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theostrophywife · 4 months

Text

the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love.

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you.

Until that one fateful fall morning.

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze.

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students.

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned.

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him.

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center.

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up.

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him.

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?”

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment.

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?”

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.”

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?”

“You know my name?”

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.”

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous.

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.”

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.”

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.”

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve.

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.”

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.”

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on.

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.”

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.”

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly.

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.”

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.”

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.”

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.”

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.”

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.”

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes.

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you.

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen.

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill.

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend.

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?”

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm.

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.”

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.”

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.”

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo.

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day.

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.”

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.”

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.”

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.”

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.”

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.”

“Yeah, because she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?”

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.”

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?”

“Whatever you say, peach.”

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced.

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.”

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him.

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.”

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively.

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?”

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.”

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.”

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy.

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.”

“Thanks, Pans.”

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap.

“Like I said, we’re friends.”

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?”

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising.

“Knock yourself out, mate.”

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin.

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.”

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.”

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.”

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.”

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?”

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.”

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied.

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?”

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations.

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.”

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?”

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.”

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.”

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.”

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table.

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.”

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.”

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.”

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him.

“It’s useless,” his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.”

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll.

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.”

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo.

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.”

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.”

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.”

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.”

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected.

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.”

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.”

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends.

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll.

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.”

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.”

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.”

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?”

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.”

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!”

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.”

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.”

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you.

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.”

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.”

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.”

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.”

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.”

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?”

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.”

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“You alright there, peach?”

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?”

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.”

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?”

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.”

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.”

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?”

“I am a bloody idiot.”

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.”

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you.

“Scary?”

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.”

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?”

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.”

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you.

“It’s about time, Berkshire.”

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.”

“Not so scary now, am I?”

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.”

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street.

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.”

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

#my pretty boy give me coffee shop shy enzo #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

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writing-in-the-impala · 3 months

Text

Secret Smokes (Part 10)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2960

A/N: A lovely human asked me today if this fic is over and I thought damn I got to update quick before I lose all my readers. Hope 2024 is treating you all well, here's to the first post of the year!

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 10, Next Chapter

You opened your eyes scanning the room you're in, first you saw the curtains shut. Clothes neatly pilled on the side, a messy stack of books and parchment. Then you turned around and saw the back of Remus's head as he slept peacefully. Thoughts of guilt, lust and memories flooded your head. You began to think whether he regrets last night, was it just a drunk mistake, what do you say to him when he wakes up. You felt him move and turn towards you, on his face a gentle smile. "Morning dear, how'd you sleep?" He asked and kissed your forehead.

"Really well, you?" He scooped you closer with his arms to his chest.

"Let's ignore the conversation we have to have now and just savour this moment." He whispered while cuddling close to you.

"I like that idea." You replied breathing in his smell. Your heart felt full and you felt so comfortable like this was the place you were waiting to be your whole life, and he didn't seem to regret it but rather welcome it.

"Now dear would you like some coffee? Breakfast?" He asked softly not letting you go.

"What a gentleman." You joked in return.

"I try my best." He said with a wink before kissing the top of your head and standing up, he put on a T-shirt and his trousers from last night. "I'll start making the coffee, rest as long as you want."

You lay there in naked confusion and bliss, you were happy but you were confused. You had no idea how you will face him in class after waking up in his bed. You got out of bed putting on yesterdays clothes and grabbing one of Remus's sweaters for warmth before making your way down to the kitchen. The room smelt of coffee, Remus looked younger for a moment with messy hair and wearing no socks on the cold floor as he made coffee. He turned around with a smile. "Good morning, nice jumper." He said with a wink. He winked a lot you noted, maybe he was just as nervous as you right now. "Do you like it with milk or black?" He asked.

"Splash of milk please, no sugar." You confirmed and he followed your instructions and handed it to you. "Perfect thank you."

"Care to join me on the roof for a smoke and coffee? Then we can think of breakfast plans." He said walking towards the stair case and you followed. You sat down side by side on two chairs, it was cold but you didn't mind. "You know this has always been my guilty pleasure, coffee and a cig the morning after, I thought it made me cool." He admitted looking out onto London.

"It makes you look cold, I'm not sure if cool is the right word." You said and he laughed lightly to response, shaking his head.

"It used to calm my nerves because I wasn't sure what to do with a girl in the morning after, how guys are meant to act, so I figured out to start my mornings with a smoke and conversation, not that this is a common occurrence."

"What you don't sleep with your students often?" you joked to ease your discomfort about this whole situation.

"I don't sleep with anyone often, especially students."

"Why?"

"Because they're my students and I have somewhat of a professional-" You interrupted him by saying "No I mean why don't you sleep with people often."

"Y/N you know what I am."

"So?"

"So, being around me, close to me is not only dangerous but also a burden to a persons life. Therefore I've found it's better to focus on solitude and not burden anyone else who I may possibly care for. Y/N I am not a man I am-" You once again cut in to stop Remus Lupin from his usual self-loathing pit. "I'm hungry."

He quickly checked his watch "We could go to a bakery about 5 minutes away they should be open, we can grab some pastries if you'd like."

