I’ve decided that fandom writing is not for me, as I find myself being tripped up by my own need to crush canon beneath my feet. So, I’ve decided to take bits and pieces of characters that I love and just write original content based on that. Here’s a big ol’ introduction post (fancy profiles will come later, bonus points if you can guess who these guys initially were ‘cause they’re not from the same canon)
Amore Parlami: A group of dudes set in italy (Where in italy? Who knows!) centered around the former members of a street gang, a band, and a flower shop called Momento Floris. There’s no overarching plot here, just vignettes, headcanons, and SMAUs based on these boys and everyday life. The boys are as follows:
Enzo Fontenero: Leader of the now disbanded gang at the heart of this story, an explosive final fight left him craving a slow and simple life with the thing he loves most, flowers. He’s a cozy guy, who loves gardening/botany, flower arranging, basically if it’s green, it’s his special interest. Even though he doesn’t consider himself a leader, he has a habit of attracting strays, and his building has become the unofficial home of many punks looking for meaning. He’s very laid back, and doesn’t judge, as someone who's lived a hard life himself.
Raimundo Cavallaro: When Enzo disbanded the gang, Rai briefly became the de-facto leader until his older sister implored him to help run the family bakery. Now, he’s got his hands full with that, and finds that bakery life is fun but stressful. His height is often intimidating at first look, but he’s a gentle giant. When he’s not working in the bakery, he plays guitar and does vocals for his unnamed band.
Vitto Amadori: Feisty and sharp tongued, but so very pretty. He prides himself on never bearing any permanent marks from countless fights, and has been able to become a decently paid full time model and internet pretty boy. He’s ruthlessly savvy, and isn’t above using his pretty face to get what he wants. He’s the one hanging on the most tenuously to his former compatriots, but he knows that even in his absences, they know he’s always thinking of them. He often books gigs for Rai’s band, sometimes even against Rai’s will because he truly believes in their talent, making him the sort-of manager.
Corvo Campanello: A soft spoken and gentle soul with a passionate love of flower and flower symbolism, hence why he’s working in Momento Floris. He actually has no connection to the initial street gang, but was adopted into the fold by Enzo nonetheless. He has a romantic heart, and a smooth, deep voice (although he is a little insecure about it.) He’s often dragged on ridiculous quests and shenanigans as the defacto voice of reason, and has been declared the Mom Friend, despite his protests.
Matteo Lupo: a blank faced, monotone voiced photographer and parkour enthusiast. He works part time at Momento Floris in order to finance his true dream of making sick parkour videos and taking shots of birds and towers. He loves heights, like a lot. Despite his lack of expression, he’s an excitable dumbass. His partners in crime are Corvo and Leandro, and he’s often the one who scouts sights and areas for them.
Leandro Nicoletti: An excitable and fun loving guy trying to become an influencer. He does parkour videos along with Matteo and Corvo, and is the drummer in Rai’s band. He’s got a bit of a temper, but it usually only comes out if he witnesses something he believes to be an injustice. He’s often overconfident in a way that leads to him being comedically being smacked down to reality. Ultimately, his refusal to slow down and relax is due to the anxiety put on him by his rich family’s refusal to entrust any responsibility in him.
Angelo Serpo: The most hardcore out of the original gang, he was the last to finally put down his fists to settle into street racing and motorcycles. He’s nonchalant about anything that isn’t winning, eating, sleeping, and you. His sizable earnings tend to go to making his life as comfy as possible, although he sees to be drifting aimlessly. He’s the bassist in Rai’s band, and often garners a lot of attention, both positive and negative.
I will just say that your idea of a long-term fic which involves Mikey and a reader who beats him in a fight, earning his infatuation, is a great idea and that I'd definitely read that, so I hope you continue with this idea because I really wanna read it now, but if you don't that's completely fine, it's up to you, have a good day/night!
Wow, my very first anon~! Thank you so much, even a little thing like this is enough to motivate me to actually write it! As a show of appreciation, I dedicate this lil' doodle of Sunflower, Draken and Mikey to you, Anon. <3
I keep seeing posts wondering if the fandom is dead, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask: Would anybody be interested in reading a long-form fic which involves Mikey and a reader who beats him in a fight, earning his infatuation? Details Below:
✿ Reader would be Gender Neutral, with the only real defining features being your apparel, specifically a sunflower accessory you wear all of the time, earning you the nickname "Sunflower."
✿ You would be the youngest sibling of a famous former delinquent (unaffiliated) from Shinichiro's era, who taught you the art of martial arts and bike repair, but encouraged you to stay away from the gang scene. Thus, your skills are used mostly to be the most effective part time delivery cutie the neighborhood has ever seen.
