#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 :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[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

[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!🩷

[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.

[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.

[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.

[teamstormbow]

I'm lumping all my superhero/supervillain ZRC plot bunnies into one Tumblr post since I doubt they'll ever develop into a full fanfic, but they still tickle, prickle and pickle my gray matter in so many good and unusual ways that I had to store them somewhere.

In this AU, Ze is a fire-themed superhero who routinely clashes with his arch-nemesis, a supervillain with ice powers known by the moniker 'Chilled'. Like I've said, I know this has been done a billion times already, but it's such a good premise, and not just 'cause they're associated with red and white and Chilled's name is… what it is. On the surface level, it seems as if their powers are in direct contrast to their personality. Ze is level-headed, quiet, keeps to himself most of the time. Some call him pragmatic and cold, even callous. But he's really, really passionate about the things he cares about, and keeping his city--and the world--safe, and when he gets angry, there's absolutely nothing subtle about it. His is the fury. That's the expression of his fire powers. Chilled is the hammiest, most affable moustache-twirling villain you could imagine and who somehow manages to embody every Italian stereotype simultaneously. He runs a booming financial business that thrives off the backs of the poor yet still has excellent PR, mostly because he can charm the pants off anyone. Charisma 100. But his heart is ice-cold. He doesn't care about anyone except himself and a very tiny group of people (famiglia, anyone?)--which includes, ironically, Ze--and everyone else can go hang.

Cheesy, meanwhile, is a kid with budding water magic who somehow finds himself caught up in Ze and Chilled's conflict in a very messy way: he's Ze's biological son who got surrendered to foster care early on without Ze ever knowing of his existence, then adopted by Chilled in a publicity stunt and tossed into the sterile, loveless environment of Chilled's corporate home. Cheesy looks up to Ze's alter-ego and wants to be like him when he grows up.

Conviction is the source of all magic, and the reason why Chilled and Ze are so powerful. Ze's fire burns so hot because he knows he's doing what's right. Chilled's ice is so cold because he'd stop at nothing to gain power. But each is hampered by the other: Ze can't bring himself to kill Chilled because of his moral code, and his fire always weakens before he can deal a killing blow. Chilled can't bring himself to kill Ze because it would mean giving up on his selfish desires, and his ice always melts before he can strike the mortal blow.

So they remain in this tentative balance for years, to everyone else's detriment. But it can't stay this way. Something happens to upset it--either Ze foils one too many of Chilled's plans, or Chilled kills one too many people, or both--and so they manage to overcome that last obstacle that's limiting their magic and go all out in one final, no-holds-barred beatdown that destroys half the city. I keep imagining a climax where their personalities seem to do a 180 and their powers are running rampant, stronger than they've ever been--except that's who they've been the entire time, their true colours are showing. And it ends with one of them dying. Either Ze sacrifices his moral integrity and kills Chilled for the greater good of his city, or Chilled decides that the obstacle Ze poses to his power outweighs any personal attachments and kills him.

Either way, it changes the survivor forever. Their magic reaches its full potential during the climax, but afterwards they're a shell of the men they were. After striking the final blow, the other's magic seeps into theirs and snuffs it out, manifesting in the water of their tears (because fire+ice=water). Chilled's ice would melt if Ze died, and Ze's fire would burn low if Chilled died, and both of their powers would never work right again; because the root of all magic lies in conviction, and their conviction has been irreversibly shaken.

So one's death would affect the other… but not enough to stay their hand. They'd still be a superhero/supervillain, because they've sacrificed too much to stop now; but they'd be a jaded superhero/remorseful supervillain with faulty superpowers. And Cheesy? If Chilled killed Ze, he'd see the truth of Chilled's actions, take up his biological father's mantle and become the city's new protector. But if Ze killed Chilled, he'd avenge his adoptive father by following in his footsteps, becoming the new Firm's CEO and the city's new villain. And the cycle continues.

[biggsodorcitystories]

I don't think I've ever seen you post a design or anything really specific about Captain Zero. Do you have anything for him or is he just not really a focus\interest at all [fine either way lol]

Oddly, talking about Captain Zero feels weirdly appropriate right now lol!