"What time is it?" You asked in fear.

"Half past nine, why do you need to be somewhere?" He asked with a slight painful tang behind his voice.

"The Weasleys, I was meant to be staying there. I need to go before they all wake up." You said leaving your coffee and heading down to Remus's bedroom, Remus followed you down.

"I'm sure you'll be okay, just tell them you fell asleep on the sofa." He tried to calm you as you put on your jacket and gathered your belongings.

"No, I'll never hear the end of this. Molly will kill me." You said in panic.

"Y/N you're an adult they'll understand, just stay finish your coffee, I can write to Molly that you are here." He said placing a hand on your shoulder to calm you.

"I'm sorry Remus I don't want to run like this but I have to, I don't want to try and explain why I'm here in the morning. Happy new year." You simply said to him as his face dropped into a frown.

"Happy New Year." He said quietly and you apparated to the Weasleys house. You didn't know that you left Remus with a feeling of enormous guilt, he felt like he used the opportunity of you drunk to sleep with you and now you regretted it. He was reminded of your age by the way you rushed home, you may be eighteen but you still sometimes behaved like someone's daughter and that made Remus feel uneasy about perusing you, especially when you have to rush home the morning after. Rush home to a friend of his. The guilt ate him alive as he cleaned the coffee that you didn't finished and put out your half-smoked cigarette. In that moment he made a decision, he messed up, he got close to you and kissed you because he couldn't control himself and based on how you ran out the house you obviously regretted everything.

You on the other hand felt guilty for leaving, Remus treated you nicer than anyone else you've ever slept with, he made you coffee, he cared, it filled your heart with warmth, you knew you'll have to apologise for how you left. You slowly walked through the house up to the spare room you were staying in when you bumped into Percy who was going to the bathroom. He gave you a quick look up and down in a judgmental way and didn't even say hi, then as you passed the twins' room they opened the door with big grins. "Nice jumper." They both said at once. You looked down and saw you left in Remus's jumper.

"Shit." You took it off in that very moment in panic. "Don't tell anyone." You warned them.

"Our lips are sealed." They said in unison. "Although we will high five him next time we see him." Fred shrugged.

"Don't you dare Weasley." You warned.

"So how was sleeping with our dear professor?" George asked.

"Was it everything you dreamed of?" Fred added.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it at least good?" Fred pushed.

"The best I've ever had. And he made me coffee in the morning and hugged me and kissed me." You felt like you were melting just thinking about it.

"The best?" Fred repeated.

"Who knew prof would be so good." George added.

"Let's not talk about it, I actually have to sit in his class after this." You felt a bit sick at the idea, that was the end of that conversation. You quickly went to take a shower and change. After that you wrote a letter to Remus apologising about leaving so soon and thanking him for the coffee. He didn't reply. You sent him another three letters over the next few days making sure he's okay however he didn't reply. So you got the message, and he did regret it, he was just being nice to you in the morning because he was a good person. You were nervous to go back to Hogwarts but you decided you won't let New Years stop you. You came back a week before term, and you thought it may be good to bump into Remus before term starts to talk. You went to the bridge but he didn't, you knocked on his office but no one answered, you even tried to find him using the map but it was like he was always waking away from you.

You finally saw him on the first day of term, he was sitting eating breakfast in the great hall with all the teachers. You received and owl and it was from him but he didn't look up at you at all. The letter read:

"Welcome back to the new term miss L/N.

As previously agreed our tutoring continues to prepare you for you exams.

- Professor R.J.Lupin"

You looked up at him but he didn't look at you.

In his lesson that day you sat nervously in your seat, you were sitting next to Sebastian as you and Percy weren't on talking terms after New Years. "Are you okay?" Sebastian whispered watching you move around in your seat nervously waiting for Lupin to arrive to the classroom.

"Just nervous about exams." You explained to him, he put a hand on your leg to steady it. "It's okay you'll do great, I've got some calming fraught if you want it though." He said and you nodded. He slipped you the potion and you drank it, you didn't realise that around the time Sebastian put his hand on your leg Remus was walking in the classroom and watching the whole interaction. "Better?" Sebastian asked and you nodded in response. "Thank you." You said and he gave you a smile before moving his hand from your leg as you had stopped shaking from stress. Remus cleared his throat as he stood at the front of the classroom. "Welcome back I hope you've all had a good new year," Remus said, looking at you intensely during the last three words. You instantly felt hot however because of the position you didn't feel worried instead slightly turned on as you looked back at him, after a moment of eye contact he ripped his eyes away.

"Now I'm sure you're all nervous, but I will get you as prepared for your exams as possible all I ask is for you to listen and pay attention and that way I can help you." He continued, his eyes kept catching yours as if he couldn't look away and you were now enjoying the attention as all stress had left your body. However the closer to the end of the lesson it got the more the potion started to wear off and you could no longer look Lupin in the eye, he noticed the change in you and was very confused, he simply couldn't read you, he knew you took a potion however he wasn't sure what you took, he suspected it was calming draught but he had to ask you in your tutoring session if you show up. You considered skipping it but you knew you had to speak to Remus sooner or later and you didn't want to fail your exams because of him.