✿ When some punks claiming to ride under Toman (ie; liars) start terrorizing the shops you work for, you kick absolute ass. Rumors spread about this incident which lead all the way back to the actual low level members of Toman, who also get their asses kicked when they attempt to prove a point. Obviously, Mikey gets curious.
✿ You don't exactly kick his ass, but you do give him a run for his money, and he just has to know everything about you now. Soon, he's waiting outside of your classroom to see you and sending Draken to order deliveries from the shops you work for to see your pretty face.
✿ To cut a long story short; this would be a story about Mikey following you around like an infatuated puppy, and how you accidently become one of the most beloved leaders of a gang you were specifically told to not associate with-
Synopsis: On a trip out to a newly opened botanical garden, Prompto spots someone he can’t keep his eyes off of. A meet-cute ensues.
A/N: Something simple to introduce myself with (Hi, by the way, fellow romantic escapism enjoyers). This is also kind of a warm-up to a full FFXVxOCs fic, so look forward to that. I know y’all are starving for content.
Sometimes, being Noctis’ best friend was hard. Of course, not nearly as hard as being the crown prince himself, and Prompto would never even think to compare their problems. The invisible eyes that Prompto felt on him whenever he was out with Noct were likely a mere fraction of what the prince went through on a daily basis, but he could nonetheless, still very much feel them. When he was with Noct, he became The Prince’s Best Friend, The Funny One, The Comic Relief. The modern day equivalent of court jester meant to soothe the sorrows of his betters. He knew that they would deny it until the sun went down, but he knew it to be true. He was content with that, most days.
But today, he simply wanted to be Prompto. Everyone else was tied up with work at The Citadel, leaving him to his own devices. So, thinking that it’d been a while since he’d gone out on a solo excursion, he set his sights on the newly opened botanical gardens with camera in hand and enough money to buy himself the most indulgently greasy diner food he could find on the way home. There was a certain comfort in boarding public transport, blending into the crowd as he made his way from his dinky little apartment towards the artsy side of town.
The crowds were low, as he’d waited a week or so after opening to make his way here. As he stepped foot onto the paved paths surrounded by bursting floral blooms, he took in a deep breath. Now, this was the kind of nature he could get behind; air conditioned and with no bugs to ruin his good time. He stepped along, taking the occasional picture, but mostly just strolling. The grounds were beautiful, yes, but they weren’t sparking the inspiration he thought they would.
The possibility of art block brewing on what was supposed his day to truly be himself was enough to cast rain clouds over his once good mood.
Plopping down gracelessly onto one of the benches placed opposite a particularly bright patch of hydrangea, he crossed his arms and tilted his head, glaring at the blooms as if they would deliver unto him some sort of artistic wisdom he was missing. The flowers, however, remained silent.
He didn’t know how long he’d spent glaring at the greenery, as his search for wisdom quickly trailed off into a venture into his own thoughts, which was never a good thing. Prompto was stopped from inevitable disassociation by a shape stepping into his line of sight. A person, who hadn’t noticed his staring contest with a bunch of flowers, was inspecting the hydrangea with an admiring eye. As Prompto blinked back into full consciousness, he was brought to stark awareness at the site of this person’s appearance.
Now, he prided himself on his aesthetic eye, it’s why photography appealed to him so much. So he could say, with utmost authority, that this person was unreasonably attractive. Honestly, who had the right to be looking so dang cute on a random Wednesday afternoon? No one. There was something about the way they regarded the flower with such quiet excitement, like it was just the prettiest thing they’d ever seen. It was sincere, and sweet in a way that made butterflies flutter in his stomach, as saccharine of a sentiment that was. He fumbled with his camera for a second, eager to capture the moment on film, when it finally occurred to him how insanely creepy of an action that would be without consent.
Ugh, but what was he gonna do? Ask a random beautiful stranger if he could take their portrait? And for what? Personal reasons, just so he could keep it and look at it like a mega creep? He could feel the anxiety well up in his chest, staring down at his feet while his fingers toyed with his camera nervously. Yeah, that would not go over so well. He resolved to simply sit there in shame until the Pretty Stranger went about their day, and he could just go find something else to take a picture of.
Letting out a sigh of relief as he heard the sound of moving feet, he glanced up again, only to choke on his spit as the Pretty Stranger sat down on the bench next to him, heaving their own sigh. He couldn’t stop himself from staring like an idiot, even when they looked up and caught his eye. They were even cuter up close, especially when their lips curled up in a self-deprecating smile.
