofy.
No because I'm just as stubborn with platforms the thing that gets you is stairs. I'm not entirely sure if I've mentioned it on here, but I'm a firm believer that Hylians are short. Time is seen as tall because as far as Hylians go? He is Twilight is seen as monsterously tall. Which mixes into your other ask as well - seeing as Time is fairly average height when compared to humans with Twi being tall even to humans (he grew up with humans so he adapted just a lil he's got a much higher milk tolerance sfvgf) but only Twi really knows this seeing as he grew up in ordon with humans and honestly? Means he has a reason to reach out to the reader in the first place, explaining most of the differences he noticed growing up between him and the rest of the villagers It's not the most but really at that point it's helpful to know anything. and it gets him closer to you which is what he really cares about honestly I write the chain as yandere's most of the time really, but this scenario where he's reader's best hope and they naturally get closer to him? I could see it happening really it's because he can't have a repeat of midna someone from another world stealing his heart and leaving him forever ha nope
As for platforms? that'll be fun to explain to them >:) this turned out a little bit more Twi centric than I meant for it to be but it was so fun to write and flowed so naturally !! <33 [masterlist]
“[Name]? We’re about to have breakfast, you’ll probably want to come get some before we leave the inn. Time’s saying that we’re going to be walking a lot today”
“Hm? Yeah I’m coming wild.”
His eyes looked as if they were about to fall out of his head when I opened the door. Is there something off about my appearance? I’ve just woken up I guess so maybe I just look a bit dishevelled, but after travelling with them this long? Would that really be enough to set them off like this?
“You’re shorter! Are you alright? Twi said humans are way different compared to Hylians but I didn’t assume he meant you shrink sometimes! Come on we need to go show them to know if you’re gonna be okay.”
“Wait no wild I-”
There isn’t even time for me to argue my own point with how fast they’re pulling me over to the others, his strength is impressive even for hylians I’ve been told and that isn’t something I’ll argue with. But what is he on about me ‘shrinking’? I haven’t changed height at all… He’s never seen me without my platforms. That’d do it.
“TWILIGHT! [NAME] SHRANK. IS THAT SOMETHING HUMANS CAN DO? ARE THEY GOING TO BE ALRIGHT?”
“Wild really I’m going to be fine. If you’ll just let me explai-”
“YOU CAN SHRINK? Why didn’t you tell us [name]?”
Now winds come over - great. I’ll have to count on Twi’s glare being enough to give me time to speak.
“Wild what are you on about humans can’t - oh. You did shrink. How did that happen?”
Bingo. Now I can hopefully clear this mess up somewhat.
“I didn’t shrink. I’m just not wearing my platforms. They add to my height when I wear them, I didn’t realise this was the first time Wild’s seen me without them. Their worry was pretty cute though.”
“So you didn’t shrink..? Can I try them on?”
“Nah wind, not only are they my only pair of shoes but I think you’d break your neck if you tried to walk in them.”
He really does look kind of like a cat when he pouts, you’d assume he’s just had a lemon slice shoved in his mouth rather than being told no for his own safety. It’s nice to see that despite having to become a hero at such a young age he still acts his age.
“Then how do you wear them? You’ve been walking them for so long without issue?”
“They’re your only shoes?”
“Yeah they are Twi, there’s no issue either wild. They’re comfortable to wear and I’m used to them anyway”
Twi looks as if he’s gearing up for a lecture if the look on his face is anything to go by, the very same one that’s a warning for wild when he’s done something questionable. A short sigh, a shake of his head and it quickly softens up into some sort of lovestruck expression.
“Darlin’ It isn’t that that I’m worried ‘bout. It’s not a good idea to only be travelling with a single pair, what if they get damaged or lost? I’ve got a spare set that should fit you, you can have them.”
“You don’t have to go that for me twi, I’m sure theres somewhere here I could just buy a pair.”
“It really ain’t an issue. It’ll save you breaking in a new pair so it’s for the best really.”
There’s more to what he’s saying I can feel it, but I can’t bring it up around the others like this so answers will have to wait.
“You don’t wanna eat while you’re, only wearing a pair of socks you? Let’s go and get them for you quickly.”
His hand is so much softer than Wild’s and his touch is more tender and is that? Oh, he’s blushing, there really is something more to this isn’t there; does he like me or something? The walk to his room in the inn isn’t long, shorter than the one to my own.
“Give me a second darlin’ and I’ll get you them.”
“Of course, I’m not gonna get mad at you for taking too long to get me a gift. Seriously though, thanks for this link.”
If I thought he was red before he’s downright glowing now, his face from the tips of his ears to the lowest part of his neck that I can see have gone crimson red. Matching how his rummaging through his bag has gotten ever so more frantic, his patience for finding the said boots for me gone like ashes in the wind. Then before I know it a pair of leather boots are being thrust into my arms by someone who can only really be described as a blushy mess at the moment. It’s cute. He’s cute.
“They’re wonderful thank you again Twi, really.”
“You can ah - You can call me link when we’re alone together like this darlin’.”
“If you want me to then link. I’ll just put these on then we can go join the others, hopefully, they’ve saved us some food.”
These are so soft, are they lined with something? They have to be right? It feels like some kind of fur, they should be nice to walk in so I can save my platforms some wear. It makes a lot of sense to try to keep my belongings from home safe, just to have some memories to look back on.