You lightly knocked on his office door filled with a bit of anxiety, he was sitting marking papers when you came in and he smiled gently at you but you could see he was on edge just like you. "Good afternoon Miss L/N. I hope you had a good Christmas." He greeted you and it filled you with anger that he was just pretending nothing happened.

"Can we talk?" You asked quietly sitting down on a chair near the front.

"Is it about your studies?"

"Obviously not." You snarked and he sighed pulling up a chair opposite you.

"We shouldn't, it's my responsibility to prepare you for your exams and" he began before you interrupted with a simple. "Remus." He loosened his tie and sighed.

"I'm really sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry for what I did, I should've been the responsible adult, I'm your teacher for fuck sake." He began and he looked visibly upset.

"Do you regret it?" You asked gently.

"Obviously, I shouldn't have put you in that situation. I pushed myself onto you, I knew my feelings for you I shouldn't have spoken to you at all if I was drinking."

"But I wanted to kiss you."

"Y/N I'm your teacher." He said as a matter of fact.

"So I don't care do you? Answer honestly."

"No." He shook his head and swallowed hard.

"Would you want to kiss me again?" He did say anything he just looked at your lips. "Answer honestly Remus." You added and he shook his head.

"Then do it." His eyes didn't leave your lips for a moment and then he made eye contact with you and he simply said "I can't."

"Why?" You asked him pleading.

"Because I am falling incredibly hard for you, and all I'm going to do is hurt you. Because I am your teacher. Because I can't offer you anything much more than a tea and a great music taste and an awful lot of knowledge on books."

"I don't care, you made me feel special, you make me feel loved." You continued to beg.

"Don't lie to me I saw how you ran out the house." He said with a angry and annoyed tone.

"I wrote to you three time to apologies, and you ignored every single letter." You said feeling like you're about to cry.

"You did?" His complexion changed suddenly.

"Yes. But I got the message that you rather ignore all this happened."

"Y/N, I wanted to make you coffee, take care of you and then talk to you like an adult about what this means for our lives here, but you ran out and the only letter I received was this from Percy." He said pulling out a letter that was crumbled up in his pocket, the address was Hogwarts, of course, all your letters went to the cottage but he didn't go there he came straight to the castle it all clicked.

"Why did Percy write to you?" You asked softly and he just handed you the letter to read.

"Dear professor Lupin,

As head boy I urge to remind you that you are our professor within and outside school grounds. And I believe you don't need to be reminded of school rules, especially for a man with your condition losing this job may be disastrous.

Happy new year, P. Weasley Head boy of Gryffindor"

"That prick." You said quietly and looked up at Remus. "I promise I didn't tell him anything."

"How would he know?" Remus asked he looked like you betrayed him.

"Your jumper," you began and Remus have you a puzzled look. "I came home in it the morning after and Percy saw me, he gave me a look of hate, we haven't talked since." You answered honestly. "Remus I'm sorry about this, can you ignore it and can we have this conversation based on our own opinions." You said and Remus sighed.

"No matter what I am your teacher and we've crossed a line."

"How do you expect me to focus in your lessons after what you've done to me professor?"

"Fuck you calling me professor like it doesn't turn you on." He said looking away and taking a deep shaky breath. "Can I kiss you one last time dear?" He asked and you nodded. And he leaned over the desk to kiss you slowly, the kiss was desperate and slow, as if he was savouring the moment, he put a hand on your cheek and tucked your hair behind your ear just like he did that first morning.

"Don't make it the last." You said as soon as he pulled away.

"Dear, as soon as you realise I'm just a broke man who's been cursed since childhood the sooner you'll realise you don't want me, so many men will be able to offer you the world, I won't."

"I hate you, I hate that you won't even give yourself a chance to be happy." You said feeling like you're about to cry.

"Y/N I'm trying to protect you." He pleaded.

"Or maybe you're just trying to protect yourself from feeling any good emotion in your life?" You said standing up. "Maybe you don't realise you're hurting me by not even trying, by leading me on."

"I'm sorry Y/N, I truly don't know what I'm doing, I wish I was, let's leave this conversation for another day let's start working on revision."

"Remus how am I meant to sit here and listen to you teach me while all I can think about is wether you like me just for sex, wether it's because you get turned on by fucking your student, wether you're just lonely and I'm convenient or wether an ounce of you actually cares about me."

"Y/N, if you want to have this conversation with me you need to act your age not frantically shout your thoughts at me like a school girl." He said harshly his mood becoming a lot more authoritarian.

"I am a school girl! I hate you Remus Lupin, I hate how you treat me, I hate you for making me feel like I mattered for you to just change your mind when it's convenient. I hate Percy for that letter. But I really hate you." You said pushing the tears away from your eyes.

"I'm not surprised, I hate me too." He said looking down at the desk and then he went silent.

"No Remus. I didn't mean-" You began realising your emotions got the better of you, truly you were scared about how much you liked him, how dependent you were becoming on him, how life wasn't the same without him.

"You've said enough. Goodbye." Remus said turning around and walking upstairs to his office without a single turn back to face you. And that was the last time you saw Remus Lupin that week, the next lesson you had with Lupin was taken over by Snape, and even your tutoring was now with McGonagall. Lupin returned on Friday evening, you saw him in the great hall during dinner, that's when you received and owl from him which was rare during dinner...