“This place is gorgeous, but it sure is a lot of walking! Only halfway through, and it feels like I’ve walked about a mile.” They sighed, with a little laugh in their voice, that pleasant tone you take during small talk with strangers.
Fumbling for words, Prompto blurted out a quick ‘Haha, yeah!’ before clamping his mouth shut tightly. The Pretty Stranger took that as their cue to keep making conversation, gesturing to the camera Prompto was still clutching tightly.
“Are you taking pictures for something particular, or are you a photographer for fun?’ The Pretty Stranger asked, gentle curiosity in their eyes. A silence stretched awkwardly between them for a second, as Prompto caught up to the fact that yes, the attractive person was speaking to him and he should reply in order to not be rude.
“Oh, n-nothing specific! I just came ‘cause it’s, y’know, a big new attraction and you can’t go wrong with pictures of flowers, right?” He sputtered out quickly, trying to desperately fill the weird silence. The Pretty Stranger nodded as if his word vomit made any sense, looking back out at the hydrangea bush.
“That’s true”, they chimed, “Flowers are a pretty safe bet if you want something pleasant and pretty. They’ve got them arranged by color too, did you notice that?”
He had not.
“I’ve been snapping pics with my phone, but I bet they’re nowhere near as fancy as yours.” They flashed that self-deprecating grin again, and this time, Prompto rushed to reply.
“I haven’t actually taken any pictures yet! The flowers are nice and all, but they just weren’t…enough, y’know? Like, I need something to add a little spice to the composition.”
Once again, the Pretty Stranger nodded along, that same look of gentle curiosity, prompting him to continue his rambling. “I think Nature shots always need a little something more, like animals or people, because the best scenes are ones that really tell a story. You need living subjects, something to lock eyes with, that you can step into the mind of. That way, it goes beyond just eye-candy, it becomes something worth thinking about. It becomes art, and it sticks with you.”
Before he could even begin to feel self-conscious about info-dumping about his favorite thing with this random stranger, they were nodding along emphatically with his words, slapping their knee in excitement.
“Oh, dude, I totally get that! It’s like, even if it’s just a static shot, having a person there adds just enough to bring it life!”
“Yeah, yeah!” He said, too excited that his point had gotten through to even feel embarrassed by how eager he sounded. He and the Pretty Stranger went on that topic of conversation way longer than he’d talked about photography with any sort of willing participant in his life. It was clear that they weren’t a photographer as well, just an excitable patron of the arts. Still, even when he had to explain some concept or aspect of photography that they didn’t understand, he didn’t feel like he was holding them hostage with his interests. It felt like he was being listened to. Like, they were truly interested in what he had to say.
He was startled out of his blissful excitement by the loud speaker above them announcing that the garden would be closing in 15 minutes. Had they really been talking for that long? Prompto felt a hot flush of shame on his face, he’d really kept this person from enjoying their day, hadn’t he?
As he opened his mouth to apologize, the Pretty Stranger laughed.
“Oh man! I’m sorry I kept you for so long, man. You’ve got a way with words, though, you should be a photo lecturer or something!” They stood and held out their hand for him to take, which he did, thanking the cooler season for an excuse to wear his gloves so he didn’t ruin the moment with his sweaty hands. The two of them stood there for a second, hands clasped, before Prompto dropped the hold like he’d been burned, shoving his hands in his pocket.
The Pretty Stranger gestured back the way they came, the closest way out, and Prompto followed along on auto-pilot, eyes trained on the face of the most cute, sincere, angel he’d ever met. He knew he was the type to fall quickly, but this was an all time record. And it felt…different from his other crushes. There was no wall, no insurmountable river of self-doubt that he had to surmount. It was easy to talk to them. And maybe, he was feeling a little high off the fumes of that realization, which was why he blurted out, “Hey, are you doing anything after this?”
They were outside of the entrance now, having stepped out of the way of the doorway, and were idly walking towards the shopping street. The Pretty Stranger, seemingly content to walk beside him, shrugged.
“Other than to eat? Nope! I didn’t even plan this, to be honest. I just came by because it was new and free.” They laughed, and Prompto, giddy with the opportunity to not have to let them go just yet, laughed with them.
“Well, if you’re interested, I was gonna go get some particularly greasy diner food and I would love a little company.” He flashed them a boy-ish smile, hoping that the little bit of cuteness he knew he had would save him from too harsh a rejection. But, just as they had before, The Pretty Stranger nodded emphatically.
“That sounds pretty dang good! Lead the way, man.”
Like a puppy, he took their hand and began leading them towards his burger place of choice, practically reading off the menu to them as they made their way through half empty streets. Then, a thought occurred to him.
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