“Hey link, mind me asking what they’re lined with?”
“Wolf fur darlin’”
“Is it your fur?”
How is it possible he’s gotten even more red? Answers my question though. Why would he give me something lined with his own fur?
“I - That doesn’t bother you does it?”
#he's so soft fr#love me some twi#yandere linked universe#yandere link x reader#yandere twilight#yandere linked universe x reader#yandere link#soft yandere#link x reader#linked universe x reader#lu twilight#moss✦writes#moss✦answers
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Christmas Morning Distractions
Tommy Shelby x Reader
This took me longer to get to you than it was meant to, sorry it is so short. It was fun to write though!
No warnings, just fluff!
The Shelby family was a member bigger than it was last year. You and Tommy now had two beautiful children between you, Charlie who was his son from a previous marriage (but had accepted you as his own mother) and now Rosie, your daughter who would be turning one in February. The Christmas season had been full of excitement, Charlie was at the age now where he could understand the concept of Father Christmas and you had managed to bully your husband into playing into all of the traditions surrounding it. No matter how much Tommy complained, there was no way that he didn’t enjoying taking the bite out of the reindeer’s carrot and the mince pies that were left out. It was a bit suspicious though in your opinion that Father Christmas had also been left out at glass whiskey.
The whole family would be coming over later, eating dinner and opening presents together. The children, mainly Charlie, were getting restless that they were having to wait to open all of their presents. Sat in the drawing room, you could see the lines of Tommy’s forehead drawing together in impatience. He was a good father, but not a tolerant one.
“Charlie, we’ve had this conversation. We have to wait for your cousins to get here before you can open anything…” The boy was about to interrupt when you piped in.
“Surely there must be something that you want to do before then? Something else a little festive?”
“Here’s an idea for you Charlie, why don’t we go and see the horses, eh? You like the stables, it’s snowed a bit overnight and the horses could do with a visit, we could take them something for Christmas as well if you like.” The little boy’s face lit up, he was clearly enthused by the idea.
Charlie was sent to the kitchen to find some carrots from Francis whilst you worried about wrapping up the baby. Tommy emerged at the same time as his son, proffering coats to all of you. He had a complex about you getting cold, he seemed to have decided you were particularly fragile ever since the birth. He took Rosie from you, carrying her in one and arm holding your hand with the other as headed out to the stables.
It didn’t matter how many times Charlie saw the horses, he was always just as excited.
“Go on then lad, go and give them the carrots you got from Frances and make sure you wish them a Merry Christmas - horses can sense that it’s a time to celebrate just as much as you can.” The child went bobbing into the stables, going to find his favourite horse, a bay mare that Tommy had flatteringly named after you - it had a particularly skittish temperament. He reached up to it with the carrot, which it gratefully accepted, his little smile even brighter than the pristine white snow which covered the ground. Tommy drew you to him as you was watched, he had arranged Rosie so that she was tucked inside his overcoat, making sure she wasn’t caught in the wind.
“This is a lovely way to spend a morning Tom, a really good idea baby.”
“Well, I do have ‘em occasionally love,” he chuckled.
“You know, I’d like to make this a tradition, do it every year,” you suggested.
“In that case love, that is what we’ll do.”
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#fanfic#requests
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Some ideas I have about some of the Links and their brains.
This will not include all of the boys, as most of them (Time, Wind, Twilight, Four, and Hyrule) I see as being in the same basic camp when it comes to smarts and stuff, so there's nothing really for me to address there. I'm just going to point out some interesting quirks I've noticed / hc with the other four.
Warriors
It's easy to jump to the conclusion that Wars is the stupidest Link, since his game has no puzzles. I disagree. While yes, he is laughably terrible with puzzles, he is a strategic and tactical genius with a powerhouse, rapid-fire brain that can parse out an entire battle's worth of information in an instant and come to a decision in a flash. Traditional puzzles may not be his thing, sure, but that is not where his genius lies. His brain thrives on cutting through chaos with decisive action, and that is where he shines.
Sky
Has ADHD (inattentive type). Like, really, really bad inattention. Constantly spaces out and forgets things. There's a reason Fi pops up like, every half-second to remind him what he's supposed to be doing. Hylia knew what she was dealing with and planned accordingly. He is the most space-cadety of space-cadets. He'll be going along like a normal person with a normal train of thought and then he'll see a leaf floating by and completely forget what he's doing because the leaf is pretty and isn't it interesting how it moves with the wind like that and I wonder where it's going hey wait get back here—
But. Sky's mental superpower is that he is the fastest dang learner in the entire Chain. Not just with weapons or items or music like the rest of 'em, but everything. Wild's unable to cook but has all the ingredients for something he's made before? Sky watched how he did it once while helping him dice the veggies, so he'll just throw that meal together real quick. Wild let him flip through the "Ingredients" section of the compendium once, and now Sky can identify all the edible plants it listed by sight. He learned how to carve by watching Jakamar repair a couple of wooden structures one day. Sky may be a space cadet, but he's also the most potently absorbent practical-knowledge and information sponge you ever did meet.
