#ive been sitting on this one for a long time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caesium-55 · 3 days

Text

—everything is orange. [ iv ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

note: omg im so sorry for not being online lately. i got a writing part time job now so... i may not be as active as before. hope yall are having a great day! not edited. not beta read.

masterlist.

Everything inside your studio is gray. The walls, the couch, the floor, the instruments. It's the kind of room that will make a sad beige mom over the moon.

But when you open the door and the sight of one Lando Norris greets you, looking devilishly handsome in his dark blue button up shirt and black pants and Nike sneakers with his curls concealed underneath his dark blue bucket hat, the studio suddenly doesn't feel as gray as it usually is.

“Lando?” Your brows rise towards your hairline. Truthfully, he’s one of the last people you expected to see inside HAN Ent’s building, much less outside your studio.

“Hi,” he smiles charmingly at the shock in your voice, showing all teeth and smile lines. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You stammer, still not over your shock, “S-Sure.”

You step aside to grant him space and allow him to enter your magic shop. Lando’s eyes curiously roam around the studio and you close the door behind him, nudging the houseplant further to the wall using your foot to avoid getting tripped on it in the future.

“Take a seat. Please,” you invite, gesturing towards the couch. Lando takes the invitation and sits down. He looks too big on the couch, you note. He has long legs and an athletic build. Perhaps, it’s time to buy a bigger one.

“Nice place,” he compliments.

You want to snort out loud but refrain yourself from doing so.

Lando is saying things out of politeness.

Your studio is shit.

You know that.

It used to be a stock room that was converted into a studio when Yoon PD-nim offered you that deal, that's why the room is graciously small. They soundproofed the walls, painted everything gray, shoved in a few pieces of recording equipment and called it a day.

It's still quite nice of Lando to compliment the place though. You might hate this place but this is your wizard’s tower, your witch’s hut, your magic shop, and you feel pride swell in your chest when someone thinks your little corner is cool, even if you think he’s lying.

“Thanks,” you say sincerely. “How did you know I was…”

“I asked Jinnie,” he says simply.

“Ah,” your tone falls flat.

A moment's pause.

“So this is where you’ve been working?”

You nod. Suddenly, you feel conscious.

Your studio isn't really in the best state right now. When you work in a creative fever, you tend to make a mess. Being messy enhances your creativity. The sprawled papers with lyrics, the empty styro cups of coffee lying around, numerous pens and pencils (you don't even know why you feel the need to bring a lot of them) and rubber erasers, and your snacks. There's a mountain of crumpled paper in your trash can.

“Sorry, the place isn't really….” you trail off, making vague gestures with your hand. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“It's okay,” he chuckles. “I called, you know. And texted. You didn’t return any of it.”

“Oh, my phone’s charging,” you say, beginning to feel bad that you accidentally ignored him. “And my notifs are silent.”

“That explains it.”

“Shouldn't you be resting?” you asked. “You have a flight tomorrow.”

It's currently the 19th. Lando is set to leave for Japan on the 20th. His team wants him in Suzuka by September 20 and not later than that. They already had a field day when Lando announced that he's flying with you. At first, he wanted it to be just you and him. His team wouldn't let him because he can be a PR nightmare if given enough freedom so they let his manager, Kyla, tag along.

You’ve mistaken Kyla as a member of the PR team. Turns out she’s his manager.

“Is it a sin to want to spend a few hours with my girlfriend before I go?” he flutters his eyes innocently. You snorted.

“Fake but okay.”

“I’m being sincere here, girlfriend,” he pushes his lips into a pout. “Did you eat already?”

“No,” you answer.

“Should we grab something together?”

“Should we?” you humor his suggestion. It's been a few hours since you’ve eaten. You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.

“I think I can call a restaurant and make a reservation.”

“It's near midnight,” you point out, glancing down at the Rolex decorating his wrist. Isn't he aware of how late it is?

“So?”

“Restaurants are closed by now,” you state.

Lando shrugs.

“I can make the effort of finding those seafood pasta you like.”

Your brows furrow.

“What do you mean like? I never said I like those.”

“But I thought…” Lando blinks. “I’ve read it somewhere…”

“Huh?”

“You're from Jeju, right? You grew up eating seafood so you like seafood and you once said you have a palate for Italian food. I tried…liking the pasta with seafood. I hated it but I ate it anyway.”

Your jaw hangs open at the revelation.

This is single-handedly the sweetest thing someone has ever done to you.

You don't know whether to be touched about the sincerity or to cry because of his idiocy. You can definitely do both but you refuse to do both. You have an image to maintain.

“Didn't I tell you that the company manipulated my public information?” you ask incredulously. “Yes, I was from Jeju but I didn’t eat seafood much. I have a mild allergy—”

“In seafood?” you see his eyes widen into saucers. Oops, you shouldn't have said that. “Wait, you had an allergy attack, didn't you? On those lunch dates we had? Why didn't you tell me so early on?”

“I thought you liked it!” your voice raises slightly, panicked. You're caught. He isn't supposed to know about this.

“I didn't?! I loathe seafood but I ate a few bites because I thought you liked it!”

You blink at him. That is the sweetest while simultaneously the most stupid thing someone has ever done for you. You drag a hand across your face, a groan escaping your mouth and yet you’re smiling. You shake your head at him.

Points for Lando Norris for making you capable of feeling frustrated and another feeling you cannot name.

“We’re idiots.”

There is a stretch of silence before Lando speaks up.

“What do you want to eat? And please tell me the real one.”

You began listing the first three things that appeared inside your brain, “I like…. ramyeon, natto, and tteokbokki.”

You have a palate for convenience store food. Food that you can find in busy night markets. Food that is sold by street vendors. The kind of food that tastes like absolute shit if cold but tastes like home if microwaved into the right amount of temperature. If you venture in your imagination hard enough, you can taste your mother’s cooking after a few bites. But you don't tell Lando that.

“We can eat that.”

You raise a brow.

“The ramen, the chicken, and the tteokdokdok.”

“Tteokbokki,” you correct him gently.

“Tteoktokki,” he repeats.

“Tteok.”

“Bokki.”

“Tteokbokki.”

“Tteokdokki.”

You shake your head, “Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

“Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

You snap your fingers, nodding in approval, “Better.”

“I literally said the same thing.”

“You didn't.”

“Where will we eat this tteokbokki?” He says the tteokbokki slowly, careful with his pronunciation.

“There are night markets nearby,” you tell him. “It’s crowded though. I know a good convenience store that’s a good drive away. It’s usually empty. Do you go to convenience stores?”

You suddenly feel stupid for asking.

Do multi-millionaires like Lando Norris go to convenience stores? It’ll make much more sense if he books restaurants or employs a private chef to cook for him at home. Do they even have a palate for instant food? What do rich people snack on? You don't know. You're not rich. Even after becoming famous, you’re still not rich enough to live the life of luxury.

This just highlights the difference of the worlds you and Lando live in.

“I do. Just not frequently,” he shrugs. “We can go to the convenience store if you want. I don't mind.”

“No, it’s fine. We can eat anywhere you want. Jinnie might have a few hotel restaurants in mind.”

“But do you want to eat in hotel restaurants?”

His question makes you pause and Lando immediately takes your hesitation as a no.

“We can eat anything you want to eat. This is your place anyway. Show me around.”

You bite your lower lip as you contemplate. Should you or should you not? That is the question.

When your eyes drag themselves back to Lando’s face, you see that he’s already looking at you intently as he awaits your answer patiently. You want to shrink back at the intensity of his gaze.

“Well then, do you want to go on a convenience store date with me, boyfriend?”

Despite the hesitation he’s displayed earlier, Lando grins at your offer.

You take Lando to your favorite place in all of South Korea. Google Maps says it's a three hour drive away. You arrive there in two hours and a half.

Maybe it's a sign to change careers.

You used your Jeep Wrangler. Lando offered to drive but you shook your head and hopped on the driver’s seat, him taking the passenger seat.

You won't allow anyone to drive your car. It's a rule of yours.

The last time you allowed someone to drive your car, your Hyundai jumped over a sewage canal. Lando might be a professional race car driver and that alone spoke multitudes of his driving skills, but you're so traumatized with the incident with your Hyundai that you physically can't allow anyone, professional driver or not, to handle the steering wheel of any other cars you own.

Cars are expensive. You can't buy another car. You’ll bawl when you see the money departing your bank account.

You palm the steering-wheel with your right hand. Your left hand lays flat on the back of the passenger seat, behind Lando’s head. Your upper body is rotated towards the back, full focus activated as you reverse the car in expert ease. Lando is observing you, you can tell. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your side profile.

“You okay?” You ask Lando. The man has gone uncharacteristically silent when you’ve started reversing the car. You hear Lando let out a breath. Almost shakily. You cannot tell for sure.

“Yeah,” his voice breaks like a boy undergoing puberty and you have to thin your lips into a line to prevent yourself from laughing. “Nice parking skills.”

“Thanks,” you say nonchalantly. “You sure you're okay though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rubs his throat. “I think the seatbelt’s a little too tight.”

Once the car’s perfectly parked, you kill the engine and exit the car. Lando follows suit.

“I don't know why you have to drive for almost three hours just to visit this place,” Lando gestures to the surroundings. “There's nothing here.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Come on, boyfriend.”

You pat his shoulder and lead the way. A bell chimes loudly as you push the door open. You step inside, the British racer only a few steps behind you. You tug down your mask.

“What's this place?” Lando questions.

“24-hour convenience store,” you answer. “But no staff.”

“No staff?” he asks. “So self service?”

“Ah yes, that’s the word. Self service,” You say. “Quite nice, right? We have complete privacy and good food. Two best things in the world.”

“Careful. Your introvert is showing.”

You snort, “First time coming to a place like this?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “No staff? Does nobody attempt to steal things?”

