#Italian Roots AU

[seleneprince]

By the way, in my fem! Snape au (known as Sevrina Snape), she and Evan become lovers eventually and, during the Second Wizarding War, they end up having a daughter

This is her:

She looks just like her father, with all the Rosier features and all, but she has her mother's eyes and pale skin. Signature traits of the Prince family.

Regardless of whether Evan and Sevrina actually get married and love each other or they just have a friends with benefits kind of deal, they always conceive her. And Evan is killed by Alastor Moody along with Wilkes, leaving them both.

Ah, and just like Snape's daughter from my other au, she was born with a particular condition because of her mother...

[marlenesluv]

۵pairing: fem!albonsibling!ballerina x platonic f1 grid. also, reader x lando norris.

۵type: social media au

۵authors note: sorry it’s been so long! if you want a tag for new updates for this series, leave a comment letting me know! i’ll tag you in upcoming posts :)

۵warnings: dark side of ballet (this includes: ed/not eating as much, self criticism, teacher, etc) please be aware of this while reading. i love you. also cussing.

۵summary: a month after the dinner, y/n is still working to perfect her performance for her role as the black/white swan. luckily, she had her “friend(?)” lando to help her and keep her company.

۵this is part 4! please read part 1, part 2, and part 3 before this one for it to make sense. (part 1 is mine, i just made it on my main blog)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: lilymhe, landonorris, and 854,282 others

tagged: lilymhe, landonorris, and alex_albon

y/n.albon: reminiscing bc i start training for ballet tomorrow, missing friends and shit👾💜

view comments…

lilymhe: noooo i miss you, cant wait to crash ur apartment every few days 💘

↳ y/n.albon: my door is always open for u

↳ landonorris: and me???😪

↳ y/n.albon: 🔑

↳ landonorris: 🙂↕️

↳ alex_albon: wait. LANDO HAS A KEY!?????

↳ alex_albon: why do i even comment. you NEVER ANSWER ME😭🤧

user2: alex is just so offended atp😭

f1wags: new wag manifestinggggg🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

fp4albons: my favssss

ln4updates: lando has a key to her apartment?🥲we know they’re dating like js announce it😁

user7: alr, my favorite people ever (real)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You loved ballet more than anything, but the hours were ungodly. Waking up on a Monday morning at 5am to be at the studio by 7:30am was unforgivable.

But then, when you’re there till 11pm…it’s exhausting.

After those fifteen hours of practice, you needed about a week of sleep and four advil. Not to mention you were starving.

Your instructor said “lay off those bagels.” To which you nodded and then rolled your eyes once you were out of sight.

Your instructor was the best of the best, and you knew she meant well. She wanted the best for you, for you to be the best.

Sometimes, this was draining. In her eyes, the best was as thin as paper. Ballet was like this, and it was hard. But you had dealt with it for so long, that you started tuning them out years ago.

Fuck them. Its a sport. So, on your walk home, you grabbed a slice of pizza and a diet coke. You deserved it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, and 879,238 others

y/n.albon: 🌚⭐️🌝

view comments…

landonorris: never letting you drive my car again

↳ y/n.albon: okay (i hate driving so this is perfect)

↳ landonorris: (thank god because i hate being the passenger)

user3: name a more iconic couple? *crickets* yeah i thought so

f1editpg4: lando on the first slide is a mooddddd

workinglateee3: uhhhhh the second pic🤧🤧🙃

francisca.cgomes: if you’re not rooting for portugal…

↳ y/n.albon: uhhhhh, they’re my second fav team😁

↳ francisca.cgomes: fairrr🫶

user6: me waiting for them to date 🙂

user9: mom and dad fr

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your texts with alex:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After deciding that leaving Alex on read would be best for now, you walked into your favorite little italian restaurant that you ordered some pasta from after practice got over.

Should you be eating breadsticks, gnocchi, and a tiramisu for dinner? Eh, probably not, but you were tired and in need of some comfort food.

The whole situation with Lando felt like nothing and everything all at once. You knew he was single, and he knew you were as well. He also knew how upset you were about Ben quitting, but he didn’t pity you which was nice.

Family that had found out had been texting and calling you for weeks. Telling you how sorry they are, but you didn’t care that much. Truth be told, it was just inconvenient and inconsiderate.

If Lando knew one thing, it would how he knew how you functioned. At this point in knowing each other, Lando knew your schedule more than anyone else. He paid more attention. He never missed a planned hangout, a rehearsal, or dinner.

Stopping yourself, you walked up to the counter and grabbed your food, saying bye to the workers and started walking back home. What you didn't know was that Lando had happened to drive by and saw you walking.

Lando debated picking you up. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was stalking you. It really was pure coincidence that he saw you. After having a mental fight with himself, he turned his car around and slowed down by the sidewalk.

You, wearing leggings, a sweater, long socks and tennis shoes and your hair down. Eyes focused on your phone as you struggled to find a good song to play through your headphones. Your ballet bag hanging off your shoulder and takeout in the opposite hand.

Smiling, Lando rolled his window down. "Y/n!"

You furrowed your brows, looking up and seeing a familiar face.

"Lando? What are you- are you following me now?!" You asked, stopping to talk as he stopped his car.

"What? Wha- no! I was driving by and you were just there!" He defended himself, nervous about your reaction.

"Uh huh..."

"Do you want a ride home?" Lando asked, tilting his head a little.

"Are you going to kidnap me if I get in?"

"Y/n! No! Stop that, just-...do you want a ride, or no?" He asked, hoping for you to say yes.

"Um...." You looked at the ground, then the buildings, and finally met his eyes, "Okay, yeah, thanks."

You opened the back door and threw your bags in, placing the food on the ground. Then, you got in the front, taking your headphones off and buckling up.

"How was practice?" Lando asked, pulling onto the road again and heading to your apartment building.

"It was okay. Lots of criticizing." You sighed, toying with your sweater string.

"About?" Lando loved your love for ballet. But sometimes, he wished he could beat your instructor. Always bringing you down, for no reason. In his eyes, you were perfect. He was well aware that he liked you...more than friends.

“Form, diet, you know..all that shit.” You laughed, watching as Lando skillfully pulled into the parking garage of your apartment. “Thanks for driving me, Lando.” You smiled, getting out and grabbing your bags as Lando exited the car as well.

“Care if I come up?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket as you nodded and started walking, Lando quick on your trail.

‘Maybe he does like me…’ you thought as you both walked into your apartment and you started to split up the food you had ordered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.albon, carlossainz55, and 982,194 others

landonorris: nights like this❤️

view comments…

y/n.albon: ♾️

*liked by creator*

oscarpiastri: have something to tell us, mate?

↳ landonorris: nah

f1wags: we have been summoned, WHAT

user3: it’s y/n bro i’m telling you

alex_albon: um…ok…..

ln4editpagee: we all know y/n took that first pic

user8: that’s literally y/n, i know those headphones anywhereeee

williams4life: alex has to be freaking out omg

↳ formula1wags: lily has to deal with the freak out too😭💀

y/ns1fp4: MOTHERRRR MOTHER MOTHER

user1: obsessed with this post, it’s my roman empire fr

user3: do we stay calm or freak out guys??????

↳ vrooms19: BOTH

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

tag: @rhythmstars

if you would like a tag for future parts of this series, leave a comment here and i’ll add you :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[monzabee]

red, white and blue's in the sky (social media au) -

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles has an olympian girlfriend.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader (model used: zehra güneş)

Warnings: none other than some cursing and the internet being the internet, kym illman

Author's Note: hi, hey, hello! okay you guys knew i had to do something with my girls, and i had this idea in my mind for a few weeks that i just couldn't shake! just an fyi, if you end up researching zehra, the face claim, and see her height, just know that we are totally prentending her and charles are both complimentary heights. okay? okay, good. i hope you guys enjoy! xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

ynyln18

Liked by charles_leclerc, volleyballworld, and 782,681 others

ynyln18: ready for the final round, biz voleybol ülkesiyiz!❣️

sauronyx: yn 'the wall' yln! turkey is proud of you!

derevclara: forza ragazze, faremo il tifo per voi!

yasemingul: even the italians are rooting for the turkish team😭

view all 3,381 comments

scuderiaferrari: go red team!❤️

charles_leclerc: ❤️❤️

(translation: the best moment of the match the man's life came out of his mouth) (it's a turkish idiom, so you know it makes no sense at all)

(tiktok transcript: Next up, is Charles Leclerc - who is currently dating Y/N Y/LN, best known for her position as middle blocker. Y/N is a player in the Turkish team, 'Vakifbank', and due to the national team season, she is currently away with the Turkish National Team. As one of the most followed volleyball players in the world, Y/N has been awarded the 'Best Middle Blocker' award from VNL two years in a row - quite the achievement to receive against tens of teams and hundred of players at the young age of only 23. I first met Y/N at the Turkish Grand Prix in 2020, where she was the person to award the Pirelli Pole Position award to Lance Stroll in a turn of events. She was there as the guest of Mercedes, as she is one of the athletes associated with the brand. Charles and Y/N met in 2020 in the Turkish Grand Prix, and the pair has kept in touch and became close friends, eventually coming out as a couple in the summer of the 2021 season. Though we don't get to see Y/N in the paddock very often, she is a delight when she has the time to come and support her boyfriend in the Ferrari garage - a great loss for Toto Wolff, I presume.)

charles_leclerc

Liked by scuderiaferrari, sebastianvettel, ynyln18 and 752,938 others

charles_leclerc: Always special to be part of @scuderiaferrari when in Italy. Thank you for the incredible support throughout the whole week ❤️ Congrats to Carlos for the amazing drive from FP1 to the last lap of the race. See you in Singapore 🇸🇬

ynyln18: je suis fier de toi, mon amour❣️ (i'm proud of you, my love)

charles_leclerc: ti amo❤️

leclerclechair: next weekend will be better!!

view all 6,948 comments

ynyln18

Liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and 688,515 others

ynyln18: champion’s dump🫠 (x2)

pierregasly: liked by pierre gasly

charles_leclerc: casse toi ynyln18: hon hon croissant🥐

tarkanofficial: ❤️🇹🇷🏐

powervolleyballofficial: CHAMPIONS 🇹🇷🏐🏆

harleytifosi: DAI!

view all 3,278 comments

abreusmelissavargas: ben malatyalıyım

charles_leclerc posted a story!

ynyln18

tagged location: Istanbul Contemporary

Liked by handebaladin, abreusmelissavargas, ebrarkarakurt18 and 897,647 others

ynyln18: a week off in istanbul before tokyo, aferin charles öğreniyosun bi şeyler (📸: bawsixteen)

ebrarkarakurt18: kolyen olayım tak beni

formulayolla: SHE TAGGED THE PRIVATE ACCOUNT

pennyzizzazz: yes queen!! make him drop the jpg account!!

ynyln18: working on it, chief🫡

romondo__cr: our turkish wall🇹🇷

view all 1,707 comments

paolaegonu: aşko dur

ynyln18: aşko duramam

charles_leclerc: j'ai une jolie prof😂

charles_leclerc

Liked by kymillman, pierregasly, and 817,524 others

charles_leclerc: Next stop, Japan 🤍❤️ @vistajet @thomasflohrvista

sv5yams: the way this man has no regard for global warming

cl16_tifazzi: really? reeeaaally?

ynyln18: 🥹❤️

volleyyn: is he coming to see you? is he?👀 charles_leclerc: of course❤️

charlesleclerc_fanclub_italia: good luck in suzuka!! we believe in you!!

view all 4,738 comments

ynyln18

tagged location: Tokyo, Japan

Liked by kpvolley, fileninsultanlarivn, and love4wags 765,928 others

ynyln18: daydreaming about paris in the summer

charles_leclerc: madonna mia❤️

paulaegonu: Y/N, chi è quest'uomo? ynyln18: la mia musa

view all 3,928comments

hasankaya: olympic medal is loading!

lilymhe: best of luck!🩷

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 1)

paring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 1 in the 6 to 1 series

being charles' little sister has its perks, such as traveling to the races, meeting a variety of people and becoming friends with the drivers. but when one driver is offended by your personal ranking, he makes it his mission to change your mind

word count: 5.7k tags: established friendships, minor social media au aspects, its just a soft start to a whirlwind series also poorly translated Italian and French, this whole series is a friends to lovers trope

Of course you had favourites.

Charles was number one, he was your brother.

Carlos next, obviously. You were a Ferrari fan through and through. 

Daniel Ricciardo was still a favourite, reserve driver or not, you made your support for Daniel very clear and would post photos of yourself in his merch any chance you got.

And then Pierre. He was Charles' best friend, someone you had also known for years. He spent Christmases with you, countless birthdays, everything. You wanted to see him succeed.

“I’m fifth?” Lando couldn’t believe your ranking and how low he was. He hit his hand on the table, causing your glass of water to shake. “Fifth? You’re joking.”

You pondered it for a second before nodding your head. Lando took a sigh of relief, thinking he made it past number five in your standings. 

“You’re right,” you said. “I am joking. You’re sixth. I’ve kind of been rooting for Lance recently. The Canadian’s wormed his way into my heart.”

Lando leaned back in his chair looking absolutely defeated. “Unbelievable,” he huffed out, crossing his arms across his chest. The pout that played on his lips made him look about four years younger and it only made you laugh as you reached across the table and ruffled his hair playfully.