Wild
Also has ADHD (combined type). There are literal "ooo shiny" mechanics in the freaking game. Koroks? ooo shiny. Shrine quests? ooo shiny. Every single item that Wild can pick up in the game literally sparkles. Everything about the Sheikah Slate is designed to account for this: scope pins, map stamps, inventory organization, Hyrule Compendium, Sheikah Sensor, photo album, a journal which he uses to take fastidious detailed notes of all the crap he needs to remember because he knows he'll forget all of it otherwise. He struggles to sit still for extended periods unless he is asleep or gazing into a pretty fire.
Wild is also the creative genius out of the bunch. He has the most robust understanding of fundamental physics out of the entire Chain. His visual thinking and creative problem-solving skills are off the charts. The rest of the Chain may be able to navigate with maps and compasses, but Wild can navigate foreign terrain using nothing but the environment itself. Present him with a problem and he'll think of fifty different ways to address it and all of them will usually work. He is an all-around genius problem solver and astoundingly creative thinker.
Legend
Mind like a freaking. Steel. Trap. Nothing slips past his awareness or gets forgotten. Ever. Journals are pointless because his brain is an information vault. Oh, and any puzzle he's handed better say goodby to its loved ones and make sure its will is in order because this lad will solve it before it has a chance to defend itself.
Let me just, give you an example. Just one. You see this here?
How long do you think you could remember this random character vomit without writing it down? A few minutes, maybe? Maybe a couple hours, or a day or two if you took the time to memorize it?
Try an entire journey to another country after hearing it only once.
Oh, but that's not even the most impressive part! You see, Legend didn't just hang onto one of these memorization nightmares for an entire extended trip to another land, oh no—he remembered several of them. Perfectly. As if that wasn't enough, y'all remember the item swap quests? Yeah, without notes of any kind, this Link remembered who needed what in every single one of those convoluted trading chains. All while he was busy saving the world.
The downside is that Legend's thinking is not very flexible. He operates best when there is a single correct solution to a given problem. He much prefers having concrete information to work with, rather than a vague scenario with a shrug and a, "idk, figure something out". Being dropped into a massive open world with no information other than, "alright here ya go, here's some basic abilities and a light dusting of backstory, now get out there and save the Princess!" would be an overwhelming, anxiety-riddled nightmare for this dude.
#linkeduniverse#linked universe#lu warriors#lu sky#lu wild#lu legend#sorry that ended so abruptly#I didn't really know what else to say#so there you go#those are my thoughts
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Rematch
Hotch can coach his soccer team to win in the regionals, nationals, and whatever other championships the world offers, but all he really wants to win is your heart.
Soccercoach!hotch x soccercoach!reader rivalry. HELLO??!! Actually so proud of myself for this idea. Both hotch n reader r coaches for teeny tiny elementary school boys, but both hotch n reader takes it very seriously. Hotch is silly and goofy and SUPER into reader, reader, not so much. Just hotch trying to convince reader to go out w him, reader reaffirms the answer is no but secretly loves it. Mentions of a small injury!
“…and that’s the reason we wear shin guards, boys,” you voiced as you opened up a packet of band-aids.
The little boy sitting in front of you could only hiccup in response, lifting a tiny hand to wipe at his runny nose. You were kneeling in front of him on the slightly damp grass to aid his bloody knee, while the rest of the boys watched with horror, intrigue, and mostly disgust.
You ruffled the crying boy’s hair, caressing his cheek as you wiped away a warm tear. “Now, do you want to get back out there, buddy? Maybe get a little revenge on the boy who tripped you?”
His brows furrowed, and he looked down at his dirty cleats. You smiled.
“Or would you rather sit this one out, and give one of your friends a chance to play instead?”
He lit up immediately at your suggestion, nodding his head furiously. You giggled at his excited expression, and gave his cheek a little pinch before standing up. You handed him his water bottle and a small packet of fruit snacks, waving over the little boy on the other side of the bench.
“Alright. We’re gonna give our injured friend a break there, and have our other friend who has been resting to join us. Huddle around, everyone.”
With your arms around a bunch of hyper, young boys, you whispered the usual encouragements, suggestions, and strategies you knew could only be understood by boys of their age. When the referee blew their whistle, you sent them off to fly like a flock of birds.
“Go get ‘em, boys!” You shouted with your hands cupped around your mouth. You watched proudly as they ran, fell, and hit the ball against the pole of the net with alarmingly fast speed. Distracted with trying to make sure no one else gets seriously injured while also trying to keep track of the score, you didn’t bother acknowledging the figure slowly itching towards you.
“Is he alright?”
You turned your head at the aggravating voice, rolling your eyes when your eyes confirmed who it was.
“hotchner,” you mumbled. You turned back to the field, crossing your arms as your eyes squinted against the sun. “Well, he certainly would be doing a lot better had one of your boys not tripped him.”
He sighed, then chuckled. “Cut him some slack. He doesn’t have full control of his legs yet. I’m not even sure he knows he has legs.” He looked forward.
You couldn’t help the snort that escaped your lips. You cleared your throat to mask the annoyingly loud noise, shielding your eyes from the bright setting sun with one hand.
“Well, anyways. Good luck on trying to crack our defense this time. We worked very hard to make sure you would never be able to get past us, again.”
He sucked in a breath. “I don’t know if I would call that a defense strategy, exactly. It seems like they’re just… crowding around, making an actual wall with their bodies,” he feigned an exasperated sigh, shooting you a look you could practically see with your eyes closed.
“What happened to cutting them some slack, hotchner?” You smiled wildly at him, a teasing tone slathered all over your words.
