#five out of ten are italian

[lattesqueeze]

thank yoooouuuu @landoisokay for the tag!!

i’m gonna be so real i forgot that the “on repeat” playlist existed i have simply never looked but apparently i’m very into italians atm idk

i’m tagging @wanderingblindly (i know yours will be fascinating) @jennarations @monacotrophywife @blueballsracing @fueledbyremembering aaaaand anybody else who wants to share 🤭

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part one of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it

↬ sfw; only fluff this chapter; wc: 3.4k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor!reader

( masterlist )

The chill of the night air bit at your exposed cheeks as you climbed the final steps to the astronomy tower, your breath visible in faint puffs. Winter had arrived particularly early this year, chilling your bones even now, on the last weekend of october. The school lay quiet below, the golden glow of the countless windows no longer having given in to the darkness of a cold autnumm night.

You pulled your robe tighter around you, wincing at the faint creak of the wooden door as it swung open by the push of your hand. You knew you shouldn't be out after curfew- your brother was usually the one breaking rules and making trouble- but the pull of him was irrestible. He, who’s voice cut through the haunting silence like a knife.

“I was starting to think you wouldn't show.”

You froze mid-step, your heart leaping to your throat at the familiar voice. Even though you had been expecting it. Theodore Nott was was leaning casually against the stone railing, his pale face bathed in the cold light of the moon that sharpened every dip and curve in the prettiest way. A light smirk was curling at the corner of his lips, his usual cigarette dangling from his pink lips. His green slytherin tie was loosened, his robes slightly crumpled, as if he’d wandered here on a whim rather than planned this meeting. But you knew better. Theo rarely did anything without careful thought.

“I had to make sure the coast was clear,” you replied, trying to copy his nonchalance. His dark eyes followed you closely as you crossed the space between you, coming to a halt a few feet away from the railing to keep some distance between you and the abyss. It was funny how you could ride a stick of wood regularly, tens of meters in the air, but looking down a great height with steady floor under you feet had nausea creep up your chest.

You tried not to shift under his prying eyes. Being eyed up by Theodore Nott was a rather particular feeling. Every time you met his eyes, you felt like he was staring right through you, blowing through every cover, every mask, every wall you had ever shielded your true self with and assessing it with disarming precision. As you returned his stare, his smile widened a little and he puffed on his cigarette. “You’ve gotten better at sneaking around, though. Tell me, do the Potter genes include an innate sense of rule-breaking?”

“And here I was, thinking I was your ‘good girl’,” you replied, quoting his teasing nickname. A rare laugh escaped his throat, more of a huff, really, that he hid in his hand holding the cigarette. You eyed it reproachfully.

“You’re going to die at a very young age, Theo.”

Slightly puzzled, he looked down at you, blowing smoke into the air and holding out an arm to beckon you closer. Answering the silent invitation, you let him nudge you towards him gently, the cigarette-free hand pulling you closer by the waist. “Is that a threat, cara? Because I could think of no better way to die than by your gentle hands.”

The charming bastard got a hold of said hands that were shivering slightly from the cold as you had forgotten to put gloves on, and pressed a gentle kiss onto your palm, carefully watching your reaction. You could only pray he took the flush on your cheeks as a symptom of the cold rather than your flustered reaction to his Italian.

“That's not what I meant,” you frowned, indicating the cigarette between his slender fingers. “What I meant was that you’re going to smoke yourself into an early grave.”

God, the way his eyelashes caught the few too-early snowflakes melting hopelessly on the ground. You gave a high-pitched tone of surprise when suddenly, he surged forward, pulling you even closer and trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Tell me you’d hate that,” he whispered and you gave him an incredulous look he couldn't see.

“Of course I’d hate that!”

Before you could say anything else, Theo discarded the cigarette over the railing. Though you had no time to follow the tiny glowing ember on its way down, because just a fraction of a second later, his lips crashed into yours and you let out a startled squeak. Feeling him smile against your lips, you kissed him back in a weak attempt to take the initiative. He allowed you to play, but the movement of his hands, the caging of his arms and the way he beckoned your mouth open so easily proved his underlying dominance. Theo just wasn't beatable at kissing.

This was what you had been looking forward to all day, sitting through transfiguration, charms and defense against the dark arts, all subjects you had without him, stealing longing glances over dinner and quickly looking back as to avoid drawing the attention of your friends or brother to the silent exchange.

As the kiss got more heated, Theo’s fingers curled into your sides, spinning you around so you were with your back to the railing. Miraculously, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All there was in this microcosm of the two of you was him, you and the feeling of his lips on yours. One hand of his cupped your jaw, angling it slightly back to gain best access to your throat. As his lips trailed down the expanse of it, nipping, kissing and sucking, you found yourself snapping out of your theo-kiss-induced haze and pulled away aprubtly.

Panting, you covered Theo’s lips with one hand and he raised his eyebrow at you. He did that well, his eyes alone could make your stomach flutter. But you didn't give in. “Theo, what if someone sees marks on my-” You're were a little embarrassed about the subject matter, breaking off mid-sentence, and glared at his shit-eating grin, invisible behind your hand. “Well, I mean-” You were blushing. Oh god, you were blushing like crazy.

“Did you not enjoy that, cara?” Theo whispered seductively, carefully prying your hand from his mouth and kissing it gently. His eyes glinting with mirth, he looked at you challengingly.

“Of course I did!” you said, exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. You hated it when Theo took advantage of your unfamiliarity with intimacy and relationships. “But nobody can see!”

You expected him to tease you some more, so you were surprised when he merely breathed a long sigh and pulled you into his chest. Immediately, you buried your nose in his robes that smelled of him so deliciously. Smoke, old wood, a hint of mint, bookshelves. You felt him breathe your scent in as well, nose buried in your hair, and laughed lightly, but he didn't join in. His voice was a whisper, hard to make out.

“How long do you think we can keep this up before someone finds out?”

You didn't want to answer the question.

Something picking at the back of your hand snapped you out of your drowsy state. Still tired from last night, you had dozed off a little in history of magic, but as soon as you caught the culprit of the picking at your hands, a hardly suppressed smile pulled at your lips. It was a little paper bird, and the fancy handwriting clearly indicated it as a note from Theo.

You waited until Professor Binns turned his back to the class to write on the blackboard, before carefully slipping the note into your lap, shielding it from Hermoine who sat next to you, taking notes. When you carefully folded the note open, you were greeted by Theo’s elegant handwriting.

If you keep chewing on your quill like that, I might lose my ability to concentrate.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you glanced sideways at him, where he sat a few rows behind your brother who had his head buried in his folded arms, fast asleep. Theo was leaning back in his chair, his quill poised lazily over his parchment as though he had been diligently taking notes, instead of composing witty distractions. His lips curved into a light smirk when your eyes met, and he tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Well?

You hastily scribbled back, your handwriting looking sloppy and slanted next to his. Maybe I'm trying to distract you. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes, Nott. With a flick of your wand, the note floated subtly back to his desk, and you could barely contain a smile as his brows lifted in amused surprise before he began to write again.

Turning to the blackboard to copy the notes, you felt Hermoine's eyes on you and looked up from your parchment. She was eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?” she whispered, sparing a nervous glance at the professor. “Nothing,” you answered, hastily grabbing the next messenger pigeon out of the air before it could enter your friend's vision. You could practically feel Theo chuckling at your unlucky predicament.

But Hermoine turned back to Binns once more to listen to his sermon and you stuffed the bird into your back subtly to read it after class and away from prying eyes.

“You’d be a half-decent Chaser if you didn't spend half the match showboating,” Theo drawled, his tone so casual it was clearly meant to provoke.

He leaned against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed as he regarded you with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. You, meanwhile, were sprawled across the emerald-green bedspread of his four-poster, arms tucked behind your head like you owned the place. At his words, you shot up immediately, propping yourself up on one elbow. “That's rich coming from the guy who winks at the crowd every time he scores- what’s that, part of your technique?”

The slytherin dormitory was quiet, except for crackling of the enchanted fire in the corner and the endless string of your playful teasing. Theo and you had the room for yourselves today as his mates were in Hogsmeade and Theo had stayed behind with the excuse of homework. As if he hadn't already finished all his work like the flawless O-grader he was.

“And anyway, I don’t see you scoring against Gryffindor’s defense without half your team clearing the way for you.” you teased, attempting to get a rise out of your ever calm and collected boyfriend.

But Theo’s smile only deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Jealous of my stats, are we, Potter? It’s not my fault you lot rely on your Seeker for every win.”

“You-” you started, your eyes narrowing, but his soft chuckle cut you off. You tossed one of his pillows at him instead, grinning when he caught it effortlessly. “Just keep laughing, Nott. You’ll regret it next match when I leave you in the dust.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your ankle and shrieked as you were pulled towards him with alarming force. Before you could comprehend the shift in his behavior, he jolted forward as well, hovering over your body, sprawled out defenselessly underneath him. A light smile played around his lips as he took in your shocked expression with satisfaction and he brought a gentle hand up to your chin to tilt it upward, giving him access to your neck.

Theo dipped his head down to trail ghostly kisses down to your shoulder, muttering against your skin: “Are you sure about that, tesoro? Because I think you’ll have to work on your reaction time a bit before you can beat me.”

“Sneaky bastard,” you said, but couldn't suppress a high-pitched moan when Theo suddenly buried his teeth in your shoulder. Embarrassed by the sound that had slipped from your lips, you threw your hand over your mouth and blushed when he chuckled darkly into your neck.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he teased, looking up at you through his long dark lashes. Your pointed glare and flushed cheeks were answer enough.

When Theo broke out into a hearty laugh, you attempted to scowl at him, but it was hard when you were half in wonder by the sound of his laughter you got to hear so rarely. All the years you hadn't known Theo except for that one slytherin boy, you thought he couldn't laugh. When he did it for the first time with you, talking in the library over a muggle book you both had read and neither of you could talk to anyone else about, that was the first time you felt a flutter of butterflies rummaging in your stomach in his presence.

Awestruck by the sound of his laughter, you realized you had spaced out for a moment. Theo’s cackle had faded into a soft smile you could only reciprocate. His handsome features were painted with a gentle brush by the light of the fire. “You should laugh more often,” you said, not for the first time. “It’s beautiful.”

Theo hummed amused and leaned on his elbows to hover only a few inches above you. At this angle, his dark curls fell into his eyes, obstructing the view somewhat, so you reached up to run a hand through them. Savoring your touch, he closed his eyes and when he opened them, they held an implicit hunger that made you gulp. “I like your laugh too, tesoro. Love it, in fact,” he murmured, lips barely an inch from yours and you were itching to close the space in between. “And what I also love is y-”

Something banged at the door and both of you shot up, startled. As you stared at it unmovingly, the chatter of boy’s voices now unmistakably being heard through the closed door, Theo, the ever-quick thinker, jumped off the bed and beckoned you to follow. You shot up, heart thrumming with horror, scrambling onto your belly and rolling under Theo’s bed as far back as possible. With one quick glance to check if you were okay, that you answered with a silent thumbs-up, Theo got to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it.

“Theo, you bloke! Why did you lock the fucking door?” you heard a voice that sounded very much like Mattheo Riddle's shout. Several heavy steps resounded against the wooden floor and from under the bed, you could make out four pairs of shoes, undoubtedly belonging to Riddle, Malfoy, Berkshire and Zabini.

“I was studying,” Theo said, annoyance shimmering through his voice. “I prefer to do that undisturbed.”

You silently thanked the heavens that you and Theo had actually been studying before and therefore supplanted convincing evidence consisting of books and parchment. But suddenly, another realization dawned on you and your stomach curled with dread. Your parchment was up there too, with your handwriting and your name on it!

Theo’s eyes had also fallen on your parchment and he casually strolled over to his bed to collect it, concealing it with his and setting it aside. He felt annoyance rise within him and tried to keep it at bay. Of course his mates would barge in unexpectedly early in the exact moment he was about to confess his love to you. Clearing his face of any resemblance of emotion, he turned back around, leaning against his bedpost and trying his best not to worry about you, squeezed under his bed.

“You’re early,” he remarked, raising one brow. A memory almost made his lips twitch, of you trying to imitate the way he was able to raise one brow.

The boys threw glances at each other, some wary, but Blaise laughed. Only now did Theo notice his bleeding lip, and the others didn't look better of. Damn. He was really distracted when he hadn't even noticed it until now, when he always counted on his flawless perceptional ability.

“Who did you brawl with?” he sighed, though amused, looking directly at Mattheo who raised his hands in defense.

Draco nodded his way, dapping at a cut above his eyebrow with his shirt. “Mattheo picked a fight with Potter and some of his mates and we had to flee the scene before the old McGonagall caught us. Potter and Weasley got detention though.” He laughed in malicious joy and Theo's lips twitched slightly at the thought of you rolling your eyes under the bed.

“Potter’s sister wasn't with them though,” Enzo pondered, swapping out his slightly bloody hoodie for a clean one. When his head ascended from his collar, hair slightly disheveled, he was met with four pairs of raised brows. Well, three pairs plus one.

“What do you care about Potter’s sister?” Mattheo grinned wolfishly and Enzo rolled his eyes, chucking his bloody hoodie at him that got Mattheo right in the laughing face. Over that, he thankfully missed the subtle clench of Theo’s jaw at hearing him say ‘Potter’s sister’ in such an invidous tone.

Enzo, evidently, didn't like it either, which didn't help Theo’s irritation that he hid behind a mask of indifference. “She’s actually quite nice,” Enzo retorted, rolling his eyes at Mattheo’s and Blaise’s teasing whistles.

“Where’d you talk to her?” Theo asked, making his words sound so utterly indifferent nobody picked up on his sudden focus on the subject.

Under the bed, your heart did a little leap when you realized why he was asking. Though Theo was no outright jealous person, you sometimes caught him stealing glances at your male friends, voice tightening subtly when he talked about them. Anytime you teased him for it, he denied it, of course, saying jealousy was irrational and for fools because he knew you would never even glance at them. Hearing his inquire, you made a mental note to taunt him with it when this was all over.

“The library,” Enzo said, sitting down on his bed and taking one of his novels off the shelve. “I’m lousy in Arithmetic, as you know, and she isn't.”

“I’m surprised she even talked to you,” Blaise said as he magically fixed his lip in the mirror, making sure it looked flawless and untainted. “From what I gather, she’s the biggest goody-two-shoes in school, and a Griffindor ontop of that, why would she associate with a Slytherin?”

Enzo only shrugged, and Mattheo let out a loud groan as he longed himself at his bed that creaked under his impact. “Merlin, why are we still talking about Potters? There is so much more interesting stuff to talk about. Like what Theo has been doing today. Or who.”