“Relax, Norris, at least you’re in the top ten.”

“But six!” He exclaimed. “Danny’s not even driving.”

You shrugged and took another sip of your water, “Still love him.”

“Is that why you’re wearing DR3 merch instead of mine?” 

You looked down. You were in fact wearing a t-shirt from Daniel’s newest collection that recently dropped. He even had the heart to sign the back for you before personally delivering it.

“I never wear your merch.”

“Because you hate me.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re dramatic.”

You jumped when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You barely had time to glance up before your sunglasses were pulled from your head and the perpetrator, your brother's teammate, slid into the chair next to Lando. 

“Give them back,” you reached for the glasses but Carlos only dodged your hand and put the dark shades on his own face. 

He turned to Lando, a cheesy grin plastered on his face, “How do I look?”

Lando, still grumpy, said, “Like someone who doesn’t consider me one of her favourite drivers.”

Carlos had a good laugh at that, “Really, Y/N? He’s not in the top three?”

“Not even in the top five!” Lando shouted, gesturing towards you as you innocently spun your straw around your glass. “Lance bloody Stroll booted me to sixth.”

“He is higher than you in the driver standings.”

“That’s it,” Lando grumbled, standing up from the chair so harsh that it would have fallen backwards if Carlos hadn't caught it. Lando furiously pointed a finger at you and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “I will work my way up to being your favourite driver, mark my words.”

You shrugged again, “You can certainly try.”

Lando proceeded to muter a few choice words under his breath as he stalked off, leaving you and Carlos to burst out laughing. 

“Why do you give him such a hard time?” Carlos asked. 

“It’s entertaining for me.” You turned your head, just able to see a sliver of Lando before he disappeared into the Paddock crowd. The corner of your lips curled upwards, “And now I want to know what sort of plan he’s going to come up with.”

5

Your conversation with Lando had slipped from your mind by the end of the race weekend. In fact, you had been so caught up with Charles’ performance on Saturday and Sunday that you weren't thinking about the McLaren driver until he was right in front of you.

You walked behind Charles down the tarmac towards the private jet that would take you two and Arthur back to Monaco. Usually you claimed the seat on the right at the very back of the plane but when you walked in and saw it was taken by the British boy with curls atop his head, you were thrown for a loop.

“Morning,” Lando greeted. He wore a matching jumper and sweats set from his own Quadrant line. On the small table in front of him he pushed forward a small white box as you slowly approached. “For you.”

You shot a glance at Charles, one that basically asked what the hell was Lando doing here. Charles laughed as he searched for his headphones, “We’re all going to the same place.”

“He’s in my seat.”

“This is your seat?” Lando sounded apologetic. You looked back at him and watched as he rushed to collect his things, except for the white box, and he moved to the seat on the other side of the aisle. 

You were confused, that’s for damn sure. Lando never just casually caught a ride with your family. But you were also tired and didn’t care too much about his presence as long as he left you alone for the duration of the flight. 

You made yourself comfortable in the leather recliner, closing your eyes almost immediately. They would have stayed closed had you not heard Lando obnoxiously clear his throat.

“Lando, if you're trying to move up my driver ranking, this is not the way to do it.”

“Can you just look in the box, please,” Lando sighed. He was leaning over the armrest of his seat, practically falling into the aisle. 

A defeated sigh escaped you and you reached for the box, flipping the lid open. If you were being honest with yourself, you had absolutely no idea what was going to be inside. Lando was an enigma. You would have been equally as shocked to see a live frog as you would to see a blade of grass.

But it was neither, thank god. It was a doughnut. And not just any doughnut. It was a filled pastry with a layer of chocolate and cookie crumbles on top, coated with a drizzle of white chocolate. Something that would undoubtedly give you a toothache, but it was mouthwatering nonetheless. 

“Chocolate explosion cheesecake doughnut,” Lando explained. 

You glanced up at him, eyebrows raised, wondering why he would have bought this for you before the flight this morning. 

Lando sighed, as if he was offended you were confused, “You love cheesecake. And chocolate. And doughnuts.” He gestured to the treat, “This is the perfect combination of all three.”

He wasn’t wrong, you did love all three of those things. But how did he know that?

“Thanks,” you offered Lando a smile. “But you didn’t have to-”

“I know, I know, But I passed a bakery this morning after my jog,” Lando explained, waving his hand as if to brush off the gesture like it was nothing. “Just thought you’d like a treat during the flight is all.”

“You know, this isn’t going to make me like you more than Lance.”

Lando’s features fell. Just for a moment, but you caught it. He was hoping this one simple doughnut would push him up your standings and he was very wrong. 

“Lance didn’t buy you a doughnut.”

“Lance also didn’t take my seat.”

“I gave it back!” He exclaimed loudly, causing Arthur and Charles to both turn their heads to see what was going on. Lando leaned further across the aisle, lowering his voice. “I gave it back.”

“He finished sixth this weekend.”

“I was struggling with tyre degradation.”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. To be fair, Lando had a pretty decent weekend, but he still finished below Lance and you were going to hold onto that just because you knew it would get under Lando’s nerves. 

“You talk to me more than you talk to Lance.”

“No, you talk to me.”

“I. Bought. You. A. Doughnut.” Lando went back to his strongest argument. 

“It’ll take a little more than a pastry to move up the rankings.” You leaned into the aisle as well, catching Charle’s eyes. “Posso spingerlo giù dall'aereo?” Can I push him off the plane?

“No,” Charles chuckled, glancing at Lando who was trying to recall the very minimal Italian that he knew. “Sii gentile con lui” Be nice to him.

“Gentile?” Lando repeated, looking back and forth between you and your brother. It was the only word he could pick up on. “Nice? Did Charles just call me nice? Thank you Charles, I’m trying to do a polite thing for your sister and she’s not being respectful.”

You dropped your face to your hand, “Lo spingerò giù dall'aereo.” I’m going to push him off the plane.

“Y/N don’t do that. Lando, Mate I don’t think bribing Y/N with a doughnut is going to do you any favours,” Charles retorted, still laughing. At this point, the only person not laughing was Lando. “Now put your seatbelts on.”

You and Lando exchanged a similar look, a challenging one. Eyes slightly narrowed, a smirk playing on your lips. He was going to make it his mission to become your favourite driver and you were intent on not letting that happen.

Once you were in the air, Charles got up out of his seat to come and talk to you about plans for dinner this week with your mum. You brought one leg up to your chest as you spoke to your older brother, switching between French and Italian throughout the duration of the conversation. That was common for you two, but you noticed that Lando was watching intensely, probably trying to figure out if you two were talking about him.

Charles noticed too and dipped his head in an attempt to stifle his laughter, “Tu seras sa mort.” You’ll be the death of him.

“Possibly, but that’s what makes this fun,” You swiftly turned your head to face the British driver. “Right?”

Lando held his hands up defensively, “I’m not agreeing with anything you just said. I don’t even know what you said.”

“Then stop trying to eavesdrop,” You stretched your hand out to land a playful hit on his arm. One would have thought you just bruised his bone with the way he reacted, retracting his arm into his chest and inhaling a very dramatic breath. You rolled your eyes, “We weren’t talking about you, by the way. We were talking about plans for dinner.”

“For tonight?” Lando asked, face lighting up immediately. “Perfect. I’m in.”

Charles’ head fell back with laughter as he turned around, leaving you to deal with this conversation on your own. 

“No, you idiot,” you stared at him in disbelief. “With our mother, later this week.”

“Oh,” he nodded, poking his tongue out to lick his lips before his eyebrows pinched together, “So what’s happening tonight?”

“Nothing’s happening tonight.”

“So you’re free for me to take you out on a date?”

Charles’ and Arthur’s laughter echoed through the plane and it took everything in you not to laugh as well, but you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. You were also very taken aback by his abruptness of the question, like this was casual, like you guys had hung out outside the paddock before, you hadn’t. 

“Lando if this is about my driver ranking-”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Lando shrugged, but his cheeky grin told you it was. He reached across the aisle and nudged your arm, “Come on, Y/N, let’s do something fun in Monaco.”

When it clicked for all of you that this wasn’t a joke, Charles stood up from his seat, eyes darting back and forth between you and Lando a few times before landing on him, “No, absolutely not. You’re not going on a date with my sister.”

“Don’t think that’s up for you to decide.” Lando looked at you expectantly. His hazel eyes bore into yours and with the way the early morning sunlight flooded through the small windows, he seemed to quite literally be glowing. 

You almost said yes because of the way he was looking at you. A hopeful, boyish smile on his lips. Chin rested in his hand so innocently. Head tilted the slightest bit. How could you say no to that? 

You had to.

“Lando, I’m not going on a date with you.”

To end the conversation, you found your airpods and pulled out your phone, making yourself look as busy as possible, even if you were just scrolling through different social media platforms. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lando shift in his seat, trying to decide if he should interrupt you or not. 

Eventually he decided not to. Probably figuring that asking you out on a date for a second time wouldn’t go over well with you, or with Charles for that matter.

But that didn’t mean he was done trying.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 17, 932 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

ynleclerc spanish grand prix but im the only one that looks good

view all 2,301 comments

charles_leclerc i don't like this

carlossainz55 why did you include that one of me

ynleclerc because it made me giggle ynleclerc ti amo❤️

dailyyferrari y/n is really out here giving us the ferrari boys content

hamileclerc okay but can we talk about her style

sunshinemick paddock queen

16paddocks idc what anyone else says i think her and carlos would make the cutest couple

helpmelando charles would never let her date a driver LMAO

------

When you stepped off the plane, Lando was quick to take your bags from you so you didn’t have to carry them to the car that was waiting for you. Charles lightly smacked him upside the head, muttering something under his breath about how Lando wasn’t allowed to hit on his sister.

Lando ignored it, like he ignored most signs and instructions. He waited until getting to the car, making sure to grab the door and hold it open for you. 

“Being chivalrous isn’t going to do anything for my driver ranking.”

“I’m just being nice.”

“You have ulterior motives.”

“No,” Lando argued. Your eyebrows pinched together and he changed his answer. “Okay fine, yes I want you to like me more. Let me take you out, Y/N. It’ll be fun.”

It wasn’t like Charles controlled your life, but you did worry about what he would think if you and Lando did go out, even just for an innocent dinner. Lando could sense your hesitation as you glanced at your older brother a few feet away and he just nodded and drummed his fingers against the car window.

“I’ll see you around, then,” taking your silence as an answer. He gave you a gentle smile, one that matched the rest of his soft features before shutting the door. 

You didn’t expect to hear from Lando until the next race and honestly, that would have been for the better. That plane ride with him was enough. And him asking you on a date? Where the hell did that come from? You understood that Lando just wanted to move up your personal driver rankings, but you were conflicted about that potentially leading to spending more time with him.

Lando was someone you’ve known for a few years now. You were always friendly in the paddock or any social events, you shared some entertaining banter, but never once did you spend time together in between races.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you did like Lando and his company, but similar to Carlos or Daniel, he was a friend. A friend you saw when you watched a grand prix and nothing more. It didn’t make sense to see him on a more regular basis.

Also Charles would kill you if you went on a date with a driver. 

Luckily for you, the second you stepped into your flat, all thoughts of the McLaren driver left your mind. You had to unpack, you needed to do laundry, you needed to meal prep for the upcoming week. You’d been gone for four days so god did you need to clean. Basic chores kept you busy for the majority of the day until you found yourself needing to make dinner. 

You had just placed a homemade pizza in the oven and licked some excess tomato sauce off your thumb when there was a knock on your door. 

This didn’t alarm you. You ordered a lot of packages, you figured this was another one. Or maybe it was one of your friends because they knew you were back home. It wasn’t strange that someone was stopping by.

It was strange that the person on the other side of your door was Lando. 

You had half a mind to shut the door in his face. 

“I said no date.” 

“This isn’t a date!” Lando defended himself, but the single daisy between his fingers told you otherwise. Lando noticed you eyeing it and he held it out towards you, “I passed a shrub of daisies, what was I supposed to do? Not grab you one?”

Reluctantly, you took the flower from him, spinning it between your forefinger and your thumb. Dozens of questions flooded through your mind, but instead of making him stand in your foyer as you pondered which one to ask, you nodded your head to invite him inside. 

Lando smiled and shut the door behind him. He had changed out of his jumper from earlier, now in a pair of black joggers and, of course, a Quadrant t-shirt. 

You had changed as well, now in a matching cotton pj set that was beige with little red hearts on it. You noticed that Lando’s eyes lingered on your bare legs for longer than he probably should have.

“How’d you know?” You asked.

Lando cleared his throat, “How’d I know what?”

“That I like daisies.”

He shifted onto the balls of his feet, “You have a daisy tattoo.”

Your eyebrows raised due to suspicion, “Not anywhere visible.”

The small flower was inked into your side on your ribcage, just below the curve of your breast. It wasn’t everyday you walked around topless, so you were certainly confused as to how Lando of all people had become aware of it.

Lando knew he had been caught out. He inhaled a sharp breath, quickly trying to figure out how to get out of this grave he had dug for himself.

“Word spreads,” he shrugged.

“Word spreads?” You repeated back to him. You knew exactly what that meant. You pushed on his chest and reached for the handle of the door, practically shoving him out. “Get out of my flat, Lando. And take your fucking daisy.”