You shrug, “Probably not. Ramen is not worth going to jail for.”

“This shop will make a million dollar loss in an hour if it's in another country,” Lando says, his nose wrinkling. “Like in the UK or US or something.”

You beckon Lando to follow you through the aisles, “This way.”

“You even memorize the places of things,” he comments. “You come here often?”

You hum a yes. You stop in front of the freezer and open it, pulling out two plastic cups.

Lando’s forehead creases, “Just ice?”

“This is an ice cup,” you explain.

“Are we going to wait for the ice to melt before drinking it or….”

You stare at him incredulously before promptly bursting out in laughter.

“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“Nothing, sorry,” you clear your throat. You don't know why you find that funny. Your humor is broken. “They sell pouches of juice or coffee and you pour it into the cup.”

Lando’s head tilts. He looks like a confused baby owl.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you walk up to a nearby shelf and grab a Kuromi pouch. It's peach-flavored. “This. You pour it here.”

You gesture to the ice cup. Lando’s mouth forms a circle in realization.

“Cool.”

“There are a lot of flavors,” you add, gesturing to the shelf. “Peach, apple, mango, strawberry, orange…”

You read out the flavors for Lando because you know he can't read Hangul. Lando wordlessly picks a grapefruit-flavored pouch. You nod.

“Good choice. Oh wait, we forgot to get a basket. Can you?”

Lando nods and leaves. When he comes back, now with a yellow basket, the two of you continue to browse down the entire store. You explain each of the food. He said no to most of them. Lando is a picky eater, you learn.

The two of you fill the basket near to the brim. You pay for each item, even though Lando insisted that he do it, and you occupy the table that faces that floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the darkness of the night outside.

“Here,” you hand him a plastic fork. Lando accepts it, his brows furrowed. “You were struggling with the chopsticks.”

A shy smile makes its way to his face, “Sorry.”

You wave your hand as if to say it's no problem and plop down on the chair beside him. Lando digs in with his Buldak Samyang carbonara while you stir your Yoppoki Tteokbokki with yours before taking your first bite. You immediately let out a moan of pleasure.

“Is it delicious?” he asked.

“Very.”

You eat until your cheeks fill, chewing slowly.

“Oh wait, you should post something.”

“Now?”

“You took pictures of me earlier, right?” you know he did. He tried to be slick about it but you’d know if someone is taking a picture of you. “Put it on your story.”

“And delete it?”

“No. The world already knows we're dating anyway. Well, fake dating.”

Lando pulls out his phone and shows you the pictures in his gallery. There are aare a total of four pictures. Three are blurry. The other one is blocked by his finger.

“That one is good.”

“What do you mean good? It's blurry.”

“Blurry is an aesthetic.”

Lando shakes his head but opens his Instagram and begins to edit the photo you’ve chosen, “Help me with the caption?”

“I’m not good with them.”

“Me neither.”

“Your first caption was pretty good.”

“You think so?” he sounds hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders.

“Just say something like ‘her’ then put a period.”

That's the limit of your creative powers for the day.

Lando nods and begins typing. He’s typing quite long for a word with three letters and a single punctuation mark. He shows you the caption.

Your brows furrow.

He laughs, “I’m funny.”

“You’re really not,” you shake your head. “Put it in your drafts.”

“So I’m not posting it now?”

“You post it after we leave the place,” you say. “So we’ll be gone by the time the fans see it and decide they’ll come here.”

“That's very smart.”

“That's not being smart. That’s just common sense,” you state flatly.

“You know, I always thought you'd be a cold person.”

You raise a brow, not entirely sure if you're understanding him correctly. Cold is an adjective. It's used to describe temperature. You're uncertain if it can be applied to use as an adjective to describe a person.

Lando must have sensed your confusion that he adds, “Ice queen.”

Oh.

Yeah.

Okay. You understand it now.

“You used to look so cold and cool,” Lando says. “Ice queen. But also an IDGAF attitude. Very intimidating.”

You have no idea what IDGAF means but you nod your head and act like you understand him anyway. You make a mental note to search it up on the internet later.

“But you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you echo.

“You’re actually pretty sweet,” he adds.

“I’m trying to be kind.”

“You don't have to try. You already are.”

“The companies make us act sometimes.”

“What?”

“Like, before debut,” you begin. “There are companies that assign certain images to their idols. They give them parts to play like directors do to actors in movies. Like, oh, you look like this kind of person so you have to act like this kind of person. They take a look at your visuals and decide what role you’ll have. They took one look at my face and told me that I have to be a strict and serious person who is scary and cold and unbothered. I didn't want to do it because I tend to smile really easily before and I just wanted to have a lot of friends, you know?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“When you’re intimidating, you tend to not have a lot of them. Despite that, I followed the role. Many praised me for it and others just….well, they didn't like it. The company was happy, though. They told me I was good at acting. But it's just…sad that the person I am on the screen is not real.”

“Yeah, that's honestly sad. I can't imagine doing that for my team. I’ll suck at it. Imagine me cold and serious,” Lando makes a serious face but he ends up doing a The Rock Smoulder. You have to stop yourself from laughing out loud by thinning your lips and twisting it.

“You're doing it, though. For the team. This whole fake dating thing,” you gesture to yourselves.

Lando mutters something under his breath while stroking his chin. You don't catch it.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I think your eyes are pretty.”

He's changing the subject. He does it so swiftly, too.

“I know, I thank my mother every day for it,” you joke and Lando chuckles softly. “But don't be jealous, you have pretty eyes yourself.”

He turns into a lovely shade of pink. You can see it. You don't speak of it.

“It changes colors sometimes,” you continue, pointing at your eyes. “Like, it’s kind of gray in the dark. But if the sun shines on it, it has three colors.”

“You stare at my eyes a lot, do you?”

“Well, if a certain thing is pretty, you can't help but stare, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess that's why I stare at you a lot, too.”

You laugh, the sound airy, shaking your head. What a flirt. The cute kind.

“I’m quite the head turner, aren't I?”

“You are,” he agrees seriously.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirks, confident.

“Careful, you might fall for me, fake girlfriend,” he says cheekily. You have the desire to shatter his ego so you did.

“You're handsome but you're not my type.”

His smirk falters. You give a chortle.

“What's your type then?” he asks, leaning slightly forward. His eyes reflect anticipation.

You fall into a momentary thoughtful silence, “For starters, attractive men who can drive very fast cars. With a racing license this time. Not like me.”

Lando smiles at your light attempt at a joke. Good to know that he finds the dark humor surrounding your career-ending scandal funny.

“I am an attractive man,” he gestures to his face. “With a priceless face and I drive a very fast car. Formula one or sports cars. Oh and would you look at that? I have a racing license and a regular driving license.”

“You are an attractive man,” you agree. “But again, not my type.”

Lando dramatically puts his hand against his chest, right above where his heart lies and acts like you just shot him dead on the spot.

“Hmm, what else? Ah, plays golf,” you list another trait of your ideal man.

“I play golf,” he crosses his arms, leans back against the back of his seat, and lifts his hips a little as he adjusts his sitting position on the chair, manspreading a little. This is one of the subtle things men do that women cannot help but find attractive. You’re also a woman. Of course, you find that attractive.

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. Lando laughs at you.

“A few years older than me.”

When Lando opens his mouth, you cut him off, holding up a finger, “I’m older than you.”

By months only but still.

“In the standards of your fake birthday, I am older than you.”

You huff, shaking your head. He is right, to some degree. The world thinks he is older than you because HAN Entertainment decided to lie about your birthday.

“Looks good in red.”

“You know, orange is a mixture of red and yellow. Technically, it's still red. So I look good in red. One plus one equals two. I am connecting shit.”

He raises two index fingers in the air and connects them together to put further emphasis on the words he imparted in a sage-like manner.

“You're not connecting anything.”

“Hell yeah, I am. I am so smart, I should just be McLaren’s chief strategist. Maybe then I can finally get my first win.”

You cannot help but raise an amused brow.

“Fine, if you're so smart Mr. Strategist, what's plan A to your victory?”

His answer comes immediately, no hesitation and he utters it with so much confidence in his chest: “Sneak into Red Bull and steal their car.”

You abruptly burst out laughing, the sound filling up the entire convenience store. You cannot hold it in anymore. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

You don't laugh pretty. You're very much aware of that. You sound like a dolphin when you do. But Lando is so funny that you forget to feel conscious of the weird sound that leaves your mouth for a whole five seconds before you remember to compose yourself and stop.

“You don't have to cover your mouth when you laugh, you know?” he says. “Or try to stop yourself from laughing. Just laugh if you want.”

You give him a look. Why is he turning serious all of a sudden?

“Wait, red?” Lando does a double take once you’ve composed yourself. “Don’t tell me your ideal type is….”

His forehead creases. You nod.

He says, “Carlos?!” the same time you say, “It’s Kim Mingyu.” How did he even come to that conclusion?

Oh wait. Red. Older than you. Drives fast cars. Racing license. Makes sense.

You blink at each other.

“Who the hell is Kim Mingyu?”

“You don't know Kim Mingyu?” you pull out your phone, open Google Photos, and search for the folder named: 민규❤️❤️❤️. The folder contains 7659 photos of Kim Mingyu.

“Fake boyfriend, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Kim Mingyu,” you show your favorite Mingyu photo.

The one where he’s wearing a black fitted shirt, his cheek against the back of his hand, and the veins in his arms bulging. He’s serving major boyfriend vibes.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t look that good.”

“No, Lando, you are not seeing it,” you hold the phone closer to his face.

“I am seeing it and I am saying he’s not good looking.”

“Lies.”

“I'm not lying.”

“It's Kim Mingyu.”

“And?”

You pull a face, retracting your phone. “Come on, he’s quite good looking. And tall. Very tall.”