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

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#remus lupin x reader #student x teacher #teacher! Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #remus lupin #the maruaders #harry potter #remus love you #secret smokes #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #the marauders #sirius orion black

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ilikethisacompletelynormalamount · 1 month

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Andrew Scott, Vogue: April 2024.

by Zing Tsjeng, Photos by Annie Leibovitz

Ripley, in other words, is the hero of the tale. “That’s why he fascinates so many,” says Scott. “There’s been so many iterations of him. I think it’s because people root for him.” Actors like Alain Delon and Dennis Hopper have tried the role; Matt Damon played him as an obsequious, lower-class naïf; John Malkovich, as a slimy, camp killer. Scott’s Ripley is different; a watchful loner escaping rodent-infested poverty, more at home among art than he is around people. Musician and actor Johnny Flynn plays his first victim—the monied Dickie Greenleaf—and Dakota Fanning is Dickie’s suspicious ex-girlfriend. “I find Tom quite vulnerable,” Scott tells me. “I don’t think he’s necessarily lonely, but I certainly think he’s solitary…. He seems to me by his nature that he just can’t fit in. He’s trying to survive.”

In Ripley, Zaillian extracts maximum Hitchcockian dread from every creaky footstep. But most sinister of all is Scott’s face, which exhibits a sharklike steeliness throughout. It’s a performance that exudes queasy force. Is Ripley a scammer, a psychopath, or both? “There’s so many things lurking beneath him that I’ve been very reluctant to diagnose him with anything. I never thought of him as a sociopath or murderous,” Scott declares. “It’s up to everybody else to characterize him or call him whatever they want.”

As we weave through tourists near the Tower of London, barely anybody notices Scott, save for a faint glimmer of recognition among mainly young women. He seems to draw reassurance from it. “I don’t like to think about it too much, if I’m honest,” he muses of fame. “I find it a little bit, er, frightening.” He is known but not blockbuster-recognizable, although he is in the upcoming Back in Action with Cameron Diaz and Jamie Foxx. What stunts did he do? “I can’t give that away, I’m afraid, or somebody from Netflix will come and shoot me in the head.”

What’s been on Scott’s mind the most hasn’t been acting at all, in fact, but art. As a 17-year-old, he was offered his first movie role on the same day he was given a scholarship to study painting. He chose acting, but has recently been thinking about Oliver Burkeman’s philosophical self-help tract from 2021, Four Thousand Weeks, which makes the case for focusing on the five things you truly want to accomplish. “For me at the moment, it’s like, What do you want to do? What do you want to say?”

He scrolls through his phone to show me his work. There’s a watercolor of a couple arguing in a restaurant in rich reds and greens, line drawings of friends and people on the beach, and two self-portraits. “It’s a bit weird,” he acknowledges of his depiction of himself, all bulbous forehead and Pan-like tufts of hair. His brisk, nervy lines are reminiscent of Egon Schiele or Francis Bacon, who turns out to be one of his favorite painters. “Well, God, I’ll take that,” he mutters at the comparison. He would like someday to go to art school. “I don’t ever regret it,” he says of acting. “But I suppose you just get to a stage where you think, What else? That’s one of the big painful things in life for me, where you can’t quite live all the lives.” As he gets older, he feels the tug toward revisiting old working relationships, including with Waller-Bridge: “We’ve definitely got things cooking,” he smiles. “I’d love to work with her again. She’s just a singular, wonderful person.” For her part, Waller-Bridge says: “I’d love to see him do a fully unhinged slapstick comedy character. Someone who is outraged at everything, all of the time.”

As we round the pavement and the Tate Modern looms back into sight, he recalls a poster he received in 2017—a monstrously large graphic that detailed every week in a human life span. “It’s your entire life if you live to 80—you have to fill in all the bits that you’ve already lived,” he remembers in awe, “a visually terrifying gift.” What did he do with it? “I didn’t hold on to it for too long.” Easy come, easy go: We finally finish our loop around the Thames and, as Scott disappears back into the throng, anonymous just the way he likes it, it occurs to me that the actor has many lives to live yet. ■

#andrew scott #ripley #vanya #all of us strangers #julianne moore #phoebe waller bridge #annie leibovitz #vogue

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iberiancadre · 2 months

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Tribute to the XV International Brigade, 24/02/2024

Thanks to the effort and coordination of the AABI (Association of Friends of the International Brigades), we have managed to locate almost the exact spot on which the British Brigade built a monument to those comrades lost in the Jarama Valley. This monument was later destroyed and erased by the fascist dictatorship, and after a couple of years of research and effort, the monument has been recreated more or less in the original place, with a brand new plaque

People from many nationalities were present, including in no particular order: Serbs, Croats, Montenegrins, English, Scottish, Irish, French and USamericans. The battalions that were present in this sector were the Dimitrov (Yugoslavs, Bulgarians, Greeks, Romanians and Hungarians), British, Lincoln (including the Connolly Column) and February 6th (French) Batallions

The XV Brigade began fighting south of Madrid on the 12th of February 1937, and tried to take a bridge over the Jarama which they didn't know had just been captured by the fascists the night prior. The resulting 5 hour battle, without artillery, air support, light machine guns, and with heavy machine guns without any ammo against the well equipped fascists resulted in 400 dead or wounded out of 600. The hill where this battle took place became known as Suicide Hill

Two days later, following an attack by the fascists that was successfully repelled, the Irish took the initiative, using a tactic they knew from illegal protests in Dublin. They sang the Internationale as a rallying cry for the entire Brigade and managed to push back the tired fascists. After this massive effort, the line froze and did not move until the end of the war. It was also the point where the two lines were the closest, at barely 80m.