You crumpled it between your fingers until the pedals turned to remnants of what it used to be before throwing it in his face. Lando didn’t let you shut the door though, he kept his palm against the surface and pushed it open. You were strong, but nowhere near as strong as a Formula 1 driver.

“Hey, come on,” Lando tried to reason with you. “I’m not the one who talks, Y/N. I didn’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s not my place.”

He leaned against the side of the door, refusing to break your stare until you believed he was telling the truth. You pressed your lips together tightly, telling yourself that Lando was only the middle man in this unfortunate turn of events. You were annoyed, definitely, but you didn’t need to take it out on him.

“I want to know what he said,” you decided, swinging the door open for the second time.

And that’s how you found yourself on the couch with Lando as he relayed to you everything that Pierre had told him. 

It was a mistake, honestly. One that you didn’t think you regretted that much, but now you were thinking otherwise. 

Last Christmas when Pierre came to visit the Leclerc family, the two of you ended up splitting a bottle of wine, or maybe two, and when the end of the night came, instead of going to his hotel, Pierre came with you back to your flat.

You had known Pierre for years through Charles, but that night there was a magnetic pull that had you craving him. It was probably the wine. 

He kissed you, something that you shouldn't have let happen but you were giddy and drunk and it was the holidays so all logic slipped from mind. Pierre kissed you and for the rest of the night, nothing else seemed to matter.

But when you woke up in your bed the next morning, limbs tangled with his and the sheets, you both agreed that it could never happen again. You also agreed that you would never talk about it. The last thing you needed was Charles’ finding out about a one night stand between his best friend and his sister and neither of you wanted to start any gossip in the paddock.

That’s what you thought, at least. Because apparently Pierre had told Lando every stupid detail about that night, including the tattoo that he had noticed on your side. 

“È uno stronzo," He’s an asshole. With your arm resting along the back of the couch, you dropped your face to rest in your hand. Lando knew just enough Italian that he didn't have to ask for a translation. “We agreed not to tell anyone. Who else knows?”

Lando shrugged and usually that was a cop out answer, but you believed that he truly didn’t know. “I don’t think he told Carlos. Danny might know. Yuki? I don’t know, Y/N, I’m sorry. Pierre loves to talk.”

“I just don’t want this to get back to Charles.”

He nodded, understanding where you were coming from, “If it helps, I haven’t told anyone.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him, “What do you want? An award for doing the bare fucking minimum? You could have told Pierre to not talk about me.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Lando cowered back into his corner of the couch. He felt bad about this situation, but you also sort of intimidated him. He didn’t know how to help. It just seemed like everything he said or did made it a little bit worse.

He was so tense that when the timer on your oven went off, he flinched in response. 

You slid off the couch and headed towards the kitchen. When you put the pizza on a cooling rack, you glanced over your shoulder to catch a peak at Lando, only to find him watching you. You nodded your head towards the plate in your hand, “Did you want some?”

“Of what?”

He didn’t think sometimes. “Lando, what the hell does it smell like in here?”

“Piz- oh, yeah sure I’d love a slice,” his boyish grin returned and you grabbed a second plate out for him. You also grabbed a bottle of wine from the cart in the corner, but Lando’s voice stopped you from popping out the cork. “Oh I’m okay, I don’t actually drink wine.”

You had nothing against drinking alone, but for reasons you couldn’t really explain, it felt wrong to pour yourself a glass of wine and enjoy it in Lando’s presence. 

So you opted for a few bottles of Perrier instead. You balanced the plates on one arm and carried the sparkling water in your hand. When you came back to the couch, Lando was quick to take the dishes from you so you could get comfortable in your spot.

He took a bite of the pizza and immediately sucked in a breath as if that would help cool it down. You wanted to roll your eyes at how daft he could be sometimes. It was a wonder how this man could memorise over twenty different track layouts and withstand up to 5G, but couldn’t remember to let his food cool down before eating.

Lando must have noticed you smiling to yourself and he took a sip of water before asking about it, “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you were still smiling, “You’re just funny, is all.”

“I’m funny?” He repeated, mirroring your expression as he saw it as a compliment. The slightest bit of an ego boost did wonders for his mood. “Why thank you.”

You were starting to learn which battles to pick with Lando. Correcting him about your concerns regarding his mentality was not one of them. 

“So you came over here for what reason?” You asked, eyeing the crumbled up flower near your front door. 

“For a date,” Lando answered like it was the easiest question in the world. “I just assumed you had to say no earlier, for Charles’ sake.”

You scoffed, “I said no because I didn’t want to go on a date with you.”

“So what are we doing right now?”

He had you there. 

You may not have gone out and done something ‘fun’ but you did invite him inside and now you were sharing a few slices of homemade pizza. You almost opened a bottle of wine. 

“This isn’t a date,” it was a piss poor argument, but it was all you could come up with. 

“Agree to disagree,” Lando looked pleased with himself. “And I don’t see Lance showing up at your door, with a flower, wanting to hang out with you.”

“Maybe because Lance lives in Montreal,” you retorted. “And he also has a girlfriend.”

“So why do you like him more than me?” Lando raised his voice but there was still a lingering playful understone. 

“He’s a better driver,” you took another bite of pizza, ignoring the way Lando was staring at you like you offended the last five generations of his family. When you finally looked up, you rolled your eyes at his dumbstruck expression, covering your mouth with your hand as you finished chewing. “Lando, he’s literally sitting at ninth in the driver standings. Your tenth. Maybe get some points and I’ll like you more.”

“You’re harsh,” Lando shook his head at your words as he stood up from the couch. For a second you wondered where he was going but he just pointed at the kitchen, “Mind if I grab another slice?”

“Oh, you like my cooking?”

“I do, actually,” Lando chuckled. He put a few more slices on his plate. “You’ve got some good culinary skills. This crust?” He lifted his fingers to his lips, kissing the tip of them to express his appreciation for your homemade pizza. “You should open up a restaurant.”

Your head dipped backwards as you laughed, “You’ve tried one meal. I could be absolute shit at making everything else.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lando shook his head as he returned to the couch. This time when he sat down, you noticed he positioned himself more towards you than forwards. 

“Why not?”

Lando hesitated, taking a breath before answering, “I don’t think it's possible for you to be shit at anything. If you have the same determination as Charles, which I think you do, it’s probably safe to say that when you put your mind to something, you excel.”

It was a nice compliment, but you didn’t let his words affect you the way he would have hoped.

“You’re still sixth in my ranking.”

“For now.”

“Forever.”

Lando opened his mouth only for his jaw to immediately close. You straightened up and nudged his foot with yours.  

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever you were about to say”

“I forgot,” Lando shrugged it off, but you knew he was lying. He had a horrible poker face. It also didn’t help that he quickly scarfed down the rest of his pizza and stood up, avoiding this conversation. 

You watched as he walked to the kitchen and turned the tap on to start washing the single dish he used. You braced your arm over the back of the couch, “Just leave it, I can clean it later.”

His jaw dropped in fake astonishment, “Leave it? I was raised better than that. You fed me, I can clean. Equal trade.”

“Lando-

“Shut up Y/N, let me do the dishes.” He then moved to grab a few cutting boards and other utensils you used and left out. 

You weren’t sure what was going through his mind as he cleaned up your mess. You just watched, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Lando. 

This was his first time at your place, so it took a while for him to figure out where you kept your dish rags and soap, but it was entertaining watching as he navigated through your cupboards and drawers. 

After a few minutes, he wiped his hands on his pants and made his way towards the back of the couch. You stared up at him, but instantly regretted that as he flicked his hand in front of your face. A few stray drops of water landed on your cheeks and you pushed on his abdomen. 

“Oh you asshole,” you wiped your face as Lando only laughed and grabbed your now empty plate. You followed him to the kitchen this time though, nudging your hip against his so he would move out of the way for you to grab a towel. 

“You could always hire me as a dishwasher if being a driver doesn’t work out for me,” Lando suggested. 

"One, I'm not opening up a restaurant," you started, hearing a scoff from Lando. "Two, hiring you would mean I have to see you all the time."

"That's not so bad."

You didn't answer, relying on your judgmental eyeroll and pursed lips to get the message across. Lando snatched another towel from the drawer and rolled it up, snapping it against your bare forearm.

"Ouch," you hissed at him, grabbing the spot that had just been hit. Now it was Lando's turn to roll his eyes.

He pushed your hand out of the way and brushed his thumb against the faint red mark on your arm that would certainly disappear within the next ten minutes. You may have reacted dramatically.

Okay, you definitely did. You grew up with three older brothers. A little roughhousing was not going to be the end of you. Lando knew this.

"Oh you're fine," he assured you, his fingers lingering on your skin longer than they needed to before he turned back around.

You wiped down the counter and Lando grabbed a few dishes that had been sitting in the drying rack. As he turned around, he placed his hand on your waist to gently move you out of the way so he could put the plates in the cupboard. A much nicer gesture compared to you just pushing against his side earlier.

Even though this was the first time Lando was visiting your flat, you two managed to fall into a pretty good flow as you finished cleaning up your kitchen. What started as just picking up after dinner turned into tidying everything else up.

Conversation flowed as well. He didn’t bring up your driver ranking, he asked what your plans were this week. He asked about any upcoming modelling projects you had lined up. He wanted to know if you’d be at the next race and he seemed excited when your answer was yes. 

Before you knew it, almost two hours had passed of the two of you just standing in your kitchen, talking. It was easy to talk to someone who made you laugh every five minutes and Lando just didn’t seem to have an excuse to leave, so he didn’t. 

This was the most amount of time you had ever spent with the British driver.

And you didn’t hate it.

It wasn’t until a yawn slipped out as Lando was talking did you both realise what time it was. Lando pulled out his phone at the same time you did. Either you put it on silent and didn’t notice or you had just been too engrossed with Lando and your conversation to notice that Charles had texted you a number of times.

“Everything okay?” Lando asked, noticing your expression.

You briefly skimmed the messages, but then decided you didn’t want to deal with your brother right now, “Yeah just Charles. I’ll call him back in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to ignore-”

You raised a hand to stop him mid-apology, “Don’t apologise, really.” You glanced around your pristine kitchen before your eyes landed on his, momentarily asking yourself why you turned him down in the first place. “Tonight was…weirdly fun. Even though you showed up unannounced and I found out Pierre told half the grid that we hooked up.”

Lando clenched his jaw and inhaled a sharp breath, “Yeah, sorry about that. Not about showing up unannounced, I don’t regret that, but about the whole Pierre thing.”

Leave it to Lando to not feel any bit of remorse for crashing your do-nothing plans after you rejected a date with him. 

You walked him to the front door and leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, watching to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. He then looked down at the flower right next to his feet. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. You could admit you overreacted. 

“Don’t be,” Lando shook his head. “I’ll just get you a bouquet next time, it’s probably harder to destroy.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, “Next time?”

Lando tilted his head, that same cheeky grin making a reappearance, “Oh. Yeah. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m still on a mission.” He gestured towards your kitchen. “I can’t believe I cleaned for you and you still like Lance better than me.”

“I mean,” you inhaled a heavy breath. Were you really about to say this? You could already see Lando’s expression turn hopeful and you had to avert your gaze, looking up at the ceiling instead. “It’s probably safe to say that Pierre isn’t on that top five list anymore.”

“He’s bumped down?” Lando asked. You nodded and you could tell how ecstatic he was over this news. “So by default, I’m number 5?”

“Sure, by default you’ve made it into the top five.”

Lando actually fist pumped the air. You rolled your eyes, dragging your hand over your face before reaching for the door. You pulled it open and for the second time tonight, you were pushing him out of your flat. 

“Goodnight, Lando.” you went to shut the door, but just like earlier, he stopped it. 

He stepped closer, his line of sight trailing upwards, taking his time to really look at all of the details on your face. Like how no matter how hard you were trying to look annoyed, a sliver of a smile still poked through. There was an indent above your right eyebrow, he hadn’t noticed it before and he made a mental note to ask you about it the next time he saw you. He then landed on your eyes and he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling his mouth becoming very dry.

“In all honesty, thanks for inviting me in,” Lando told you. His words sounded genuine. It almost made you forget about his ridiculous move-up-your-ranking operation. 

“Yeah, just don’t make a habit of showing up uninvited,” you said. 

“No promises.”

He shot you a wink before taking a few steps backwards and away from your flat. You watched for a few seconds, making sure he got into his car safely. Once he turned it on, you shut the door and released a breath you weren’t even aware you had been keeping in. 

As you heard him drive away, you ignored an unfamiliar twisting feeling in the pit of your stomach. You also paid no attention to the fact that your flat just seemed so empty without him and almost eerily quiet after his laughter filled up the space for the last few hours. And of course, you refused to let yourself think about what would have happened if you did agree to the date.

But you did ask yourself one question.

 What the hell were you getting yourself into?

a fun new little lando series (will be about 5-6 parts) can't wait to hear your thoughts

masterlist here part 2 here

[canisalbus]

You might have answered this before but is there any aus or routes where Machete doesn't get assassinated, and he and Vasco get to live somewhat happy lives together? Or is the heartbreak and tragedy always set in stone?