You once have to stand beside him in an ending ceremony in Inkigayo. You barely even come up to his chest.

“I’m tall.”

“You’re shorter than him.”

“You're killing me here.”

You chuckle. You pat his shoulder in faux sympathy.

“There, there. That's okay. You're my boyfriend anyway. Don't be jealous.”

“Damn right, I am.”

You snort.

“But you have to stan Seventeen though. After your race in Suzuka, we’ll try to binge GoSe.”

When you’re too full to finish the rest of your tteokbokki, you drag Lando outside the convenience store.

“Sand?” he questions.

“Sand,” you state.

“There's sand in my shoes,” Lando complains.

“Take it off and like,” you make the motion of flipping your shoes upside down to remove the sand inside. He does as you’ve told him but he seems to be not fully satisfied with it. There is still sand inside his shoe.

“This won't do,” he says. “I should have brought flip flops.”

“Let's go barefoot,” you kick off your shoes and neatly place them on the foot of a nearby coconut tree. You motion for Lando to do the same, but you’re met with hesitance.

“What if someone steals them?”

It's a valid concern to have, you suppose. You look around you. Darkness is all that can be perceived.

“Who’d steal them? Cheonyeogwisin?”

“I don't even know what that is.”

“Just leave the shoes here, Lando.”

The sand feels good underneath your feet. A bit ticklish. A little too familiar. You turn on the flashlight of your phone and jog up to the shore.

“Wait for me!” you hear Lando scream from behind you.

“Palli!” you yell back, voice almost drowning in the wind.

“I am palli-ing!”

You roll your pants up to your knees and soak your feet in the cold waves, shivering. You turn around just as Lando body slams you and the two of you fall into the ice-cold waves. Your jaw comes slack, eyes wide. The two of you are now drenched from head to toe.

Lando bashfully smiles, “Sorry.”

“Lando!” you splash him in his face.

Lively shrieks fill the silent night sky. The stars twinkle with mirth at the two of you, the line between fake and real blurring.

Lando flies out just four hours after you arrive in Seoul proper. You feel bad for bringing him somewhere far and not giving him enough hours to rest. Then, he tells you: "It's one of the best nights I've ever had."

He sounds so sincere that you have to stop yourself from blushing red.

In the schedule Jinnie gave you, you are only required to make an appearance in the race proper on the 24th. You have the 20th, 21st, and 22nd to work on your single before having to fly out on the 23rd. Regardless, you fly to Japan on the 21st with Jinnie in tow, two days earlier than your original schedule.

Jinnie doesn't question nor protest against your obvious disobedience on the appointed schedule. You're glad she didn't.

"Lando?" you question after seeing the man standing behind your hotel door. It's nearly twelve and you've just checked in the hotel with Jinnie. "What are you..."

"Just checking in," he smiles. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Don't you have a race tomorrow?" Despite your question, you sidestep to let him inside your hotel room. "You should be resting."

"That's okay. I'm well rested. Are you going to watch the FP1 tomorrow?"

You shake your head, "I'm going to work on my song."

"Oh," his face falls. "Why'd you fly in early then?"

You shrug.

Honestly, you don't know either.

It's an act based purely on impulse. Not your finest moments.

"Maybe I can watch?" you say. "I'm not really sure."

You don't want to get mobbed again.

ORACLE has a rather large fanbase in Japan. You know there will be curious fans who'll await your appearance in the race. And while you're glad that your PR relationship with Lando is receiving the right type of attention from the public, you still hate having this much attention on you.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lando says.

"I'll go," you decide with finality. "I mean this is why we're doing this in the first place, right? Make people believe that we're real."

Lando's lips form a line.

"I suppose."

"Then, I'll be there."

The song making can wait.

Once again, Jinnie takes charge in deciding your clothing. You’ve long since given up on protesting or even suggesting your ideas. You have to get used to it again. Wearing whatever is given to you like a doll. After all, you are to return to the stage of KPop again.

Today’s WAG OOTD is a Miu Miu black dress, a black leather jacket, and Gianvito Rossi strappy sandals. Nothing too impressive. It's just the free practice sessions after all.

Jinnie hands you the McLaren ball cap and you grimace.

“How's the song coming up?”

“I’ve been trying to combine my demos and see how it sounds,” you reply. “But I have a concept in mind and I jotted down a few phrases for the lyrics.”

“I got an email from Yoon PD-nim today. He’s strongly suggesting you use a racing concept for your single.”

Strongly suggesting.

Translation: commanding.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Fuck it.

He’s really going to use the scandal and hope it’ll make you rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. The problem is that you're far from a phoenix. You’re human. As disappointing that may be but that is the cold truth. You're uncertain how people will react if you use a racing concept. You cannot afford to risk this over something like this.

You have one chance. And if KNetz reacts badly on your song and your MV, you’re never going to have another chance to go back on stage, to go back home.

Yoon PD-nim is too thoughtless at times. You want to shake him.

Jinnie drives you to the paddock and drops you to the parking lot. You expect that you’ll have to find your way to the garage again alone. Your knees are trembling as you step out of the car.

To your surprise, a staff member of the McLaren team—you assume he works for the team because of the orange polo shirt—approaches you as you exit the car.

“[Name]?”

“Hi,” you offer a polite smile.

“I’m Rick, I’m one of Lando’s mechanics, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces.

“Pleasure is all mine, Sir,” you say, dipping your chin into a small bow.

“Come this way,” he beckons. You follow him.

“Did Lando ask you to pick me up?”

“Well, he insisted on picking you up but the race was about to start so we had to force him to stay put in the livery and he wouldn't stay put until we said we’ll pick you up. Said people might flock over you and you don't like it when it happens.”

Your heart warms.

“That's very thoughtful of him. And sweet.”

“That's Lando Norris for you,” he says. “He’s always treating all the people he’s working with kindly. He only has to be polite but he even exerts effort in helping and making our work easier.”

“That's true,” you agree. “I can attest to that, as his fake girlfriend. He only has to treat me well when there's a camera but he’s even going as far as offering friendship.”

The rest of the walk to McLaren was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as you hope it can be.

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagines #fluff #fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #kpop idol! reader

137 notes · View notes

oohnotvery · 12 hours

Text

Edges of the Night (Chapter 11)

“She’s waking up.”

Scully blinks groggily, her heavy eyelids struggling to open. As she drifts into consciousness, the part of her brain that has years of medical training tells her she’s coming off a morphine drip because of the way her entire body itches from scalp to toes. She raises a hand to scratch and startles when her wrist meets resistance. Her eyes fly open and she glances down in horror.

She’s in some sort of bed, her hands handcuffed to railings lining the sides, and she can’t move them even an inch off the mattress.

Her heart dutifully starts to pound in her chest, but she’s momentarily distracted by a throbbing pain rising from her left shoulder. She shifts around to try to get a good look at what’s hurting, and that’s when she realizes she’s in a hospital bed.

She blinks in shock. It’s been a surprisingly long time since she’s woken up in a hospital. When she worked on the X-Files, it was unusual if a month went by without either she or Mulder enduring some sort of hospital visit. But she’s hard-pressed to recall even a single time she got hurt in San Diego. Hospital administrators usually don’t have to deal with on-the-job injuries.

Her shoulder throbs again and she winces. She’s wearing a standard-issue hospital dressing gown, and with some maneuvering, she manages to slip the sleeve off her shoulder. At first, she is confused to see a thick bandage covering her shoulder, but then she remembers. The gunshot. She was shot.

How did she get to a hospital?

Who performed the surgery?

And who handcuffed her to this bed?

And where is—

Mulder.

What happened to Mulder?

If she wasn’t panicking earlier, she’s panicking now. Adrenaline floods her body. Beside her, a heartrate monitor starts beeping loudly.

She glances around, startling when she notices that she’s not alone. There’s a woman standing nearby, dressed in medical scrubs and wearing a mask over her nose and mouth. At the door stands a man. He’s watching her with a neutral expression, but she doesn’t miss the Sig strapped to his hip.

“Where am I?” she croaks, her eyes darting around the room.

The space she’s in gives the impression of a small, private hospital room. To her left is a window blocked with heavy curtains; she can’t tell whether it’s daytime or nighttime outside. Her arms are hooked to a set of IVs. It takes one experienced glance at the drip bags to tell her she’s receiving a combination of fluids, antibiotics, and morphine. Nothing strange, nothing deadly.

In front of her, most curiously, is a television set, beside which stands a camcorder balanced on a tripod.

“Where am I?” she repeats, her voice a little stronger. “Where’s Mulder?”

Infuriatingly, no one responds. The woman ignores her to rifle through a medicine cabinet and when she finds what she needs, she approaches the bed and applies a blood pressure cuff to Scully’s arm.

“Where the hell am I?” Scully once again demands through gritted teeth.

The woman’s eyes shift briefly to hers and Scully tries to scrutinize her, searching for clues and finding none.

“Where am I?”

But the woman remains silent, inscrutable.

How many times can she ask that question without an answer?

The woman leans over to grab a remote control that’s sitting on the bedside table. She points it at the T.V. and the screen slowly fades from black to color. For a moment, Scully can’t tell what she’s looking at. The image is fuzzy and grainy.

The woman sighs aggravatedly and gestures to the man at the door.

“Picture’s not clear. Can they see her alright?”

Can who see me?

Scully’s eyes pinball around the room and she realizes with a start that in her initial survey of the space, she failed to notice the blinking light on the camcorder. She’s being videotaped. Her mouth falls open in protest when suddenly, the picture on the T.V. screen clears. Blood rushes from her head and somewhere in the back of her doctor’s mind, she knows her blood pressure cuff is about to return a very alarming reading.

Because on the screen, as clear as day, she sees him. Mulder, sitting in a chair in a darkened room, his head hanging defeatedly in his hands.

“Mulder!” she calls, and to her shock and surprise, he lifts his head as if he’s heard her.