You continued your observation of your boys in silence, relishing in the feel of the warm wind and the smell of wet soil. You could feel hotchner shifting his eyes to you every once in a while, but yours stayed focused on the field and your boys.
“Go…” you whispered, clenching your teeth as you eyed the boy running ferociously with the ball. “Come on, go…” you squealed, biting your lip with your hands in fists.
“And score!”
Hearing the sound of the whistle, you jumped up and down with your arms extended, laughing without a care as the little victor came running into your arms. You threw him up in the air and mumbled a passionate ‘good job’ and ‘I’m so proud of you’ before letting him celebrate with his teammates.
As you watched them run off to continue the game, you couldn’t help yourself from speaking in a smug tone.
“What did i tell yo-“
“Go out with me.”
Your large smile came loose as you sheepishly turned towards him, mouth agape and brows furrowed. To your surprise, his entire body was already turned completely towards you, as if he had been standing like that the whole time, eyes drifting over your flowing hair and your rosy cheeks.
“What did you say?”
He mimicked your crossed brows, crossing his arms with a weirdly calm expression on his face.
“I said, go out with me.”
You scoffed with disbelief, turning back to the field while shaking your head. “I hardly think that’s appropriate, coach.”
He placed two gentle hands on either side of your shoulders, turning you to him. “And why is that?”
“Well, for one, we’re the coaches for two different kiddie soccer teams.”
“And?”
You chuckled, blowing out a long breath. “And-“
“Is there a rule I’m not aware of?”
You stared at him blankly.
“Is there a quote on the community soccer’s official website that states two coaches cannot fraternize?”
“Well-“
“The answer is no, for the record. I’ve checked. Multiple times. There is no rule, or quote, or law, or anything, for that matter, that says there cannot be a relationship formed between two responsible, seriously, very adult, coaches.”
You shook your head, clicking your tongue as you fumbled with your fingers. “We’re a terrible match for each oth-“
“And why’s that? I th-“
You quickly clasped a hand over his mouth before he could finish, and an involuntary giggle threatened to escape your mouth at his bulging eyes.
“For starters, you cannot stop interrupting me.”
He raised his arms with the palms facing you, giving you a slow nod as he backed away slightly.
“Other than that…” you paused.
He flashed a knowing smile, looking amused as you looked up to the sky, praying to god to give you a reason, just one reason.
You sighed as stretched your arms behind you dramatically, the feeling of frustration bubbling way beyond your limit.
“There are many, many, many, reasons. In fact, there are so many that I can’t list them all at once. It’ll be morning by the time I’m done.”
“Rematch.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a rematch,” he nudged his head towards the field. In the time it took for hotchner to rile your palms sweaty and your cheeks red, the game had somehow ended in a tie.
You shook your head ‘no’ in denial, practically groaning while your began to collect various scattered water bottles and towels across the grass.
As the little soccer players began running towards their perspective benches, he flashed one more knowing smirk towards you, slowing backing away to his side.
“Until next time, coach. And we will win, positively.”
You snorted, and you had to physically stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head once more. But behind your messy, fallen hair, a small grin had utterly taken over your face.
“Yeah, yeah. Next time.
-
A/n: forgive me I have no idea how soccer matches go lol. Is it called overtime when it ends in a tie? R there rematches? Who knows!
#wyniepooh#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotchner x you#ssa aaron hotchner#aaron hotch smut#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch fic#hotch imagine#hotchner x reader#hotch x you#hotch x reader#hotch smut#hotch#agent hotchner#ssa hotchner#aaron hotchner x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine
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Oh you don’t say? Ok, fluffy one shot idea for you. Steve, backstage, when Eddie comes back from his First Ever Packed Show! “They really loved me Stevie!! 🥹🥹” excited and exhilarated and exhausted??
I saw this JUST before I was going to bed xD But I'll reply to it now. (other people feel free to send me things, not just my pal void! Also, go check out their writing). First ever packed show; Eddie was like a firework. His explosion of energy was evident, and the colour that came off of him was like catching wind in a sail. It just urged you forward. It was impossible not to be compelled by Eddie, and that was more than obvious as the roar of a full stadium reached Steve backstage. This wasn't Eddie's first show, but it was the first big league one. The stadium was sold out, and everyone here was screaming for Corroded Coffin. It was wild to think that the four men out there on the stage had come from little-town-nowhere and were now adored by hundreds. It was impossible not to adore Eddie. He knew how to put on a performance, and he knew how to engage the audience in a way that only a true showman could. Steve could never do something like that. He never wanted that much attention on him. He was proud of Eddie though, more proud than he could put into words. The band ran off-stage as the crowd continued to yell, the lights around them dimming as Steve already heard shouts for an encore. It didn't seem to matter how much the people adored Eddie though, because Steve could see that as soon as Eddie reached the wings he was looking around wildly for him. "Steve!" Eddie yelled, spying him against one of the back walls. He had chosen that spot to stay out of the Grips' way but hadn't wanted to go too far and miss the performance. "Present," Steve said, raising a hand and then opening his arms as he saw Eddie beelining it for him. Eddie was in his arms in a flash, throwing all of his weight on Steve as he latched on around his neck and hugged him tightly. He was damp with sweat and Steve couldn't help the involuntary 'ouph' that escaped him from the impact.