This enormous sacrifice and best example of proletarian internationalism was key in keeping the front together and preventing the fascists' encirclement of Madrid and any further advance

Many people were present today, at least 400. 3 Scottish descendants of brigadiers spoke, brigadiers whose name is on the plaque and whose bodies lie scattered in a nearby field. They were working people, mostly active in the labor movement, who left what little they had behind to fight for what they believed, in a land they didn't know. The fascists made widows of many British women, like the wife of Robert Bridges. He also left three children behind, and his granddaughter was able to tell us how her father (Bridges' son) remembered waving him goodbye down the street as he walked towards the station. They got the news of his death a couple of weeks later.

Another is J. McElroy, a syndicalist and the younger of 5 brothers, who participated in the battle of Cable Street against Oswald Mosley's blackshirts who attempted to kill many jews in London's East End. He was injured in February and managed to recover, but a fascist sniper killed him in April

In the case of those who survived, most weren't able to return to their countries, and most ended up either in French concentration camps and later the Nazi concentration camps, or fighting with the French resistance

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wowowwild · 7 days

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Ace's All Time Best Fic Rec List (AATBFRL) April 2024: Ace Attorney

It's been a 6 months since my last list so here we go again! (I specified Ace Attorney in case I start doing this for other fandoms.) I originally planned to have all the old recs here as well but the list was too long so here's a link to the previous list. These aren't necessarily in any particular order, but if you can think of a good way for me to organize them, please let me know for future lists!

P.S. Anything rated over T mentions that immediately for your browsing convenience.

Doing more self promotion this year, so check out my pinned post or fic tag (desktop only)!

London, 2021- 7 yg Wrightworth hint of Krisnix. Phoenix is presently in London with Edgeworth. Phoenix is presently knowing that he knows about Kristoph but doesn't want to acknowledge it bc Kristoph has been really good to him and Trucy. But that doesn't matter right now bc they're going to the theatre.

if you leave the light on- 7yg Wrightworth. Nothing can happen until it's over but something Keeps happening. Miles will wait as long as it takes and Trucy decides he's part of the family.

In The Dead Of Night- During the 7yg Edgeworth invites the Wrights to Europe. Trucy has a nightmare and 'Uncle Miles' comforts her.

Phoenix's List- After getting his badge back, Phoenix has some regrets and sets about fixing what he can.

Perfect- I actually found this on another fic rec list and I can see why it was their favorite. Set towards the end of the trial of Bridge to Turnabout. TW if you have memory issues, it might be a little hard to get through parts bc of all the mindfuckery. I have to be really vague here so as not to spoil it. (Wrightworth)

Eo Nomine- Klapollo fake marriage turned real marriage but ig that's what happen when you get fake married while being real in love.

the best you'll never have- Rated M for sex reasons. I love the tagline: "Someone else's wedding is something that can actually be so personal". It's a Blackmadhi complicated relationship, what relationship, they weren't actually dating but also...

Apollo and the Artist (1975 - Oil paint, wax crayon, pencil, collage)- Rated M for mentioned sex reasons. Apollo is not an art person. But to Klavier he is art... and also a person. They've known each other for 8 years and it's probably been coming for just as long. It was a long time coming.

darling i'd wait for you (even if you didn't ask me to)- Wrightworth fake date bc Edgeworth needs a plus one to a wedding for some guy, it's not really important. But the cake sucks.

A Knight in a Loud Red Suit- oh my god oh my god oh my god Klavier gets shot and Apollo stabs a guy. And also love confessions at the hospital. They could have me also if they wanted.

Written- Rated E for sex reasons. Edgeworth moonlights as a Steel Samurai fic writer, and due to it being an obvious coping mechanism for his life and feeling Maya finds out... and accidentally sends a fic to Phoenix who... finds out. Half of the smut is Edgeworth's own fanfic, so we get like... fanfic-ception. That doesn't really work with more than one syllable words, huh...

Lover Be Good to Me- Rated M for implied sex reasons. 5+1 klapollo wooing each other.

Love Love Love- Rated M for implied sex reasons. klapollo is messy in a good way and takes wayyyy too long to call themselves boyfriends. Set from middle of aa4 to past aa6.

delicate- Rated M for sex reasons. klapollo is messy in a bad way (long distance is hard) and they break up but it works out, I prommy. If you don't like angst you'll want to skip this one, though.

(i was) enchanted to meet you- klavquill! I love them, I need to read more fics with them. They meet at the Prosecutor gala for the first time and sparks fly. Actually, they were fireworks, but that's not important.