He threw a teasing smile Theo’s way who raised his brow nonchalantly. “I told you, I was studying.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mattheo yawned, but kept his gaze fixed in his friends indecipherable expression. “You’re already five steps ahead in class, every assignment this year you got back with an O, what would you need to study for? Not to mention, you’ve been sneaking out more lately, and I bet it’s not ‘cause you’re dating Filch.”

Theo returned his stare unblinkingly, keenly aware of the fact that you were listening to every word. “So what if I am?” A slight smile graced his lips as he leaned his head against the bedpost. “Can't I fuck who I want?”

“Sure,” grinned Mattheo, unrelenting. “But you haven't done a lot of sleeping around for the last few months, from what I can gather. Seems to me like your man-whore-heart finally rests in the hands of only one unlucky girl.”

“Your audacity calling me fickle when you’ve slept your way through every willing girl in our grade is obnoxious,” Theo sneered, making the other boys laugh and directing the conversation towards the ravenclaw girl who’s heart Mattheo had broken just yesterday. With the other boys distracted, Theo dared kneeling down, pretending to tie his shoelaces while at the same time peering into the dark under his bed.

His eyes met yours in an instant as you raised your brows teasingly, and as he rose to his feet, Theo could hardly suppress a little smile that dared creep upon his face.

[ldrfanatic]

Italian Theodore Nott Headcanons

So... by popular request (I think like literally one person commented on a post from ages ago) and also because I'm still working on my most recent part to the '13' Series (linked here) here's some Italian Theo headcanons to keep you sated.

sorry if this is inaccurate it's based off of my own knowledge of italians and what I think Theo would be like

slytherin boys masterlist works

So, unlike most, I don't think that Italian Theo would be a whore. Let me explain:

Sure Italian men like to flirt, (although Theo doesn't), but they do it because it comes so natural to them and because more than anything, they value their partner.

They're well dressed and take pride in their appearance (something Theo does do) but they don't always entertain the people of the heads that they turn

They also have a natural air of confidence that Theo has and doesn't even have to use

However, just because Theo isn't a whore doesn't mean that he doesn't have his own little clique of fangirls.

In general:

As a person, Theo is incredibly quiet. His English is not the best as he grew up in the Italian countryside and spends his breaks there. He spends most of his time observing, and the rest of his time, mentally translating sentences from English to Italian and vice versa (and yes that's exhausting).

He does however take food incredibly seriously (as most Italians do I feel). His favorite kind of pasta is Paccheri and he will die on the hill that the Italians were the first to make Pizza (who else could make bread, sauce, and cheese taste so good?). He was also incredibly shocked when he found out the drinking age in England was 18. Theo had a glass of wine with dinner every night since the age of ten.

Another thing he doesn't quite understand about England is the frequency through which they drink tea throughout the day. At most, he has a cup a day while some of his English friends have four to five cups a day and usually, one cup with every meal.

Theo also had a very strong connection to his mother. Now that she's gone, he spends a lot of time in his head with his memories of her. It's not all that shocking to anyone really that he doesn't quite have the time or the patience for girls.

Platonically:

As a friend, Theo is a little more open but not much. His two closest friends in the group are you and Lorenzo who's also Italian. He'll talk to either of you and open up a little, but only if no one else is around. He's a bit impartial to Mattheo although he does think the boy is a loose cannon and he actually secretly despises Draco and his blood purity nonsense as it reminds him too much of his father (whom he also hates). So yeah, he spends the majority of his time with Lorenzo and Blaise.

In regards to your friendship with Theo, he's a complete gentleman. He never sits too close in fear of startling or offending you. He opens all of the doors the pair of you walk through and carries your books to class when you have the same class.

In fact, despite being significantly more well mannered than any other boy in your year, the only thing that hinted to you that Theo felt anything towards you other than indifference were small smiles and shared secrets.

Romantically:

Before you even became friends you'd caught Theo's eye. The first time he'd noticed you, you were comforting a crying first year muggle-born that Draco had bullied to tears. You spoke so kindly and softly to the boy. Theo knew then that you weren't like everyone else in Hogwarts. Most people were too afraid to stand up to Draco but the next day, you punched him square in the jaw and told him to stop being such a prick.

The first person to find out about Theo's crush on you was Lorenzo of course. He didn't tease him for which Theo was grateful. Now as stated, Theo is an incredibly quiet person so it's not clear to you that Theo has crush on you.

Also, once Theo has decided that he likes you, other girls don't even approach him anymore. Not after the Ravenclaw incident. A Ravenclaw from your guys' year approached him and asked him out. He didn't even acknowledge her. Just stood up and left.

He does however, make an attempt to spend more time with you whenever her can. He sits with you at meals and during lessons, he asks you for help in charms (even though he's already receiving high marks, but you don't know that). He brings you soup when your sick.

The way that you find out Theo has a crush on you is actually really surprising for you.

Lorenzo came running up to you after Potions one day, completely out of breath. "Y/n! Come quick." He didn't give you any room to disagree as he grasped your wrist firmly and began dragging you down the corridor towards the courtyard. When you got out there, your stomach dropped.

For the first time since meeting him, you saw Theo fight. He had Addrian Pucey on the ground and was currently pummeling the poor boy. The scariest part was that he remained completely calm, cold. Mattheo and Draco were standing on the sidelines egging him on while Theo ruthlessly delivered blow after blow in dead silence. He didn't even wince as his knuckles began to split open and bleed.

Blaise was desperately trying to pull Theo away but he wouldn't budge. Finally, you snapped out of your stupor and approached the boy. As he was throwing punches with his right arm, you approached him from the left and placed a hand on his left shoulder apprehensively. "Theo."

At the sound of your voice, Theo stopped immediately. He didn't look at you immediately. Instead, he stood and kicked Adrian who was on the ground rolling in pain. "Stay away from her." The crowd dispersed as the fight ended. When Theo turned to look at you, his eyes were blazing. For the first time since you'd known him, Theo was burning with rage.

"Theo come on." He let you lead him away in complete silence. Worse than what Adrian had said to you, Theo was ashamed. He couldn't believe that he'd let his emotions take over like that. Now he may have lost you for good. When you finally stopped in a secluded corridor, Theo turned away from you.

"Theo?" He was silent and your concern grew. It wasn't Theo's usual kind of silence, it was a silence that made your heart feel heavy. "Theodore."

"Don't."

"What?"

Finally Theo turns to you and his eyes are glossy. It was startling almost, to see the normally calm and collected boy tearing up. "Don't do that tesoro. Yell, push me, hit me if you need to, but I'm not Theodore. Not to you."

"What happened?" He sighed.

"I overheard Adrian say something completely vile about... you. I couldn't let him talk about you like that. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me cuore. You are the only light in my dark life."

You reached out and grabbed Theo's hands in your own. "That's incredibly sweet of you Theo. But why would you do that for me?"

"Isn't it obvious! I am entirely and irreversibly in love with you. I cannot live without you and I will not allow anyone to say such things about you."

After that, Theo took you out on a date. Thanks to his Pureblood lineage, Theo's family was quite wealthy. And his father had always taken to making sure he was well cared for financially, perhaps out of guilt from his emotional abuse.

For your first date, Theo took you to a London shopping district with his Black Card. At first you refused to spend any of his money. That is until Theo became resigned to buy you everything that your eyes lingered on for more than five seconds despite all your protests.

To end the date, he treated you to a nice dinner and then brought the pair of you back to Hogwarts.

As your boyfriend:

As your boyfriend, Theo's go-to nickname for you is either tesoro (treasure). He spends a lot of time staring at you which Mattheo teases him endlessly for of course.

He wishes you could meet his mother, but he adamantly refuses for you to meet his father. Instead, he introduces you to his grandmother. She teaches you how to make pasta from scratch and you and Theo often sneak into the kitchens at Hogwarts to try and make it there.

He makes it pretty clear that you're the only girl for him. He even tells you one night how his mother's dying wish was for him to find someone that he loved wholeheartedly and who loved him as much. Theo knows that this person is you, and he has no shyness in telling you.

He hates to see you cry, but if for any reason you're feeling sad, he recites Italian poetry to you in a soft and devoted tone.

Questo nostro amore, vita mia

lo prospetti felice

destinato a durare per sempre.

Dei del cielo, fate voi che lei dica il vero,

che lo prometta sincera e dal cuore,

che si possa per tutta la vita

mantener questo patto inviolabile

(This love of ours my life; I predict will be happy; destined to last forever.; Gods of the sky, do what you deem to be true; that promises to be sincere and from the heart,; which can be for a lifetime,; keep this inviolable covenant.)

When Theo speaks his native tongue it makes you a little weak in the knees. The way that his lips curve around the words and his tongue effortlessly forms each syllable makes your heart swell.

Overall:

Italian Theo is a complete cutie with impeccable manners and expresses more romance in ten minutes with you than most men express in their entire lives. He sees you as a light that brightens his life that he will do anything to protect.

----

help this is so bad

[ch6rm]

♱ ࣪˖ date night — chris sturniolo

. . . you're caught up in a terrible date, and a rescue from chris turns into something more than just a friendly favor.

˖ warnings. smut (fingering, no actual p in v, implied sex), confessing feelings kinda(?)

˖ soph's note. first one shot, and whoever requested this im so sorry it took forever 😭

the restaurant was a cozy italian place, tucked in a quiet corner of the city. candlelit tables, soft music playing in the background, and a warm basket of breadsticks in front of you—it was exactly what came to your mind when you thought of a perfect date. tonight was anything but that. it would’ve been perfect, if only the person sitting across from you wasn’t so insufferable. you felt like you were being held hostage, forced to listen to him talk about himself and nothing else. your friend was a horrible match maker.

within five minutes of sitting down, he’d managed to interrupt you twice. you sat across from him, trying to force a polite smile as he launched into yet another story about himself. here we go again….

“oh, and i’m super into traveling,” he continued, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “but only first-class, you know? i work too hard to settle for anything less.” how had we even gotten to the topic of traveling?

“oh…” you nod absentmindedly. gosh, this guy was a jerk. you glanced around the restaurant as he spoke, hoping the waiter would interrupt with the check.

he obviously didn’t notice your lack of enthusiasm as he dove into yet another story, leaning forward in his chair enthusiastically. how many stories was this guy pulling out of his ass? you fought the urge to roll your eyes. you’d been here for over an hour and he’s barely asked you a single question all night.

“anyway,” he said, waving a hand, “enough about me. what do you think about my watch?”

you blinked, staring at the obnoxiously large gold watch on his wrist. “it’s… nice?”

“right?” he grinned, clearly fishing for compliments. “cost me a fortune, but hey, i deserve it. gotta treat yourself, right?”

you tried to stay optimistic, but as the evening dragged on, you could feel yourself mentally checking out. when he started boasting about how many instagram followers he had, you knew you were done. you needed an escape.

forcing another smile, you reached for your phone under the table, sending a text to chris, hoping he could save you from this nightmare of a date. you: can u please pick me up? this date is a total disaster

you press send, fingers anxiously tapping on the table as you await chris’ response, the man in front of you too caught up in his life story to notice your anxious glances around the restaurant. finally, your phone buzzed.

chris: wya?

you sent him the address, feeling a rush of relief knowing you were gonna be out of here soon. there was so much precious time wasted on this stupid date, and you mentally cursed yourself for even giving this guy a chance.

ten minutes later, you spotted chris’ car through the window. you began to speak, cutting the guy off mid-sentence as you stood abruptly, grabbing your purse. “im really sorry, i’ve got to go,”

“what? why?” he looked genuinely confused, furrowing his brows as he saw you getting ready to leave so sudden.

“something came up,” you lied, giving him a sympathetic look, already heading for the door before he could say another word. chris was leaning against his car, arms crossed, his expression one of amusement as you both got in the car.

“rough night?” he asked as you approached.

“you have no idea,” you groaned, slipping into the passenger seat. chris climbed in after you, pulling away from the curb. almost immediately, you launched into a rant, frustration bubbling over as you spoke about everything that went wrong. chris listened, feeding into your frustration as he let out a sarcastic remark every now and then.

eventually, your complaints died down, and with nowhere else to head, chris pulled into an vacant parking lot as the car was engulfed with a comfortable silence.

“thanks for coming to get me,” you say, glancing over at him. “i couldn’t handle another second there. he was driving me insane.”

chris chuckled, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “‘s no big deal, really.”

you give him a soft smile, glancing around the empty parking lot. the only light came from the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. for a moment, neither of you spoke. you shifted in your seat, looking over to chris as his fingers stilled against the wheel. you couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit his face, accentuating his cheekbones and jawline. you stared for a second longer before your voice broke the silence.

“but seriously,” you begin, “you’re always there for me. i really appreciate that, chris.”

chris turns to you fully, his expression softening at your words. “of course,” he says, his voice quiet, “i’ll always be there for you. ‘s cause i care about you. you know that, right?” he looks over at you, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten.

“i know,” you nod, looking away from his gaze, “i care about you, too.” you feel a rush of heat rise up to your cheeks as you speak. why were you getting so flustered?

something shifted in his expression as you said that, his playful demeanor no where to be found as your eyes met his again. “you’re not just saying that?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his hand resting on the steering wheel.

“no,” you murmured, the word catching in your throat. you watch as his gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before darting back up to your eyes, and you found your pulse beginning to quicken.

“okay, cause i mean it. i care do about you—a lot." his voice lingered on the last word, and the way he said it made you feel a way you couldn’t quite explain.

you swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. his eyes were locked on yours, and you felt unable to look away. it felt like he could see straight through you, past all your nervousness and hesitation, and straight to the way your heart was pounding.

“chris…" you started, but his name barely left your lips as he leaned in, his hand slipped from the wheel. you felt his fingertips brush lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

"tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice low and his breath warm against your cheek. his eyes flickered to your lips again, lingering this time. but you didn’t tell him to stop.

his lips met yours, tentative at first, like he wanted to make sure this was real. but when you responded, your hand moving to cup the side of his face, his hesitation disappeared. the kiss deepened, and you soon felt yourself being pulled onto his lap, now straddling him. warmth flooded through you as he gripped your waist, fingers digging into your hips. you felt the kiss becoming needier, his hands moving to pull you closer, deepening the kiss. your hands find their way to his hair, softly tugging at the strands as he lets out a quiet groan into your mouth. his hands moved to your thighs, rubbing up and down before they slipped under your jean skirt to tease around the soft lace of your underwear. chris pulls away, beginning to pepper kisses down your jawline and to your neck as his fingers inched closer to your clothed core.

his middle finger delicately brushed over your cunt, feeling the wetness seep through your panties as you let out a gasp, your hold on him tightening.