"Steve!" Eddie shouted again, pulling back to hold Steve's face in his hands. "Sold out, baby! Sold out! Did you see that? They love us--they freaking love us!" Eddie's smile was so brilliant that Steve was certain he could have lit up the whole solar system if he tried. His eyes were twinkling, and despite how exhausted he looked, there was an unbridled energy that hummed behind his expression. "I saw, I saw---" Steve chuckled, letting himself be manhandled. Eddie was like this after every show. His adrenaline was high, and his lust for life was like nothing else. He loved being famous. He loved performing, and Steve knew that he was meant to do it. Eddie was supposed to wow crowds and put on one of the best shows on the planet. "They're asking for an encore," Eddie said, nose to nose with Steve. His smile hadn't faded at all, and Steve felt the infectiousness of it as he grinned back. "Can't blame 'em," Steve replied with a laugh, holding Eddie around the waist. "You should get out there." "Don't go anywhere," Eddie said quickly, looking over his shoulder at the guys who were already standing in the wings, ready to head back out there. "I'll be right back. I'll---I'll be right back." Eddie kissed him hard on the mouth, and Steve hardly got the chance to kiss back before Eddie was rushing back toward the stage. It was hilarious to watch him stumble over himself and then try to look composed as he walked back out to a cheering crowd. Steve just smiled affectionately and wiped away the flecks of sweat and makeup that Eddie had gotten on his cheeks. This was par for the course, and Steve had to admit that he loved every second of being in Eddie's glow.
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alot of people portray tord as some insane sociopath who doesn’t care about anyone and its particularly heightened in wtfuture content,that being said i personally dont mind these headcanons when i was younger i was totally in favor of tord being a villain but whats your opinion on it? From what ive seen red leader is especially abusive to future tom but i always thought the cast was pretty mean to eachother in the earlier eddisodes but just grew out of it,tord left before the rest of them stopped being so mean to eachother,now its more or less poking fun and annoying eachother here and there
do you think tord just didn’t get the memo and thought it was still okay to act like this? Im all for ‘edgier’ headcanons and story telling but i just personally think to an extent tord isn’t as much as an asshole as people try to make him out to be,at some point the cast have tried to kill eachother and tom literally did what he did in zanta claws (which i forgive him for <33) but i see alot more people give tord more flack than anyone,srry ab the long winded question but i am curious ab your answer ^^
this is a multi-part question so im going to number them to make it more readable lol. also dw about long asks; i like em. lover having conversations about the show with other people
the tord villain question. ah the thing that divides the eddsworld fandom to this day. my opinion on this is a little nuanced. i personally like that direction for his character. i think it's interesting. it recontextualizes a lot of his strange behaviors from earlier episodes. fan interpretation of the actual content of the end episodes have led to a lot of people hating that idea though. i can see why too. i'm not a fan on how people decided to portray tord afterwards. i don't think he was a nice or pleasant person from day one, but i definitely don't think he's a sociopath or psychopath or insane. well not any more insane than everyone else. there's a lot more going on with tord psychologically. he has shown to care about people to an extent. i definitely think he has some kind of personality disorder. i've seen fans discuss schizoid personality disorder and borderline personality disorder in regards to a diagnosis for tord. i don't know enough on the subject to comment either way. imo a good tord wouldn't lose any of the fun aspects of his personality to fit better into any given villain trope. trying to fit square peg in a circle hole, ya know?
tom abuse. this one im a hard no on. i dont know why this got so popular. tord and tom are rivals. making tord an abuser and tom his victim just seems wrong for their dynamic. a lot of that content is fetish driven...and well.. im not touching that topic with a 10 ft shit and piss covered pole. if you're gonna make tord terrible to tom, you have to make tom just as terrible back. they both get under each others skin. i prefer the idea that tord and tom are more friendly in wtfuture since edd is out of the picture. i mean tord has to like him enough to employ him. tom likes him enough to be able to borrow a time machine without much trouble. those are two emotional unstable buddies right there
everyone kinda sucks. this is just straight up true. everyone was out for blood early on in eddsworld. i mean just look at matt. that guy was straight up a menace. yeah the show changed a lot. the tone and the way characters treat each other softened. the tomee bear has a pretty good video on this. i don't disagree with much of what he says. it added a new way to view the end episodes which i greatly appreciate. i could see this being the direction they go for tord in canon
everyone elses crimes. when it comes to talking about the other characters crimes i'd say dont take it seriously if the show doesnt. tom's christmas demolition wasnt taken seriously at all as an act of domestic terrorism. it's a joke about tom's character taken to the extreme for comedy. most things they do are consequence-less. basically, only take it seriously when the show does. tord blowing up the house, killing jon, and betraying everyone was tonally a lot different from tom rapping about hating christmas and nuking bongland. that's the reason why people hate on tord for what he did a bit more. personally i hate tord for being an annoying gooner with confusing politics. but u know to each their own
#tomeeposts#tord questions queries and thoughts..#i dont actually hate tord#i have my own ideas for why tord is the way he is but thats all just fanon brain spaghetti
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Since you asked so nicely: D-Delicate pleasures with Poolverine. uwu
I did it I did it! I finished the fic!!!! 🤩 this is also probably gonna go on my ao3 (skettibiscuit) so go ahead and follow me on there if you like how this one is written!!! Update: IT HAS BEEN POSTED!! I have two other poolverine fics in the works cause I can’t get them out of my brain lmao
Without further ado, Delicate Pleasures, a prompt from this post! (Thank you zaynie ily)
They’d just gotten done infiltrating some Big Bad Guy’s Big Bad Hideout with his little Bad goons all running around trying to kill them. Emphasis on trying. You’d be amazed at the wonders Adamantium blades do on the bones of two hundred or so scrawny guys in matching outfits. There was even an incredibly catchy 80s ballad playing in the background (probably only in Wade’s head, but you get it,) while it happened. You really had to be there…
But now, here they are, having just barely caught their breath and taking a break before heading home to their shitty apartment. At least they’d get to see the dog again once they get there.