“You’re awake,” he breathes, and relief crosses his features as he jumps up to stride towards the camera.

She tears her eyes from the screen and shoots the woman a questioning look. “This is happening in real time? He can see me and I can see him?”

With a dismissive nod, the woman turns and starts searching for something in a nearby hospital trolley.

“Scully, Scully, how do you feel?” Mulder interrupts, his voice frantic. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head helplessly. “I don’t know where I am. I’m in a—a hospital room, I think—hooked up to IVs, they’ve performed surgery on my shoulder—”

But before she can speak again, the woman has returned to her bedside with a roll of duct tape.

“We’re not here to chat,” she says before slapping a strip of tape against Scully’s mouth.

“No, that’s not necessary!” Mulder pleads.

Scully whips her head back and forth wildly, trying to avoid the woman’s touch, but in the end, her bound hands put her at a distinct disadvantage, and she loses the battle. At her side, the woman gestures meaningfully to the man at the door, but Scully has turned her focus back to Mulder, who’s dragging his hands down his face angrily.

Curiously, Scully realizes that he isn’t restrained. In fact, no one on the other side of the screen seems to be doing anything to hold him back. She can’t quite tell where exactly he is, but it appears to be some sort of conference room. She spies a dark wooden round table behind him and a set of projectors towards the back of the room. There’s something vaguely familiar about the room’s furniture, but she can’t quite place it.

“You ready?” comes a voice in Mulder’s room, and he glances somewhere off camera.

Mulder huffs. “You said we could wait until I’ve talked to her, that was part of the deal—”

“And she’s awake now. Get on with it.”

A sound startles Scully, a sound she would recognize anywhere: the sharp mental clink of the safety releasing on a gun. She swivels her head towards the sound and terror sluices down her spine. The man standing at the door has approached the bed and now holds his weapon mere inches from her temple.

She swallows convulsively. On screen, Mulder stills.

And then—

“No, no, that’s not necessary!” he repeats angrily. “I’m going to cooperate, I swear! I just want to talk to her, you said I could talk to her—”

“You have two minutes. Talk.”

Mulder curses. “Five minutes.”

“Two.”

“Five—”

“Two—”

Mulder smacks his fist against something hard. “Four,” he concedes with a groan.

A pause.

Someone off camera sighs exasperatedly. “You have three minutes.”

Mulder’s eyes flicker back to hers, seeming to penetrate her gaze even across the distance. In his eyes, she sees a pain unlike any he’s expressed before: a deep, soul-crushing sorrow; a total, utter despair. And overlaying all of that, frenzy and fury.

“Scully,” he says frantically, stepping even closer to the camera. His eyes crease with agony. “You’re safe, okay? I know—I know you don’t feel safe, but you’re going to be okay. They’ve promised me you’re safe. When this is all over, Skinner’s going to come collect you and take you back to—to your life. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Then why does she have the feeling that everything is not going to be just fine? Her stomach twists dangerously.

He hesitates for just a moment. “You know that I love you? You know that, right?”

She blinks and tears spill across her lashes, rushing down her cheeks and pooling across the tape on her mouth. She recognizes his tone, knows what it means. There is a finality to his words, a desperate, parting-type of energy beneath the surface.

Mulder is saying goodbye.

She wishes she could respond. He deserves a response, and she’s never felt so powerless to help him. Tied to the bed, doped up on morphine, and stripped of her voice, she can’t do anything. Filled with rage, she pushes her tongue out of her mouth and starts working to unstick the tape.

“Jesus,” Mulder continues with a wry smile, “this isn’t the way I ever pictured this conversation going.” He huffs a miserable laugh. “I always imagined something a little more romantic. At the very least, I never dreamed we’d have a conversation where you didn’t try to naysay me at least once.”

A joyless laugh bubbles up in her chest, shaking her entire body.

His veneer shatters, his smile cracking and head bowing. “Scully, if I could take back these past nine months, I would. I wouldn’t make the mistake of separating us. We’re not meant for—for separation.” He must see something off-camera, because his eyes flicker nervously somewhere stage-right. When he speaks again, there is a hurriedness to his tone, like he’s trying to squeeze every last drop out of this moment.

“Scully,” he continues, eyes darting back to hers, “Scully, this is it, okay? Just—just close your eyes when it happens. I don’t want you to see it. They’re going to give you a good life, Scully. That’s part of this deal, that you get a good life. You’re going to be safe. You’ll go back—” He swallows hard, then swipes angrily at invisible tears on his cheeks. “—You’ll go back to California. But you can’t—you can’t talk about this, not ever. Not even once. You hear me? They’ll hurt you if you let any of this slip. So just, just forget about revenge or justice or vengeance or any of that bullshit. Just live your life, Scully. Have a beautiful life, please, because this is for you. Think of me every now and then, will you? Don’t—don’t get caught up in what happens today. Let this whole thing go, get yourself as far away from this shit as you can. All I ever wanted was for you to be safe. Happy.” He curses loudly, his voice breaking. “My fish are yours, and the Gunmen, if you want them.” He laughs wetly, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “Check in on them if you can.”

Off camera, someone else seems to be demanding his attention because Mulder’s eyes briefly flit away.

“I—it’s time, Scully.” He looks back at her with a turbulent expression. “You’ll never be alone, not from this moment on. You know I’m crazy enough to believe in things like that, so I hope you know that I’m going to find you, even when I’m dead, I’m going to find you and be with you. Watching over you, protecting you—” Hands grab at Mulder’s arm and he shoves them off violently. His eyes are wild things. “I love you, remember that. I have loved you all this time—”

There’s a shout and Mulder disappears from the screen. The duct tape is peeling from one corner of her mouth, a mixture of her tears and saliva working to unglue the sticky tape. But Mulder is gone, and she can’t even tell him that she feels it too. She slams her fists angrily into the bedsheets, wincing as pain shoots up her wrists.

On screen, the camera suddenly fumbles, then rights itself, and then the picture starts to move. She realizes someone must have picked up the camcorder and started walking with it. Her hands curl into the blankets on her bed.

The camera angle shifts and she sees a door, Mulder standing in front of it, his back to the camera. Someone presses something into his right hand and speaks into his ear. He nods tightly.

The door opens and Mulder straightens his shoulders, then begins to walk.

The cameraman follows him at a distance as they walk down an empty hallway. The floor looks waxy and polished, sparkly and clean.

And she recognizes the tiling. Her heart lurches in her chest.

They’re in the Hoover Building. They’re at the FBI.

And Mulder has a gun in his hand.

Her stomach twists dangerously and bile builds at the back of her throat. It’s clear that these people—whoever they are—are about to get their final wish after all. With a gun pressed to her own head, they’ve assured that Mulder will commit the final, terrible act that will send him and the X-Files into disrepute forever.

With a sinking heart, she realizes that it was likely never their intention to torture her or send her to Mexico for experiments. It was all just leading up to this moment, to Mulder walking down this hallway, to destroying himself to save her.

The room around her goes deathly quiet as they follow Mulder and his cameraman through the Hoover Building. She watches him enter the bullpen, sees their coworkers glance at him dismissively, then in alarm when they notice the weapon in his hand.

Shouts go up all around the room as Mulder raises the gun to his temple. She can see, even through the grainy film, that his hand is shaking. He starts speaking, spouting some sort of nonsense about the X-Files, conspiracy theories, monsters. A security guard starts rushing towards him.

Don’t watch, her mind screams, but how could she look away?

The entire world falls under a spell of silence as Mulder’s finger inches closer to the trigger. The security guard seems to move in slow motion. The office workers are suspended in time. Her own body goes completely immobile. Her lungs refuse to expand or contract; her eyes can’t blink; her muscles won’t move.

She is seconds away from tragedy, and yet she can’t do anything, anything. She can’t even tell him that she loves him too.

It’s this realization that wakes her up. The duct tape falls from her lips and she screams furiously, yanking against the handcuffs so hard she feels them bite into her skin. The woman beside her lunges to shove her down into the bed but her eyes never leave the screen. Mulder’s head turns just slightly, just enough as if to say I hear you, Scully. I hear you.

“Mulder, please—”

The picture onscreen jolts violently and then goes dark. Inside her hospital room, everyone freezes. From offscreen, Scully hears shouting, unintelligible words, and then the heinous, hideous bang of a gunshot.

She screams in fury and bucks forward, kicking and yanking and twisting as violently as she can. The woman slams her into the mattress again and then hits a button, and Scully wails as morphine starts to drip into her body.

Her eyes grow heavy too quickly.

“Is he okay?” she moans, just as the door to her room opens.

Somewhere off to her right, there’s a tense exchange of words and vaguely, she thinks she recognizes a familiar voice. With enormous effort, she turns her head to the side and squints at the door. Tears track down her cheeks and soak her pillow.

She doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or betrayed. Because before her stands Walter Skinner, his bald head damp with sweat, his muscular forearms tense, his eyes tight with anger.

And behind him, looking for all the world like the three stooges that they are, are the Lone Gunmen.

The breath leaves her body as Melvin Frohike shoves his way past Skinner and leans over to press a kiss to her cheek.

“We’ve come to get you, milady.”

#mulder x scully #dana scully #the x files #x files fanfic #txf #x files #msr fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #fox mulder

22 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 17 hours

Text

I feel like I need to show that I am not only writing psychopaths and can also write normal, protective characters lmao

I will share 2 of my private novels with you, translated. The names are shortened so that I don't expose them, because I kinda want to keep them private for the future hehe (probably forgot a few places but oh well)

I will show the mood board for the story and a profile I've made for the characters to help you visualize them better (helps me when writing too haha)

Story 1

"Do you want to go out? You haven't been out much, have you?”

HG shook his head. Fresh air could do him good, he thought, but he knew he shouldn't go out alone. If BN was there, it would probably be okay. BN patted his skinny knee twice.