Captain Zero rightly has a very prominent role both in my AU and the lives of the Starr family. I wanted to save revealing too much about his history until I had his design down but I have been having difficulty getting him from my head to paper, so I'll share a bit here:

Captain Antony Zero is the son of Octavia Zero nèe Starr, the sister of Captain Starr, making his Captain Starr's nephew. This makes him the first cousin (albeit by adoption) of Silver Penny and Bright Dawn Starr, and the first cousin once removed of Hercules, Warrior, Ten Cents, Sunshine, and Aurora.

He is younger than both his tug cousins and was very close to both of them as both used to babysit him. Bright Dawn, the younger of the sisters, was his favourite, and the two were close.

He and his mother became financially dependent on his uncle after his father disappeared after some involvement with the mob. His mother expected that he would inherit his uncle's business when he came of age, rather than his adopted tugboat cousins. Zero was never bothered by this as a child.

Zero was left in charge of the Bigg City operation while Captain Starr went to gain a foot hold in London. This operation was considered foolproof (or idiot-proof, as Captain Starr has lamented while drunk). But Zero managed to mess it up by following one of his tugs' advice to get involved with the mafia. His relationship with his uncle and aunt was ruined when they learned the business and it's reputation were ruined.

Due to his jealousy over Sea Rogue's relationship with Bright Dawn ("stealing his cousin's attention" from him), he neglected to pass on the letters the two sent one another, causing their relationship to end and leaving her vulnerable to her brother-in-law, directly causing her eventual breakdown.

Zero later proved to be a capable captain in his own right, but due to jealousy (partly fed by his mother) he never acknowledged his mistakes until it was too late. Now he is Captain Starr's rival because it's all he knows.

His Scottish accent is fake. He initially used it to separate himself from his uncle, but it is now second nature unless he talks to certain people.

He is half Italian on his father's side.

Obsessively homophobic, particularly towards Big Mac and Top Hat, who have both theorised that he protests too much and is trying to conceal his own sexuality (they are correct)!

The Zero fleet owe a portion of their success to the varied linguistic skills of his fleet (Zorran and Zip being fluent in French, Zebedee being fluent in Mandarin and Cantonese, Zak being fluent in German, and Zug speaking several languages in various degrees of fluency), which was useful in the increasingly multi-national population of the port.

Zero has many strong opinions on each member of the Starr fleet. Some are fair, some are rooted in his own issues, and one is just weird. But that's a story for another post.

[vmygdvlv]

Stray Kids AU (italian boy version)

Kim Seungmin as Vittorio Ferrero

Vittorio was born in Turin, Italy, into a family where the arts and intellectual pursuits were deeply valued. His father, Alessandro, a distinguished historian, and his mother, Isabella, a talented pianist and music educator, fostered an environment rich in cultural and artistic experiences. Growing up alongside his younger sister, Ginevra, a contemporary dancer, Vittorio was immersed in a world of creativity and artistic expression from a young age.

The bond between Vittorio and Ginevra was particularly strong. Ginevra’s vibrant energy and innovative dance routines complemented Vittorio’s passion for theatre and cinema. Their collaborative projects, whether artistic or academic, were a source of mutual inspiration and support. Ginevra’s performances often served as a creative outlet for Vittorio, and he took pride in attending her shows, where he offered feedback and encouragement. In turn, Ginevra was a constant source of motivation for him, providing both emotional support and a fresh perspective on his work.

Vittorio’s relationship with his parents was marked by a deep respect and admiration for their achievements, yet it also came with its own set of challenges. While Alessandro and Isabella were supportive of Vittorio’s artistic aspirations, their traditional values sometimes conflicted with his more unconventional career path. The pressure to meet their expectations occasionally led to feelings of inadequacy and internal conflict. Nevertheless, their unwavering support and belief in his talent remained a cornerstone of his motivation. Despite the challenges, Vittorio’s family bonds were a source of strength

Vittorio’s personality is a complex blend of sensitivity, introspection, and determination. His empathetic nature allows him to connect deeply with his artistic work, imbuing his performances with genuine emotion. However, his introspective tendencies can lead to self-doubt and anxiety, particularly when faced with the pressures of a competitive field like cinema and theatre. This sensitivity manifests in various habits and preferences.