Process of Elimination- Rated M for sex reasons. One day I will read a fic where Blackmadhi is not complicated as hell. Can they ever talk about their feelings? Apparently I like this, though, bc I keep reading and recc'ing them. Um, Nahyuta is looking for a fuck buddy and by 'process of elimination' ends up deciding on Blackquill but whoops! Feelings.

feel your skin- Rated M for one boner. Klavier is infuriating AND wearing lipgloss and Apollo can't take it. Cue making out in the janitor's closet.

moribund- I keep thinking about this one so I need everyone else to read and think about it with me. Pre Gant busting, POV Lana has to help clean up his messes. This a comedy, mostly of errors.

chronophobia- StarrSkye (AngelxLana) Be forewarned, you are going to cry. Lana has done her time and is trying to find a way to reconnect with the most important people from her past.

Crash! Landing- Junithena, fantastic traumatized autistic representation, if I do say so myself as a traumatized autistic person. It is very sweet and Juniper is a real one. I need me one of those.

In Pursuit of Justice- This one is not yet complete, but I preemptively j'adore'd it. It's a klapollo. Sebastian is great. He says Apollo looks like a frog (accurate).

Witcheln Woes- Secret Santa klapollo and they are cute and Clay is alive and it is sooooo fluffy.

Samurai Swear- Maya making besties with Edgeworth! Maya and Phoenix being besties also! Dash of mutual pining wrigthworth.

Missing You/Missing Time- Ok, hear me out, yes, the mystical bullshit tag is accurate, and de-aging is a weird concept, but !!! It actually serves this story very well! It is a fanfic that feels like a fanfic, but sometimes you want that, you know? Not every fanfic needs to feel like Little Women. Established klapollo first I love yous.

#aatbfrl #ace attorney #klapollo #wrightworth #narumitsu #blackmadhi #junithena #starrskye #klavquill #ace attoney #krisnix #i'm not listing individual characters but there are other things in here besides ship fics

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consultjohnwatson · 1 year

Text

The London Bridge Case - Part III

See here for Part I and II.

Let me start by saying that, yes, I know, it was a long wait. And I am sorry you had to wait this long to learn more about what happened a few months back. But, you know, a certain someone asked me - no - ordered me not to write anything related to the London Bridge case until we knew who was behind the attacks.

Now, maybe I am spoiling the ending here, but we still do not know who abducted me and tried to drown Sherlock, while they were busy blowing up strategic points in central London. I write “strategic points" because, besides Sherlock, there’s someone else threatening me not to reveal anything about this case for the details will probably have a disastrous effect on the already crumbling government.

But then you might wonder why I decide to ignore the demands of these two pricks now. I will tell you, my dear followers. It is because I am currently not at 221b, and my furious mind is ready to create havoc unless I give it something else to do. So, sit tight, and enjoy this short ride.

Do you remember that I was trying to escape the London Sewers? Well, if you don’t, you can catch up right here.

After that blow to the head, I blacked out. When I regained consciousness, it was to the smell of burning wood and the insistent sound of a building collapsing, bit by bit. I tried to move my arms and legs but was met with a painful resistance. My disoriented mind took its time to register that not only the room was on fire, but that I was, very inconveniently, tied to a chair in said room. My voice also took a few tries until it finally made enough sound to cry out for help. I was sure no one would hear me and hoped fervently that I would suffocate first before the fire would get to me.

And that’s when I saw it: a pocket knife layn out very strategically in front of me, just out of reach, its blistering blade mocking me.

I snarled at the unmoving object, and threw myself to the ground, groaning when my good shoulder made an impact on the floor. I tried to move towards the blade, and I was very sure I wouldn’t succeed in time. My mind and body were so set on getting to the blade that I hadn't heard anyone else entering the room behind me. It was only when I saw an unfamiliar gloved hand grab the knife in front of my eyes that I realised someone was there with me. The stranger was quick and stealthy, and I tried to look behind me and demand them to reveal themselves, but to no avail. I felt the cold leather touch my arms, wrists, and ankles, feeling my limbs being slowly freed from their confinement by gentle and sure hands. I didn't have time to protest, even if I wanted to, because I was immediately dragged away from the heat, towards the staircase. The smell of smoke was burning its way through my lungs, and with each step we descended, it hold on to the smoke-free air gratefully.

A coughing fit made me buckle to the ground when we were finally outside. After the sound of firemen entering the building broke through the ringing in my ears, I realised that my saviour had fled the scene.

In the ambulance, my hands found their way into the pockets of my jacket, and the fingers of my left hand closed around an unfamiliar object. The sight of the object in my hand made my stomach drop and a bile form in my throat.

There, in the palm of my hand, was a silver USB stick of which I'd hoped I'd never have to see again.

Several questions are still unanswered and they still puzzle our great detective tremendously. Not that he will ever admit it, of course, but I know this because I have often found him pacing the living room in the middle of the night, unaware of late-night trespassers (me).