"Good, then we're going out," he decided and stood up. "Wait here. Do you need your cane, do you think?”

“No, I have the IV stand.”

Without answering anything, BN disappeared into the hall, first up the stairs, then down and then away in the narrow corridor to the kitchen and dining room. HG sat in silence, waiting for him to return, which he did five minutes later, wearing his brown coat and HG's beige jacket hanging over his arm. He gestured with his hand for HG to stand up.

"Come on then," he said.

HG pulled himself up from his chair and followed BN out into the hall. BN slung HG'S jacket over his shoulders and frowned at the hose dangling from HG'S left hand. HG pulled his right arm into the sleeve and let his other arm hang free.

“This works,” he said.

"Don't you think you're going to get cold?" BN wondered.

HG shook his head. BN opened one of the double doors, holding it open so HG could get out with his IV stand. The small wheels got stuck in the uneven planks of the porch. Frustrated, HG pried them free and sighed heavily.

"If it sticks here, it'll stick everywhere," HG muttered, biting his lower lip in frustration.

“Should I carry it for you?” BN wondered.

“No, I got it.” HG took another hold and carried it down the stone porch steps. He groaned as he put his feet down on the gravel yard. Anything but hard wood floors were foreign to him. Hesitantly, he took a few tentative steps forward. HG looked away towards the lake and the dark forest.

“Can we go there?” he asked, pointing away towards the fir trees. “Into the woods?”

"Sure," BN replied. “Has it been a long time since you were in a forest?”

HG nodded and swallowed a sad sigh. He had loved to climb trees, had known how to place his feet so as not to fall. It was just that day…

He let BN guide him past the eye-like lake. The reeds near the edges stretched up to the sky.

The ground inside the forest was wet. What HG'S IV stand didn't get stuck on, he tripped over himself. BN took a firm grip on HG'S right arm, not hard enough to hurt him, but a grip strong enough to catch him in case he fell. Few red, yellow and green leaves hung desperately on their branches, as if they knew they would soon be killed and replaced by spring. The sunlight did not reach down to the ground

"I used to see the woods from my bedroom window," said HG, letting his eyes take in the sights around him. "I saw the seasons change from a distance ... it's another thing to see it up close."

“Quite beautiful.”

HG nodded in agreement. There was something youthful about the forest in autumn.

"I have an idea where we can go," BN suggested, nodding towards the fir trees. “I saw a clearing not far from here.”

“Is it within the territory?”

"I didn't see a fence, anyway."

HG couldn't help laughing. "Adequate. Come on, lead the way, then.”

BN took him to an open field where no man had sown, but where there was still tall, yellow grass. The sun beamed down on them. HG squinted up at the sky. BN took off his brown coat and spread it out on the grass. He gestured for HG to sit down. They disappeared into the grass, the only thing still visible was the stand rising above.

"Nice fresh air," BN sighed, resting his head back. He rolled his eyes. “I needed it after that card game. [other character] does not play nice, I can tell you that.”

"Or you're not good enough," said HG teasingly.

BN opened one of his brown eyes and squinted at him with a crooked smile. “I'm fucking phenomenal at card games, how dare you? You and I will play some day and I will teach you not to underestimate me.”

“You must have had a lot of training on the ice anyway. Did you play a lot of card games at home? With your friends?”

BN fell silent. He sat up and hid his hands in his pockets. HG frowned.

"What?" he asked confused. "What is it?"

"I had a card game, but we didn't play very often," BN muttered, squirming, as if trying to get out of his own skin. His voice sounded quieter, almost sad. "That's not what we ... we did."

"'We'?"

BN sighed, seemed to be searching for the right words. His eyes remained downcast. “I'm so glad I came here, HG. And that I got to meet you and the others. You are so different from my friends back in town.”

He brought out his trembling hands. HG remembered how they had been covered in scabs and wounds the first time he had shaken hands with BN. The wounds had healed by now, but the marks of violence still remained.

"I didn't want to tell you, I'm ashamed."

He fell silent again. HG said nothing, not wanting to disturb his thoughts.

"At home, in town, I wasn't very nice," BN continued, shaking his head in despair. “I got into a lot of fights. I didn't know what to do … I didn't want to continue … so I came here.”

HG suddenly felt a pair of strong arms around him, and a warm cheek against his shoulder. He tilted his head towards BN'S and glanced down at his hands.

"Why didn't you want to tell me earlier?" HG wondered.

"I didn't mean to scare you away," BN replied quietly. “I thought you'd be uncomfortable if you knew. You don't like violence.”

“No, I don't, but you don't have to worry about that. That's just stupid.”

BN let go of him and hugged his legs. He smiled sheepishly.

"It feels better now," he laughed briefly. “When I get home, I will stop being with them. I know how I want to be now. With you I can only ... sit. We don't have to do anything. We can just sit and talk. I like it."

HG smiled weakly. He'd never thought he'd have a friend—not someone like BN, anyway. The fear of losing him haunted HG every time he was alone.

BN took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, fished out a narrow cylinder.

"You really should stop that," said HG.

"I have!" BN smiled proudly and shrugged. "In almost all cases. I barely smoke anymore, but I need to calm my nerves after this.”

He lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, drew in a breath and blew out gray, foul-smelling smoke. HG waved his hand in front of them, trying desperately to part the smoke. BN took a sandwich wrapped in a paper out of his pocket and held it out to HG.

“Here,” he said. “I brought it to you.”

“Is this some kind of bribery?” HG grinned weakly and accepted the sandwich, unfolding the paper carefully. "So that I won't complain about your smoke?"

"No, because you haven't eaten anything today."

Story 2

They showed their tickets and identification papers to a man dressed in a black suit who studied the papers carefully. Finally he nodded and stepped aside. OL pushed GS forward first, and then TN.

"Don't push me, I can walk myself," she grumbled.

The compartment had about twenty hard, dirty wooden benches in a row, divided into four-seaters. OL frowned at the stench that had spread, despite half the windows being open. The train began to shake and OL had to grab the wall to keep from falling forward. They made their way through the center aisle until they found an empty bench. It was only built for two, so OL lifted GS onto her lap and wrapped her arms tightly around her slim waist. The nine-year-old amused herself by leaning his head out of the window and feeling the wind in his hair. She laughed and turned her twinkling eyes on OL before popping her head out the window again.

OL turned to TN who looked up from her lap doubtfully. She twirled a lock of hair between her fingers.

"What is it?" OL asked, leaning closer. "Are you okay?"

"Why is everyone staring?" TN whispered so quietly that OL doubted she had said anything. “Did I do something?”

OL bit down and let her eyes wander over the compartment. She was filled with that incomprehensible feeling again. The men in the compartment were like animals, like the magister. They shared the same dark, burning gaze that seemed to shamelessly burn away her clothes. TN didn't understand yet, she didn't understand how beautiful she really was and OL didn't want to tell her.

OL gesticulates for GS to jump to the floor and quickly switched places with TN, shoving her towards the window.

"But I want to look!" GS complained.

"You can still look," reminded OL. "By the way, maybe you shouldn't hang out the window, it could be dangerous."

TN gave her a small, grateful smile which OL returned warmly. She turned her gaze towards the center aisle and glared at those who dared to glance in their direction.

#bluetalk<3

20 notes · View notes

apocalypticwafflekitten · 2 years

Text

Safe in Your Arms

James Wesley x Reader

A/N: Basically I watched Daredevil and my hand slipped. Listened to Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic while writing if y’all want to join in the vibes!

Original Imagine/ Summary Thingy: You’re Vanessa’s niece/nephew and you have a lil crush on Wesley and maybe, just maybe, he has a lil crush on you too. (Originally this was written with a fem!reader, but I changed it around a bit and it should be gender neutral now. But if there are any gendered terms still in there, let me know!)

Warnings: Mentions and discussion of kidnapping, mentions of blood, mentions of insomnia, overwhelming amounts of fluff, Wesley being Soft™️, things get a lil, slightly steamy there for a minute, but nothing sexual!

Word Count: 3620

This wasn’t exactly how you had intended to spend your night. The living room was dark, save for the light of the TV and the ambient, yellow glow from the corner lamp. You were curled up on your sofa, eyes to the TV. Your mind however, was drifting far away from whatever movie was on, and swirling with hazy memories of a dark warehouse and the crooked, smiling men that had taken you there.

Your apartment’s squeaky wooden floors brought you from your reverie, having only enough time to notice a quiet creak behind you before you heard a familiar, deep voice.

“What are you doing up?”

You turned toward the small hallway in your apartment and there you found Wesley in the doorway, dressed in soft-looking pajama pants and a Pink Floyd t-shirt. It was a jarring difference from the suits you were used to seeing him in, but you were happy for it. Something about seeing him in such…normal, unassuming pajamas made your heart flutter and your cheeks warm. You’d expected silk pajamas or something like that, but instead you got soft pants and a band t-shirt and you swore he’d never looked more handsome. You took a moment to entertain the idea of Wesley at a concert, belting “inset song title” at the top of his lungs and made a mental note to ask him if he’d ever seen them live.

“Oh, hey Wes. I uh, I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about the warehouse.” You answered quietly, subconsciously rubbing over a bruise on your arm as you spoke. Wesley’s sudden appearance had momentarily pulled you from your thoughts, but that moment was gone and the warehouse once again consumed your thoughts.

You must have been quiet for a while because when you looked back at Wesley, he was watching you with a worried look - brows upturned and everything. So you shook yourself back into reality and asked him the first thing that came to mind, “What’s got you up this late?”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking - his eyes swept over you as you awaited his response.

“Insomnia. A relatively new development, but nothing I can’t deal with.” Once again, he paused, hesitation lingering in the silence, “Is there…anything I can do to help you?”