Once the stars start to get boring to stare at, Wade turns his head to look at his counterpart. Sitting against the wall with his eyes closed and legs spread wide the fuck open. Wade’s got the best view in the house, and he doesn’t even know if it was on purpose. But Logan looks so peaceful right now, he could very well be asleep for all he knows…
He carefully, quietly gets up. Tiptoeing crouch to get next to Logan. He looks like a baboon trying to steal treats from the bigger baboons at the zoo. It’s wild shit, he’s seen it. If they’re not quick enough the bigger one will just beat the shit out of ‘em.
…That metaphor works a little too well in this situation, doesn’t it?
He gets close enough without a scratch. Logan hasn’t even moved. Now what? He got this close. He didn’t have any plans for what comes next.
…His hair looks soft. The sweat and blood dried from the wind up here on top of this building, and it’s a little poofier than usual. He could try something very funny and very stupid.
He gets up to sit on the ledge, and gently scratches the top of Logan’s head. You know those little metal things on a stick that you push onto your head and it makes your bones rattle? He’s trying to get that kind of effect.
Logan growls a little, but it’s quiet, and maybe a little inviting. Oh, it definitely is, because he tilts his head back and upwards, silently asking for more.
Wade’s eyes go wide and, well, he can’t stop now. So now he’s stuck here, petting his teammate like he’s a dog. He basically is. Sleepy little guy…
They’re sat like this for a while. Wade with his fingers all up in this gorgeous head of hair, and Logan making quiet little noises of approval that almost sound like one wrong move will make Wade lose his fingers. But it’s worth it to hear those noises, and they’ll grow back anyway.
It’s quiet, and soft, and delicate, which isn’t a word often used to describe anything these two do together. Usually it’s manic and violent and utterly batshit insane, the kinds of things they get up to. But no, here they are, peaceful. For once.
He continues for a while, until his hand starts to get tired, and slows to a stop, with his hand just planted on top of Logan’s head. Another growl comes from him in a moment, and he looks up at Wade. Not necessarily mad, but maybe a little annoyed. “Why’d ya stop?”
“Got tired.” He smiles down at him. “I can do it some more at home. We should probably get going, huh big guy?” He scratches his head a little more roughly, but Logan doesn’t seem to mind the difference and closes his eyes again.
“Mm… Yeah, good idea.”
#sketti writes#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#wolverpool#deadclaws#fluff#everyone’s favorite gay undead boys need some fluff every once in a while#as a treat
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Hey Isa, you wouldn't happen to have any head cannons back there would you?
Also, I hope you're doing well
Yeah hold on lemme check in the back *glass breaking* *metal clanging* *vine boom* *BRUH.mp4* *more glass breaking* *cartoon boink* *high pitched scream* *Taco Bell dong*
Okay got em here ya go
Phil headcanons masterlist
Quesadilla Island gave him SUCH a taste for Latin food and he can't fucking just Get That when he's home in the Hardcore world. Can you imagine him asking Rose to open a portal to another world for a 2am Taco Bell run. That's not even real/good Latin food but can you imagine.
Actually that's another thing he misses, Rose doesn't communicate with him directly when he's home. I don't have an idea of what the reasoning is for that but :(
Goddess of Death likes to tease him about his perching. She makes him so self-aware of it and he hates it but in that "god fucking damn it Kristin. I'm doing it again" way.
Ender King is just a bitch. Phil was scared of him on Quesadilla Island because there was no control or way of predicting what he'd do there. Or why. Or how. Phil generally isn't scared of a long-dead bitch baby. No, there's a hardcore deity we haven't met yet that he's scared of. And if Apollo doesn't dodgeball me on this the day Phil does a new build to introduce one of the two we haven't met yet, I might make a fan deity.
👆🏻 I mentioned this on stream Friday 9/6, I'm already cooking on the fan deity LMAO.
As a chronic overthinker who's way too insistent on constantly mentally firing on all cylinders in order to survive, this dumbass frequently forgets that taking walks (or more commonly: flights) help him unwind and actually organize his thoughts. He's so bad at walking away for a bit and returning to something with fresh eyes and a clear head. And then he remembers to do that finally and is like 🤯 about it.
Honestly, the same could be said for his emotions. I might have made a hc to this effect before, but he has such a bad habit of clinging to distractions or stubbornly trucking on from things instead of just letting himself Sit with his emotions, processing them and letting them just exist and then pass. He's a very proactive coper, but sometimes action isn't the answer and that's something he hasn't quite learned yet (Rose is trying to teach him this). He absolutely fucking hates doing it, but sometimes the best solution for him really is to just. Sit and cry it out, or seethe, or ride out the panic attack. Whatever it is.