I later learned from Lestrade that they’d found Sherlock in one of the secret chambers beneath the bridge. Just in time, I have to add. Sherlock claims he thought I would be there. An almost fatal error on his part because I was almost being blown to bits on the other side of town. I tried asking him if he saw the person who locked him in, but I think he is afraid to admit that what he saw frightened him. Or he simply doesn’t know who was so set on killing us.

We haven’t received any children's rhymes anymore. It has been awfully quiet the last few months. I almost dare to think that this will be one of the cases that will forever remain a mystery, but something in the pit of my stomach says that it is somewhat more personal. Why would we otherwise be the targets of the attack? We are now being surveilled, constantly. I accepted Mycroft’s interference and intrusion because I want to keep my daughter safe.

I hope, dear readers, that things will turn back to normal as soon as possible. The situation with Sherlock has taken its toll, and I am still in the middle of finding out what we will do. So, please be more patient with me than you’ve ever been.

And stay tuned.

#the london bridge case #part 3 #reblog is appreciated #case blog #john watson #dr watson #dr john watson #sherlock #holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock rp #sherlock roleplay #bbc sherlock #sherlocked #221b #221b bakerstreet

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atamh · 2 years

Note

Ring Around the Rosie

Ring around the rosie

A pocketful of posies

Ashes, ashes

We all fall down!

This is getting a bit annoying. We’ve searched underneath the bridge, in the water and now we’re circle above the Thames… No sign of @consultjohnwatson.

@di-greglestrade

#the london bridge case #mycroft holmes #mycroft #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #lestrade

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arebirthingofsorts · 9 months

Text

the entirety of buzzfeed unsolved but the stories are in chronological order: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLGGIwil6tMX95BMdYvMY8Co5Y2J8yxpe-

supernatural was very hard to do so under the cut i've added my reasons for some difficult episodes to list! if anyone has qualms with it or if you notice any mistakes in the playlist please let me know!

the london tombs, la llorona, and the voodoo episodes were difficult due to no real timeframe being known for when they began so i based the london tombs off of ryan saying the bridge has been around since ancient rome which is why it's one of the first videos in the playlist. la llorona required me to do my own research which led me to believe the story came about in the 1500s? possibly predating that but the first written versions were apparently from the 1500s. for the voodoo new orleans episode i did some research and based it on when it could have been brought to the area.

for bigfoot, mothman, and the men in black, i listed those based on the first encounters/evidence presented

many of the locations, i listed based on when they closed their operations or the owners passed before becoming noted haunted locations. (winchester house, sorrel-weed, villa montezuma, whaley house, old city jail, pythian castle, vulture mine, waverly hills, bellaire house, eastern state, rolling hills)

other haunted ones are currently still operating so i listed those based on when they first opened or got into the hands of the current owners (viaduct tavern, st. augustine, tombstone, goatman's bridge, the viper room, bobby mackey's, moon river)

dauphine orleans hotel was listed as the date ryan said a license to may bailey was given for the bordello. im very unsure about this one so if anyone has suggestions on how to list this one, please reach out EDIT: decided on 1775 because ryan mentioned that year as the site the hotel is on and i felt more sure about it that choice

farnsworth was listed as the year of the battle of gettysburg due to the house being named after a soldier who died in that battle + notable events happening and around the house

the bermuda triangle was tricky so i listed that as the date the term "bermuda triangle" was first coined EDIT: it's been moved to close to the top of the playlist due to the first alleged reporting of weird bermuda shit being by christopher columbus in 1492. this made more sense to me

colchester and morris-jumel are museums now so those were dated as when they were officially museums

the uss yorktown and the queen mary are listed as when they docked for good.

the alien abductions episode is in the 70s area of the playlist because 2/3 of the stories happened in the 70s.

the date the island of the dolls began is where i based "3 horrifying cases of ghosts and demons" since there are separate episodes for the winchester mansion and the sallie house

i based all the haunted locations on those things because i figured that the ghosties would appear after the notable deaths and wild events instead of listing all of them as when they first opened.

i hope all of this makes sense. enjoy.

#buzzfeed unsolved #bfu #buzzfeed unsolved supernatural #buzzfeed unsolved true crime #bfu supernatural #bfu true crime #ryan bergara #shane madej

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babygirlbenji · 8 months

Text

I Still Love You - Mason Mount

A/N: This is a long-awaited part 2 to Last Train To London which you can read here! I worked really hard on it and I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy!

Warnings: mild angst, mild swearing, fluff

WC: 2.8k

When your train pulled into London King’s Cross, Ben was there, as promised, to pick you up with a McDonald’s meal. He took you under his wing, and let you stay at his place for the night.

‘Make yourself comfortable, sweets, and please know you can stay here as long as you need.’ You knew you had an offer from Sophia and Kai to crash at their place until you got back on your feet, but you didn’t want to intrude on their space.

‘I might take you up on that offer, Ben, thank you.’ He showed you around his place, making sure you knew where everything was in case you couldn’t sleep, let you have free rein of the fridge, freezer and cupboards, and even let Oscar the dog stay in your room, which Oscar was more than happy to oblige.

‘I think that’s everything. If you need me, text me, okay? I’m right here.’ You shuffled over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso to give him a hug you’d needed for weeks at that point. He rubbed your back affectionately. He was like a big brother to you, and you were more grateful than you could ever put into words for his support.