“Um, I think I’m okay. Just scared I guess. Even now that I’m home,” you sigh, your shoulders drooping with your exhale, ”I’m sorry you have to deal with that by the way. It’s gotta suck.”

“It’s not too bad. Like I said, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Wesley responds, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “What's on your mind? What’s keeping you up?” He asks, stepping closer to the couch, his socks padding softly on the hardwood floor.

“It’s silly stuff,” you start, looking away from him and fiddling with your hands, “Well, I guess it’s not really silly since I did get kidnapped, but I’m just…I’m scared that it’ll happen again. I know Fisk promised my safety, Hell, that’s why you're here” you paused for a brief moment, “But I can’t stop worrying that someone will figure out how to get to me again. I can’t stop thinking about the warehouse; I can’t get the image out of my head. Every time I see the bruises in the mirror I’m back in that chair and I-I don’t ever want to go back there. I mean, I was there for days. They’d come in and taunt me, and they’d laugh when I begged them to stop. Sometimes they’d come in and beat me around just because they could.” You paused to regain your composure with a few shaky breaths, then continued, “I’d never felt so isolated. It was terrifying. I-I don’t wanna be alone like that again.” By the time you’d finished speaking your voice was beginning to tremble, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t even noticed Wesley moving until he sat next to you.

He moved carefully, reaching for your hands once he’d sat down. He looked you right in your eyes and he held your hands softly, as if anything more would cause you to flinch away from him. His voice was firm with sincerity as he spoke your name, “No one will ever get to you again. And you will never have to be alone again. I-,” he caught himself, then let go of a breath, “We will keep you safe.”

You gave him a small smile and squeezed his hands, “Thank you Wesley.”

“Of course,” he scoots just a little closer to you, running his thumb across the back of your hand, “Would you like some company? Since neither of us are sleeping tonight?”

“I'd like that. Yeah.” you respond with a small smile, scooting closer yourself.

Wesley smiles and keeps hold of your hands as he moves to the other end of the couch, only letting go when you can’t reach any further. He settles in the corner and pats the seat next to him.

“C’mere.”

You don’t think about it. Or what it might mean. Or what he means. You don’t care what’s implied when you all but rush to sit right beside him with a new warmth in your gut. All you think about is how warm he is and how comfy you feel when you lean your head on his shoulder, settling in to watch the rest of whatever movie was on.

"Thank you for staying with me by the way. It does help after everything." You quietly confess after a moment.

"I'm glad to stay if it means you feel safe." Wesley assured, a gentle warmth in his voice.

You were quiet for a beat, but eventually spoke up with a quiet huffed laugh,

“I was worried it might annoy you honestly. I mean, you’re staying here a whole week just to make sure I don’t get kidnapped again. I feel like I’m wasting your time.”

Wesley turns to you with a concerned, bewildered look, “You are never a waste of my time. Whether it’s being told to stay with you for a week to ensure your safety, or stopping by to say hi while you're working at the pool hall, any time I spend with you is time well spent.” Wesley has this warm smile on his face that’s so sincere you couldn't doubt what he’d said if you wanted to.

You don’t really have any response to that except a small nod, and Wesley is surprised by his own sincerity, so you both turn back to the TV and he smiles when he feels you return your head to rest on his shoulder.

It’s a few minutes later when he oh so sneakily wraps his arm around your shoulder. You can’t help the beam of happiness that surges through you and lands in a smile on your face.

Wesley’s heart is beating erratically. He hopes you can’t hear it as he wraps himself around you. He thinks he’d die if you knew how this closeness makes him tremble. He’d never be able to look at you again if you saw the blush on his face, God you were so warm and soft and holding you was everything in the world.

“You know, Fisk tore up the city looking for you.” Wesley began unprompted, as if the words just burst from him regardless of whether he wanted them to or not, “The moment Vanessa called saying you were missing - I've never seen him look that scared. He had everyone on his payroll looking for you."

"Even you?" You queried.

"Yes, even me." He smiled down at you once again, giving your shoulder a small squeeze.

There was a beat of silence. You smiled at a memory and took hold of Wesley’s hand, interlocking your fingers without really thinking about it.

“You wanna know something Wes?"

"What?"

"You're the first thing I remember seeing when I woke up. I was tied to that chair in the warehouse, and you were telling me that everything would be alright. The light above me was so bright, but you kept saying that I was safe. I remember feeling your hand on my face and feeling - believing - that I was safe." You leaned closer to him, rubbing your thumb across his palm.

"You smiled a bit when you woke up." Wesley recalled fondly, although the memory had now gleaned a new weight within him.

“I did.” A knowing smile broke out on your face and it made Wesley weak. Even through the dim lighting in your living room, he could see how bright your eyes were and the happiness held within them. He wanted to hold that smile on your face forever. Just the thought that he was the reason you were smiling like that made him want to jump for joy and tell everyone who would listen: ‘hey I did that! Look at what I did!’

“Hey Wes, can I ask you a question?”

It took him a second to come back, your voice pulling him back to the present.

“Uh yeah-yeah, sure.”

You didn’t seem to notice him stumbling over his sentence. You just looked down at your hands as you spoke. “I just-I’ve noticed, since you’ve been here, that you’re always kinda…tense? You seem like you haven’t relaxed at all since I was brought back home. I know you’re still on the job technically, but- y’know- “

The sentence slowly died on your tongue, but Wesley knew what you were asking. He looked away from you, down to his lap as if he would find an answer etched in the weave of his pajama pants. It took him a moment to find his words, and even then, you could hardly hear him.

“It’s…hard to relax knowing you could still be in danger.” Wesley’s voice was quiet - barely a whisper. He didn’t meet your eyes. His were stuck on the bruise that smudged itself across your forearm. His brows drew together as his thumb came to trace its outline. It seemed his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the warehouse just as you had been before.

But with a gentle dip of your head and your hand coming to stop his tracing, you catch his eyes and give him a small smile, “If it makes any difference, I always feel safe when you’re around.”

It took a second for that to sink in. He visibly buffered when he heard what you’d said.

“You do?” His voice was soft and full of disbelief. “Why?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ve always got a gun in your back pocket” you laugh a little and he can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face, “but really, you’ve always felt safe to me. Of course, you’re Fisk’s right hand man so that helps, but aside from that it feels like no matter what happens you’ll always be able to keep me safe. Like you’ll always be there for me.

He paused, visibly shaken by your response.

“Can I tell you something?” Your name fell off his lips in a quiet whisper,

“Of course.” You respond, and Wesley can see hope in your eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing followed. Instead, he looked at your face. Your beautiful eyes, your soft lips. He couldn't think of anything to say.

Before he realized it, his hand had reached for your face, and he found himself holding your cheek, his thumb swiping gently across your face. He was in awe. There was something so tender about the soft way you rested your head in his hand. He felt you lean your weight into his hold and he swore his heart melted right there. Something soft and mushy took place in his chest and he never wanted that feeling to go away. He just wanted you, like this, for the rest of time.

He hadn’t realized that he was leaning into you until your noses brushed together. He pulled back a little, but when he noticed you’d followed him, and that your eyes were closed, he dipped to your lips and kissed you.

He felt your lips move against his and their soft press spurred him on. He let out a heavy, shuddering breath as his hands came to frame your face, both of them cradling your head with adoring gentleness. He kissed you harder, hungry to know the curve of your lips - to memorize it and feel it tingle against his own whenever he thought of you.

And thinking of you brought him back to reality. He realized all too quick what he was doing and pulled away, regretting it the second he did. He couldn’t look you in the eye. His cheeks flushed, embarrassment set aflame in his gut.

“I’m sorry. I-I should have asked first. That wasn’t particularly considerate of me, I-“

“Wes,” You cut off his spiraling apology with a small smile and a squeeze of his hand.

His eyes met yours and they were hopeful.

“Kiss me again.”

He gave you an incredulous smile, but didn’t hesitate a moment otherwise. He held the back of your neck and pulled you into him, kissing you with the fervor held in a long-pining heart.

You smiled. You smiled because of him. Again. And he felt it against his lips. He felt your hands lay themselves against his chest, one hand sneaking up to play with the curls at the base of his neck.

A soft moan escaped him when you gave his hair a tiny tug, and you couldn’t help but chuckle against his lips.

You were caught off guard when he pulled away, but when he dipped down to place a kiss on your bruised collarbone, and then the bruise on your arm, the surprise dissipated and your heart melted. He kissed every bruise he could see, mumbling against your skin as he did so.

“I swear this will never happen again. I’ll kiss every bruise away and when they’re gone, I’ll lay kisses where they were so those spots never know pain again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You didn’t know what to say, but when he leaned up, meeting your eyes, you nodded to let him know you understood.

When every bruise was kissed - some even kissed twice - Wesley leaned back up, held the side of your face once more, and kissed you again.

He felt so much in that moment. Anger toward your captors who dared to lay their hands on you. Worry for your safety. He wanted to wipe every bruise off your skin as if they were just smudged makeup and help you heal after what happened at the warehouse. And yet, he’d never been happier in his life. He was kissing you. Every ounce of passion he’d ever felt paled in comparison to the bright, shining warmth that was bursting from his chest in this moment. He never wanted to stop touching you. And he never wanted to go another moment without feeling your hands on him. He wanted to feel your hands on his face, his chest, in his hair. He wanted you all around him.

His lips felt swollen when he pulled away, and yours looked like they might bruise. He’d kissed you hard and you seem to have done the same to him. The both of you took a minute to breathe - watching the heavy breaths expand through each other's chests.

But after a moment, when you both were breathing normally again, Wesley spoke what he had been thinking.

“I didn’t say it before, but I’m happy that you feel safe when I’m around.”

You smiled at him and took his hands in yours, “You know what Wes?”

“What?”