One of Vittorio’s habits is his meticulous journaling. He keeps detailed records of his thoughts, ideas, and reflections on his projects, which helps him manage his emotions and track his progress. While this practice can be therapeutic, it also occasionally leads him to overanalyze and second-guess his work. Vittorio is also an avid reader, with a particular fondness for classic Italian literature and contemporary plays. His reading not only provides relaxation but also serves as a source of inspiration for his own creative projects.

Despite the enriching experiences that Milan offers, Vittorio struggles with the city’s fast-paced, impersonal atmosphere. He finds solace in his daily rituals, such as visiting a small, quiet café near his apartment. There, he enjoys a peaceful coffee while reading or writing, which helps him feel connected to his roots and provides a moment of calm amidst the hustle of city life. He also enjoys exploring Milan’s quieter, less commercial areas, such as hidden bookshops and small art galleries, which offer a more intimate and inspiring environment.

Vittorio’s aversion to crowded, commercial spaces contrasts with his preference for serene, less populated settings. He is uncomfortable in noisy, chaotic environments and finds it difficult to concentrate and relax in such places. Additionally, he has a strong dislike for rigid, formulaic approaches to art and education. He values creativity and innovation, often feeling stifled by overly structured methods that limit artistic freedom.

When opportunities arise to work on projects in Rome, Vittorio seizes them eagerly. The city's rich historical and cultural backdrop provides a refreshing change from Milan’s intensity. During his time in Rome, he immerses himself in the city’s ancient streets and visits museums, finding inspiration in its storied environment. His explorations often lead him to picturesque spots and lesser-known historical sites, which spark new ideas and rejuvenate his creative spirit.

Vittorio remains deeply connected to his family in Turin. Regular visits home and frequent communication with his parents and Ginevra offer him emotional support and grounding. Their encouragement and understanding play a crucial role in helping him navigate the challenges of his academic and artistic journey.

Today, as a student of cinema and theatre in Milan, Vittorio continues to navigate the complexities of his environment with resilience and dedication. His journey reflects a commitment to his craft, a profound love for his hometown, and an ability to find comfort and inspiration through his personal habits and surroundings. Vittorio’s story is one of artistic perseverance, personal growth, and the pursuit of excellence despite the obstacles along the way.

Family background

The family environment is characterized by deep support and understanding. His parents create a warm, encouraging space where intellectual curiosity and artistic expression are deeply valued. This supportive atmosphere nurtures Vittorio’s emotional well-being and creative growth. The family’s collective encouragement and emotional resonance offer Vittorio a strong foundation, bolstering his confidence and fostering a sense of belonging in his creative journey.

Alessandro, father (historian, 58) — historian specializing in Italian history. He has a deep knowledge of historical contexts and has influenced Vittorio’s intellectual curiosity.

Isabella, mother (pianist, 55) — a pianist with a successful career in classical and contemporary music. Her musical talent has shaped Vittorio’s appreciation for the arts.

Ginevra, younger sister (student, 17) — she attends a Liceo Artistico, an Italian high school specializing in art and design. Alongside her high school’s studies, she’s enjoy contemporary dance

Friends

Vittorio’s friendships are deeply rooted in shared artistic vision, emotional resonance, intellectual stimulation, trust, and cultural enrichment. He values connections that align with his creative passions, offer emotional support, provoke thoughtful discussions, and provide diverse cultural insights, fostering both personal and professional growth.

Raffaele — met at an independent film festival where Raffaele was showcasing his short films. Vittorio, impressed by his work, struck up a conversation. They got mutual admiration for independent filmmaking. Raffaele’s innovative approach to film provides inspiration for Vittorio, and they often collaborate on experimental film projects

Celeste — they became friends through a mutual interest in theatrical improvisation workshops held in Milan. Their friendship is grounded in their love for improvisational theatre. Celeste’s background in improv enhances Vittorio’s theatrical skills, leading to joint performances and creative exploration.

Nicolò — met during a cultural exchange program in Rome. Nicolò was involved in music composition, which intrigued Vittorio. Nicolò’s compositions often provide a soundtrack for Vittorio’s film projects, and their collaborative efforts are marked by a shared enthusiasm for blending their arts.

Ottavia — they met during a collaborative art exhibition in Milan, where Ottavia was showcasing her installations. Her installation work influences Vittorio’s approach to set design and theatrical staging, leading to creative collaborations.