“you want me to stop?” he murmurs into your neck, beginning to add more pressure with his fingers. you quickly shake your head, mumbling out a desperate ‘no’ before you feel him slip two of his fingers into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness. you let out a moan as he teases your entrance, slipping his two fingers inside you effortlessly.

“fuck,” you breathe out, and chris begins to pump his fingers into and out of you, curling his fingers as he elicits another moan from you, your grip on his hair tightening.

chris leaves hot and opened mouth kisses on your neck—the pace of his fingers quickening. he continued to bite and suck at your neck in response to your whimpers, his free hand coming up to squeeze at your tits as you bucked your hips into his hand, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap.

“i’m gonna cum, chris,” you whine, your head falling against his shoulder before you felt him remove his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he tasted your arousal, leaving you whiney and needy for more.

chris patted your hip, urging you to get up as he spoke, “backseat, now.”

© ch6rm

[kissitbttr]

mafia!toji and his sweet sweet baby girl who he rescued from that dingy stripper club because he just can’t stand seeing her pretty face and body being exposed to sleazy old men. because she belongs to him. ever since he he laid his eyes on her, he’s locked in. no going back.

he spoils her. everyday. she wants custom swarovski crystals dress? he’s already making calls with the designer as they speak. she wants blueberry pancakes for breakfast? he ordered his private chef to make a luxurious brekkie in bed with five different dishes. she wants to taste the best italian food in town? he’ll do her one better. booked two tickets to rome, letting his right hand man to take over the job while he’s going vacation with his baby.

she asks for one, he gives her ten,

“oh come on, ji-ji! you have the other three looking stoic already! just smile one for meeee”

the two of them went out for an anniversary dinner. toji had booked reservations at one of the most expensive fine dining restaurant in the city. despite telling him to keep the money for something much more important, he feels like there’s no need to. he’s loaded with it.

she feeds him the delicious food, wipe stains off the corner of his lips with her tongue a napkin. while he sits back against the chair, hand around the whiskey glass as the other roams freely against her bare thigh.

seeing her happy, makes him happy. there is nothing in the world he wouldn’t give her.

…except smiling

what he thought that it would be a simple dinner and a long night of him fucking her, she had another idea,

he hears her plead, all while she sits cross legged on top of his thigh.lips forming into a pout as her manicured fingers cradling his handsome face,

“baby” toji grumbles, eyes lulling to the back. “i don’t smile”

“you smile whenever i play with your hair”

“that’s different!” he argues, looking at her as his cheeks turn crimson pink. “i only do that in the comfort of my own home. with you.”

she rolls her eyes, arms crossing over her chest. “you’re so dramatic. it’s just a photobooth! i’ll tuck it nicely in my drawer so no one will have to see. pleaseeee?”

she’s doing that thing with her eyes. puppy dog look. bottom lip jutting forward. one look that got him hooked in the first place.

damn him for folding so easily,

he groans yet faces the camera once again, pulling her close by the hips. “fine” his reply makes her squeal, giving a big fat kiss on the cheek, leaving a bright red stain on the skin. “just this once, ma”

[chippedshake]

latino!steve randle who tries his best to suppress any instinct to speak spanish because his mom left him when he was ten; why should he honour her by speaking her language?

and he hates that he can’t suppress the way spanish music on the radio reminds him of home

he hates that when he gets mad the first words that come to mind are the same ones his mother screamed as she walked out the door for the last time

he hates that calling soda "cielo" and "mi amor" is as natural as breathing while "darling" and "love" feel clunky in his mouth

he hates that the shepards feel inherently more trustworthy and safe than they really are just because steve's the only one who can understand their banter

but as much as he hates it, he hates all of it, he can't make it go away.

and then there's two-bit, who still curses his father out in italian five years after he's run off

and there's ponyboy, who uses his first earnings to sign up for a spanish class so he can talk to steve

and there's darry, who starts spending more time with tim and now says "mierda" instead of "shit" when he burns his hand while cooking

and there's johnny, who doesn't say much but listens, and doesn't say a word about steve switching languages mid-sentence

and there's dally, who imitates motors by rolling his 'r's, something he learned from steve himself

and then there's soda

soda who was never any good at school but pays attention in spanish class because he wants to have a secret language with his best friend

soda who can hardly string two words together, but he tries, and in ninth grade he asks steve if he wants to walk home together in spanish

soda whose brown doe eyes practically turn to hearts when he manages to coax steve into saying a couple sentences in spanish

soda who bribes curly shepard with a pack of cigarettes into teaching him common terms of endearment only to find out half of them were insults

soda who doesn't say "i love you" but "te quiero", whispered into the buzzing silence of their new apartment

and all of that doesn't make steve stop remembering his mother every time cesar costa comes up on the radio, but it helps. he can't erase memories, no one can, but he can add more. he can dilute the rotten bits of the past with the overwhelming care from his friends.

maybe one day hearing a 'kh' will make him think of long shifts at the dx, helping soda with his homework, instead of "hijo de puta" and a slam of the door.

[wileys-russo]

Leah williamson "how can you fall asleep at a time like this" watching a football match at home

superstitions II l.williamson

you were happily tucked into bed, glasses on and reading light pointed to the final ten chapters of the book you'd spent the last month battling to finish, never seeming to have enough free time to get through more than a few pages before something came up.

but with your girlfriend having dinner at her best friends house you finally had the cherish little pocket of time you needed to finish, incredibly invested in the story thus far and dying to know who killed the main protagonist.

you planned to sit down and read for an hour before you'd make yourself something to eat and then finish off the rest, angling for an early night as you were quite tired from a long week of work and family commitments.

you'd only made your way through a few pages before you heard the front door click from downstairs and you frowned, snapping the book shut and swinging out of bed.

but hearing a familiar laughter ring out through the home your shoulders sagged in slight relief, but the frown never left your features as leah wasn't due home for a few hours yet, and it didn't seem like she was alone.

"baby girl?" you appeared at the top of the landing at leahs call, the blonde stood at the bottom of the stairs with a happy smile, the same adoring twinkle in her gaze anytime she looked upon you.

"i bought dinner babe, come make a plate." she nodded her head toward the kitchen as you made your way downstairs. "hi wally." you greeted the girl sat at the counter with a surprised smile who span around.

giving her a hug you lingered by her side with her arm around your waist, various takeout containers from leahs favourite italian place down the road spread out in front of you.

"why do you look so shocked?" your girlfriend asked with a mouthful of pasta making you roll your eyes, sometimes you could swear she was a sixteen year old boy and not a twenty six year old woman.

"i just wasn't expecting...this." you gestured as lia let go of you to start eating her own plate of food. "well i hope you weren't expecting me to cook love you know thats not in my wheelhouse." leah grinned and again nodded for you to make a plate.

"obviously not. but you told me this morning you were going to lia's for dinner and to watch arsenal play, not coming here with lia and dinner." you retorted as you started to dish yourself up some food.

"no i said wally was coming over for dinner and then we're going to watch arsenal play." the blonde argued with you as you grabbed your plate and sat down on the stool beside lia.

"i'm not arguing with you about this lee, i just had a hot date with a book you've interrupted." you smiled before digging in as your girlfriend pulled a face. "you are not still reading that are you? baby its been like five months!" leah groaned as lia reached over to smack her hand.

"and what was the last book you read leah? picture ones don't count." the swiss defended you causing your girlfriend to scoff and you to grin, bumping your shoulder into hers appreciatively.

"well your little book date will have to wait till later baby girl we have traditions to attend to!" leah warned as you threw your head back with a groan. "you can't be serious? its all superstition love it doesn't actually help anything!" you laughed as both footballers now turned their gazes onto you.

"yes it does." they spoke seriously and in sync making you pull a face and roll your eyes. "no it doesn't." you sighed, knowing regardless this was not an argument you'd be winning anytime soon with it clearly being two against one.

"leah i don't want to!" you whined after the blonde had wrestled a jersey onto you, laying down on the bed stubbornly. "well too bad! now are you walking downstairs or am i carrying you?" the girl questioned, hands on her hips as she stared down at you from the end of the bed.

"why can't you and lia just do everything you normally do but without me?" you sighed as your girlfriend rolled her eyes. "because thats not how we did it last time and last time we won 5-0. you weren't here the time before that and we lost 4-2." leah rationalized, gesturing her hands around wildly.

"can i at least read my book while you watch?" you tried to bargain as the defender shook her head. "no! you didn't do that last time, isn't happening this time. now up!" leah motioned, clicking her fingers impatiently.

"kick off in two minutes!" you heard lia yell from downstairs as your leah's eyes widened and before you could blink she was manhandling you up and off the bed, pulling you toward the door as you groaned but didn't dig your heels in.

"okay. you were there with the red pillow and the scarf, i was here with the blue pillow and babe you were here." you were once again manhandled to lay down between leahs legs, a beanie forcefully tugged over your head, your hand smacked away as you tried to pull it off.

"oh! i think your hood was up too." lia remembered as leah quickly pulled her hood up and over her head, the whistle blowing for kick off. "the two of you are ridiculous, you know that right?" you sighed but wiggled around a little to find a comfortable position.

"perfect. you were in a grumpy mood last game too, thank you for your cooperation stroppy!" leah teased peppering several kisses across your face as you pushed her away, interlocking your fingers with hers and wrapping her arms tighter around you.

as time passed you grew bored of the game. you loved watching your girlfriend play and would never ever miss an opportunity to be there and cheer her on. but you'd never shared the same passion that the blonde had for watching games at home.

you'd appease her by sitting with her at times when she wanted, though your attention was always elsewhere and you encouraged her to invite the girls over so she had other people to actually watch with.

but the premier league north london derby always commanded an extra special set of rules and regulations, and your strong willed girlfriend was always the first to enforce them.

you sat quietly and patiently throughout the first half, arsenal going up 2-0 before suddenly by half time it was 2-1, and then a few minutes into the second half it was locked 2-2.

you'd long grown used to leahs tendencies to scream at the players on tv as if they could hear her, learning how to block it out and zone off into your own little world.

today was no different though you were much more tired than most nights you laid down with the blonde to watch a match, and with lia there for her to discuss and commentate with it was easy for you to drift off.

"hey! there's no sleeping during the derby." leah laughed, pinching your cheeks as she noticed your eyes closed, lia smiling in amusement as you exhaled deeply.

"i'm here, i'm wearing your stupid vintage shirt and beanie, im sitting in my designated position. why can't i take a nap?" you huffed in annoyance. "how can you fall asleep at a time like this baby? its deadlocked 2-2 this is fantastic football babe!" leah protested as you shrugged, unbothered.

"leave her be." lia chuckled as you shot her a grateful smile, eyes closing again as leah started to argue, her best friend only shushing her as eventually her protests died down.

a smile curled into your lips as you felt her body shift beneath you, hands on your hips pulling you upwards so she could hug you a little tighter, warm lips affectionately pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"i can't believe she'd rather sleep than watch this, this is the best match of the season so far!"

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter List

⤷ Subtitle | Devoured by you

⤷ Pairing | Yandere Jimin x Reader

⤷ Genre | Yandere!AU, Dark Romance!AU, Gangster!AU, Smut (dubcon, noncon), Angst, Kidnapping, Violence, Obsession

➢ Ratings | +18 / M (Mature)

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | This work originated in Italian, so I apologize for any errors you will find, I am not a native english speaker 🥺❤

Also it is the spin-off of Happy Ending, the story can be read even without knowing HE, but if you are interested in reading it you can find it here ❤

➢ For Italian tumblr readers, if you are interested in reading this story, please know that it is already on Wattpad in Italian: DARK MOON ITALIAN VERSION

Taglist is open!

||CHAPTER LIST||

Chapter One | 12.02.24

Chapter Two | 16.02.24

Chapter Three | 20.02.24

Chapter Four | 27.02.24

Chapter Five | 04.03.24

Chapter Six | 10.03.24

Chapter Seven | 14.03.24

Chapter Eight | 18.03.24

Chapter Nine | 22.03.24

Chapter Ten | 26.03.24

Chapter Eleven | 01.04.24

Chapter Twelve | 06.04.24

Chapter Thirteen | 10.04.24

Chapter Fourteen | 15.04.24

Chapter Fifteen - The End | 21.04.24 NEW!

||DRABBLE||

EXTRA 01 | 26.09.24

© | I do not allow republication or editing of this story by third parties, all rights belong to me, anyone guilty of the crime of plagiarism will be reported and blocked. The same goes for the smartasses who will take pieces of my story without my explicit consent.

[intricatechaosofyou]

Blind Date Gone…Wrong?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Summary: Maybe getting stood up isn’t the worst thing ever

Warnings: drinking, alcohol, language

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

You glanced down at your watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. It was 7:45, almost a full hour after you were supposed to meet your date. Convinced you needed a boyfriend, or at the very least a hookup, your best friend insisted on setting you up with one of her friends at the office. Having nothing better to do, you agreed.

Your blind date, Thomas, and you had talked, agreeing to meet up at an Italian restaurant on the beach. Putting on one of your favorite dresses that did wonders for your ass and donning a little extra makeup than usual, you had arrived at the restaurant five minutes past seven, fully expecting Thomas to be there. When you discovered he wasn’t, you shrugged it off and ordered yourself a drink while you waited.

You waited for ten minutes before texting him. You never got a response but you decided to wait a little bit longer.

Ten minutes turned into thirty.

And thirty minutes had turned into forty.

The waiter had been asking you if you were ready to order for the past twenty minutes, and yet you still insisted you needed more time, praying that Thomas would walk through the door.

You were starting to get blatant looks of pity from the patrons seated around you.

He wasn’t coming.

You were flagging down the waiter, ready to pay so you could escape the restaurant with some of your pride still intact when a man slid into the seat across from you.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Darlin’. Maverick kept me late and then traffic was just awful,” he announced loudly before leaning across the table and planting a kiss on your cheek. His voice dropped in volume so only you could hear him when he whispered, “I’m Bob. Just go with it.”

You nodded slightly and tried your best to smile at the man, Bob apparently, once he pulled away from you. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I was more worried than anything.”

The waiter smiled at the two of you. Whether he was glad your date had finally showed up or glad you were finally going to order, you couldn’t tell.

Once the two of you ordered and the waiter was out of earshot, you turned back to the man seated across from you. “Thank you so much.”

He blushed and nervously rubbed the nape of his neck. “It’s no problem, really.”

“I appreciate it though,” you admitted. “Got stood up and I was getting all those looks of pity.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”

You smiled. “So, your name’s Bob?”

He nodded. “Lt. Robert Floyd, but everyone calls me Bob.”