I think in order to avoid the bad ending he'd have to resign from his position and find something less distressing to do with his life. I'm not entirely sure how that works though, I believe relinquishing cardinalship for example is extremely unusual and a big deal even in modern times, usually you hold these titles until death, retiring isn't part of the plan. And since he's had to fight tooth and nail to get where he is and his sense of self-worth is tied to it, I find it hard to believe he'd have enough sense to just leave everything behind. Besides, he was saved, raised and trained by the church, in some way he must feel like he owes his life to it.

I feel like the modern au, not that such thing exists at the moment, would be relatively happy and free of drama and tragedy. Now that I'm thinking about it, the root of Machete's problems must be health issues. In present times he wouldn't get left behind for being weak and ill so he wouldn't have any specific reason to pursue ecclesiastical career. I don't know what job he'd land but I don't think he'd be a priest. Having access to modern medicine and diagnostics would certainly help a ton, no more bloodletting, valerian root and laudanum for him. I see no reason why he and Vasco wouldn't be happily married. They'd probably travel a bunch and have a habit of frequenting snobby little bistros and overpriced restaurants. Machete would drag Vasco to museums, theatre and opera. He'd still be workaholic but with the additional boost of very strong coffee. Vasco would own some sort of garish Italian sports car. He'd be good at cooking and baking. He'd still ride horses. Maybe he'd be an avid football fan even.

[fall0utmind]

Rosquez medical leak au ch8

Hi guys, long time no post (it has taken too long)

Chapter 8: Fall out

ao3 here, check the medical leak au tag (below) for the other parts

We are officially past the worst of the angst - hope you enjoy this, it's a bit of a filler but it is going to get better. Thanks for all the love.

Silence falls for a brief second after Valentino has left. Marc is standing alone in the middle of the room, staring at where he had been. He feels the shattered pieces of his heart in his chest, and he begins to cry. Once he starts, he can’t stop, wretched sobs pulled out of him as he gasps for breath. Underneath the misery and despair, the deep roots of his anger pull at him. Enraged that Valentino still treats him like a stray dog that he can continue to kick down, knowing that he will return with his tail wagging at the first hint of affection. He’s furious that Vale can pretend that he didn’t know. How can he stand in Marc’s home and plead when he has ruined everything? It leaves a sour taste in Marc’s mouth, yet his treacherous heart flutters with hope that maybe Valentino didn’t know. Maybe there is a chance.

He can barely see Alex's panicked face through his swimming vision as he frantically tries to inhale, his breath catching in his chest.

He feels the room bearing down on him, the walls contracting, pushing him from all sides. His heart races as black spots appear in his sight like stars in the night sky. His chest aches and his lungs burn, it is as if someone has sucked the oxygen out of the room. He is shaking; someone has tipped his life upside down and he no longer knows which way is up. He cannot help but feel like something bad will happen, an impending sense of doom clawing from his chest. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Alex is clutching at him now, shouting at the others in the room, who break out of their ghost-like trance and spring into action. Dovi slots himself behind Marc, strong arms wrapping around him, supporting his weight as his knees buckle. He gently manoeuvres them towards the sofa, both collapsing onto it. There is a gentle rumbling from behind him – the Italian whispering softly in Marc’s ear, and although he can’t hear anything but a static buzz, the gentleness lulls him slightly. He squeezes his eyes shut, more tears leaking down his face. When he opens his eyes, Alex is kneeling in front of him, Marc’s hands clasped in his own. He watches Alex’s lips move with no sound. He still can’t catch his breath. Violent sobs and gasps fill the air; it takes him a second to realise the broken noises are coming from him, filtering through the static.

This is what Valentino Rossi does to him. He takes Marc’s heart in his hands, brutally ripped out from his chest, and he smashes it like glass. He turns his back and leaves Marc with no blood, no oxygen, and no way to keep on living. And yet Marc still loves him. The name Marc Marquez is rarely spoken without a mention of Valentino Rossi. They are intrinsically linked, their names smeared together in an artistic rendition of pain and betrayal. Marc does not believe there will ever be a day he can live without it. They are destined to destroy each other until the end of time. Nothing will be left of his fragile heart by the time Valentino is done with it.

He thinks back to 2015. He thinks he is falling apart, shattering into a million tiny shards. The world stops spinning as he stares into the void and realises this is his fate. The man he loves willingly betrays him again and again, but despite it all, Marc cannot help but need him. A visceral, all-consuming need to consume each other until only one survives. Every time he thinks he has moved on Valentino sinks his claws back in, tearing another part of Marc apart. The backslide is always the worst part; having climbed the whole way up only to slip back down again. Pain becomes welcome in the never-ending sea of numbness. He is frantically swimming up to a surface which will never come. Choking, suffocating, sinking deeper into the murky depths. He is lost in the endless darkness, trying to find his way to a home that doesn’t exist. He feels so alone. He has shut every door trying to block it out and has numbed himself into apathy. Now the world has turned its back on him.

Alex shakes him. Hard. Unwilling to let the darkness take hold once more. Marc pulls towards the surface, pushing his head above the waves and gasping for air. He inhales. Alex’s words filter into his awareness.

“Marc, breathe with me. You’re ok, it’s okay”

Marc tries desperately to match the breathing demonstrated to him, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Dovi’s chest behind him as he gasps around his tears. He clutches onto the feeling like a lifeline, breathing in time with him. He is distantly aware of Alex talking soothingly, his hands still grasping Marc’s. Marc feels guilt wash over him; he has always tried hard to prevent his brother from seeing these panic attacks. He has tried to be strong, reluctant to let Alex feel more responsibility for Marc’s wellbeing. He failed. Another round of tears builds, leaving him sobbing wretchedly once more. The Dovi continues to whisper comforting praise, his low register rumbling against where they are flush together.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well, keep breathing for me, baby”

The pet name sinks into his chest and settles like a blanket of warmth; he feels his cheeks flush slightly. Dovi chuckles lightly, noting Marc’s reaction before he goes back to coaching the younger to breathe deeply. The world slowly filters back in, like the tide has pulled back, retreating to sea. Dovi is wrapped around him, grounding him in reality. Alex’s face is still in front of him; his eyes soft as he comes back into focus. Marc blinks slowly, squeezing his brother’s hand, and Alex exhales.

“Jöder, Marc. You scared the life out of me. God…”, Alex frets.

Water is pressed into his hands by a concerned-looking Dani. Marc tries to muster a reassuring smile, he’s not sure if he succeeds. A bone-deep exhaustion washes over him, and he sinks back into Dovi, eyes shutting against his will. Jorge and Dani watch on, concern evident from their identical worried frowns.

“Are you okay, Mijo?”, asks Dani.

Marc hums non-committedly, he wants to tell them everything is fine, but that’s a lie, and he doesn’t think he could talk right now if he tried. He could sleep for a year. It’s getting late; the sun had long since set and really it is about time that they all headed to bed. Dani and Jorge share a look, communicating without words, and announce that they will head back to their hotels to let Marc rest. He considers this for a second, and upon second thought, it might be hotel singular given how domesticated the pair are. He must ask about that, maybe tomorrow. They confer quietly with Alex before they leave, gently touching Marc and reassuring him that they will return tomorrow. Affection rises within him at his friend's kindness. Despite this, he is somewhat glad they are leaving, exhaustion weighing down on him. He feels washed out, managing a small wave as his eyes begin to droop again. Dovi shuffles out from underneath Marc, standing up and stretch leisurely.

“Let’s get you to sleep, Cariño”

He shoots a questioning look towards Alex, who shrugs a little before pointing towards the bedrooms. It makes Dovi roll his eyes in exasperation. He’s not an idiot, he knows what the others are doing - giving him and Marc space. He knows he has a soft spot for the Spaniard that you can see from space, but he also knows about Marc’s unwavering affection for Valentino. Dovi is perfectly content to be his friend without a need to act on his attraction, and if Marc ever decides otherwise then that’s something they can explore another day. Certainly not now.

He scoops Marc up off the sofa, gesturing at Alex to lead the way and following him with Marc tucked securely in his arms. Once they reach the bedroom, Dovi gently deposits him on the bed. Between Alex and himself, they manage to wrangle him out of most of his clothes and get him under the covers. He’s still sniffling weakly when he turns towards them.

“Why does he hate me? I don't understand”

Dovi's heart shatters a little at that, sadly looking back at the Spaniard tucked into bed like a child.

“I don’t know Corazón,but hopefully today’s given him a much-needed kick up the backside”

He gives Marc a weak smile, despaired that he can’t do more, and steps back to let Alex wrap him in a hug. Alex murmurs something in Catalan which prompts Marc to shove his face into his brother’s shirt. Marc’s eyes are unfocused and drooping by the time they leave, his soft goodnight echoing down the hallway as they shut the door behind them. Alex lets out a deep sigh, thanking Dovi and giving him a light hug before he shows him out. They all need their sleep tonight, with tomorrow promising to be a hectic day. Alex will stay close to his brother, unable to shake the lingering concern, but Dovi heads back to his hotel room, in dire need of some rest and time to think. He just hopes tomorrow will bring more positivity.

*

Marc wakes up with the sun, feeling well rested despite the events of the day before. He is determined to put yesterday behind him, reminding himself that he can always fight, even if the world is against him.

Marc pulls himself out of bed, putting on his comfiest outfit before he heads onto the track, hoping to get an early morning walk in to clear his head before the rest of the paddock arrives. The morning light is beautiful, and the air is warm but not uncomfortable. It reminds him why he loves racing – walking the track. He can almost imagine the smell of burnt rubber and the purr of an engine below him. He can feel the breeze on his face and imagines the feeling as he takes a corner. Marc allows himself a moment to stand and take it in, the sun warming his face and making him golden in the early morning sunshine. He has overcome a lot to be here, he might as well appreciate that. He stays out for another half an hour, leisurely walking the track and appreciating the quiet, before he heads back to the motorhome.

Someone is lingering outside the door- a figure clad in red. At first, he thinks it’s Pecco, but as he draws closer, he realises that his hair is too long. Fear momentarily grips him as he considers who might be loitering outside his motorhome, and why. But before the panic can fully set in, the figure turns, and Marc is face to face with Enea. He’s surprised the younger Italian has sought him out. He’s been avoiding most of the grid for the whole weekend, unwilling to confront their pitying faces.

 Enea greets him with a fond ciao and a warm hug as Marc invites him inside. There’s a worried frown that creases his eyebrows, it’s terribly cute. His eyes are scanning Marc as if checking to see if he’s okay.

“You areokay?”, he asks.

Marc smiles gently, the warmth from earlier returning. It makes him surprisingly honest.

“I’ve been worse. Rough night. It’ll get better”, Marc replies.

He knocks their shoulders together, enjoying the way it makes Enea flush slightly and smile in a quiet, pleased sort of way. Enea has always been one of the few Italians on the grid that Marc gets on with. Probably because he has never been associated with Vale’s posse of students. Enea is funny and kind, as well as a talented rider. It endears Marc to him.

Enea stays for coffee. The soothing sounds of quiet Italian fill the motorhome as they talk about the weekend and their plans after the race. Alex wanders into the room not long after, eyebrows raising at the sight of the two of them. Enea takes Alex arriving as his cue, standing up to leave. As Marc walks him out, the Italian tugs him into a tight hug, head buried into Marc’s shoulder.

“You scared me. At the press conference. And then yesterday. I’m glad you are okay.”, he mumbles, rawness bleeding into his voice. Marc simply pulls Enea in tighter, pressing his face against the other man’s hair, before he lets him go. He grins at the younger man, ruffling his hair good-naturedly.

“I will see you later, good luck today!”, Marc calls out as Enea leaves

“You too, Marc. Be safe”, Enea answers.

Marc grins a little manically,

“Always.”

*

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. The others are meeting them in the garage today, leaving the brothers to get ready together before heading out into the pit lane.

It is getting busier now; the paddock swells with media, team personnel, and fans. Marc and Alex try their best to swerve around the masses, taking alternative routes where possible. Usually, Marc adores meeting fans; he loves seeing their enthusiasm and passion for his sport. But the idea sets him on edge after this weekend. He has been avoiding social media, terrified by the juxtaposing reaction of the fans. He knows there is no shortage of hatred online. He found out the hard way that it translates into real life too.

Eventually, their luck runs out. Marc darts a terrified look at Alex as a group of fans spot them and begin to approach. Some of them are wearing his merch, some not. Anxiety is clawing at him, but he steals himself with a deep breath. He can’t escape without looking like an asshole and that’s the last thing he needs this weekend. A young woman approaches first, perhaps in her later teenage years; she looks about as nervous as Marc feels. All he can imagine is the man who shouted abuse at his most vulnerable moment, it scares him more than he wants to admit. He pastes a fake smile onto his face whilst mentally bracing himself for the worst.

It never comes.

The girl is sweet, asking for a photo and an autograph. It’s a relatively normal fan interaction until she pulls away from the selfie and looks directly into Marc’s eyes. He’s slightly shaken by the fierce honesty he sees there.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry about all the crap from this weekend.”, she starts, compassion and outrage evident in her voice.

“It sucks that you didn’t get to say it on your own terms. You will inspire many people with your success. Thank you for staying alive so that we can see you continue to thrive in the face of adversity. You’re very brave.”