“I feel even safer in your arms.”

~~~~~~~~~

TAGS!

@justalittletomato @fanficsforheartandsoul

#james wesley #james wesley x reader #ive been sitting on this one for a long time #and ive finally finished it!#Ive been wanting to get it written for a while now and I'm excited to finally get it out there!#I hope yall like this one as much as I do!

127 notes · View notes

ventresses · 6 months

Text

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (6/?) - Blue & Green

Star Wars + Text Posts & Headlines

Note from OP:

In looking back, I have mixed feelings about that last Mace Windu one, because while it's somewhat relevant to his character in the sense that he IS extremely powerful fighter, I also feel like it also veers too much into the "Angry Black Person" stereotype/trope, &/or that it is pulling too much from other memorable characters of Samuel L. Jackson's, not from the personality of Mace Windu himself.

I'm on the fence whether I should remove it from the post or just leave it there, so I'm just going to leave these remarks, and also drop the link to a really good post I saw a few days ago, discussing Mace Windu’s character in the fandom, I highly recommend checking it out:

#arc trooper jesse #bo katan kryze #anakin skywalker #barriss offee #asajj ventress #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #codywan #mace windu #star wars the clone wars #clone wars memes #star wars memes #mine #ive been sitting on that jesse one a LONG time #i love jesse but also smdh...#star wars text post #TCW text post #the clone wars

3K notes · View notes

slavhew · 3 months

Text

28/01/2024

stars don't twinkle moon doesn't shine

big thanks to @nahrgles for finishing this for me after i hit a wall with colors bg and effects- chromatic aberration blew my fkn mind

pre edit transparent version under cut because i spent too much time cleaning it loll

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #sonic adventure 2 #sa2 #admin draws #fanart #not intended as ship theyre kinda just There but like if ya wanna tag it i aint stopping you #never played sa2 myself but ive been insane about these two for saur long now and thats like half the reason i even finished this #finished sonic generations though and i replayed this fight like three times omgfgghgh its so fun. i love them so much #those who follow my main blog mightve seen the piece by a long deactivated artist that inspired this #queue spat it out just around the time i finished this #sitting down to complete a piece that i dont finish in one sitting is rare let alone 2 (it took 3) and im pretty happy with it #still not ttoooottally happy but you just gotta let mistakes be and not ruin ur perception of a thing thats on the whole. pretty good #ive still got a bg3 wip in the works but i might have to doodle these 2 for sanity rather than sitting down after a long day #of studying infectious diseases for a final. and then making myself work on something ive wrung of most of its initial creative dopamine #MORNING EDIT WOW. THAT TRAILER HUH. 20 YEARS OF SHADOW RETROSPECTIVE HOW WE FEELING.#BC I KNOW IM ON CLOUD NINE NOW

112 notes · View notes

marcmorrigan · 2 months

Text

@fenglianweek day 6: memories/growing up

the best thing thats ever been mine

#tgcf #xie lian #feng xin #fenglian #fenglianweek24 #my art #full color #I SPENT SOOO LONG ON THIS ONE... like not long for me. fast for me! but compared to the other ones ive done for flw. long.#this has been a few weeks of work and im very happy with how it turned out! tried to be thoughtful about how i approached the colors #and i think it really paid off! theres SO MANY COLORS in the pants im so proud of all the fabric in this...#that white fabric has so. many colors. it makes me super happy #also some of the fallen petals make hearts. btw >:o)#idk if they translate well but feng xin has top surgery scars!!! theyre both trans but xie lian is a cultivator so. he just uses magic #i KNOW when he first learned transformation magic he like BOOKED IT to feng xin to show him like 'LOOK. FLAT!!!'#and little teenxin was like 'ummm 😳 yeah. flat'#ANYWAY!!! idk if they actually look like teens here... hopefully yes. xie lian does to me at least???#or at least he looks different from how i draw him as an 800smthng year old lol. but still like himself i think!!! i hope...#whatever. point is. do you remember we were sitting there by the water. you put your arm around me for the first time. you made a rebel of #the tags cut me off there. thats a good thing. IF YOU KNOW. YOU KNOW.#did you guys know i have headcanons about the type of tswift fans mu qing and xie lian would be. well now you know. I Have Thoughts #OKAY THATS ENOUGH TAGS I NEED TO ACTUALLY POST THIS. ILY MUAH TTYL

50 notes · View notes

carnivalcarriondiscarded · 11 months

Text

i enjoy imagining future me writing WH fanfic with a solid grasp on everyones characters, but i already know that Barnaby is someone i'll never be able to accurately portray

#hes got jokes. i Do Not #im infamous for not being able to tell them or come up with them #and this isnt like a 'im insecure thing' No i Literally Cannot #for as long as i can remember ive been absolute shit at jokes #half the time i dont even get the ones i hear. i sit there buffering for a solid hour before going OH I GET IT #and even when i do memorize one i butcher the joke #either by forgetting parts and having to backtrack/shoehorn or because i get too excited and fuck up the punchline #barnabys genius is beyond me unfortunately #im simply funny in Different Ways #ive tried jotting down little scene ideas and stuff just to practice writing and my fucking god i CANNOT come up with jokes #if i ever sit down to write seriously im gonna need to look up jokes. gonna need to outsource at every turn #absolutely unprompted

52 notes · View notes

clumsyhusky06 · 1 year

Text

I've had turtle tot brainrot for a while so I decided to make some little guys from painted cardstock!

the whole crew!! I love them

they are so small!! tiny babies!!

#rottmnt #rottmnt turtle tots #turtle tots #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #long tailed raph is one of my favorite little addons <3 #leo had to be redone from scratch 4 times. he was giving me so much trouble the little shit.#in character for him tbh #god i just became aware of the fact ive been sitting here for 6 hours doing this. damn #my art

249 notes · View notes

kate-m-art · 3 months

Text

I get it now, I get the hype, sassy vampire man beloved andjfkmsm

#just need *somewhere* to talk cause nowhere near finishing the game yet still im act 2 but ajskdk #caved and bought bg3 its looked so cool ajdjf #been wanting to play it for a long time now but dont have the hardware but ajdkffk #just discovered geforce now and gosh what a game changer #streams the game instead and i dont think my laptop has overheated once aksjfk #but like!!#yeeeeee im having sm fun w my wood elf druid love her sm #and all the npcs and astarion beloved #feel like a little school girl w goofy smiles whenever theres a new convo w him ajskfk #and idk just like ajsjdj no one to talk to about it and usually at that point just go on youtube to listen to other people talk #but i dont want to accidentally spoil too much so ajdjfk #just sitting here a hyper giddy little mess over how much fun im having #ye anyways if ive seemed kinda mia the past week or so thats why #new hyperfixation for a while i guess but im not mad about it ajsjfk #lowkey wanna doodle characters but akdkg also wanna see how things play out first and hhhhhhhh

19 notes · View notes

louthelost · 6 months

Text

yall ever think about definitely-platonic-gal-pals Fire and Ice?

(progress shots under the cut)

#fire and ice #beatora #tora olafsdotter #beatriz da costa #fire and ice welcome to smallville #illustration #(ive been wanting to do art for so long but havent had ANY free time. then today I just lost myself for 6 hours and did this in one sitting #(my bad)#(but...them)#(they're just so... *gestures wildly*)#(and yes i did use the two women putting on makeup on the bed meme as a reference lol. it has their vibes)

14 notes · View notes

suddenrundown · 6 months

Text

considering faking my death to get out of this project. would still like to get a passing grade for it.

#googles how to get good grades even though you have died #ok this is about be a rant in a half and way too much info so excuse me but #ive been hyperfixating on our flag like crazy all month long #and i knew that and knew that i was going overboard #and i said all last weekend that i was feeling insane about it #but i didnt realize why until last night when i watched eps 6 & 7 and got mildly disappointed by what happened #because up until that point i was just having so much fun so that one small moment of not having fun #felt like a balloon had suddenly been popped and i was like OH FUCK! I HAVE TO DO THIS PROJECT!!!#like girl the reason we were hyperfixating that hard to such insane levels that we made a theory post about when ed and stede would fuck #was because we were avoiding doing/thinking about the project #and now ive just been sitting here still stuck and worried about this damn thing like holy shit when/how am i going to do this???#like holy shit did you know i was insane because i was stressed? i didnt!!#i have not stopped thinking about our flag all month and i just did not have time for all that!#AHHHH #anyway like......help i have to fake my death #personal

9 notes · View notes

frecklystars · 7 months

Text

oh my god i love being triggered at 3:29am on a monday ten minutes after jolting awake from a horrific nightmare

#ive been either not sleeping at all. or sleeping for only 2 hours a night #for several nights in a row and i can feel it making my body deteriorate #my chest hurts. my eyes burn. im always lightheaded. i really hate living like this #im never going to recover man it just doesnt stop. this never ends #its been over a year i thought this would be so far away from me but it just gets fucking worse #i remember sitting on my bathroom floor and crying when my ptsd was starting #and i was telling myself. one year from now this isnt going to hurt as bad #i was so fucking wrong. it got worse. i cant look at *anything* TF related #i cant look at TF artists i cant even look at the word half the time #i wish it didnt exist i wish i never ever got into it. none of this was worth it #if i never got into it i never would have met my abuser and she wouldnt have used me for such a long ass time #vent #delete later

10 notes · View notes

roseworth · 7 months

Note

For the zombie au, is there like a cure thing at the end? And also which death counts like the ones that officially died post-crisis before being retconned in rebirth? Or like every death in dc history? And just the characters that died and came back or died and are canonically still dead (or because the writer forgot they existed) but in this au they're back?

(context) hehe thank you so much for asking <3

there is a cure at the end! at first in my head it was an elseworld so i was gonna make there not be a cure but then i switched the story to just being a main universe thing so it does not end with everyone dying 😔 i wont get too into how it happened but basically nika (flatline from robin 2021) sorta accidentally causes it and the way to stop it is to kill her (#rip sorry about ur gf damian)

for the most part, any death that happened post-crisis counts, mostly because of infinite frontier "everything is canon if you want it to be". ie cass died in batgirl 2000 but she stopped existing with the new52 then was recreated in rebirth, but she would still be a zombie bc of her death in post crisis continuity (ps i know spirit world re-canonized her death but i'm using her as an example anyway bc its easy lol)