“Lt. Robert Floyd?” You repeated. “You Navy?”

“Yes, ma’am. How’d you know?”

“We are in Fightertown, USA,” you mused with a grin.

“I guess you’re right,” Bob chuckled.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n),” you introduced yourself, sticking your hand out for him to shake.

Bob smiled and grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to leave a kiss on the back of it. “Nice to meet you, (y/n).”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you replied, blush creeping up your face at his actions. “So is this your typical Friday night? Going around saving girls who got stood up?”

“N- no, this is the first time I’ve done this. And whoever stood you up is an idiot,” Bob replied.

You smiled at the man, head tilting slightly. The way he had said it was so genuine, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the comment.

“Thanks, Bob.”

“Anytime, Darlin’.”

———————

“No way!” You giggled. “I don’t believe it!

Bob shrugged, bashful smile on his face. “Yup. Punched him right in the face.”

“What happened after that?” You questioned, trying to contain your laughter so you could hear more of the story.

“Suspended for two weeks.”

“And the other kid?”

“Nothing.”

You gasped, utterly appalled. “But he was the one being a bully! You were just standing up for your friend!”

“School didn’t see it that way.”

“Well, I do. Looks like you’ve always been a hero, Bob.”

A blush spread across his cheeks. “Anyone would have done it.”

“I don’t think so. You don’t give yourself enough credit, honey.”

The blush on his cheeks deepened as the pet name rolled off your tongue. “It really wasn’t a big deal.”

“If you say so,” you said with a laugh, resting your head on your hand as you gazed at the man.

The two of you had been talking for hours, meals long gone and a crème brûlée now being shared between the two of you. The conversation flowed naturally despite never having met before. You had talked about almost everything, from why you were in Miramar, childhood memories, to your favorite ice cream flavors.

“So, what’s it like being in the Navy?” You asked, pointing your spoon at him.

“It’s fun. I’m a Weapons System Officer which means I’m in charge of all the weapons in the back of the plane. Phoenix is my pilot.”

“Phoenix?” You question, tilting your head.

“That’s her call sign. Everyone has one,” Bob explained. “There’s Phoenix, Rooster, Hangman, Payback.”

“So what’s yours?”

“Uhh…Bob,” he admitted bashfully, eyes not meeting yours.

You grinned and let out a small giggle. “I like it. I think it suits you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, short and sweet.”

“Calling me short, Darlin’?” Bob joked.

“Definitely,” you replied with a wink.

———————

When the cheque came, Bob swiped it up before you could even touch it.

“To repay you for letting me crash your date,” he explained.

“‘Crash my date?’” You repeated. “Bob, you saved it.”

“Then to repay you for your company.”

You pouted and leaned back in your chair. “Fine. But you let me pay next time.”

“‘Next time?’”

Your cheeks heated up as you realized your mistake. “Not that there has to be a next time. I just had a lot of fun and thought maybe we could do this again. But that was a very bold assumption,” you rambled.

“Actually, I was gonna ask if I could see you again?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I had a really good time tonight,” Bob admitted, awkwardly shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Smiling, you reached across the table to grab his hand. “I’d like that.”

“Next Friday?” Bob suggested.

“It’s a date.”

———————

The two of you walked outside the restaurant hand in hand, giggling like a couple of high schoolers.

“Well, my car’s this way,” you mumbled, pointing behind you.

“Mine’s the other way,” Bob replied, frown making its way onto his face.

“Then I guess this is where we part,” you sighed dramatically. “But I’ll see you next Friday?”

Bob nodded. “Six o’clock.”

You smiled. “Goodnight, Bob.”

“Goodnight, (y/n).”

With a sudden burst of confidence you grabbed his collar and pressed your lips to his, relishing in the small gasp that left him. His hands came to rest on your hips as your mouths slotted together almost perfectly.

It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was long enough to leave Bob a mess when you pulled back. His glasses were knocked askew on the bridge of his nose, his cheeks were flushed, and a bit of your lipstick was now staining the side of his mouth.

You giggled at his appearance and patted his bicep. “You good there, Robby?”

“Better than that,” he whispered.

“I should get going.”

He nodded and pecked your lips once more before letting you go.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but spare one more glance at the man. He was walking in the opposite direction, fist pumping as he went.

You smiled to yourself. Maybe this blind date wasn’t a total disaster after all.

TAGLIST

@pono-pura-vida

[osamucide]

BSD COFFEE ORDERS! ⊹

inspired by this post by @alyszuha! I thought it was so silly and as a former barista it sparked my imagination lol. very little context for these

DAZAI is a sweet coffee drinker. I think he secretly wishes he could be a black coffee fan but he can hardly get it down without four plus pumps of butter pecan syrup and an absurd amount of sugar. probably an iced latte regular. oat milk.

ATSUSHI doesn’t mind black coffee but everything tastes good when you grew up in poverty. he prefers it iced with yummy sweet cream cold foam on top, though.

KUNIKIDA is a plain black light roast truther. doesn’t care if it tastes like shit. he’d spike it with coke and gasoline if it meant it’d help him get through dealing with Dazai everyday.

RANPO would do ungodly things for a caramel frappe. extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle, please.

YOSANO is another black coffee drinker, but I think she’s a little picky about it. loves a good medium roast.

KYOUKA, I think, has residual paranoia from Kouyou telling her coffee would stunt her growth like Chuuya so she’s a tea drinker. sweet green tea, hot or iced, is her go to.

KENJI loves matcha! it’s so earthy and reminds him of home. hot or iced, maybe with some strawberry flavoring.

FUKUZAWA is the reason Ranpo fiends for caramel fraps. he probably gets it with an absurd amount of caffeine, though. I’m talking like, six shots of espresso.

TANIZAKI regularly rotates between vanilla lattes, chai teas, and green teas.

NAOMI gets whatever Tanizaki’s getting.

CHUUYA drinks hot salted caramel lattes pretty much exclusively.

AKUTAGAWA drinks a plain, scalding hot Americano because he thinks it makes him look hard. in reality, he thinks they’re kinda gross so he dumps assloads of sugar in them.

TACHIHARA loves a good chai latte, especially if it’s extra spicy, ya know? something about spicy chai. prefers it hot.

GIN strawberry Italian soda drinker is real to me.

HIGUCHI got put onto to strawberry Italian sodas by Gin. I think, after a while though, she starts to try out different flavors and comes to prefer peach.

MORI doesn’t go to cafes. he has a Keurig in his office and has Hirotsu buy him those huge boxes of donut shoppe/breakfast roast by the tens. stacks them up stupidly. straight black. no less than five cups a day.

ODA seems like he’d be a redeye drinker. silky espresso + a nice medium roast? he loves it.

ANGO drinks a cappuccino, probably with only the finest espresso, too.

POE is a cold brew drinker. I think he probably plays around with flavors and splashes of different types of cream; he really likes a vanilla and caramel cold brew with a splash of whole milk.

FYODOR drinks Raf coffee! it’s a Russian classic from the 90s (the origins are neat and I actually think they’re pretty yummy)

NIKOLAI absolutely drinks tuxedo mochas. wants them disgustingly sweet. all that sugar and caffeine is probably why he’s bouncing off the damn walls all the time.

SIGMA probably drank Raf coffee and mochas for a while because of his colleagues. when he starts branching out on his own, though, he discovers he really likes fruity lattes. blueberry, strawberry, or blackberry flavoring is at the top of his list.

TETCHOU would drink what I would call a mocha for lack of a better term, I guess? but he more or less just gets chocolate syrup dumped directly into black coffee.

JOUNO pumpkin spice latte enjoyer is canon Asagiri told me so. I don’t think he’s too picky about coffee, though (unless it’s Tetchou’s ghastly combination).

[melanieph321]

If you’re writing for Riccardo calafiori i have a lil req! You work for bologna and always have to do media work with him but you’re not a fan of his attitude and make that known and in return he makes it known he doesn’t like you. Then one night you guys are at a charity event and you’re both drinking when you shouldn’t be then one thing leads to another and you’re fucking each other in one of the empty rooms of the hall😼

This is sooo good!!! 🤭🤭🤭

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 3.0

(DAY 2)

Riccardo Calafiori x Reader - Difficult Part 1/3

Part 2 Part 3

Enjoy!

Post-match interviews, just the words post-match interviews, brought you nightmares as a media manager for Bologna FC.

The preparations, as well as the handling of Italian media, was nothing your professors at school could have ever prepared you for. Neither could they have anticipated the sheer pain in the ass it would be to work with someone like Riccardo Calafiori.

"Who do I get?" You asked your boss, a native Bolognian, and the media principal for the team. He was handing out spreadsheets to each of your colleges, preparing them for the questions the different journalist and their publication may want to ask the players. It was a standard procedure after any game. However, as your boss got to you, there were no more sheets for him to hand out. Instead, he slipped you a pink Post-It note that read - Keep him happy. Keep it short.

"What's this?" You frowned reading the note.

"You're notes."

"But for who? Surely I'm gonna need a bit more than....."

"Y/N." You're boss sighed. "I'm giving you the responsibility of Calafiori tonight. Please do me the favor and make the interviews go as smooth as possible, okay?"

"Calafiori?" You protested. "I'm sorry, sir, but you've got to be kidding me, right? Bologna just lost 3-0 to Fiorentina FC."

"And let's not forget Calafiori's red card." Your boss wiped the sweat of his shiney forhead. "Look, I know that it's not ideal. But the media is eager to speak to him. Let's just make his encounter with the press as quick and snooth as possible. No distractions."

"No. I refuse."

"Please, Y/N. You've done so well before. Why not do it again? Just this one?"

It was true. The last time you had to deal with Riccardo Calafiori and his sharp temperament was in a similar context. Bologna had just been knocked out of Copa Italia after an unnecessary tackle made by Calafiori, who injured a player, which resulted in stoppage time. Enough stoppage time for Bologna to concede a late goal, ultimately losing the crucial game. Calafiori had arrived at the teams dressing room and set out to break anything in his path. That is, until you convinced him to go ahead with his post-match interviews in order to be the first player to be let go for the day. To your suprise, Calafiori agreed to your terms without arguing any further. This achievement certainly earned you some points with your boss. However, something told you that this time would be different.

You watched Bologna players flee their own locker room at the sight of a fuming Calafiori. He made his way down the stadium tunnel, hair covering his face like a dark and unraveling vail. He marched on, into the locker room, slamming the door behind him.

"How about a five percent raise on your salary?" Your boss said, his gaze also fixiated down the tunnel.

"Ten."

"Five, plus an invite to the teams next charity event in Milano."

"Deal."

"Grazie mille!"

It was set. You stuffed the Post-it note in the pocket of your jeans and made your way to the players' locker room. Surely this time couldn't be worse than the last? People change, don't they?

There was only one way to find out.

Part 2 Part 3

[sssammich]

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

i got you anon! sorry this took a while.

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed for supercorp*

ask meme

THIS ABSOLUTELY RAN AWAY FROM ME IM SO SORRY

---

"your true love is an alien."

well. there's certainly a lot to unpack from that, isn't there?

let's try.

first. this short and frumpy old lady with both hands on her hips is standing in front of her desk, somehow able to bypass security and her assistant, jess, who is mysteriously absent from her desk.

second. aliens aren't real. right? (right?)

third. the concept of true love is laughable. this is the 21st century and subscribing to these silly fairytale notions of true love is a lot of bullshit. let alone the idea that there is someone even out there for lena in that capacity. nevermind that apparently the only possible candidate for such a title is someone who isn't even human.

fourth. what does this even all mean? and why is she allowing her conference call to madrid get completely derailed by this woman who looks like she's more suited for the kitchen of a small hole in the wall italian restaurant and not the middle of a fortune 500 corporate office.

(all this to say that when lena eventually looks back at her life, she'll think that this is probably not even top five of the weirdest things to happen to her. it might just barely squeak into the top ten, though.)

still, she's faced with a strange predicament at this time. like how to get this lady out of her office.

yet instead of shooing this lady out, her mouth opens to say, "what's next, are you gonna tell me that magic is also real?"

the old lady in front of her just shrugs. "true love is magic, dearie. keep up, mm?"

when she opens her mouth again, she's just about to dismiss this lady, but it doesn't even matter because as soon as she blinks, she's alone.

-

something saves her.

no wait, it's someone. someone saves her.

her helicopter is crashing, the pilot is dead and dying beside her, and they're plummeting.

until, of course, they're not.

because someone is carrying her burning helicopter down on a hellipad and yanking the door out to check on them. lena's heart is in her throat and her lungs are somewhere in her stomach and she doesn't know if she's still even alive. but this someone is definitely hovering before she's holding lena securely.

"hi," the woman says, tentative, blue eyes and blonde hair and armsarmsarms and a red cape and--

something inside of lena's heart changes-transforms-evolves.

and then she passes the fuck out.

-

when she wakes, it's to dim lighting in a hospital room, the beeping of her heartrate monitor. distantly, she hears very little outside which means she's in a much more private wing of the hospital.

she sits up a little when a nurse comes in holding a tray.

except it's not a nurse at all. but the same lady from before.

"you."

"hello, dearie."

so many questions jump at the forefront of her mind. understandable and reasonable questions like hey lady what the fuck are you doing here? how did you get in? what do you want from me? are you here to kill me? stuff like that.

except the flashes of earlier appear in her mind and she recalls blonde blue red. she gasps.

the old lady smiles. "very good, dearie. they did say you were smarter than the others."

"what do you want from me?"

"nothing."

"then what are you doing here?" she asks, her voice gaining strength, her hands balling into fists by her side.

"just consider me an invested party."

before she can voice anything, the old lady places her cup of jello and plastic spoon by her thigh.

"take care, dearie. tell her i said hello, mm?"

lena's brows furrow, questions crowding her mind as she attempts to make sense of everything but failing to do so. the last she hears is a snap of fingers and she falls into a dreamless sleep.

-

when lena next wakes, she's back in her office. a week after the failed assassination attempt on her life.

the buzz of her intercom signals jess's voice. "miss luthor, your 2pm appointment is here. would you like me to let her in."

"go ahead."

she stands by her desk and brushes at her skirt just as the door opens to reveal a beautiful and bespectacled woman with her hair pulled in a ponytail.

blonde blue red.

lena's mouth dries and her insides do a somersault. she remembers the helicopter, the hospital, the old lady. the words your true love is an alien pinballing in her head (in her heart in her heart in her heart).

"hi, miss luthor. thanks for meeting with me."

lena looks at the offered hand. strong hands that have held her before. on a burning helicopter.

"of course..." she says, waiting for the woman to fill in the blanks.

"kara. kara danvers."