She smiles at him after, before turning on her heel and walking away with a slight skip in her step. It leaves Marc gasping for air; his face is slack from shock. The fans continue to be quietly supportive and praise Marc’s strength. Quite a few of them are bad-mouthing the press. It makes him reconsider everything. It makes him feel brave rather than weak. It makes him consider all the people who have suffered through similar, just like Pecco had said last night. He smiles for real this time, his eyes slightly damp.

The final fan loitering is an older man wearing a faded 46 shirt. Marc gulps, fighting the recurring panic. Each step feels like a blow as the man approaches. He stops in front of Marc, who is suspended in time, tensing in anticipation.

The man speaks quickly, his voice low but sincere.

“You are a good man.”, he announces. That alone shocks Marc.

He continues, “People can see that, no matter who we support. Despite everything you have kept going, you should be proud of that.”

Marc feels hope and warmth welling up within him. It feels good, knowing that even Valentino’s fans could be kind. He wants to cry, but in a good way for once. He watches the man as he walks away, rooted to the spot, leaving Alex to drag Marc the last few hundred meters towards the garage.

He enters the garage feeling lighter than he has all weekend, a sunny smile on his face. The team reflect his positivity almost immediately; he loves them more than life. Dovi is already waiting for Marc and Alex, his eyebrows raised at their entrance.

“What’s got you smiling like that?”, he questions.

Marc grins cheekily as he replies, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He winks at Dovi and laughs at the dirty smirk he receives in response, followed by Alex’s weary groan. Dani and Jorge join them, prompting Marc to launch into a retelling of the fan interactions. He beams the whole way through.

By the time he heads out for practice, he feels on top of the world. It’s reflected in his riding, and he puts in lap after lap at a blazing pace.  By the time he pulls back into the pits, there is a wicked smile on his face.

Fuck the world, he thinks. He has proved to himself capable of handling anything. He has overcome what should have been a career-ending injury. He will get through this too; he has already done the hardest bit. Bring it on.

[vraisetzen]

𝑨 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 – 𝑲𝒐𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒃𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Summary: As Kokushibo does the laundry, he stumbles upon a pair of your underwear.

Tags: NSFW, 18+, Modern/KimeGaku AU, No use of (y/n)

Author's note: A short writing exercise. And I've been obsessed with writing about men jerking off lately...

It comes as little surprise that Kokushibo is fairly adept at doing the laundry – as Kibutsuji Muzan's designated secretary-slash-bodyguard-slash-handler, he is more than accustomed to managing his employer's collection of silk shirts with Italian labels and wool trousers with double pleats and monogram stitching along the inner lining.

When it comes to your clothes and his, Kokushibo has a system down pat, from sorting out dyed fabrics from his dress shirts, to polyester blends from cotton fabrics, and special netting bags for delicate garments. It was a language that only he spoke, with a frazzled attempt once on your part to take over the chores leaving him more than a little disgruntled as you turned his white boxers a darling shade of baby pink.

Hence, it has become a routine for him to find himself kneeling by the washing machine every Sunday, pawing through the laundry basket quietly and efficiently. His shirts and your pyjamas; your shorts and his gym towels. He tosses them into the washing machine, making a mental note to himself on how high he would have to set the water and rinse levels when he is finished.

And then, Kokushibo comes to your intimates – this is not foreign domain to him either. At this stage in your relationship, he is more than familiar with what you wear: the wireless bras, a unisex thong that your friends gave to you as a joke on Singles' Day, lacy pieces that you wear infrequently on special occasions. Kokushibo finds nothing embarrassing about this; he has already seen you in a far more revealing state, and this is, once again, routine.

What is not routine, however, is the strange curiosity that takes root inside him as he holds your panties in his hand, pausing for a long second. It is nothing special – a grey hipster that is a little loose around the elastic from wear – but Kokushibo hesitates as he lingers just over the metallic ring of the laundry drum. Perhaps it is the piece's simplicity; something you throw on without caring for seduction or looking pretty, something that is just there as you go about your day, beneath your clothes, something you hardly think about.

Kokushibo turns the underwear inside out, where there is a slightly darker mark on the crotch, the remnants of you on the cloth. A shot of arousal twinges through his cock as he wonders if you have ever fantasised about him while wearing this particular pair, staining the cotton with your wetness while you are at work.

Did your cheeks flush with the thoughts of him pummeling into you, stifling your moans through clenched teeth and bitten lip? Did you need to excuse yourself from the presence of your colleagues, escaping into the bathroom, checking each empty stall before choosing the one at the end? Did your hands tremble as you fumble with the lock, before pressing your back up against the door as you lift your dress up and slide your fingers into your aching depths?

Kokushibo presses his nose up against the underwear and inhales, and is greeted by the faint scent of sweet-salty musk – the same notes that he finds when he dives between your legs. His hand reaches for the tent in his trousers, rubbing himself through his sweatpants. This feels wrong – debased, even; jerking off to your underwear like some pervert lurking around the laundromat.

And truthfully, if he wanted, needed, you so badly, then you are but a text or a phone call away; but as Kokushibo growls into his hand, thinking about the silky wet of your folds, the threads of glistening juices that clings to his fingers as he strokes your cunt, there is very little regard on his part on what is right. And right now, he is stroking himself swiftly and firmly; it is not like how you do it, with your languished motions and endless patience for teasing out his pleasure – but he is not here for prolonged foreplay. The rough texture of his sweatpants makes for excellent friction, and he runts up against his hand, angling himself precisely to glide his cockhead over the fabric.

It does not take long for him to climax, and he does so with a jerk of his hips and a ragged growl into the inside of his boxers. A dark patch blooms over his sweatpants, mirroring the faint mark on your underwear, and for a few seconds Kokushibo simply stares down at his lap, dazed by the quickness which he brought himself to completion. His cock is still twitching weakly as he thinks of you, and what you will say if you were to come through the doors right now, arms full with the groceries for the week ahead. Will you scold him for making a mess? Or will you let him bend you over the washing machine, paper bags and laundry basket equally forgotten?

Alas, these questions will have to wait as Kokushibo gets up on shaky feet. He pulls off his trousers and boxers with his clean hand and washes them in the basin; and when he comes back, he gives the offending piece of garment – that wicked, ordinary pair of grey panties – a final look before chucking them all in the wash.

For more of my writings, check out my AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vraisetzen/pseuds/vraisetzen

[princessleechan]

"You're the man!" Chapter 14 (written Chapter)

Masterlist

⚽Chapter tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, suggestive language, twice girls, melli appearance, and ridiculousness, WRITTEN CHAPTER

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @shingsoluvely @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap @zezedoesshit @teenyfinds @jeonghansshitester @aaa-sia @heyitz00 @silvsie

Mingyu thought the on-campus sandwich shop had decent sandwiches, but he appreciated the atmosphere even more. The smell of freshly baked bread, bright ripe tomatoes, and spicy mustard seeds was like stepping into a baker’s childhood. The muted sound of the jukebox–stuck on the same five songs since the owners thrifted it–had it’s nostalgic charm. Most importantly, it offered a refuge from his rambling roommates who seemed to suck the oxygen out of any room. It was the epitome of a perfect lunch hour. For peace of mind, he could easily overlook the mediocre sandwiches.

“Dudes, slow down. It’s not going anywhere,” Jeonghan chuckled, watching the 6’2 man-child devour his Italian sub like it was his last meal.

Mingyu barely took the time to chew before swallowing and stuffing his face with more kettle-popped chips. “Are the sandwiches extra fresh today? They seem better than usual.”

“Just you, loser,” Wonwoo replied smugly.

“What’s got you in a good mood?” Soonyoung grinned.

Mingyu shrugged, wiping his mouth with a napkin crumpled in his fist. “Just a good day for me. Is that so bad?”

“You’re ugly when you’re happy,” Wonwoo answered.

Mingyu scoffed, savoring his ice-cold mug of root beer. "Not even you could ruin my lunch," he said, blissfully.

Meanwhile, you bounced on the balls of your feet behind the entrance door, summoning the courage to walk through. Minghao encouraged you from a distance, already inside the restaurant and surveying the floor plan to ensure the plan would unfold smoothly. "You ready, Yeonam?"

"More than ever, Hao."

With a deep breath, you swaggered through the double doors, determined to exude confidence despite the cringe-worthy memories of similar scenes in cheesy teen movies. One foot in front of the other, you enveloped yourself in feigned pride, nodding and pretending to know everyone there. You braved the occasional unreciprocated high-five and fist bump, but you maintained your composure, never dropping your guard.

Mingyu recognized him immediately and, annoyance flickering across his features swiftly slid down the booth as a safety precaution. He grumbled under his breath, irritated at the disruption to what had been a peaceful evening. With a resigned sigh, he hunkered down, his irritation palpable as he covertly monitored the newcomer's movements from the depths of the leather seats.

“What?” Soonyoung asked in concern.

“My roommate’s here, fuck.”

Wonwoo scoffed, “You’re a dick.”

“Rich coming from you–let’s just ignore him, alright? Spread out and make the booth look cramped.”

Reluctantly, the boys complied with Mingyu's request, casting quiet glances your way as you made your rounds, acknowledging you with subtle head nods against the tall friend's better judgment.

You could feel sweat trickling down your back in places it shouldn't, and you quickly averted their gazes, hoping not to unravel the carefully crafted ruse. Then, like clockwork, the plan fell into place. From the depths of the shadows emerged Jeongyeon, striding confidently toward you with purpose. "Yeonam? Is that you, handsome?" she called out, her voice cutting through the ambient noise of the restaurant.

“…What?” Mingyu murmured under his breath.

He and the rest of his teammates let their eyes roam over Jeongyeon as if she were on display, taking in her radiant smile as it illuminated the space around her. They watched her mid-length curls bounce in the fluorescent light, her arms falling naturally over your shoulders as she drew close.

"Still know how to make my knees go weak. I thought I'd never see you again," she beamed, her lips forming a playful pout.

"Jeongyeon," you replied, mustering confidence as you noticed the puzzled expressions on your teammates' faces from across the room, "You're stunning, darling. How have you been?"

Wonwoo has an amazed expression on his face, which followed the rest of his teammates, “did she just say that to Yeonam?”

"How am I? Are you really asking? What else would I be but heartbroken after you, the one and only Yeonam?" She pressed closer, her presence almost invading your personal space, and you found yourself choking on your breath, stunned by her acting. She leaned in further, her body language a masterful portrayal of longing and sorrow, so convincing and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her voice trembling with emotion, pulling you into the act almost effortlessly.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as her words struck a chord within you. Despite knowing deep down that you hadn't done the things she accused you of, her compelling portrayal left you befuddled as if you were no better than any other man. And this girl was only cutting hair? Get her booked immediately.

“You give me the best sex of my fucking life and you take it away. With how long I was on my knees for you?”

"What…the hell?" Soonyoung exclaimed, his hands flying to his face as if he had just stumbled upon the juiciest gossip to ever hit the tabloids. "What was she doing on her knees?"

“She’s hot as fuck. What the fuck does she see in him?” Mingyu exasperated.

Jeonghan chuckled, “Looks like you do have something to worry about, Mingyu. Better watch your back if he’s around Chae.”

You stroked Jeongyeon’s head, maintaining the charade. “You know I can't be tied down like that, baby girl. You’d be obsessed with me. Just like you are now. Why don't you do what's best for both of us and walk away, flaunting that thang behind you?”

“Thang?” Soonyoung repeated, clearly intrigued.

The pretty girl pretended to cry, sensually caressing the curve of her body and showcasing the 'thang' you happened to mention. It took every ounce of self-control not to burst out laughing. No amount of rehearsal had prepared you for this moment. “You always did love my ass, but it hurts how you’ll never love me!”

She ran off, hands covering her face as she simulated her cry and exited stage. “Beautiful performance,” Minghao praised, giving himself a pat on the back. “You did well out there, Jeongyeon.”

“Women, am I right?” you quiped, your tone laced with a mix of amusement and feigned indifference.

The boys nod in agreement, their murmurs barely audible as they exchange confused glances, their expressions a blend of skepticism and bewilderment. They continue to steal furtive glances at each other, silently questioning the reality of the situation unfolding before them.

Minghao readjusts his earpiece. “Okay girls, you’re up next.”

“Yeonam!”

The group of men swiftly diverted their attention, their eyes drawn to the source of the commotion. Their gazes locked onto two figures, their bubbly energy and tantalizing presence impossible to ignore, as they dashed towards you with an enthusiasm akin to discovering a rare treasure.

Jihyo and Sana latched onto you, their hands firmly gripping your biceps as they leaned in close, their lashes fluttering flirtatiously. "We were just thinking about you," Jihyo giggled, her laughter mingling with Sana's playful demeanor.

“Oh, we were doing more than thinking,” Sana interjected suggestively, grinning ear to ear.

“Girls, girls,” you swung your arms on either of their shoulders. “Without me?”

They squealed, pressing up against you as they gazed in awe. “We still have plenty of energy for you, Yeonam.”

"Lots and lots of energy. We can do what we couldn’t that other night. I can still do the splits, you know," Sana playfully reminded, her voice carrying a mischievous edge as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear but loud enough for anyone with working ears to hear.

Whispers of admiration and curiosity floated through the air amongst the general public, their eyes flickering with intrigue as they watched the scene unfold before them. Some exchanged knowing glances, while others wore expressions respect. Soonyoung, in particular, appeared visibly excited, his grin widening as if he had just stumbled upon a kindred spirit or, perhaps, a lifelong partner in crime. “Yeonam, you dog,” the man egged delightfully.