Valerio (I.N) — Valerio and Vittorio are childhood friends, since they’re both from Turin. They met through their shared neighborhood and schools, where they bonded over common interests and experiences. Their friendship is deeply rooted in their shared past and experiences growing up together. Valerio, now a sound engineer, collaborates with Vittorio on film projects, where their combined expertise in sound and visual arts enhances their creative work.

Edoardo (Hyunjin) — he met Edoardo through Giulio. When Giulio and Vittorio decided to collaborate on a project that combined literature and cinema, Giulio introduced Edoardo to Vittorio as a potential costume designer for their project. The three of them worked together on a short film adaptation of a literary piece. They share a mutual respect for each other’s craft and often brainstorm ways to blend fashion, film, and literature into unique projects.

Leonardo (Lee Know) — they met at a theater production in Rome. Lee Know was assisting with choreography, and Seungmin was part of the musical ensemble. They connected over their love for performing arts. They discovered a shared enthusiasm for storytelling and visual arts, which led to a strong connection. Their friendship grew as they collaborated on various artistic projects and supported each other’s academic and creative pursuits

Cesare (Changbin) — they met during a university business course in Milan, where they discovered common interests in the commercial aspects of the arts and media. Their friendship is built on a shared understanding of how business and creativity intersect. Their bond is marked by a professional yet personal rapport, where they support each other’s goals and collaborate on projects

Riccardo (Bang Chan) — they met during a music production workshop in Milan, where their paths crossed due to their mutual interests in integrating music and film. Their bond is characterized by a collaborative spirit and a deep appreciation for how sound can enhance narrative and emotional impact in film. They frequently discuss and experiment with ways to fuse their artistic skills, which strengthens their creative partnership

Federico (Felix) — met during a summer arts program in Rome, where Federico had traveled from Naples to broaden his creative horizons. They bonded over their shared interest in theatre and fashion. Their friendship grew from their collaborative work on various artistic projects. Their connection is strengthened by their shared passion for the arts and their joint creative projects

Giulio (Han) — met during their first year at university in Milan. Giulio, studying literature while Vittorio enrolled in cinema and theatre. They connected through a mutual interest in the intersection of narrative and performance. Their bond is characterized by intellectual camaraderie and a mutual appreciation for each other’s insights into both written and performed arts, storytelling and literature analysis

Neighborhoods

Turin, Centro — the central district, featuring historic architecture, cultural landmarks, and vibrant street life, provide Vittorio with inspiration and a connection to Turin’s rich cultural heritage.

Milan, Brera — known for its artistic and cultural significance, with art galleries, museums, and stylish cafes, Brera resonate with Vittorio’s passion for art and cinema.

Favorite Italian artists

Franco Battiato — known for his philosophical and eclectic music, which resonates with Vittorio’s introspective nature.

Nitro — his energetic style and innovative approach to rap appeal to Vittorio’s taste for modern and dynamic music

Mina — her powerful and emotive performances reflect the depth and complexity that Vittorio appreciates. His mother used to play her songs when he was younger and he fell in love with her voice.

Annalisa — her blend of pop with introspective and powerful lyrics appeal to Vittorio’s reflective nature.

Lucio Dalla — his unique style and storytelling are in tune with Vittorio’s artistic sensibilities.

Favorite dishes

Bagna Cauda — a traditional dish from his home region of Piedmont, consisting of warm anchovy-garlic dip served with a variety of fresh vegetables. Vittorio loves the communal aspect of sharing this dish, as well as its bold, savory flavors.

Vitello Tonnato — another Piedmontese classic, this cold dish features thinly sliced veal covered in a creamy, tangy tuna sauce. Vittorio appreciates its delicate balance of flavors and its ties to his regional heritage.

Orecchiette con Cime di Rapa — a simple yet flavorful pasta dish from Puglia, featuring orecchiette pasta with broccoli rabe, garlic, and anchovies. Vittorio is drawn to its rustic simplicity and the way it highlights the earthy flavors of Southern Italy.

Polenta concia — a hearty and comforting dish made from polenta enriched with butter and melted cheese, typical of Northern Italy. Vittorio finds this dish nostalgic and enjoys it during colder months.

Caponata — a Sicilian dish made from eggplant, olives, capers, and tomatoes, with a sweet and sour flavor. Vittorio appreciates its vibrant taste and the way it captures the essence of Southern Italy’s cuisine.