"well, kara, call me lena."

it takes five eternal seconds for them to let go of each other's clasped hands.

-

lena finds out about kara bit by bit. through interviews, through professional coffee meetings, through informal coffee meetings, through casual walks around downtown and the city parks, through casual lunches and dinners and desserts.

congregating around food so she holds a fork or a burger or an ice cream cone in her hand while she fights the urge to hold kara's hand.

lena learns about who kara is. a reporter by day (who moonlights as a superhero, lena muses, but kara doesn't share that information). an avid pop music lover and movie buff. a regular buff with hard cuts of muscles. arms arms arms arms--

kara is lame. a dork. goofy. foolish. beautiful. quiet. pensive. perceptive. deep. kind. loving. oh, so loving. so very loving.

kara is a hugger. a holder. an engulfer. an overwhelmer. she is the ocean and lena is the lone driftwood that crashes against waves. lena wants to be washed ashore only for the ocean to capture her once more because the ocean can't be denied.

she doesn't want to deny kara.

"lena?"

she blinks back to her present, washing away the cloud of her thoughts. right. they're at dinner. her fork held midair just before her mouth. they are in kara's apartment.

"yes, darling?"

kara smiles at her, though there is concern in her eyes. "where'd you go just now?"

she wants to say she went to the ocean but it's true either way when she offers her best smile to kara who mirrors it easily, breezily.

"i was just thinking that your cooking has gotten better."

kara ducks her head, her smile turning shy. "thanks, lena."

lena doesn't want to deny kara.

-

briefly, distantly, lena thinks that perhaps there's an inevitability to this moment.

this moment being:

kara is standing in front of her with her button down shirt opened to the fifth button where lena sees the S emblem over kara's chest.

"i wanted to tell you. f-for so long, i just--" she stops herself and takes a deep breath. "i'm sorry, lena."

lena is quiet. her vision unable to focus on any one thing. she looks at the blonde of her hair out of its regular ponytail. at the blue of kara's eyes. at the red of the symbol atop her chest.

blonde blue red.

"you're an alien." she announces it for the first time, despite the truth have sat carefully under her tongue for months.

kara swallows, then nods. "lena-"

what did that old lady say? she can't remember right now because her brain is buzzing, her heart is thumping, and the overwhelming urge to melt into kara is all she can think about.

she propels forward, pushing up on the tips of her toes, and kisses kara.

kara's arms are around her, hands holding her, body engulfing her.

soft lips slide against hers, press upon her, permanently transforming the chemistry of her body with the way that kara is now part of her.

when they break apart, she only grins at the dazed expression on kara's face.

"you...you like me too?"

she is beaming because of course she likes kara too, likes her more than like. so she answers by kissing kara again.

-

for their first date, kara takes her to a small italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

"this is my favorite italian spot in the city. in the state, actually. maybe even the country!" kara exclaims, excitedly talking and gesticulating but making sure that their hands stay interlaced with one another.

when they get there, they're seated right away, a young woman seating them in the back booth.

"hi, kara. table for 2?"

kara nods and lena watches. "you come here often?" she asks.

"yeah. i hit this place up at least a couple times a month. good thing my metabolism allows me to eat as much pasta as i want. the chef in the back makes it fresh every day."

amidst drinking wine and twirling their forks in their pasta, kara is leaning closer to her, the two of them sitting adjacent to each other, their elbows grazing each other on the corner.

when they finish, kara pays, insists on it, and asks if they can stop by the kitchen to pay compliments to the chef. with hands still intertwined, kara pushes the swinging door forward, and calls for chef nina.

lena watches as kara releases her hold of lena and approaches the short and frumpy old lady who only wipes her hands on a stained white apron before opening her arms up to receive kara's hug.

over kara's shoulder, the old lady winks at lena.

and lena?

well, she just laughs and laughs, kisses kara on the lips, and hugs the old lady.

[strawberrysainz]

secret garden. charles leclerc

“ charles joining you on holiday was definitely not planned. you begin to have small revelations. is it the wine, or are you truly thinking about his lips on yours? ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning— crude language, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, slightly mature. some shitty french, italian, spanish.

word count: 4.1k

Your book seems to begin to blur as the lethargy of a Sunday at five o’clock tends to do what it does best; make you sleepy.

That, and your previous glass of wine seemed to be catching up to you.

The universe sends a saviour in the shape of your friend Lila: she pokes your stomach so you that look up through your sunglasses. You shut the book. It’s something about a twenty-something girl in the 1960s, who joins a hippie cult, and the facts make your head spin (you really couldn’t be arsed to focus while the wine makes you drowsy). You pause the playlist on your phone to look expectantly up at her. She’s a little bit drunk too; her hair is mussed up from laying down on the lounger. The Italian sun was perfect today, white wine flowing while you both tanned the day away. Lila had invited you to her fiancé’s (he worked for Ferrari) house in Tuscany for a week in the summer. It was picturesque and romantic, but he had to work for much of it and she wanted to spend the time with a person who was there constantly. With a getaway promised years ago, she finally followed through, and your second day was just as lovely as the first.

“Up for padel?”

“You mean… le sport?” You answer, giggling slightly. “The wine is in my head now, ma chérie.” You tease affectionately and she begins to tidy up her things to go inside. “Yes, le sport,” she mocks, “‘Tonio invited us to play.” “With who as the fourth?” You ask curiously; Antonio had lamented all day yesterday that he was ‘third wheeling, alone’. Lila pauses to focus on the question, delightfully tipsy, and her hand tries to fold the towel as she thinks. “He invited Charles to come stay too, they will train and plot for the season’s second half together. Now we will third wheel on them.”

You nod then, smiling, and pack up, giggling to yourself about the looks you’ll get from those two when you turn up fabulously drunk. “Is it a hazard to play padel with athletes when the wine makes me slow?”

Lila cackles, bumping her sunglasses back up on her face, sliding on her sundress. “Tonio might flip out on us for being useless, he’s so competitive against Charles. Charles is too nice to say anything. I hope I am his partner.” She snorts, and you laugh too.

“I hope Charles brought proper drinks too. Last time we had a party at Lando’s, that tequila he brought…” you sigh at the memory. “I hope he’s also on summer mode. No offence chérie, but your boy cannot switch off unless he has a friend.” You poke fun at the fact that he will only drink one glass of wine with supper and refuse to get drunk as fuck with the two of you. Lila hits you with the pillow.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

You two Uber to the padel courts Antonio frequents in Italy, too scared to drive (rightfully so, you’re a bit shitfaced). You drink bottles and bottles of water, staring into each other’s eyes to try and sober up, but the dopey looks make you burst out laughing each time.

You end up napping for ten minutes, trying to sleep off the wine. Then you pat each other’s faces, blinking and blinking, but you end up giving up. Padel with two competitive men will be more fun not sober. When the driver drops you off, he tells you he is praying for whoever you speak to in the next minutes. You two end up in tears of laughter from God knows what. It ends with a hefty euro tip, some swear words and catching Lila from falling onto the street. Eventually you make it to the courts, picking up the two racquets the boys left for you on a bench, and you stare at Lila. “I hope we survive this.” You say seriously, and she salutes. You are in peals of laughter when you reach their court.

Charles stares at the two of you with amusement as you nearly trip over the entrance. “Avez-vous bu tous les deux?” He asks, and he receives just a wink from you, pointing at the small wine stain on Lila’s shirt.

He stifles a cackle as Lila goes to kiss Antonio sloppily, who kisses her reluctantly before gently scolding her in Italian. “Tonio, mon rêleuse, we apologise. We have only received your invitation when the wine was flowing. We also bring a level of entertainment.” You announce, brandishing the racquet. Your bluntness makes even Antonio smile. “Alright, alright. I was planning to put you two together, but maybe we’ll each pair with a drunkard, no?” He nods at Charles, who smiles.

“I’ll look after my girlfriend.” He adds, and Lila groans. “No! I wanted to play with Charles, he’s better at padel.” Antonio looks the most hurt you’ve ever seen a man be.

“Le spectacle de merde.” You whisper, at least you think it is a whisper, to Charles. “Ouais,” he giggles. You smack his arm affectionately. “Tu es tellement adorable,” you say, pursing your lips in a sweet way, and he hugs you with one arm, rubbing your back. “Laisse le vin continuer à parler, oui?”

The way in which you solidly keep hitting the ball on the wire makes him laugh.

Antonio cannot keep himself from raging at the two of you being useless, and tries to calm himself down; Lila falls on the court laughing at his aggressive muttering. You cry with laughter every time she misses the ball (which is more often than not) which leads Charles to request a glass of the wine you had been drinking. Padel has never been more fun, in your opinion: your grip gets looser and your shots stronger with every point. Charles carries your team, and you exchange a fist bump every time. Eventually you two win 11-10, and Lila jumps over the net clumsily to congratulate you both. Carlos settles for a reluctant high five. “Antonioooo…” you drag out his name, and the ridiculous grief of a tiny loss on his face makes you grin. “Can you make your tagliatelle?”

Lila clamours for it too, and he groans. “Whatever.” You two jump into each other’s arms; you end up getting another Uber back to shower and change so the boys can stop and grocery shop as well as buy you drinks, ‘not wine!’ under your instruction. When they get back, you’re slightly more sober, having showered and changed into a bikini (for a night swim) and a linen set over it.

Lila is asleep with her head on the kitchen counter while Charles pours you a rum and raspberry. You’re grateful for the different drink, the headache beginning to pound its way into your head. Antonio starts on the pasta, and you three talk about how their training was, how your poolside day went, the tourists in the city this week, paddock gossip and Charles’ new piano song, which he plays a recording of for you.

“That’s very good,” you compliment, and he blushes. Antonio is busy stirring the sauce while you have revelations. Charles clears his throat, locking the phone, and you set the table. “I’m making scones tonight,” you announce, and in the early stages of waking, Lila cheers with a yawn.

“With what?” Antonio challenges, and you wink. “I brought all the ingredients with. Jam and whipping cream. We can have some for breakfast tomorrow.” “Gotta train harder for that!” Lila jokes, flicking Charles’ arm, who giggles in that stupidly funny way.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Stomachs full and content, you and Lila float in the light of the pool. Occasionally you swat a mosquito out of your face, and your second R&R slowly slips away. “Still making the scones?” She asks, and you yawn. “Merde.”

You both laugh.

“Ti piace Cha?”

You stare at her.

“Sei pazzo? He’s most likely got some European model waiting for him in Monaco.”

“Ho visto come ti guardava.”

Your head hurts.

“Ma chérie, Cha could not look at me twice. There is nothing.” Lila makes a disapproving sound, and you splash her.

“Ho sempre pensato che non avrebbe mai potuto-“

Charles and Antonio, holding beers, make their way from the house to the pool. You shut up. You notice that they’ve also been drinking quite heavily, like you two- Charles is much too giggly, and Antonio has that drunken seriousness to him. They sit on the edge of the pool. “Where are those scones?” Antonio asks, and you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll make them fresh in the morning.” You yawn, making Charles do the same.

“Cazzata!” He replies, and you laugh with Lila. “Promise. I want to go horse riding tomorrow morning, the farm across the way said I could when we went with the dogs.” Lila shakes her head. “¡No puedo enfrentarme a un caballo, especialmente contigo!”

You snort. Antonio downs the beer. Charles is staring at the moon. “You okay?” You raise your eyebrows. “Just remembering last time I went riding.”

There is an awkward silence.

You can’t gauge his tone, and you make eye contact with Lila, frowning. “Well, if anyone wants to come, I would love to have them.” You clear your throat, and Antonio shakes his head. “Gym tomorrow.” Charles groans, putting down the beer. “Putain!” “You’ll have scones when you finish then,” you smile, and make to get out. “I’m going to bed if I want to get up at seven.”

Everyone wishes you a good night, and you make your way up to your room, still uneasy about Charles at the pool.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Your third day in Tuscany continues as you walk into the house; you are greeted by the dogs. The door was unlocked - a classic sign of Antonio leaving - so you knew the boys had left. You opened the large windows after taking off your boots, letting the fresh morning air in. You yawn as you put on a playlist, beginning to bake as the soft sounds of music accompany you to it.

About fifteen minutes later the scones are in the oven, and you set out some things to eat them with - as the plates clink, you hear Lila walking downstairs. “Hi,” she drags out the syllable - you smile at her ruffled brown hair - a dog is leaping up at her - and you wish her a good morning, making coffee for the both of you. She comes to sit on a bar stool, and you grimace at the remembrance of last night - where she slept for a moment or so - and she seems to recall the same. “How did you get up at seven?” She laughs. “My head was killing me.”

You laugh. “I have no clue.” “Wasn’t Charles weird last night? Or was I just drunk.” “No, he was so weird.” You are hungry to gossip (you had gone to bed before you could debrief.) “What the fuck was he on?”

Lila covers her mouth, laughing. Yet again, before you can gossip, the loud sound of the front door opening stops you. You groan and take the scones out of the oven. “Good morning!” Antonio says aloud, and you nod at the two walking in.

Lila kisses him on the cheek. “We have been hard at work.”

You grin. “How was neck day?” Charles rolls his eyes. “As incredible as you think it was.”

You laugh then, putting the hot scones on a plate. “Merde, did you do these from scratch? That’s so good.” “You burn eggs and toast, mate. Anything is so good in your eyes.” Antonio nudges Charles, who blushes furiously and smacks his arm.

You stare at Lila. She mouths some unfathomable sentence to you and you shrug as Antonio reaches for a scone. Your phone starts ringing, interrupting this strange situation, and you answer it. “Salut maman.” You answer.

“Ma chérie, comment est la Toscane? Les bons jours d'été avec toi me manquent, mon amour.”

You make a face that’s screwed up with childish embarrassment. “Tu me manques et la famille aussi, oui ? Je dois revenir en France pour visiter.”

“Papa t'envoie du champagne des cousins, et nous allons faire livrer des fleurs. Notre fille nous manque.”

“Pourquoi tant d'amour ?” You laugh.

“Sans raison.” She says innocently, and you stare at Lila, confused.

“Ton frère va se marier!”

“Quoi!” You shout, grasping your chest.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The news of your brother’s engagement leaves you still slightly concerned as Charles hands you some sort of cocktail. You take a sip and grimace at the ratio of rum to whatever else is in there. Charles laughs. “Haven’t they been together for a while?”

You shake your head, detailing that you’d met his fiancé - albeit a nice man - only once before. Antonio laughs. Lila smacks his arm. “You haven’t proposed yet, you cannot laugh.” Antonio’s face is a picture as you gasp for breath with laughter.