You clear your throat, before gently shrugging the girls off. “I’ll text you, now go on. Daddy has business to tend to,” you said, your tone firm yet tinged with a hint of amusement, as you motioned for them to continue on their way.

“Yes, daddy,” they both responded in unison, their voices harmonizing before they each planted a kiss on your cheeks and vanished from sight in a matter of moments.

Now, the soccer boys were collectively impressed, their murmurs of admiration, nudging each other and commenting about what just happened, accepting that perhaps this Yeonam was cooler than they expected. However, Mingyu stood apart from the rest, his jaw hanging open in a mix of astonishment and incredulity, his expression a tableau of disbelief. No way did any of this happen, he thought to himself.

"This kid has some serious game," Soonyoung exclaimed, "Didn’t know cuties like Yeonam could pull girls like that. I need to step up my game—Oh hey there, beautiful!"

As his gaze shifted to a girl of model height, Soonyoung couldn't help but notice the impeccable fashion sense she exuded. She was dressed to the nines in the trendiest clothing, accessorized with the most expensive handbag, and exuded an air of effortless elegance that seemed to draw people in. Despite the perpetual frown etched upon her face, her beauty remained intact, and the young, eccentric man couldn't help but think he stood a chance with her.

With a confident nod, Soonyoung leaned over from inside the booth, a charming grin playing at his lips. "If you’re looking for the love of your life, you found him. You can call me Soonyoung."

"Ew. Did you just speak to me?" The girl's disdain was palpable, her tone dripping with condescension.

Soonyoung blinked, caught off guard by her reaction. "Uh…”

“Girls with my face and tits do not look at losers with penises as small as yours,” she snapped.

He let out a light scoff, his words cut off before he could finish. "I don’t know where you’re getting that from, y—"

But she interrupted him with a dismissive gesture, her hand coming up to the center of his face. "Ew. Save it," she retorted sharply. "I’m looking for my boyfriend, Yeonam. Any of you—not you—have a clue?"

Jeonghan snickered, flicking his thumb in your direction. “Is that the right Yeonam?”

Minghao's eyes widened in realization. "Oh, shit."

“Yeonam?” Melli called out in a defiant tone.

“Run, Y/n, run. Before she exposes you!” Minghao urged over the earpiece.

You quickly grabbed an empty tray from a nearby table, using it as a makeshift shield. “Uh, nope!”

“Yeonam!” Melli's voice rang out again, more insistent this time.

“Not me, wrong guy!” You pushed past various customers, putting distance between yourself and Melli. “Get away from me, crazy lady.”

“Yeonam! What are you doing? Are you avoiding me?”

You maneuvered through the crowded tables, desperately searching for something to shield yourself with, offering hurried apologies to every bystander in your path. “Fine! Look, Melli, you’re hot, like smoking hot,” you exclaimed, grabbing a packaged sandwich and hurling it in her direction to ward her off.

“What the fuck? Yeonam!”

You tossed more items at her, replacing your empty tray with a poor server's stack of packages, each one flung with increasing desperation. "You know what else you are? Fucking toxic, and that changes things!"

"Babe, what are you saying?" Melli screamed, deftly dodging all your incoming attacks.

Finally, you seized a heavy box of unknown contents and thrust it into her arms, obscuring her view and readying yourself for the final blow. "I’m saying when my eyes are closed, I see you for what you truly are, which is UGH-LEH! We’re done, girl!"

She dropped the boxes loudly, tears burning in her eyes and fueling her fury as she stormed off without a second glance, leaving a sense of relief flooding through your system. The rest of the building erupted into cheers, hands patting your back and words of encouragement filling the room. You felt an arm tug you along to another table, swept up in the collective energy of the moment.

“Now that is my man. Fuck yeah, Yeonam! Show it how it is!” You're greeted with a radiant smile from Soonyoung, who eagerly invites you to take the seat beside him, making sure there's plenty of space. As you settle in, your other teammates offer nods and smiles in welcome.

Amidst the camaraderie, there was a sense of understanding as most of them applaud your actions, even if they found it a bit exaggerated. They agree that she deserved the treatment for her nasty attitude, and you're grateful for their support, seeing it as a glimmer of hope for a more cohesive team dynamic once you all play together.

However, Mingyu stood out from the rest, his discomfort evident from head to toe, contrasting sharply with the lighthearted banter of the others.

You realize that men were that simple, but it looks like not all men. (Ew)

[midwesternvibes]

Time for more Seperated Leo Human AU! (I really need a name good lord-)

As promised, we now get to look into Leon's lore! He's a funky little guy, and shockingly well adjusted!

Lore drop under the cut!

His full name is Leonardo Tomás Esposito, and he is quite proud of it! He picked it out himself when he was about 10 years old, and he's happy to say that he still loves it to this day! (Fun fact: all of the names have double meanings to them hehe)

But anyways, his Mamà is in fact, NOT Big Mama (but it was a solid guess!), her name is actually Mia Esposito! (+10 Fandom points to anyone who can guess her full first name) She is a full time nurse and used to travel around the several NYC hospitals as an on-call nurse, but once Leon was born she stuck her roots down to one and has been there ever since!

She's actually an incredibly interesting character (with her very own arc!) with a lot of depth and meaning. She grew up with her Puerto Rican mother and Italian father, but after a series of misfortunes and despair, she ended up immigrating to NYC to start a new life for herself. About 10 years later she began raising a baby all on her own as a single immigrant mother in New York City (Sound familiar?). Whenever Leon asks about his father she tells him that she doesn't remember his Papá, only that he had the same almond-shaped brown eyes as her baby boy....

But ultimately she doesn't remember him hahaha maybe Leon should stop asking questions and get back to studying!

(Leon knows that she's hiding something, but ultimately he doesn't care about his father that much, he just assumes that he did something to hurt his Mamá and wants nothing to do with the man at all)

Leon and his Mamá are very close, they're very similar to Percy and Sally Jackson from the PJO series, and they would definitely fight God for each other.

Leon was raised very much with the mentality of "It takes a village" and has many aunts and uncles and relatives in the hospital staff that he considers family. Mia couldn't really afford childcare as Leon grew up, as it often came down to food or rent for the month. The hospital staff saw this and absolutely adored little baby Esposito, so they were more than happy to raise him alongside their own children. Mia owes her life to this staff and considers them her family through and through.

As he grew up, Leon saw all his favorite people as nurses and doctors and considered each and every one of them heros. He decided very early on that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up, and after a terrible injury when he was 14 it cemented the fact that he wanted to be a pediatric surgeon, to help kids just like him.

But the issue is, Leon and Mia definitely do not have enough to cover medical school for Leon on a single nurse's income, even with all the jobs that Mia and Leon have taken over the years. That's why Leon NEEDS the athletic and valedictorian scholarship, without it he won't be able to achieve his dream. The only thing standing in his way is.....

THE HAMATOS

(Except Michael, he's a gift)

Leon is willing to do ANYTHING to get those scholarships, but his Mamá always reminds him that the Hamatos might need it just as badly as he does, and that's about all that's keeping him from REALLY doing anything to hurt/sabotage them. His Mamá has instilled a really strict moral code into his psyche and he won't actually do anything to them, he just....really wants to give his Mamá a better life, one she deserves.

Although, he is kinda curious as to why the Hamato brothers have the same eyes as him......

First // Previous // Next

Whew! That was pretty much just a really intense ramble, sorry there was no actual structure to that, I just really wanted to talk about my Leon lore! Props to anyone who figures out the significance of all the names, and to clear up any confusion, Mia is Half Puerto Rican, half Italian, and Leon is 1/4 Puerto Rican, 1/4 Italian, and 1/2 Japanese (but shhh he doesn't know that yet) and obviously he's got that amazing vitiligo (shout out to anyone and everyone with vitiligo, y'all are amazing and beautiful)

Thanks for reading my lore dump, see ya next time for..... huh idk yet, vote ig

See ya next time!

[souryoong]

million dollar man | myg

pairing: sonofmafiaboss!yoongi x female!reader

genre: italianmafia!au, smut, possible angst, romance

potential content warnings: sexual scenes, mentions of guns, violence please do not read if you are uncomfy with this!!, money laundering, strong language, yoongi speaking italian (yes I think that grants a warning).

synopsis: yoongi’s father has built a life for him and his family that is everything he could have ever dreamt of and more. however, he is getting older and can no longer take control as The Don. it’s Yoongi’s turn now. but before he takes over, yoongi changes his mind. this isn’t what he wants anymore, and he wants out.

date to be expected: sometime in 2023 or early 2024. I’m thinking this will be a fic that I write over time, then post all at once.

authors note: surprise!! a little fic announcement!! i was a tad hesitant to create this fic because it’s something I’ve never done before. I always joke that as obsessed with the godfather that I am, I’m surprised I’ve never written an Italian mafia au. buuuut here i am. I am excited to add a piece of my own culture into a fic, which is also something I have never done before. really delving deep into my Italian roots here for this one, and I’m excited!!

for the tags, keep in mind that I am tagging you if you are added to my taglist for min yoongi content. however, due to this story containing depictions of guns and violence, please dm me if you’d like to not be tagged in this one.

tags:

@thepurpleghost @dearlyjoonie @thoughtfullysassysublime @yoongiscta @polyparkj @ggukzashi @spookyminyunki @screamertannie @jiminson1lygirl @jhopeflowergarden @finewinesixtynine @laylasbunbunny @leeknowagustd

if you’d like to be added, click here.

[rayshippouuchiha]

It's kind of weird to see someone complain about Italian names. The whole nitpicky of it all is just... dude chill out. Not every "common experience" is necessarily what others experience.

The inciting commenter is also forgetting (or purposefully ignoring) that people can immigrate to other countries in Europe before immigrating to America in a later generation. So an Italian family could move to England and then move to the US, and through it all still stay connected to their family's roots.

Also? It's fiction! A world of superheroes! If you're gonna flip out over an Italian-English woman's surname then boy howdy are you gonna be ripping your hair out over extraterrestrial aliens looking human or anything to do with the X-gene.

It was giving very 1-dimensional "this experience is the only correct experience" kind of prejudice vibes to me?? Which, to be completely fair, I obviously don't know the commenter so it could have just been a miscommunication of tone but still.

And yeah of all fandoms and fics to do it on they pick the superheroes and aliens fandom and then the mermaid AU

[dirtytransmasc]

Ooh what about a Snow White Spider au where he was instead Raised by the animals of Pandora. Idk how he would have gotten separated from everyone but just love the idea of a Jungle Book, Mowgli situation. Just a little baby feral(even more so here)Eywa blessed Spider. 💕💕

TW - pregnancy, childbirth, death, etc. sorta did that here but she only adopts him when he was 8. so it would be a little different right form the get go, and by get go, I mean right after he was born.

lets say that paz tried to flee when she found out about the suicide mission to attack hometree and wanted nothing to do with it, maybe she finally came to her sense and fleed to eywa, to jake and the few other humans on the na'vi side, hoping for some sort of asylum. maybe she just wanted her son to have a chance. maybe she was just fleeing to flee, self-preservation overriding any sort of thought or logic. whatever the case, she flees out into the forest, hoping, praying, begging whoever will listen to save her child.

eywa listens. maybe for her sake, maybe for the childs, maybe just out of curiosity. but she listens.

she watches Paz struggle to birth her child, screaming "it's too early" all the while. eywa can feel her fear, can tell she's scared and doesn't know what to do. she watches as paz gives her all into it and still teeter on the verge of failure, of killing herself and her child, and assists her, connecting to the women through her roots. paz would think she was tripping, but really it was just eywa, one mother helping another.

when the baby is finally born, which was no easy task, even for the Great Mother herself, paz worries he won't be able to breathe. but eywa already had it handled. spider cries, loud, beautiful cries, drawing the attention of all the flora and fauna in the area. a viperwolf watching the pair from a ridge, not lurking a target, but rather curious of the small thing wrapped in his mother's arms. paz wants to scare it away but finds herself too weak to do so, and then a surge of clam fills her, Eywa telling her it will all be ok.

paz can feel herself dying, some complication or another, she was a high-risk pregnancy to begin with, and she had just delivered early in the middle of the damn forest after running god knows how many miles. while she would rather not die, leaving her premature son alone in these woods, she isn't surprised. instinct makes her want to beg, but as she slumps against the mossy tree trunk she propped herself against, she feels oddly ok with it. again, for the record, does not want to die, but she has this gut feeling her baby will be ok.

she wraps him in her military-issue jacket and holds him for as long as she can. she brushes a finger over his little nose and lets him hold onto her little finger with his entire tiny hand. she prays for her child, despite never having been religious. when she feels herself being on the last few steps of the stairway to heaven, she places spider next to her, so she doesn't risk dropping him.