Sitting in the warm sunshine, the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, and the sight of flower pedals floating in the air fill him with deep, somber nostalgia for comfortably sitting and chatting with Chayanne & Lullah. Watching sunsets too. This is one of few times he'll actually do something to the effect of the previous hc and just let himself sit and Feel. He just can't do it alone, he needs the Murder to sit with him & chat.
Some things he'll do when he actually let's himself sit somewhere & vibe: chat with the Murder, fish, sketch something he sees (often Dorothy), organize his inventory (rarely).
Nowadays he also sketches things of Chayanne & Lullah, sometimes Missa, occasionally Techno. He also really likes doodling random emblems and sigils, often meant for the gods (minus EK) or Techno.
Btw he still gets paranoid about resource gathering, inventory management, and collecting cool stuff ever since his possession. :) Even now that he's back in the Hardcore world, where it's ironically more unlikely that Ender King can/will hurt him, he gets anxious about over-indulging his crow brain.
He's not ALWAYS treating the Murder like it's on sight. Sometimes he'll sit and preen their feathers (or his own while they do their own), he has a massive feeder full of any treat a crow would find yummy imaginable, and half the time they go on those walks/flights he should take to de-stress more often, it's for them because they're the little shits that love to travel so much. He's an explorer and historian/archivist, sure, but he tends to stick to the structures of the gods that he's discovered.
Which btw calling back to that Deep Dark Deity, if they end up existing in canon (and if not, this will be canon for my AU or whatever), he hasn't met/discovered them or their structures yet bc he's too cautious to explore the Deep Dark thoroughly. :)
Honestly this feels like a low-hanging fruit hc that I'm sure tons of people have, but Phil desperately wants to bring Missa to the Hardcore world some day to show him the builds and teach him about the gods.
When he got back to the Hardcore world after QSMP, he took some time to recover emotionally and then anxiously visited Endlantis to add some,, security to the cave Ender King's corpse is sealed in. Will it work? Probably not. But it makes him feel safer.
He has a journal/scrapbook type thing documenting everything he sees & learns about the deities and their associates (ex: He & She). He wishes he could've brought it with him to Quesadilla Island so he could've taught Chayanne & Lullah more about them in detail. But they're somewhere in the world with him now, so he's sure they've learned more over the last 4 months. :)
#philza#qsmp philza#q!philza#hc!philza#philza hardcore#hardcore philza#hardcore season 4#qphil headcanons
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Fancy a Date, Dollface ?
Flirty!Jealous! Tybalt (modern/1996) x gn! Reader
(Divider made by @/cafekitsune on here ! Check ‘em out ! :D) (A/N: Just as the title says, this is a slightly Flirty!Tybalt x Gen neu! Slightly “Nerdy”! Reader ! Also, a tiny little background information for this, Mercutio is your best friend, nothing more, nothing less! Of course, Ty knows this, and still hates it !) Key Terms (yeah yeah very wattpad of me bring your pitchforks): Y/N-Your Name Y/N-N: Your Nick-Name
B/F/N- Best Friend’s Name
(Also, this was made for @ladyinbl00d ! I really hope you enjoy this one especially !)
(Anyways, without further adeu, please enjoy !)
“Hey, let’s go shopping !”, they said. “It’ll be fun !”, they said. And, could you really deny them? Deny him? The party-animal? The fast talker? The cousin of the Chief of Police? Your best friend?
How could you deny the sparkle in his eyes? (Although, now that you mention it, did he really have a spark? Or, was it his eyeshadow?) Or, his nearly high-pitched, pleading, and slightly convincing, beg of a simple, yet exaggerated, “pleeeaaaaaaaaseeeeee”, as he got on his knees, and wrapped his arms around your waist? Or, his promise to get you that new movie you oh-so desperately wanted to see? The Night’s Opened View, starring Angelo Manovincine and Catelynn Ashins, solving a murder in their high-school party? Drugs scurried around the place, sugar coated toxins covered the tongues of the most bitter booze imaginable, and hands covering cold faces, and cold cases alike. No, it was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Besides, you needed a release from your dreary, and unfortunately comfy, apartment room, so what’s the harm?
“(Y/N), come on!” His pace quickened and the intertwined grip between his smooth, well-kept hands, and your hands, “I saw some really cute shoes for you!” “Mer, trust me, I really don’t need MORE shoes!”
He paused, turned around to look at you up and down, furrowed one eyebrow, and shot you a look with an “mmhm” following. “Mer, my shoes aren’t that bad!” “….” “I JUST GOT THESE SHOES YESTERDAY.” “Creased and deceased?” “Oh, shut up.” A goofy grin followed his face, before running off into another store, yelling, “I’LL GET YOU SOME SHOES IN HERE!” “WAIT, MER-“ And he was gone like the wind..like always.
“Why does he always do this?”, you asked yourself, out-loud, in fact. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t, seeing you talk to yourself would make anyone run off.” Oh, God. It’s him again. His slightly raspy voice, his sarcasm, his…eyes. Those Dark brown eyes. Those dark, slightly lidded, brown eyes.
It was him, it was always him.
“I’d be thankful that a pretty face like yours goes a long way.” You see him look you up and down, and give his signature toothy grin. You sigh, “What do you want, Tybalt?” He smirked a little, and simply tilted his head, “Awww, don’t wanna see me?” He leaned in close to you, much to your feigned annoyance. “Not here, and especially not up close. Not to say I can’t see your whiskers from afar, though.” The corner of your lips turned into a smile, and you could hear the ticking of a bomb, slowly going off. Tick, tick, tick, tick. And you couldn’t wait until it exploded.