The sun sets on a slow evening as you laze by the pool with these people; you adore being in their company, you realise. You are still shaking your head with shock. “I can’t believe my brother is the first sibling to be married,” you grimace, and Charles laughs. “Which Leclerc will marry first, you think?” You ask him. “I don’t know. I think Lorenzo, because Arthur’s young. Definitely not me.” He emphasises with a face, and you laugh.

Hours later, you tell stories of your and Lila’s university days while the boys laugh, details of hookups and too much alcohol paint pictures of pure comedy. “Anyone want a scone?” You announce, going to make one in the kitchen. “I’ll come with,” Charles says politely, leaving the couple to themselves.

You end up pouring another R&R while you spread jam and cream, not eager to experience your hangover tomorrow morning. “Je suis un putain d’alcoolique.” Charles dismisses the thought. “S'il vous plaît, vous n'êtes pas spécial.”

You laugh. “It’s nice that you’re here. I always wanted to get to know you better.” You say off topic, switching to English, the languages getting mixed up in your slowed down mind. Charles laughs and pats your arm. “A drink makes you very emotional,” he jokes, and you make a face. “Be quiet.” “Let’s take a picture!” You switch up, mind spinning, and Charles is laughing as he takes pictures of you making scones with slow limbs, dancing, smiling, spinning.

You take a 0,5 of him in return, laughing at the weird expression on his face. You take selfies, air kissing, pulling faces, until your phone tells you you’re out of storage, and the moment is over, lipstick on his face. You laugh. He’s quiet.

“I can wipe it off,” you say quietly, trying not to ruin the comfortable energy in the kitchen. He lets you do it tenderly with a baby wipe, big expressive eyes staring into yours, wide with the relaxation of alcohol flowing through him. He leans in and you lurch back, shocked at the prospect of you two.

He pretends like he didn’t do anything, the little shit, and your eyes narrow as you pinch his ear. He cries out in pain, and tries to get you back, but you’re running with the scones in one hand and the drink in the other, cackling into the dark night, the comfort of the warmth.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The next morning is rough.

You’re woken up with a lurching stomach, violently hungover. You decide a swim under the Italian sun is going to help, and change, going to the pool. Antonio is there, swimming laps, and you hover awkwardly around the pool before getting in. He greets you softly, not wanting to disturb the birds chirping down at the vineyard and the peace of the morning. “There’s this song,” you say, dipping your head into the cool water, relishing this delightful feeling that comes with the activity of swimming like a child. “I used to listen to it every day of my last year of uni. It’s this song that makes me feel so great inside. And I realise that I feel that way when I’m with all of you. Thank you for inviting me.” Antonio looks touched, as much as a guy could at that revelation. “You’ve still got three days with me. That could change your mind.”

You laugh, diving underwater.

From the kitchen window, Lila and Charles are talking, unbeknownst to you. She grabs his arm aggressively as he moves to take the fresh cup of coffee. “Do you like her?” He jumps with fright. “Merde- she’s very nice?”

Lila raises her eyebrows.

He groans. “You aren’t going to ask me if I like like her as if I’m twelve.” “Charles!” She folds her arms, and he casts his gaze to you lazing in the pool.

“No.” He says stubbornly, and he might have convinced her but he hasn’t convinced himself. Lila lets out a huff as she turns back to the breakfast she’s making; he looks down at the floor.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles offers you wine. You nearly smack the bottle out of his hand. “No.”

The early afternoon is the precursor to your declaration of sobriety for the day; you and Lila take the dogs for another walk, getting dragged by their leashes as they leap and bound. You end up at the gym with her afterwards, sweating out your fatigue, and you try not to stare at Charles as he and Antonio walk in. Another game of padel is offered afterwards, and you two accept, playing away yet another lovely day and beginning of the evening. You’re much better at padel when you’re sober.

Then Antonio and Charles want to go clubbing, and you agree wearily, going back with them to change into some little strappy top and skirt. You have never decided your stance on clubbing - you love a night out somewhere, but the thought of it annoys you now, the prospect of a night in after a long bath sounding much better.

You and Lila pretend you’re back in your uni days, dark eyeshadow and dramatic makeup, perfume stinking up the room. You laugh at the two of you as you slip on some high heels, red lipstick everywhere, mascara accidentally smudging as you absentmindedly wipe your face.

You fix it before you’re running down to the car when you hear Antonio shouting about your tardiness. It’s a 4x4, and you slide chaotically into the middle seat next to Charles, Lila hopping in afterwards, your knee touching Charles’, skirt riding up. You let out a breath as Antonio has a bit of a nostalgic moment - he met Lila on a night just like this, with you two, at a club in Madrid.

“I feel nineteen again,” you laugh, seven years ago finding you again, the smell of Charles’ cologne rooting you back in the present. The driver is chattering on about Ferrari as you get Charles to take pictures of you and Lila, posing, then judging the pictures, high-fiving him for his great photography skills. You post one to your story, all wide eyes and pouty lips, and your followers begin to reply things about all those years ago.

You’re at the club twenty minutes later, a Khalid song sending you out of the car. You grab Lila’s arm and hug her, intensely nostalgic. Charles demands more pictures of you - Antonio agrees - you two must look good. He takes more, and then you’re all taking photos in the street light, and you’re handing your phone to some random girl who takes photos of all of you. She mumbles something in Italian and Charles thanks her very much before you’re all bundled into the club.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles comes to drape his arm over your shoulder an hour later, sweaty, and he’s got lip gloss on his lips. You point at your own lips pointedly and he exclaims something that’s lost in the noise. He lifts up his shirt to wipe his sticky lips and your gaze is caught on his abs as his hand brushes his chest. You look away hurriedly.

A dull ache propels you onto the dance floor, and some guy leans in to kiss you and you let him, annoyed and jealous. But his breath smells terrible, stale, and you’re pulling away, shuddering, and run to the bar for some water.

You’re still retching like a cat with a hairball ten minutes later when Charles finds you again, and he laughs with confusion. You roll your eyes. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” you shout in his ear, and he follows you, a hand ghosting your back. You shiver and run out into the heat.

You pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of your bag and you light one hurriedly, the taste of that guy still horrid in your mouth.

You offer the cig, lipstick-stained, and Charles hesitates before you shrug. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, and you shrugged. “Only when I’m out.”

He nods then; you lift up the cigarette to his lips. He takes a drag, eyes shining outside the fluorescent light of the club. You breathe, and you can see a teenager standing beside you instead of a man in his twenties, sneaking a smile and a smoke in secret.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

It’s 2:26. You scroll on your phone as Charles talks lowly on the phone beside you (Leila and Antonio found some friends and decided to stay). You stare out at the moon, the light highlighting your face as you look back at Charles briefly. He’s already looking, and smiles slowly, bashful to have been caught. You can’t hide a smile.

His hand is laying tentatively on the middle seat, and your hand is on your knee. You both stare.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

He’s pulling out a bottle of wine as you tumble into the house, the night welcoming you back to the villa. Your eyes are wide and his focussed on the glasses in his hand, walking carefully out onto the patio. You fall into a slightly uncomfortable metal chair and he pours a glass in the dark, squinting as you hear some crickets. You accept a glass with a quiet thanks and he sits down next to you clumsily, and the wine sloshes out onto his shirt and he curses quietly. You grin.

One of the dogs pad out onto the wood and the click of its nails makes your nose scrunch and it tries to jump on your lap; with a groan you attempt to shove it off and Charles gets up, laughing, pushing, and somehow he ends up staring into your eyes, bending down, and some force of nature propels you to capture his lips with yours. You let out a little sigh as he wraps a hand in your hair, and he’s pulling you up and the glass is forgotten and it’s twilight hours in the dark.

The trembling anticipation of a new lover ignites a new energy there outside. You wrap an arm around his neck and you both push forward against each other. It’s the kind of kiss where everything just works; your lips slot so perfectly, and his hair feels soft beneath your hazy movements.

The dog interrupts by licking your knee, and you move backward with a shudder. He’s moving in again, shoulders taut, and his arms are smooth as your hands grasp them, bodies moving sensually under the light of the crescent moon above.

Your watch beeps and you look down to see a notification from Lila. You ignore it. Charles is instead running fluid hands over your hips, liquid gold, and you’re melting, drowning in the heavy look in his eyes. It’s as if the puzzle piece has just slotted into place. A newfound frenzy causes you to pull him slowly into the house, bare feet meeting the dark wood below. You nearly crash into a glass window before you’re in the kitchen, and he’s bending your back slightly over a counter, finding your neck with his lips, nipping, sucking, and you’re parting your lips with delight, body moving with his.

His facial hair is scruffy, and the sensation causes you to arch a little and he slams you back down. You moan.

He grins.

A hand flits up your back, under the shirt, feeling the skin, and you shiver when he rubs a thumb over a piece of your spine, and he’s leaning back to study you, cheeks pink in the dark, and he goes back in for a kiss, smiling broadly.

[c-schroed]

Why Not Watch Some Movies Set in 2025?

Another new year has just begun, and I love to start it with a look back to how some people years ago envisioned this specific year to be (just like last year). So, I'll share with you my list of movies set in the year of 2025, based on this gorgeous Wikipedia list.

Of course, some of the movies listed there don't provide much of a vision, because they're set just a few years in the future. So, I'll focus on movies that are at least ten years old, reducing my Get Ready For '25 watchlist to 11 entries. Future me will edit this post, adding a quick review to each film after I've watched it. So, let's have a look at the movies, after the cut.

Endgame (Original title: Bronx Lotta Finale). The oldest entry in the list comes from 1983, and it shows us a run-of-the-mill post-apocalyptic New York. Seemingly, some nuclear war has happened (around 1990, as a clever Wikipedia writer deduces based on the technology shown in the film), leaving a wasteland filled with scavengers and telepathic mutants. Oh, and hunters and gladiators who fight to death for a TV show called Endgame. A Boy And His Dog meets The Running Man, as it seems. One could start worse, I guess, though the writer/director worked under a pseudonym for this, which I admit is not the best of omens. PS: I usually look at places like Youtube and Dailymotion if someone uploaded some of the older flicks, and on this lil quest I among others found a German dubbed version with Hungarian voice-over of this originally Italian flick. So if you happen to understand Hungarian (I don't), have fun with this truly pan-european edition! Wow. I admit that this flick was a better start than I anticipated. It's still not great, but the first third is very entertaining, with some nicely choreographed fights. Very wrestling-esque, very sweet. However, then all of a sudden the whole gladiator fight TV show stuff ends, and instead we get some "Bring these guys to this place" plot instead. Entertaining The Running Man ripoff becomes less entertaining Mad Max 2 ripoff. 5 out of 10 points. Oh, and I solved the riddle of the director's pseudonym: He usually made smut films, so I guess he did not want to confuse his smut film fans by putting his smut film persona into the credits of this relatively non-smut production.

Future Hunters. A movie from 1986, and yet another post-apocalyptic world. Some rebel group search for the Spear of Destiny, which allows them to travel back in time. So, I'm afraid most of the film will not happen in 2025, but 39 years earlier, where the Spear has to be reunited with its shaft (the Shaft of Destiny, I guess?) to break its curse. Or so. Raiders of the Lost Ark seems to meet Terminator, here. And we even have Robert Patrick in one of his first leading roles, five years before becoming a real Terminator. I am indeed disappointed by how little a role the year 2025 plays. The Guy From The Future even dies within the first ten minutes, and afterwards it's The Adventures of I-Wanna-Be-an-Anthropologist-One-Day And Her Boyfriend Who Will Later Play The T-1000. Poor female protagonist hardly passes the Sexy Lamp Test – The plot needs her exactly one (1) time, and this is in fact the number an actual lamp is needed for the plot, too! I admit, though, that the final third of this wild ride is a bit entertaining. Still, a movie that makes you rethink your new year's traditions. 3 out of 10 points.

Futuresport. This one is from 1998, and it was made directly for TV. The eponymous sport of the year 2025 is a mix of basketball, baseball and hockey that uses hoverboards and rollerblades, and it is used as a less lethal alternative for gang warfare. Specifically, this sport shall be used to decide who will rule over the Hawaiian Islands. When looking at this synopsis, I can't stop thinking about one of my favourite movies, the 1975 sci-fi classic Rollerball. Rollerball is set in the year of 2018, so maybe I can spin me some head canon that has Futuresport developing from Rollerball. We'll see. Nevermind that head canon dream of mine, this has nothing in common with Rollerball. It's quite entertaining, though, I'll give it that. Of the 2025 visions so far, this one is the first to show a bit of imagination, with Borg camera operators and President Chelsea. Nice. And even a Beyond Belief moment. I liked movies for less. 6 out of 10 points.

Timecop 2: The Berlin Decision. A 2003 direct-to-video sequel to the Jean-Claude Van Damme flick of 1994. Timecop part one was set in 2004, and 21 years later, in the sequel, some guy is sent to Berlin of the past. To kill Hitler. Oh my. This could be quite the ride. I think I watched part one when I was young, but I can't remember much. So maybe this year is a good opportunity for a rewatch of this Van Damme flick - though I don't think it will be needed to understand part two. The double feature DVD box is cheap to get, so we'll see. Part one is indeed not needed to understand part two. But one scene in part one makes part two quite hilarious, so I don't regret watching both. Due to quite some mangling with the timeline, however, there's not much to learn about the year of 2025. Except that we have tazers that can fry someone's brain. And that Tesla Cybertrucks kinda exist for more than 20 years already. Quite the dystopia. Oh, and at one point they indicate that all the time crimes have their court hearings and judgements before a Time Cop is sent back in time to in fact arrest the convict. Which makes sense. They're time travelers, they can get back and grab the guy whenever they want. Why not get all the the paperwork done beforehand? It still is at best a mildly entertaining flick, that most of the time looks like an okay-ish TV episode. 5 out of 10 points.

Negadon, the Monster from Mars. A 2005 animated kaiju short film from Japan, wherein a mars mission brings some monster back to earth. Which of course has to be fought with some huge robot. Sounds okay, and we're talking about 25 minutes to spend. So why not. Aww. That one was quite lovely. I mean, the character animations were straight from the Uncanny Valley, and the story was pure cliché. But it has these clumsy indie production vibes that you don't get to see very often these days. Plus, we learn that in this version of 2025 we went to the mars to start terraforming it. With nuclear weapons that melt the poles. Get nuked, Mars! 6 out of 10 points.

Repo Men. A 2010 film that shows us a 2025 where bio-mechanical organs are rented to people in need. If they can't afford the organs any more, well, the repossession is quite bloody. So basically it's 2008's Repo! The Genetical Opera, but without the cool singing. I watched this movie when it was in cinemas, and it was okayish. So, time for a rewatch.