the las thting she see's is that viperwolf approaching her, calmly, looking back to her cubs half hidden don't he ridge she stood on before. they look each other in the eye, and paz knows, against all rational thought, the way a mother knows, somehow, some way, things will be fine. she lets go, she goes to eywa, leaving her son behind. she was right. eywa was gonna look out for the little one.

~~~

spider was hidden away from the war by viperwolves; they were best inept for handling him so young, so tiny. they hid him in their burrows, amongst their other young, and the whole pack would watch after him. they made sure he was clean and fed, much like Lupa had Romulus and Remus back in old earth tales (an old roman/italian myth, look it up). even as he began to walk and explore, they kept him well away from the na'vi, upon eywa's orders. spider wouldn't be safe there, not yet at least, not till he could hold his own. he wouldn't be accepted, not in a way that would be any good for him. so she would keep him out in the forests, away from anyone who could think of hurting him.

he was raised by all the creatures of the forest how to survive, how to stalk pray and hunt, how to find shelter, how to find clean water. he picked up habits of each creature.

he kept to packs like viperwolves, but hunted alone like thanators. he was closely bonded to the herds of titanothere's that roamed the woods and learn to be a gentle 'giant'.he got his speed and agility from slintsh, watching how they raced through the tree tops with grace, learning to copy them, if even at a fraction of the speed.

once she accepted spider would have to be aware of other na'vi, for his sake, she started connecting to him, not for comfort, but to teach him. she started teaching him language and songs (not of the creatures he considered family, but of the na'vi themselves). she taught him most basic concepts in the form she had taken to appear visible to the child. she told him of his mother, how she was a good women, at least in the end, how she was a good person caught up i bad thing. they talked about what they meant, what spider felt that it meant about her. he didn't know. he wanted to hate her, for his his Mother, for hurting pandora, but also pity, because she was forced, in some ways. he would meet her one day, when he was ready, Eywa knew the day was coming, as he asked more and more questions. that was ok, little bird had to fly the nest one day. even if she hated the idea.

spider was aware of the world out there, was allowed to venture towards it, around 13 or so, but he chose to be cautious. Eywa said there was nothing to fear, not now at least, but he didn't want to approach this unknown world. he did venture closer, stalking up in the trees and watching hunters go about their days, children playing. one day he met kiri, who kept his secret after many desperate pleas. she called him odd, said the way he walked, almost bipedal was strange, and the way he made sounds rather than words more often, or how he didn't know what fire was. spider said that was the way things should be done. she didn't disagree, just smiled at him, copying his actions every now and then.

spider had a lot of little quirks. he tipped and chirped and almost barked, imitating to the best of his ability the sounds of the creatures that raised him. he could walk 'normally' but found it easier to crouch and use his hands. he didn't hunt with a knife or a bow and arrow, instead used primitive stones and teeth, long shards of bone, and ate his foods raw. his skin was rough, not only from the sun and heavy use, but because he caked himself with dirt to make it more durable, avoid sunburn and bugs, and to better blend in. not to mention his naturally primitive way of living; sleeping up in the highest branches of trees, with nothing but the loincloth eywa forced him to make and start wearing when he was first capable of doing so.

thats not to mention he shock when he named most animals in his territory, when he was friendly with all fo them, when he could ride the apex predator of the forest and considered vipewolves to be his family.

when kiri would leave, promsing to tell no one, he would go to eywa and ask about the na'vi. she would share stories with him, even have him meet ancestors, like tsu'tey and eytukan, who he really liked. he also met kiri's mom, grace, another human. she taught him a lot about who he was, what it meant that he was human; but she also shared her fascination, a human boy raised by 'wolves', was the greatest of revelations.

one day spider would venture into the village, after months of getting to know kiri and eventually lo'ak and finally neteyam before he got ratted out by a hunter sent to find out where he children of the chief were hiding away. he would stand in front of jake and tell him Eywa was his mother, just like the viperwolves and the titantheres, and a woman named paz who was a good person and did bad things without knowing just how bad they were. jake would stare in shock at this wild child with golden hair and dirt roughened skin, would listen to his stories, follow him out into the woods and find they were all true. spider would refuse to stay in the village, but would quickly take to his new life; the boy who came and left as he pleased, who was the marker of a whole new chapter of the na'vi people.

[ssasides205]

Fic Project 3

alright, I know ppl engage with abo even less than they do normal content, but I promise you I'm very ace abt it. anyways...

The adoption au:

-abo bc I need the scent thing to be a thing for plot reasons

-aged up characters (late 20s)

-Leo gets kidnapped, and adopts two kids

-Shiro is like 6? Maybe less, Keith is like 3 or 4.

-Leo and Keith click instantly, bc Leo’s quintessence is similar to that of the Red Lion (this will come up later)

-Shiro takes a bit longer to warm up to him, but he does trust Leo from the moment they get out

-Leo and Nico have a weird sort of situationship, in that Leo was basically abandoned by his previous partner, and Nico understands and is willing to wait but wants to court him and sometimes that slips into their interactions.

-Nico’s incredible with the kids, Piper lives to tease Leo about it

-nobody questions Takashi being adopted, Keith however gets mistaken for Nico’s actual son so often that he believes it to be true for a while

-Nico totally teaches the kids Italian, Leo has mixed feelings about Spanish so he only passes down some words and translated expressions. He does, however, teach the boys Morse code.

-It’s actually Annabeth that figures out their roots, and helps Leo find out about their respective families. She also finds people to teach them Japanese/Korean, as well as Ancient Greek.

-the others all get involved in the rearing of the broganes, it really does take a village

-galra Keith exists fully, as in he can shapeshift and has been holding it unknowingly, but one of the apollo campers figures it out and poof, tinny fluffy purple baby

-Shiro is a demigod, actually, but I have not decided whom sired him just yet

-Leo totally makes Keith a galra-proof hippo stuffy, and then a demi-safe cat stuffy for Shiro

-the broganes are partly responsible for getting Leo out of his own head, and getting Valdangelo together

-Shiro and Keith both get offered to choose their legal names, even offered the option of having two. Keith opts for having two, so he’s Akira Kogane, but also Keith Di Angelo-Valdez

-mostly, this is just Keith and Shiro both getting to have a huge family that could kick your ass

-I love the Leo ends up working for NASA thing, so he becomes a very well-known aerospace engineer, when Keith meets the rest of the Voltron crew Pidge and Hunk know of Leo so they immediately note his surname

-Keith, to Red: you know, you feel kinda like my pops | Red, who’s been inside Keith’s head: *purrs loudly*

-Lance, at some point: How come Shiro didn’t get a second name? | Keith: he’s butthurt that everyone knows he’s adopted | Shiro: we can’t all look like our adoptive fathers Akira!

-Keith slips into Italian when he’s sleepy/drunk, Korean when he’s annoyed and wants to curse without getting in trouble, and Ancient Greek when he’s legitimately angry.

-Shiro uses Japanese the most when tired, Italian when angry, and exclusively speaks in Ancient Greek when he’s drunk.

-Hunk, someone who studied modern Greek: what dialect is that? | Keith, Leo’s son: Underworld drawl

-Pidge, a Leo fan: hey Keith did you get any language from your cooler dad | Keith:  .--- ..- ... - / - .... .. ... / --- -. . | Pidge: wicked

-there’s a real scary moment after they fight big baddie 1 (can’t remember) where Keith realizes the enemy looks just like him, this would lead to much angst as he decides to hide this from the team, - Shiro (he already knew)

-when the truth finally comes out Shiro is ready to throw hands, Lance calls Allura’s bullshit so fast he gives everyone else whiplash, and Pidge and Hunk prepare a list of questions. Coran tries to play mediator as best as he can, the poor man.

-yes abyss whale, no second time-skip, yes road trip back to earth, yes armor changes, maybe black paladin lance, definitely Klance

-Keith, to Krolia: are you sure you didn’t have other children | Krolia, who watched Keith’s childhood through whale shenanigans: I admit it’s a very striking resemblance.

-Shiro: it’s a little funny how similar Lance is to Leo | Keith: you shut your mouth

-when they get to earth there’s an awkward moment where Leo has to call the Alteans aside and explain the mist to them so they don’t look crazy for saying what they’ll see

-Pidge, after meeting the brogane’s parents: I’m seeing double | Keith: yeah, dad and I are pretty close looking | Pidge: and you have the exact same taste in men | Keith, turning purple: they’re not the same!

-Lance: honestly, I don’t see it, Mr Di Angelo is a refined goth, meanwhile Keith’s out here with a mullet | Keith: my hair just grows like this! | Leo, appearing: Can confirm, we tried giving him a haircut once and it just returned, pretty sure it’s the alien in him

-Allura, to Leo: remarkable, your quintessence is near identical to that of the red lion | Leo, after checking there’s no mortals around: probably the fire thing |Allura, intrigued: the fire thing? | Leo, after doublechecking: *lights hand on fire* | Allura: ✪ᗨ✪

-Krolia, who’s seen what Leo’s capable of and is understandably intimidated: Thank you for taking care of my son when I couldn’t | Leo, who’s now not all convinced his husband isn’t an alien: we’re talking about Keith, right?

[friendsiguess]

Long Fics (20k + words)

I decided to start out my recommendations with what is probably the smallest selection in this fandom-- long fics. Here we go.

Chandler Bing's Guide to Romance (The Best Friend Edition) (E) By Anonymous

Wordcount: 81,926

The one where Chandler is awkward and hopeless and desperately in love with Joey. But it’s not like he’ll actually admit it...even when they start dating.

Set after 1x10 and runs through the middle of season 2. Canon events and dialogue are weaved in throughout.

This was one of the first fics I ever read in this fandom and I feel like it's a pretty good starting point for anybody (assuming you want to start with long fics I guess.) Since it keeps a lot of continuity with the show (just with Chandler and Joey having a friends-with-benefits-to-lovers plotline during it all), it's easy to follow along with and the characterization is on point. If you love angst, pining, secret relationships, and a shit-ton of smut, then  this is the fic for you.

The One With the Wiseguys (M) By Anonymous

Wordcount: 40,484

Chandler's an FBI agent in need of a case; Joey's the simple-minded, good-natured caporegime working under his father, the head of the Tribbiani crime family. But Joey's more interested in Chandler than taking over the family business, and Chandler's growing pretty fond of him too. When the line between friend and target begins to blur, Chandler has a decision to make. S1. AU.

This might just be my favorite fic in this entire fandom (although that could change if some of you are willing to start writing, I believe in you.) It also happens to be one of the only true au’s I’ve come across in this fandom. Maybe the only—off the top of my head. Casting Joey, with his big family and Italian roots, as part of the mafia seems like such an obvious move, so I’m glad there’s a fic that has taken. I will say though, before you get too excited about mafia shenanigans, the whole mafia thing is more of a plot device than an actual part of the plot barring a few crucial scenes. The story sticks surprisingly close to certain elements of the show, and the romance between Chandler and Joey is mostly sweet and fun. This is not an insult to the story though, there's a reason it's my favorite. Every time I read this, the pining drives me wild, and I’m always left wanting to start the story again.

Melody of Love and Loss (M) By l0w3l

Wordcount: 63,425

Chandler is twenty-five and decidedly too old to be pining for his straight roommate. He makes up his mind to move on, but at the same time, they become closer than ever.

He develops the omnipresent feeling that he is being stalked, but when his dormant illness returns, it seems that he was only being paranoid. That is until he meets his stalker face-to-face.

He can be alone forever, or he can indulge in his stalker's affections. After all, he seems pretty harmless, but Chandler doesn't realize how fast everything can spiral out of control.

Before you read this fic, read the tags CAREFULLY. This story handles some pretty heavy topics, but it is absolutely worth the read. I was on the edge of my seat reading every chapter of this, especially since it was still being updated at the time. This story and the angst had full control of my mind for weeks. This story has a happy ending, but be aware that the journey there is a difficult one so if you’re looking for a simple feel-good story, this isn’t it. What it is though is a deeply emotional, fantastically written story that will stick with you for a long time. 

When the Rain Begins to Fall (M) By GuessIWillWriteItMyself

Wordcount: 42,948

When Rachel runs away from her wedding, she finds comfort in her childhood friend, Monica.

What begins as a simple friendship between two roommates turns into an incomparable bond of love, trust, and devotion, and soon, both Rachel and Monica separately have to ask themselves: What the hell do you do when you fall in love with your best friend?

I am so happy to have a Monica/Rachel long fic to put on this rec list, even if it is the only one. As the description suggests, this story is essentially an alternate take on what could have happened after the events of the first episode. However, this story doesn’t take that much from the rest of the first seasons and instead delivers a very creative and original story. I honestly love the depth that is given to Rachel and Monica’s inner dialogues and the way their situations (especially their relationships with their parents) are emotionally fleshed out. This story has some chapters from Monica’s perspective and some from Rachel’s, so you really get the most of that mutual pining goodness. 

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UNFINISHED WORKS

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The One Where Everyone is Gay (T) By someonica

Wordcount: 69,637

"Friends but it’s about a lesbian couple, Rachel and Monica, the lovely gay couple that lives across the hall from them, Chandler and Joey, their quirky pansexual best friend Phoebe and their friend, a heterosexual douchebag named Ross”

This work is in screenplay and sitcom format.

None of the couples are really together at the beginning, be prepared for the slow burn!