Favorite movies

Il Postino (1994) — directed by Michael Radford, this poetic story about love and poetry appeal to Vittorio’s appreciation for lyrical and emotionally rich narratives

La Haine (1995) — directed by Mathieu Kassovitz (not Italian, but Vittorio loves French cinema) this raw and gritty portrayal of life in the Parisian suburbs appeal to Vittorio’s interest in socially relevant and thought-provoking stories

Suspiria (1977) — directed by Dario Argento, this horror classic is known for its striking visuals and atmospheric tension, appealing to Vittorio’s taste for unique and innovative cinema.

Nostalghia (1983) — directed by Andrei Tarkovsky (though not Italian, it has a strong Italian connection through its production), it’s a meditative film with a profound sense of longing and isolation that would appeal to Vittorio’s introspective nature.

Favorite writers

Italo Calvino — known for his imaginative and innovative narratives, which appeal to Vittorio’s appreciation for creativity and literary experimentation.

Elsa Morante — her profound and evocative novels, such as “La Storia,” resonate with Vittorio’s taste for complex human emotions and historical contexts.

Pier Paolo Pasolini — his works, including “The Decameron,” reflect social and political critiques, offering a rich blend of literary and cinematic storytelling that Vittorio admires.

Gabriele D’Annunzio — known for his evocative and decadent prose, D’Annunzio’s work aligns with Vittorio’s appreciation for rich, poetic language and dramatic themes.

Favorite seaside spots

Camogli, Liguria – a picturesque fishing village with colorful buildings and a charming harbor, offering a tranquil escape from more touristy areas.

Baia dei Turchi, Puglia – a hidden beach near Otranto with stunning turquoise waters and a more secluded, natural environment.

San Vito Lo Capo, Sicily – while gaining popularity, it retains quieter areas and pristine beaches, known for its beautiful setting and clear waters.

Most used slang words

Boh — used to express uncertainty or indifference, similar to saying “I don’t know” or “whatever”

Magari — often used to mean “I wish” or “maybe,” expressing hope or a strong desire for something

Figata — a term used to describe something cool or awesome. Vittorio use this to express enthusiasm about a film or project

Che sbatti! — an expression to complain about something annoying or exhausting, reflecting Vittorio’s frustrations, especially with university tasks

Fare un giro — literally meaning “to take a walk,” but Vittorio use it more loosely to mean hanging out or going out for a casual stroll

Most used slurs

Given Vittorio’s personality, the use of these slurs would be rare and likely only occur in situations of heightened stress or conflict. He’s more inclined to use nuanced language and expression, reserving these terms for when he’s pushed to his limits. If Vittorio, despite his typically reflective and respectful nature, occasionally used some harsher language in moments of frustration or strong emotion he would use:

Cazzo — a versatile and common vulgar term, equivalent to “damn” or “f*ck,” used out of frustration or anger. Vittorio might say this when something goes seriously wrong

Stronzo — literally meaning “asshole,” this insult could slip out in a moment of anger, particularly if someone has acted unfairly or rudely towards him

Coglione — meaning “idiot” or “jerk,” Vittorio might use this term to describe someone who has acted foolishly or irritates him

Representatives phrases

Non c’è fretta, facciamolo bene (There’s no rush, let’s do it right.) reason: a phrase that shows his patient and thoughtful approach to his work and projects

Un caffè, e ripartiamo (A coffee, and we go again.) reason: Vittorio’s habit of recharging with coffee before diving back into his work or studies

L’arte è una necessità, non un lusso (Art is a necessity, not a luxury.) reason: a phrase that underlines his deep belief in the importance of art and culture

Milano è lavoro, Torino è vita (Milan is work, Turin is life.) reason: Expressing his view that Milan is where he works, but Turin is where his heart truly belongs

Favorite idioms

Tra il dire e il fare c’è di mezzo il mare (There’s a sea between saying and doing.) reflecting Vittorio’s awareness of the challenges in translating ideas into actions, particularly in creative endeavors.

Meglio un uovo oggi che una gallina domani (Better an egg today than a chicken tomorrow.) this idiom speaks to Vittorio’s practical side, valuing the present and immediate opportunities over uncertain future gains

Non si vive di solo pane (Man does not live by bread alone.) reflecting Vittorio’s belief in the importance of art, culture, and emotional fulfillment beyond mere survival