Zebraman 2: Attack on Zebra City. Some Japanese superhero flick from 2010, of course it's a sequel to a film called Zebraman, from 2004, wherein a teacher starts to fight crime in the costume of his childhood TV hero. The sequel is set 15 years after part one (so yes, Zebraman 2 is produced in the year that Zebraman 1 is set in), and Tokyo is renamed to Zebra City and now has a "Zebra Time", a daily period of five minutes where all crime is legal, but presumed criminals will be attacked by the "Zebra Police". This could be hilarious, The Purge on speed (before the first part of The Purge even existed!), but I'll keep my expectations low. And I'll try to watch part one first, because Zebraman 2 seems to use a lot of its characters.

Pacific Rim. A 2013 instant classic. In 2025, giant kaijus must be fought with giant mechas (just as in Negadon; see above). Gosh, I love this one, but spouse hasn't seen it yet. And is highly sceptical. But when if not this year should one give this a try, right?

Hot Tub Time Machine 2. Four guys are sent ten years into the future by the eponymous bathing device, to find someone who tried to kill one of them. I absolutely did not like the first part, so I really feel tempted to skip this.

Mountains May Depart. A 2015 Chinese drama spanning a time from 1999 to 2025. The synopsis is full of love-triangles and family drama, so I don't suspect much of a vision of the future. Plus, it seems to be rather hard to get, so maybe I'll skip this one, too.

Ten Years. Also from 2015, this movie from Hong Kong speculates about what the semi-autonomous Hong Kong will be in ten years from then, with human rights and freedoms gradually diminishing as the influence of the Chinese government increases. I'm very curious about this one!

[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

[aspoonofsugar]

Netflix Decameron: Love's Got Long Claws

I have watched Netflix Decameron together with @hamliet and I loved it a lot! I did not have high expectations, but the series was fun, entertaining and had a very strong thematic heart. So strong, in fact, that it is wonderful to explore!

So, here comes this meta, which shares a very similar thesis to hamliet's own analysis: Netflix Decameron is a story about love.

IN THE NAME OF LOVE (AND CLASSISM)

The Netflix series is loosely inspired by Boccaccio's Decameron, a masterpiece of Italian literature. It is a collection of 100 short stories, told by 3 noble boys and 7 noble girls during the time of the pestilence in Florence (1348). The group runs away from the city and finds a refuge in the countryside. There they spend ten days (aka decameron) telling each other stories on different topics. The main theme is how the group keeps society alive through their shared rules, even in a time of suffering and chaos. The 100 short stories (the real focus of the work) showcase a world that is getting lost through the pandemic. They also bring to the table many other themes, like religion and love.

Netflix takes this premise and explores the same themes in a different way. Specifically, it imagines new plots and adventures for the members of the group, who are named after some of the original protagonists, but are given new characterizations.

To be precise:

Licisca, Tindaro, Stratilia, Misia and Sirisco are called after the nobles' servants. Here, they all become protagonists.

Filomena, Neifile, Panfilo, Pampinea and Dioneo are called after five of the protagonists of Boccaccio's Decameron.

Two things are interesting about this.

First of all, in the series, like in the original, we have 10 protagonists. However, the original has all the group made of nobles. The series instead chooses to have 5 nobles and 5 servants, so that it can tackle the theme of classism.

Secondly, the names of the 10 protagonists of the Decameron are all meaningful. They describe the characters' personality and the kind of stories they are gonna tell. Well, all the (noble) names the series chooses to keep do the same:

Pampinea means "flourishing" - that is a comical inversion as Pampinea is old and fears her age will ruin her chances to get married

Neifile means "new lover" - that fits with Neifile being sexually inexperienced and repressed

Dioneo means dissolute - this ties with the character's love for sex and edonism

Filomena means "lover of songs" or "the one who is loved"

Panfilo means "lover of all"

Isn't there an interesting pattern? All the names tie one way or another with love. That is perfect for a story whose main topic is, in fact, love. Not only that, but especially Filomena and Panfilo's names turn out to be pretty meaningful for the thematic role of the two characters (we'll see it through this analysis).

In synthesis, the series explores love and classism. Let's see how.

LOVE HAS MORE THAN ONE DIMENSION

Love has many dimensions. There is romantic love, platonic love, familial love and even toxic love. The series explores all these different relationships. In particular, it focuses on five bonds:

Licisca and Filomena's sisterhood

Neifile and Panfilo's sexless marriage

Pampinea and Misia's toxic relationship

Tindaro's unrequired love for Stratilia

Filomena and Misia's romantic love

The first three are platonic and they get consistent spotlight throughout the series. The last two are romantic and they develop in the second part of the story. I would say the first three are the key dynamics, but the other two are relevant, as well. Let's go deeper.

FILOMENA AND LICISCA: FAMILIAL LOVE

Filomena: What's the point in having family if you can't have their unconditional love?

Filomena and Licisca are master and servant, but they also share a strong bond of sisterhood, which is later revealed to be not only spiritual, but biological, as well. Licisca, thus, is Filomena's father daughter, hence they are half-sisters. The problem is that this bond of mutual love is made complicated by their different social classes. This is shown in their introduction:

Filomena: But you and I could've snuck off together to, I don't know, hug goats, or whatever they do in the countryside. Or at night, if I couldn't sleep, you'd have told me stories in the kitchen. Or rubbed my feet.

Filomena clearly enjoys Licisca's company to the point she can't imagine a happy future without her. In a sense, she thinks of herself and Licisca as a unit, always together. However, she is also self-centered and shows Licisca no appreciation nor consideration for her suffering.

Things start changing after Licisca accidentally pushes Filomena off a bridge. This results in a chain of events that ends with the two sisters exchanging roles. Now Licisca is the master and Filomena is the servant. This experience helps Filomena reflect on herself, so that she can become less selfish:

Filomena: I'm terrible, but... I'm getting better, aren't I? And I'm your sister. Okay, okay, I know that didn't use to mean anything, but it does now. Just... give me a chance.

Specifically, she starts being more honest with Licisca. She revelas Licisca's origin and that their father forced her to hide it. She also confesses that she lied to Licisca about their father's death, so that they could leave Florence and save themselves. Licisca doesn't take these revelations well and lashes out at Filomena:

Licisca: I have had, in my whole life, two days away from you. The day when I pushed you off a bridge, and the next day when I came here, and... and boys liked me, and I did what I wanted, and everybody treated me like a human being. And then, there you are at the door, dragging me back into servitude. I should not have pushed you off that bridge. I should have cut off your fucking head.

Licisca wants to free herself not only from servitude, but from all bonds:

Licisca: When the sun breaks, I'm gonna walk away from the bonds of it all. I'm going at all this alone. Independence is the greatest luxury. I'm gonna take it all for myself. Doesn't that sound divine?

But she is called out on this mentality:

Tindaro: The most divine thing in the world is having someone worth loving.

In the end, Licisca realizes she still loves Filomena and saves her. The two sisters survive and start a new chapter together, as equals and family. Their last interaction seals their newfound love and conveys the main theme:

Licisca: I love you, in spite of myself. Filomena: I love you more, in spite of nothing.

A love, which is mutual and unconditional. A love that withstands the person's flaws. A love that lets nothing, not even the world, get in the way.

NEIFILE AND PANFILO: SPIRITUAL LOVE

Neifile: Don't you love me as I am? Panfilo: Of course I love you. You're my partner... and my friend... and my wife.

Panfilo and Neifile share unconditional love. They love each other, as they are. Neifile loves Panfilo, even if he is a homosexual and a liar. Panfilo loves Neifile, despite her oddities that often put her in trouble. They are life partners, but they are so platonically. For both the sexual dimension is important. Neifile's repressed sexual desire consumes her and makes her suffer. Panfilo finds outlets to his sexuality through different lovers. However, they find in each other something that makes their marriage worth it. They do not regret it:

Neifile: I bet you could have had him. I think he enjoys men. Panfilo: You could have had my brother too, if you'd wanted. Neifile: Guidotto was a little skinny for me, but I would have wanted. Panfilo: So, what shall we do today? Neifile: I just want to talk... about everything.

Theirs is a spiritual love, which is the purest and most beautiful in the series. They complement each other:

Neifile is heart, as she has a fervent faith and a pure and childlike approach to things

Panfilo is mind, as he is smart, deceitful and good at navigating society and at coming up with plans

Neifile shares her heart and sense of wonder with Panfilo, while Panfilo takes care of Neifile. As the story progresses, though, their complementarity grows deeper. This ties with their religious motif:

Neifile: I'm testing God. If he really has not abandoned me, he will not let me perish in a well. He will rescue me somehow, and that will be a sign. Panfilo: Darling... What if I'm the sign? Neifile: Come on, you're not the sign. You're my husband and you love me. Of course you would try to save me. That wouldn't prove anything.

Neifile falls into a well and wants God to save her to prove his love for her. That is why, she refuses Panfilo's help. Panfilo, however, ends up paying Dioneo to save her. He rescues her, but he also tricks her.

This lie kickstarts Neifile's crisis of faith, which is mirrored in her relationship with her husband getting strained. It all culminates in a fight with Panfilo and in Neifile choosing to spend the night with Ruggiero. In this way, Neifile is finally able to satiate her sexual desires, but she also ends up falling ill with the plague. Before her death, she reconciles with Panfilo and shares with him her newfound faith:

Panfilo: Well, I guess I never really believed in God. Neifile: I've not always been entirely sure of the fellow myself. Panfilo: Really? Neifile: I never found the answers, exactly. I tried so hard. I searched everywhere. But I've come to believe that finding the answers was never really the point. I got to ask the questions with you by my side.

Neifile reaches the conclusion that God lives in the people she loves and that love her back. So, it turns out the love of God Neifile has been looking for is nothing, but Panfilo's love. Panfilo is indeed the sign. His love for Neifile is an extension of God's love.

Panfilo: Father, I know I said I wasn't sure about you... but I will take any mercy you can bestow. Any meager crumb. I can't... bear this grief... this anger... this guilt. Help me. Neifile, help me.

Panfilo isn't sure God exists, but when Neifile dies, he prays. His prayer starts with him speaking with God and it ends with him asking Neifile for help. The meaning is clear. Neifile is Panfilo's true faith. She is his link to the spiritual and to the best version of himself:

Panfilo: I think I'm some sharp mind. Clever. But I'm not, I'm nothing. I'm nothing without you. Neifile: My Panfilo, you are as clever as you think. You see with eyes so clear. Trust them. Trust yourself.

Panfilo's arc is about discarding the mask he wears to fit into society and to find his real self:

Andreoli: Whatever you desired before, whoever you were, I'd wager that it doesn't much matter anymore. I've seen 1000 doorsteps, watched high-born women carry children to unmarked graves, peasants sieging whole castles. If the pestilence has shown us anything, it's that we're to choose the parts of ourselves we wish to keep and the parts we wish to throw away.

He must give up his lies and his illusions to face the truth of life:

Panfilo: I lied to her at the end and she could tell. And we had just promised no more lies. And it made her so scared. And she went so scared. Andreoli: What do you want me to tell ya? Panfilo: The truth. Andreoli: Panfilo, it's awful and you will never recover. Panfilo: This is awful and I'll never recover. Yes. Yes. That's the truth of it.

And in the end, the part of himself Panfilo doesn't want to discard, the truest truth about life turns out to be his love for Neifile.

Neifile and Panfilo start the series loving each other, but also living in lies. They end it by realizing their love for each other is the only truth they need.

PAMPINEA AND MISIA: SUFFOCATING LOVE

Pampinea: Misia, the way you love me... you... you love me no matter what I do. That's the greatest gift I've ever known.

Pampinea and Misia are another example of unconditional love. It is just that theirs is negative. That is not only because it is not mutual, but also because one side takes advantage of the other:

Filomena: Misia! This woman cares only about herself and how you can advance her interests. When you fail in any way, she pretends you have fallen out of her heart. Then she smiles and allows you to, just this once, earn your way back in. And for a while she's gleeful. And you're gleeful because she's gleeful. But she is only gleeful because she knows her system works.

Pampinea is Misia's master and she uses Misia as a weapon to further her interests. Her abuse starts with Pampinea ignoring Misia's grief for her lover Parmena and it culminates in her weaponizing this grief to manipulate Misia into killing a person.

As a result of this constant mistreatment, Misia ends up growing more and more desperate to free herself until this desire turns into a refusal to help Pampinea and an attempt to switch sides. And yet, Pampinea is so rooted in Misia's mind that she falters:

Filomena: She is so deep in your brain. You will never stop loving her, will you?

And finds herself with no other option, but to kill Pampinea to free herself:

Pampinea: I will never let you go as long as I live. Misia: I've come to know that that's the truest truth.

Misia starts her arc by smuggling her ill girlfriend by using a barrell. She ends it, but putting Pampinea into a barrell and burning her alive. She buries two loves, so that she can start anew.

The choice of fire as the cause of Pampinea's death isn't by chance. As a matter of fact early on Sirisco tries to burn Pampinea by accusing her of witchcraft. This happens after Pampinea accuses Stratilia of the same thing. Well, Sirisco fails, but Misia succeeds, reiterating that Pampinea's final demise is a consequence of the woman's inability to love.

Her bond with Misia is, in fact, a foil to:

Licisca and Filomena's bond

Tindaro and Dioneo's bond

In all three relationships, the servant has to put up with their master's tantrums, until they explode and try to kill them. Still, Licisca and Filomena eventually work things out and start anew. Dioneo and Tindaro do not, as Dioneo dies. However, Tindaro forgives his servant and properly grieves him. They do reconcile in death. Pampinea and Misia never reconcile. Not only that, but Misia is the only servant that successfully kills her master.

That is because Pampinea is loveless:

Ruggiero: All you crave is love. But you've nevet gotten it, and you'll never get it.

She is loveless, not because she can't find love, but because she doesn't give it nor understand it. She is in fact given love multiple times:

Misia is loyal and loves her deeply (platonic love)

Sirisco is attracted to her and falls for her (romantic love)

Still, Pampinea mistreats and pushes both away because she pursues an idealized love that doesn't exist:

Pampinea: Misia! Leonardo is my one true love. He's the only thing that matters to me. I thought you might understand that, since you had to leave that girl behind. Misia: Her name was Parmena. Pampinea: Oh, Misia. I understand your pain now. That must indeed be what's clouding your judgement. Now, don't show your face to me until you've found the Misia that I need.

She falls for an imaginary husband, who loves her perfectly. Still, love isn't perfect. It is complicated, contradictory and has claws. You can't experience it, if you do not accept imperfection. You can't experience it, if you yourself do not love selflessly.