Yeah, pretty much what is says on the tin. This fic is written in a script format, which may take a little getting used to, but I promise it's worth it. There are many things that I thoroughly enjoy about this fic, but I should first draw attention to the fact that, yes, it is unfinished. It’s technically meant to be a dual slow-burn between Rachel/Monica and Chandler/Joey, but at the point the fics ends at, these couples haven’t quite gotten together yet (one more than the other.) HOWEVER! Do not let this discourage you from reading, because the journey is thoroughly enjoyable despite its lack of destination. Also, the fic features a relationship between Chandler and Brian (you know the one) that is so good I lowkey wanted them to get together at the end despite the fact that I am a gung-ho Chanoey shipper. And of course, it's hard to find Monchel stories at all and this is a good one, so give it a read.

Dead on Arrival (T) By superangsty

Wordcount: 35,624

You can't get a date, your friends all hate each other, and oh right - you've just been stuck with a roommate who's an even bigger mess than you. But hey, at least your outfits are cute.

I think this story has a wonderful balance of sticking to the original but also elevating it in terms of character depth. At least, in the sense that it sort of actually DEALS with all the stuff that's sort of glossed over in the show, like all the issues Monica and Chandler and Rachel have with their parents, plus it throws in the added issues that are involved with trying to be openly queer in the 90’s. This fic includes established Chandler/Joey which is pretty delightful, and there's a slow-burn Rachel/Monica which makes me incredibly happy. Also, if you love Janice, then this is the fic for you because she's Joey’s cousin in this one and is therefore featured positively in the story. Susan and Carol are also important characters. Honestly, the whole gang is here. Again, remember that this one isn’t finished, so read with that in mind. With this author though, its always possible that the story could be updated, considering their first chapter notes specifically says that they usually have long periods of time between updates.

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Honorable Mentions

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So I didn't feel right putting these in my main list, but I felt like I should add them in case anybody wants more reading. Here are two fics that I've written as well:

What a Little Kiss Between Friends Does (Not Rated)

Wordcount: 26,240

Joey really wanted the part, but it meant he had to kiss a man. He was happy when Chandler obliged to help him practice, but he had no idea it would mean the beginning of some unwanted feelings for his roommate.

Basically, what if episode 2.24 had gone a little differently...(and then I shove some events from season four into season three for ~drama~)

Read Between the Lines (T)

Wordcount: 43,237

Chandler Bing is a journalist for one of the many New York City newspapers, and it’s not as exciting as he’d thought it would be. When he’s told to interview up-and-coming actor, Joey Tribbiani, he figured he’d be in for a conversation with some self-obsessed asshole (he was a soap star after all), but instead Joey turns out to be friendly and easily charismatic. Not to mention he’s gorgeous.

Not that Chandler is paying any attention to that, of course. And, even if he was, what would a famous actor see in him?

^ This one is still being updated!

Happy Reading!

[callmearcturus]

writer questions meme: 8, 13, 20 if you please

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

It wasn't explicitly writing advice, but I can tell you where I learned what my specific style would be. There was a fic in the Dresden Files fandom called "Cross" by LightGetsIn. LGI was a tremendous writer and a very kind mentory-friend who I attended my first fan convention with. Extremely accomplished adult who I looked up to when I was barely an adult.

"Cross" is a story about the limitations of perspective. It was the first story that really drove home the idea that Character A would not have the same knowledge and understanding of the world as Character B.

In "Cross", the POV character is John Marcone, a non-magical mafia boss who is deeply entrenched in the magical world. He has a lot of factual knowledge of how magic works, but he's an Italian-American Catholic. So when he's pulled into doing magical rites to bring another character back to life, he specifically doesn't pick up on the more pagan symbology of what he's doing, but filters it through a Guilty Catholic filter. Hence the name of the fic, "Cross."

And that story, which isn't even my favorite LGI story, probably taught me the most about how to write Close Perspective Third Person, which is my default style. When I'm writing in a characters POV, I rigorously limit what the POV character knows and picks up on. I will plant clues and information that the audience will understand, but the connections a character makes, the reference pools they pull from, their morality and ethics, all of those inform that POV, and what you and I know does not.

That is probably the most important lesson I've ever had in creating my own writing method.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

8 hours of sleep, small breakfast snack like a croissant, decaf beverage, one dextroamphetamine, and no one fucking talk to me for about 2 - 4 hours. I will write 4,000 words.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Lets put this under a cut, and I'll give you some DVD commentary. This is from chapter 2 of you'll need a new name to survive this. It's the point where Benji realizes Ethan is stalking him and does that trick to lose him in the bookshop, then sits outside waiting for him.

Only five minutes later, the door opened, and Bell took one step out before freezing, his eyes falling on Benji.

Got you, Benji thought with a sharp little smile. "You didn't even buy a book? Bit rude."

One of the goals of the early chapters of PT AU was establishing Benji's character as boldly as possible because we were essentially telling a story that canon does not. This is YEARS before MI3, where Benji gets two gd scenes.

To me, the tightrope walk was that I wanted Benji to have a reasonable grip on authority, to be shiny and new and out of his depth but still empowered because of his accomplishments. He has managed to land a good job working for the US government, he successfully emigrated before he was 30 years old, he has an apartment and a cat, he's new to everything in the spy world but he also has a steel spine that frankly he's fucking earned.

Which is a long-winded way of saying that Benji is a bitch and I love him so much.

Bell's face was blank, but Benji could almost feel how fast his brain was moving, weighing his options. Eventually, he settled on huffing out a little chuckle and stepping closer to Benji. "Hi."

Meanwhile, Ethan. MI1-era Ethan is very very smart but very very traumatised. His skillset is rooted in controlling people and predicting them. So Benji, a fucking civilian, catching him off-guard like this is like waving a red flag at a bull. Or dangling a steak over a lion enclosure. Benji doesn't know it yet but he's setting himself up to be a tasty treat for Ethan Hunt circa the late 90s.

"Are you going to kill me or something?" Benji asked. "Is that your spook job, are you a hitman?"

The flash of expression on Bell's face was offended. (This makes me laugh every time. Ethan Hunt is not a killer unless he absolutely must be and he will go out of his way to avoid it. Being an assassin is gross and he doesn't want to be perceived at all bc he's a spy but if he MUST be perceived jfc don't assume he's a HITMAN) "What, no. I just…" Grimacing, he looked away, eyes scanning the other pedestrians around them. "Okay, I'm screwing this up, I can admit that. Can we talk somewhere private?"

Benji didn't even have to think about it. "We can talk somewhere public."

Benji is never going to be an IMF agent but his instincts are wildly correct. And that knowledge comes from a different place! He was a gay punk rock vagabond who dropped out of law school, he knows how to keep out of trouble. He is probably the guy who told his other punk friends "if you are arrested do not say a goddamn thing, just ask for your public defender, don't joke, don't be a smartarse, keep your mouth shut."

The smile that took over Bell's face was lovely, transforming his whole face from storm clouds to something more seasonal. "That's honestly a very smart answer, doc. C'mon, there's a bakery nearby. I'll buy you a coffee. Least I can do."

It really was, so Benji nodded and followed him.

They didn't speak until Bell opened the glass door to another shop and held it open for Benji.

"Wrong hand," Benji said, noticing the small wince Bell let out.

"Inside, doc."

If it isn't obvious, all of the observational skills Benji has canonically have been funneled into his preternatural observation of patients.

Basically, if Benji as a character has a specific set of SPECIAL stats, all of those are the same, he just has different tagged skills in this universe.

Canon Benji is probably.... Guns, Science, and Repair. PT Benji has Medicine, Barter, Speech.

"Not a doctor," Benji said. "You know I'm not a doctor."

"What do you want to drink, doc?"

Ethan is being purposefully annoying and I could write a whole post about Ethan's soft power and the way he manipulates people, but that'd be another post. Short version: some people you seduce, some people you act like a wounded gazelle at, and some people you annoy.

Inside the bakery was loud. It was a strangely open floor plan. A long pastry case cordoned off the seating area for the customers. On the other side was just… the bakery. There were ovens and industrial mixers and rolling racks of cooling bread. In the corner, the espresso machine howled with noise as the milk frother worked.

It smelled divine, like living inside a baguette during a spring shower of dark roast coffee.

It also was a constant racket, which Benji mentioned to Bell as he sat down and slid a dark tea with vanilla syrup across to Benji.

"That's the point," Bell said, slouching back in his chair. "It's very difficult to eavesdrop in here."

Well, he wasn't wrong. Looking to another occupied table nearby, Benji briefly tried to pick out a word of what was being said by the woman seated closest to him. Nothing.

"Right, then," Benji said, attention back on Bell. "Why are you following me?"

"Why?" Bell seemed taken aback.

One of the many moments in the early chapters that establish that Ethan's perception of Normal is not anything approaching actual normal.

"Yes, why."

"Normal intelligence collection."

"On your physical therapist?" Benji asked with a barked laugh.

"Yeah." Bell leaned on his elbows, one hand cupping his own jaw and holding his head up as he made uncomfortably direct eye contact. "You really don't know who I am? Or why some of the appointments on your calendar come with no information?"

Pursing his lips, Benji shook his head.

Blowing out a whistle through his teeth, Bell grinned. "Sorry, that's just… it's new. I'm surprised Dr. Falsion didn't clue you in, but I guess she's not technically supposed to." Lifting his mug, he looked down into it. "People do shit they're not technically supposed to all the time in this town."

Ethan's major trauma at this point is being targeted by Kittridge and the Mole Hunt, and his trust in people to do their jobs is at a critical low that it'll never recover from.

"I don't even know your name," Benji sighed, sipping his own drink. It didn't taste at all like iocaine powder, so he was probably safe for the moment.

Bell rested his temple against the knuckles of his hand, his gaze so intense that Benji didn't know how to look away without making it patently obvious he was unsettled. Whatever Bell saw, it made his lips curve up slight. "Alright. Yeah. My name is Ethan. I work for an organization that shouldn't legally exist, so that's why you don't get anything on me. Even CIA jackboots manipulating local governments are realer than I am." He blinked once. "Also, I was an unprofessional shitheel last session, and I apologize."

Ethan apologizes here because Benji has earned his respect. And also by earning his respect, Ethan is also aware that Benji is not going to be so easy to maneuver around, so he fesses up that he was a prick, softly setting up a different tactic with Benji.

Benji felt his eyes going wider and wider with every sentence until it was a little hard to breathe. So his patient wasn't the American equivalent of an MI5 or MI6 so much as an MI8?

That did sort of start to explain what a pain in the ass he was.

"Shame," Benji managed after a moment of sitting fairly gobsmacked. "I was getting attached to 'Bell.' But I appreciate… all that. Thanks." He frowned. "Are you saying all this because you're actually sorry or are you sick of being stonewalled?"

Benji has a much more cynical mind than Ethan is the funny thing. Benji gets arguably more accurate reads on people than Ethan does. Or, Ethan gets accurate reads but he is continuously poisoned by the hope that people will be better than he expects. So FUNCTIONALLY, Ethan is an optimist and Benji is a realist.

Bell— Ethan— grinned. "That's a very good question. You actually have great instincts, doc. You did a surprisingly good job of shaking me when I was tailing you, especially for a civilian."

One of my favorite running gags is Benji being impossible to tail, so I'm glad we really drove it home the first time it happened. I love consistency in longfic.

"Again: thanks. Don't suppose you'll answer my other question?"

Ethan sipped his coffee, his smile visible around the edge of his cup.

"Right," Benji sighed. At least this felt like progress. And at least he probably wasn't going to be disappeared by a government assassin. That was a relief.

So this entire bit is Ethan reassessing Benji and pivoting his methods and tactics, setting up for a better way of handling Benji. And also being kind of charmed by him.

[sentient-stove]

Fuck it,

A non-comprehensive- and better- list of names containing the root word Leo that are better than what the wiki says for Leo Valdez. Because Leonidas is stupid. (no offense[full offense]) (my credentials: i have over 56 percy jackson/heroes of olympus wips and am chronically allergic to using the same name for leo more than a few times. plus leo is my oc)

-Leonidas. The og, the one that everyone seems to think is the canon name. If it was, why didn't Hera or a monster or Gaea never call him it? Anyway, the first Leonidas was a king of Sparta and claimed to be related to Hercules. The modern Leonidas is a chocolate brand.

-Leoni. Just means lioness. It's a female name (a few on this list are) but it still gets the job done of being a longer Leo name but still unique.

-Leocadius. Bright, shining. If you're looking for something vaguely greek-y, this is usually what I go for ngl. Sounds cooler than Leonidas anyway.

-Galileo. Famous inventor/astronomer. Also the only name on this list that doesn't start with Leo, but instead has the name at the end. Does this ruin the lion motif? Maybe! Do I care? No!

-Leora. Compassion, light. Also a more female leaning name, but look me in the eyes and tell me you won't write trans Leo with him just making his birth name more masc, you won't. Or transfemme Leo lengthening her name to Leora.

-León. Meaning lion. Spanish/French/Italian origins. There's a guy on TikTok that calls Leo León exclusively instead of Leonidas. I've had him blocked for months cause I don't like his content but he did have a valid point not calling Leo Leonidas.

-Leota. 'Of the people.' German roots and origins. (I'm actually using this for an au rn where Leo's an oracle/seer lol. Cause, cause... get it? Nevermind.)

-Leonardo. Another famous inventor/astronomer. Need I say more? Also don't tell me Esperanza wouldn't name her baby after an inventor.

-Leonora. Another name meaning light/brightness. You'll notice that Leo can either mean lion/lioness or light. Which I think is fitting for someone who burns so brightly as Leo Valdez.