“You just love that little cat metaphor, don’t you?” “What? It’s funny”, you lowered your voice, hoping Tybalt wouldn’t hear, “and cute.” “Cute? That’s what you wanna call this?” An idea popped in your head, and you brought him closer by a little tie on his somewhat formal black adorned attire, “Maybe it is, what’s it to you?” Your fingers slithered up his tie, as you slowly undid it, and he hummed in response, looking into your eyes. “To me, it’s unfair.” You stopped tying his tie, his words catching your attention. “Unfair how ?” “Unfair because we all know who has eyes that you can stare into for days.” He smirked more, seeing you continue to play with his tie. “And from the looks of it, I can, with how alone you are.” “Actually”, you pull him in closer, your mouth to his ear, “I’m with someone.” The venom poisoned his tone, as he looked away, feeling a tinge of jealousy course through his veins. “Oh..? And, who’s the one…?” Please be a friend, please be a friend, please be a friend-
“Mercutio.”
Oh God, it’s even worse.
Not only is their “friend”, but it’s that flirtatious bastard. Great. You bent back, and yanked on the tie a little, just before patting on it. And, he would’ve given you a reaction, had he not been consumed with the thought of him joking with you, smiling at you, all things he can do for you. “So that’s who left you today, right ?” You groan a little, and nodded, which gave him a little more satisfaction.
“You know, I can treat you better, doll.” “Oh, please, and just what are you gonna do? give me some flowers and wow me?” “C’mon dollface, give me some credit. You and me? We’re in sync.” “Oh, yeah? What am I thinking right now?” He paused, looking away from you, reaching behind his back, and pulling out two tickets. “If I were to guess, I’d say you��d want to see…..oh, I forgot what it’s called….’The Night’s Opened View’?” “Tease.” You thought, yet still visibly excited, and quite shocked. You hardly mentioned this movie, except to Mercutio a few hundred times, but to no one else ! So, how did he- “When we went to the store, I saw you looking at the poster for three hours. Almost like how you look at me. Almost.” Bet he wouldn’t do that for you. You paused, then felt hot. “So, it’s a yes, or do I have to convince you ?” “What are you gonna do, kitty?” “What I have to.” He brings your hands up to his lips, and gives them a peck, all while looking at you..it feels way hotter in here than before. “Of course, you won’t break my heart, right, doll ?” “..What if I did?” “…You wouldn't do that, doll.” He gets closer, his lips hovering over yours, hand on your chin, “You know you want me. You, and those pretty porcelain lips of yours.” “I want to make you explode." He chuckles, "I'll cherish you too, dollface."
You playfully scoffed, but deep down, you knew it was true. You knew that your heart was his. You knew that no matter how much you wanted to push him away, tease him, maybe even judge him, you always loved him. “Fine, I’ll go see it with you, but you’re paying for everything.” “Not a problem, you know I like spoiling you. All you gotta do is ask, doll.” He holds your hand, his thumb massaging your knuckles, “Oh, and don’t bring him along. I just want it to be us, alone.” “Him?”, you paused, “Who’s him- Wait- What’s wrong with Mercutio ?” “.....” “..Fine, I’ll come at 5.” He smiled, then immediately heard Mer’s laugh, and the corners of his lips went south. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” “Maaaaaaaybe.” He chuckled, “Don’t toy with me like that, doll.” and walked off. “(Y/N-N) !” Mercutio’s voice trilled in the air as he skipped towards you. “I found these shoes, and they’re SO cute ! Aaaaand, it’ll be perfect for our movie night tonight !” He hugged you, but you felt both hot and cold. Chilly and warm. Conflicted. “Oh, Mer, I’m gonna be busy tonight ! I need to see (B/F/N) for their ‘newest art invention’.” You applied air quotes, trying to hide the fact that you’re lying to Mer, and acting as if your “(B/F/N)” wasn’t the man you’ve been smitten for since God knows how long. “Oh….aw man….” He lowered his head, but you quickly cupped his face, “Come on, after I help (B/F/N), we’ll watch a whole marathon of movies ! You’re pick this time too !” He quickly smiled, and kissed the palm of your hand. “Alright, alright, I forgive you.” “Good, now,” you tap his shoulder, and run off, “LAST ONE TO LEAVE’S GONNA HAVE TO SHAVE PRINCE’S MUSTACHE TOMORROW NIGHT !” “HEY, I DID IT LAST TIME !” He quickly sprints after you, cackling, while Tybalt watches.
“...Come on, Doll, make a better choice than him.” His eyes shut, as the question that plagues him infects him yet again: “…What does he have that I don’t ?”
(A/N: Whew, it’s been a while since I’ve made a one-shot, and even longer of it being an x reader ! I do hope that I made Tybalt seem flirtatious in your eyes (and in-character too) ! I also hope that it isn’t too bad or incomprehensible, and that you all have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening/ night ! :D)
#romeo + juliet#romeo + juliet 1996#tybalt 1996#tybalt capulet#romeo and juliet 1996#romeo and juliet#Baaler fics#tybalt x reader#tybalt (1996) x reader#romeo+juliet 1996
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