on the other hand. kara's death does not count. mostly because her death was pre-crisis and the current kara zor-el is not the kara zor-el that died. also clark and kon are both zombies (would that be it for the supers ??? i dont know details of superman characters as much so idk if there would be another big problem) so having one less Unbeatable Force in the mix is a little easier to deal with. basically: deaths count if i personally want them to count but they dont if i dont

characters that havent explicitly come back are still dead </3 if dead people came back it would basically just be blackest night with extra steps so no dead people rising, just living people dying. so like eddie bloomberg, who died in post-crisis (then came back just to die again in heroes in crisis), is still just dead and not a zombie

i hope that answered ur questions, thank you so much for letting me talk about this bc its been consuming my thoughts all day fhdsajfahsdf 😚

#ps recently ive gotten into the habit of doing something productive every time i get a question i want to give a long answer to #bc i used to just sit there and either pace around or talk to my mirror whenever i wanted to think about it #but now instead i put my energy into doing something else. while still talking to myself #this one wasnt THAT long of an answer i guess but i still wanted to think about it #so while thinking about the answer to these i swept and vacuumed my apartment then cleaned the bathroom #thank you for your contribution in making me get shit done that ive been intending to do for weeks 🫡

7 notes · View notes

waywardsalt · 7 months

Text

oh yeah i’ve got a bunch of loz aus that i haven’t really talked about. a few of them are listed and slightly explained in this poll and explanation reblog but i haven’t gone out of my way to actually list the aus i have and really explain them. so that’s what this post is for. here are some... decently simple explanations of my major aus and what they're generally about

i have two kinds of aus: original aus (loz aus that are set in their own kinds of worlds with their own stories and twists on character roles) and then crossover aus (we all know how this works i just mash loz and a thing i like together)

original aus: (many currently dont have actual titles, so the titles will often just be concept shorthand)

in the court of the crimson king/crimson king au: probably the most developed and closest to being written out. it's got one of the longer premises; set in a industrial-esque hyrule city, following linebeck as the main character, as the adoptive older brother of link and aryll, living with them and their grandmother as the only one able to reliably make money to pay for rent and food, leaving every other work to do jobs, but he moonlights as the 'demon of the gray moon', a masked persona he'd created as a child that had long since become a city-wide urban legend, anonymously taking unsavory jobs from whomever can contact him and offer pay, often working directly for bellum, a childhood friend, the one who enabled and trained him to become the demon, and one of five anonymous leaders of the city. linebeck effectively lives a double life, and tries to stay out of too much trouble to avoid drawing attention to himself or making his adoptive family worry, but he gets dragged into more and more danger as bellum becomes curious about the identities of the city's other leaders, and linebeck falls in love with a man named ganondorf, suspected to be one of those other city leaders. ive got a few posts related to it already: this one being another vague concept descriptor, this one being an actual scene i have written out.

'gimmick' au: i cannot explain the gimmick without spoiling the au. put simply, in this au, hyrule as a whole has been at war for ten years, every race and kingdom taking sides in a conflict that seems to be going nowhere. link joined the hylian army young, and has made his way up the ranks to become trusted by queen zelda herself, and things in the war take an interesting turn as he and zelda discover a new faction, unaligned with any particular kingdom and with unknown motives, and zelda decides to set out to the different parts of hyrule, link and a chosen group of trusted allies in tow, intending to try negotiation one more time before things take a turn for the worse.

sci-fi/space au: the fun one that probably would need to be done in a visual medium. it takes place in a solar system of a few planets, link growing up on the planet hyrule and occasionally traveling to the others as a knight specializing in investigating and taking down dangerous bounty hunters, working for zelda as a friend. he and zelda uncover a plot by the yiga clan to accumulate a number of highly dangerous research and weapons held by each species as they aim to resurrect a demon to wreck havoc on the solar system- the b plot being about the top bounty hunters in the solar system screwing around, eventually colliding with link and zelda's a plot as it begins to involve them.

murder mystery(?) au: one of the older ones, maybe one of the oldest that i still stick with. this might actually be one of the first ones i tried writing. the plot begins when zelda returns to hyrule city years after her father- the former mayor- was murdered, finding that he has been replaced by ganondorf and that while things seem fine enough on the surface, random and organized crime run the show, and she begins a private detective agency as 'sheik', a masked young man, and with the help of impa, and old friend and confidant, she moonlights as sheik and uses her daytime identity as zelda to help chip away at some of the city's biggest problems and finds herself drawn into a long string of murders that appear to be anything but random violence.

ruined hyrule 1: i have two au’s with the premise of hyrule being ruined. neither of them have more specific names yet. this one begins with the majority of greater hyrule's population having long since locked themselves in hyrule castle town in order to escape the increasingly dangerous wildlife. zelda, a young girl at the beginning, becomes curious about what lies beyond the city walls, and makes friends with many other children within this sheltered hyrule, and as they grow up together, aim to eventually venture out into the wilderness to see what may have caused the outside world to become so incredibly hostile.

ruined hyrule 2: the other ruined hyrule. set in a devastated hyrule, roughly ten years after the royal family was killed, link failing to save them or hyrule in the time since. he now resolves to set out and indiscriminately destroy every demon that plagues the ruined hyrule, meeting and bringing along various allies, each of which has been uniquely affected by and have different lived in this altered, dangerous shell of hyrule.

modern (school): i also have two modern aus. this one isn’t plot driven, just a concept i have, would work best as little vignettes or something. essentially just the idea of a group of loz characters hanging out together in a modern high school (or college?) setting.

modern: this is the one with an actual plot. follows the general idea of zelda characters living in a modern world only for the typical legends to begin resurfacing and heralding dark events. plot specifics are murky, but that's the general idea.

dark mage: this is the au that where the seas meet the sands takes place in. basically just ganondorf x linebeck shenanigans in this alternate hyrule while actual plot sneaks up on them. named 'dark mage' mostly because the initial idea behind this au was that linebeck would learn magic.

horror au: doesn't have the best name, and it's ended up just being a personal sandbox for me. constantly changing, with the cast and setting often altering if i find that something isn't working or sticking. it's an au i've considered (and even briefly tried) writing in the past, but it's still too fluid, and writing horror effectively is difficult. it's a fun au, though.

mecha au: spawned because i watched neon genesis evangelion. a lot of this au's basic concepts can be found here: x but the short version is that hyrule is being besiged by massive monsters, but each race has created their own mechs to combat them. link is just a farmer who happens to have a strange knack for being a mech user, so is brought in by zelda as a gamble to bolster their chances, and he is tasked with working with a new and less-than-trustworthy crew to help fight those monsters.

'amnesia link' au: an au that sprang up in about a day and hasn't gotten too far since. basic premise being that three years prior to the story, link and a group of allies has faced off against ganondorf and, despite their best efforts, lost, with link being presumed dead by their enemies. now, link has woken up from his coma, his memories gone and hyrule taken over, and, with guidance, must once again travel across hyrule, aiming to rediscover his allies and try to face ganondorf once more.

A quick list of crossovers: I won't explain these in length, since they can range from having their own plot to just being a fun mental concept. So, the things I have made crossover aus with are:

Warrior Cats

Batman

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Persona 5

Pokemon

(there are other, smaller ones, these are just the ones i consistently pay attention to)

So! These are the majority of my legend of zelda aus, some of which I may write, some of which just exist in my mind for fun, all of which I wouldn't mind talking more about if anyone is curious!

#i had to find an actual list i made to remember most of these tbh #salty talks #salty's loz aus #lmk if any of the colored text on here is hard to read i can change it #for some of the duplicate name aus the colors help me remember which is which but ill change it if it makes it hard to read #this took absolute ages to finish partially bc i dont have much physical evidence of these aus. they live in my mind and my mind only #my favorite little tidbit is that in the space au linebeck is a bounty hunter known for being a really skilled sniper #and i did not. in fact. be inspired by sniper tf2. this au predates my knowing about tf2. space au linebeck is inspired by fuckin #ttgl yoko littner and sao (gags) sinon. this will always be funny to me. space au linebeck is probably one of my favorite au linebecks #fun fact also. counting the crossover aus linebeck plays an antagonistic role at some point in 10 of these aus #also anyways worth reminding that a lot of this shit isnt actually very developed. the murder mystery au does not have a lot of actual plot #most of the developed plot stuff in these aus tends to be directly connected to linebecks role in the story bc a lot of these aus happen to #exist bc one day i was like hm what if linebeck was in (hyperspecific situation that led to the creation of one of these aus)#gimmick au is a really good example of how a linebeck in xyz situation thought can spawn a huge fucking story #but i cant get too specific abt that without spoiling the fucking gimmick and ive already said too much #'dark mage' au is also called that bc i think it was REALLY inspired by me thinking abt linebeck in the fe awakening male dark mage outfit #this has been sitting in my drafts for. so long. and then in two days i slammed all of those out and bam. here we are #the crossover aus list is also a list of 'media that also gave me brainworms and therefore got the honor of meshing with the Big Interest'#im not even a big time batman fan i just saw the 2022 movie and scrolled through an entire blog dedicated to harvey dent #i know so fucking much about harvey dent. why is dc so fucking bad about him #anyways welcome to the bottom of the tags. hope you enjoyed your stay. these r my weird loz aus #post-ph isnt here cuz i dont consider it an au. its something else between ‘au’ and ‘speculative canon’

6 notes · View notes