TINDARO AND STRATILIA: UNREQUITED LOVE

Tindaro is a foil to Pampinea, in how they are both men-children, who want love, but they are so insufferable they find themselves alone. Specifically, Tindaro is a third son who inherited a fortune after his siblings' death. So, he finds himself surrounded by flatterers he despises. At the same time, he is a hypochondriac buffoon who alienates everyone with his arrogance and stupidity. Still, Tindaro gets called out:

Stratilia: Your life is unfair? You've never wanted for anything excepts the affections of anyone, any person, since spending time with you is exhausting and boring all at once. Being near you is hell. No wonder Dioneo poisoned you.

Licisca: You loved her well, but you loved her wrong.

Both Stratilia and Licisca point out his flaws and he starts improving. This growth shows in his devotion to Stratilia, the character, who manages to heal him both physically and pshychologically:

She is the one who realizes Dioneo has been poisoning him and the one who gives him real medicine for once

She is the one Tindaro falls for and through her love for her he realizes his own privilege and becomes more selfless

Tindaro starts the story as a coward, forever scared for his own health. A loser, who wishes glory, but has no skill nor bravery to gain it. He ends the series by fighting despite a severe wound to protect Stratilia and her son Jacopo. By doing so he becomes the best version of himself.

His ending is in stark contrast with Pampinea's one. He dies as an adult protecting a child. She dies as a child, with Misia singing her a lullabye. The main difference between them, however, is rooted in their different takes on love. Pampinea wants love without loving. Tindaro instead accepts to love without being loved back:

Tindaro: You don't love me. Your love is not required by my love. I know that you have been given little and had much taken away. Is that true? I only ask that you let me give you what I can, what I have. It isn't much now, but do me the honor.

Tindaro's love for Stratilia is one-sided, but his love doesn't really require Stratilia's. It is perfect as it is because it lets Tindaro grow and experience life to its fullest.

FILOMENA AND MISIA: ROMANTIC LOVE

Filomena is another important foil to Pampinea. She is a selfish noble woman, who deep down resents societal rules that force her into an unhappy marriage in exchange for her safety. She is also lonely and craving for love:

Filomena: I meet an eligible noble, he buys me a castle, I'm never alone again.

But she is so self-centered she doesn't notice the love Licisca offers her:

Licisca: Me! You had me! We were friends until our twelfth year, when for some unknown reason, you cut off my hair in the third feast of Michaelmas.

Still, she is able to see and to appreciate the bond she forges with Misia:

Filomena: I have a real friend there. Misia. My one friend that I finally made. My very first friend.

Thanks to this bond, she is able to reflect on her privilege:

Filomena: When the pestilence ends, you can come and live with me in Firenze.

Misia: As your servant? Filomena: As my... friend. I don't think I wans servants anymore.

And herself:

Filomena: Yes, Misia, yes! I know this (the way Paminea manipulates Misia) because I am this! (Looking at Licisca) Or I was this.

Through her relationship with Misia, Filomena is saved and saves:

She initially wants Pampinea's help to reclaim her identity and gain the love of Ruggiero, a family member. She believes the people she belongs to are the nobles, but she is soon let down. Pampinea ignores her and Ruggiero almost kills her. She is saved only thanks to Misia's plead and Licisca admitting the truth about her identity. Misia is her true friend and Licisca is her true family.

She symbolically helps Misia, another version of Licisca, and saves her from Pampinea, a darkest version of herself.

Despite this progress, Filomena still misses what love is really about:

Filomena: Licisca hates me. You should hate Pampinea. Why don't you hate Pampinea?

She believes Licisca hates her and thinks Misia can escape years of toxic love easily. She has a simplistic vision of how relationships work and is called out by both Misia and Licisca:

Misia: You've spent about a month as a servant and you think you are so changed. Yet, no. You only see one side of a person at a time. No history baked in. Love has more than one dimension. Love has long claws. But I guess that you wouldn't understand anything about that, would you?

Licisca: I'd like to see you love anyone that isn't you.

As a result, she finds herself alone and scared. Loveless. Until Licisca comes and saves her:

Filomena: Licisca, you saved me again. Licisca: Yeah, you dumb bitch. Love's got long claws.

She repeats Misia's words. Love got long claws and it isn't as easily broken. Immediately after, Misia appears and confirms to Filomena she has finally fred herself. She is choosing Filomena over Pampinea.

Thanks to Misia, Filomena manages to relate to Licisca and works to repair their bond. Thanks to Licisca, Filomena understands Misia better and finally realizes what love is about. As a result, Filomena becomes the only survivor, who gets both familial (Licisca) and romantic (Misia) love. A perfect ending for a character, whose name means "the one who is loved". By the end she is truly beloved.

RUGGIERO: CHAOS AND FREEDOM

Love is the primary theme of the series, whereas classism is its secondary theme. The characters have to free themselves from classism and social rules, if they want to grow. That is why the character of Ruggiero appears. He embodies both chaos and freedom. He is violent and a brute. However, he also brings to light the characters' flaws:

Ruggiero: Oh, what a fascinating little assemblage this is. Liars, impostors, poisoners, flatterers. A gang of miscreants hiding out in my cousin's house in his absence.

Moreover, in his short screentime, he changes everything. He destroys all the barriers, transforms everyone's dynamics and brings both death and freedom. In a sense, he is the perfect embodyment of the pestilence itself. Something that destroys. Something that brings the chance for a new beginning.

Because of him:

Filomena and Licisca reveal their identities and the sisters are forced to work on their bond

Panfilo's family being ruined comes out

Leonardo's death comes to light

Tindaro is laughed at and ends up looking for some comfort in Stratilia, which kickstarts his arc

Neifile is fred from her sexual desires and is finally able to satisfy them

Dioneo dies marking the first casualty among the main characters

Most importantly, Ruggiero conveys this idea:

Ruggiero: My fate is the same as yours, which is the same as Stecchi's and Bruno's, Lorenzo's, all my friends, all my enemies.

He highlights how death can come for anybody, servant or noble alike. So, one should try to live their life to the fullest. The two characters that are challenged the most by this revelation are Pampinea and Panfilo.

Both go to Villa Santa to escape reality:

Pampinea: Let us make a rule, shall we? We are here to eat and drink and move into a bright new future. We shall have no more of this pestilence talk. It does not suit our time here.

Panfilo: We've all suffered great loss at the hands of the pestilence, but that is why we deserve this respite in an idyllic safe heaven. We're on holiday! Remember?

They live in lies. Pampinea finds comfort in her imaginary version of Eduardo, while Panfilo hides his sexuality from Neifile and his economical condition from the other guests. Both are scheming and try to obtain the villa by making use of societal rules. Pampinea stages a fake marriage. Panfilo tries to dethrone her by calling Ruggiero. Except that the world around them is changing. They can't rely on the same philosophy from the past. That is why their rivalry to ingratiate themselves to Ruggiero and claim the villa isn't solved by them offering him money. It is solved through a test.

Ruggiero forces both to face the truth about themselves.

He tells Pampinea point-blank everyone hates her. Not because of her age, nor her body, but because of her personality:

Ruggiero: Look at how everyone in the villa despises you. And I'm sure much was the same in Firenze. Every man that met you saw instantly what a slim-hipped, clenching little shrew you are and ran.

He forces Panfilo to address his problems with Neifile:

Ruggiero: You know I had sex with her, right? Does that not bother you?

After being told the truth, Pampinea spirals. She has the chance to show love for the only person who selflessly cares about her, that is Misia. Initially, she appears to do so, by finally showing empathy for Parmena's death. However, it turns out it is all a scheme to manipulate Misia into killing Ruggiero for her.

When Panfilo is forced to express his true feelings to Neifile, he manages to convey how much he cares for her. This impresses Ruggiero, who accepts to give the couple the villa. After this, Panfilo promises Neifile never to lie again. He fails, but he still learns the importance of truth and makes a step towards who he wants to be.

Pampinea fails to grow and stays attached to her schemes and to material goods. That is why by the end she finds herself alone and forced to eat her own jewels.

Panfilo grows and lets go of material attachmens. That is why by the end he finds comfort in comraderie and dies as a hero.

SIRISCO AND STRATILIA: SOCIAL CLIMBING

After Ruggiero comes to the villa, the equilibrium shatters and new power dynamics have the chance to impose themselves. Among these, there are two attempts of social climbing:

Sirisco chooses to lead a group of peasants to the villa, so that they can all find food and rule the villa together, as a community.

Stratilia decides to claim the ownership of the villa, as her son Jacopo is the only heir of Eduardo. In this way, she wants to give her son a better future.

Both Sirisco and Stratilia start with noble intentions, but they quickly spiral into parodies of the despotic Pampinea.

Sirisco is so focused on his idea to give humble people power, that he fails to notice his comrades do not really want it. All the countrymen want is some food, so that they can survive. They are not interested in noble games, nor into killing Pampinea nor into owning a villa. However, Sirisco keeps ordering them around and becomes just as controlling and obessive as his ex-lover.

Stratilia is tired of being mistreated and wants justice for her and Jacopo. However, things have changed and her authority in the villa amounts to nothing in the face of the mercenaries' violence. So, all she can do is really steal some of Pampinea's clothes and loosely imitate her mannerisms.

The message is clear. By the end of the story any social obligation is hopelessly destroyed. So, all that's left are love-made bonds. Because love ties. Love has long claws.

LICISCA AND PANFILO: LOVE IS A BURDEN

Licisca and Panfilo have parallels and inverted arcs, which are highlighted by comparing the first episode with the last one.

In the first episode, Licisca kills Cardinal Agnolo and tells Panfilo they are all going to die, so she will do as she pleases:

Licisca: You know we're all gonna die, right? I assure you we are, and sooner than you think. So I appreciate your concern, but I'm gonna do what I like in the time I have left.

In the last episode, Panfilo kills Eric in a similar way and tells Licisca she should do as she wants:

Panfilo: You wanna leave this place, right? Free yourself of her. Go be a lady. Or a whore. Or a street clown. Or anybody you want. In the end, love is burden.

Their behaviors are the result of grief:

Filomena: You act with such freedom, detached from earth. Aren't you afraid of death? Licisca: Ever since Eduardo died, I'm not afraid. I loved him, but as such, was bound to him. And when he was gone, so were the bindings. And now, it's... I feel like I can see... the other side of everything. The stillness and the peace in death. And this side... this is hell. And if I left this side, what would I even be leaving behind?

Licisca: Is this grief? Panfilo: Either freedom or insanity. Either way, it is something profoundly felt by me. We're about to die. Makes you want to lean your chin in for that final punch. Licisca: Do you wanna die? Panfilo: Don't you wanna be free? What's here for you anyway?

Both Licisca and Panfilo have lost their family and feel at the same time free and desperate. They are not binded anymore, but this also means they have no reason to truly live. That is why they help each other find some meaning again.

Panfilo acts as a dark mirror to Licisca. By talking with him, she confronts the part of herself, who wishes to burn everything and die. She realizes that isn't the right path and that she still has family in Filomena. So, she chooses to save her with Panfilo's help:

Licisca: I'm going to save her. Panfilo: I understand.

Licisca inspires Panfilo to take one final stand, by pointing out what they should all fight for:

Licisca: Besides, you know, each other... what is actually worth fighting for here?

Panfilo has embraced nihilism, but Licisca's words and the view of so many people loving each other and wanting to live lead him to choose his love for Neifile one last time:

Panfilo: Darling... I need your help. I can't seem to die without you.

Both Licisca and Panfilo choose bonds and lover over freedom and nichilism. It is just that Licisca does so by living, whereas Panfilo does so by dying.

PANFILO, THE ONE WHO LOVES ALL

Panfilo's final sacrifice is the conclusion to his and Neifile's arc, his final celebration of his wife and a beautiful exploration of the theme of love in its selfless and purest form. It is the perfect final for the climax and it is prepared since episode one. As a matter of fact the first episode foreshadows the last one. There a small group of criminals guided by a disgraced cardinal invades the villa. Here an army of mercenary led by a corrupted cult assaults the protagonists. There, Cardinal Agnolo brings the pestilence in and is welcomed by fear and eventually killed by Licisca. Here, Neifile's buttered body is used by Panfilo as a weapon to let the others escape.

More importantly, Cardinal Agnolo sets up Neifile's role in the finale:

Cardinal Agnolo: After the horrors I have seen, I now know the truth. God, he has abandoned us. Neifile, you were always such a pure child. A holy child.

Cardinal Agnolo's speech is important for two reasons:

After witnessing the horrors of the pestilence he loses his faith and gives in to violence and criminality. He embodies the idea God has abandoned humanity.

He calls Neifile a holy child.

Well, in the end Neifile is a holy child, in the sense she is symbolic of Christian love. She dies, but through her death she saves the others. As a matter of fact Panfilo uses her body against the members of the fake cult. Neifile's death brings life. Once again, this happens thanks to her and Panfilo's strong bond, which confirms itself as symbolic of God's love for humanity.

Neifile has a crisis of faith like Agnolo and even dies full of doubts and fear. However, she never gives up love and what she can't accomplish alone, Panfilo does for her. She dreams of witnessing a miracle. Well, she eventually becomes the miracle as she is the only reason a bunch of innocents survive. Panfilo's love for her is so strong that not only he chooses to die with her, but he gives her death meaning in a final celebration of her life.

Panfilo himself is able to save everybody else because of his strong feelings for Neifile, which opened his eyes to the truth:

Andreoli: She is dead. And your loss does not make you unique. We have all suffered. I have delivered the message of death a hundred times. And I am, but one handsome messanger.

Panfilo's loss is terrible, but it does not make him unique. He is told so by Andreoli and is shown so when everyone gathers together to grieve Neifile. Panfilo shares his feelings of pain and loss and is met with empathy and understanding. Neifile is the channel through whom everyone can grieve their loved ones. Because everyone suffered and because Neifile herself embodies love. Through this moment Panfilo is shown that everyone is the same, both in death and in life. This is why in the end he chooses to make one final big gesture, so that everyone can survive. In this way, he makes one final act of selfless pure love. Not only towards Neifile, but towards all of humanity. That is why Panfilo's name means "the one who loves all".

AN INVERSED DECAMERON

Boccaccio's Decameron has a group of nobles telling each other short stories in a country villa. Netflix Decameron has that same group of nobles try to escape in a fantasy world and being forced to confront reality. By the end, the nobles all die (with the exception of Filomena) and the story ends with a group of servants telling each other short stories in a cave. Not only that, but each character embodies a different kind of love:

Sirisca and Filomena (sisterhood)

Stratilia and Jacopo (parent and child)

Filomena and Misia (romantic)

Sirisco (community)

These characters start the story having nothing and they end it having freedom and each other. And somehow that is the only thing that matters.