You had expected that night to have been sleepless and anxious, but you were simply too exhausted, both mentally and physically, that by the time you changed into your pyjamas, brushed your teeth and climbed into bed, your eyes were drooping already. Oscar jumped onto the bed and turned around a couple of times, making a nice little den in the blanket for him to snuggle up next to you in. You reached out to fiddle with his curly fur. The dog was like a weighted blanket, reassuring you that you were safe and you were okay. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

As the days, weeks and months rolled by, you could feel yourself slowly healing. Ben, Reece and the rest of the Chelsea boys, along with Kai and Jorgi over at Arsenal (they were still very much part of the inner circle), stood stoically beside you every step of the way. You had initially distanced yourself from Stamford Bridge for the first couple of months, the memories you had made there with Mason all too painful, but you gradually made your way back into the hallowed halls of the iconic stadium. You attended matches whenever you could, and started to wear CHILWELL 21 shirts to matches.

This had not gone unnoticed by fans. They had quickly cottoned on to the fact that you had gone back to London and Mason was still in Manchester. The gossip websites were in full swing, linking you and Ben together and writing spiteful articles about how you were a gold-digger, how you hopped from one football player to another, how it was your fault that your relationship had ended… You never minded, though. You continued on your healing journey and went about your daily business. You had secured a well-paying job back in London as an events planner in Soho, and had managed to find a nice little studio flat not too far from your office. Ben had insisted he buy you a new car, as you had sold your car up in Manchester to help bring some money in to pay for the flat deposit. Your life was most definitely on the up, and it would take a gigantic storm to blow you off course.

That gigantic storm came about a year after you moved back to London. You had your routine, you were solid in your job and you met up with Ben and the boys regularly.

One such outing in Knightsbridge, Ben pulled you aside to have a chat.

‘What’s up, Benji?’ The nickname you had for him was one only you could use. He hated being called Benji by everyone, but you were basically his little sister. In his eyes, you could get away with murder.

‘Well, um…’ His face told you he had information he would rather not give you, but felt it was his moral obligation to do so anyway.

‘Come on, Ben, out with it!’

‘Declan’s invited me and Mason to his birthday party, and he’s invited you, too.’ His words sent a chill down your spine. You hadn’t spoken to or about Mason in months, although that hadn’t stopped you from thinking about him every day. Thinking about what could have been, thinking about the ‘what ifs’, thinking about what you could have done to make him stay in love with you. You were brought back to earth by Ben putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. ‘You don’t have to decide just yet, but the offer is there if you did want to go. It would be great to have you there.’ He gave you a quick hug, before he went back to join the rest of the group to have drinks, leaving you with your thoughts and a large decision to make. While you would love to celebrate Declan with your friends, you hadn’t seen or heard from Mason in a year. The awkwardness was what worried you the most, along with the possibility of all the emotions coming back if you did end up running into him. Because deep down, in your heart, you knew that you still loved him. He was the absolute love of your life, and you couldn’t help but feel that he was your one that got away. You realised then just how much you missed him.

The night had swiftly come to an end for you, so you messaged Ben to let him know that you were on your way home and that you’d see him soon.

Benjamin: No worries J text me when you get home, and let me know if you’re coming to Dec’s birthday bash. We’d love to have you but I know you’ll have to decide. LOVE YA X

It was safe to say you didn’t get much sleep that night. You were awake for hours, tossing and turning, thinking about what Ben had said. It would be great to go and show up for Declan. He’d been there for you through everything, even with Lauren giving birth to little Jude. They had both made space for you in their busy lives with a new-born, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. Before you could stop yourself, you sent a message to Ben:

To: Benjamin: Been thinking about it all night. Sorry for the late message, I figured I needed to say it before I think about it more lol. I’ll be at Dec’s party x

You rolled over onto your side. There was no turning back now.

The day of the party arrived. Your room was a mess, dresses and shoes strewn across the floor. You wanted to find the perfect outfit for a party, which would show that you cared to make an effort but not too much effort, on the off chance you would see Mason.

Your eyes fell upon a navy blue bodycon dress that you had worn a couple of times before. It came down to your mid-thigh and had a neckline that did your bust some considerable favours. Finally feeling more positive about what you were wearing, having started to feel like you were going to have a breakdown about not being able to find anything appropriate to wear, you shoved on a pair of simple black heels and touched up your makeup. There was a knock at your door. Checking your phone, the time was 7:30; Ben was picking you up and he had arrived bang on time.

‘Coming!’ Your voice carried into the hall as you opened the door to find Ben, who was wearing a smart navy-blue button down with black slacks. Your mind briefly registered the fact that the colour of his shirt was basically a direct match to your dress.

‘Hey, you,’ he smiled, leaning in to give you a hug. Your senses were temporarily hazy by his cologne, which you painfully recalled as one that Mason had recommended to him as you had liked it on Mason. On Ben, though, it didn’t have the same knee-weakening effect as it had done for you when Mason wore it. ‘You good?’ He had obviously taken your quietness as nervousness.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m good. You?’ He nodded. You could tell he was searching your face for any signs of discomfort, of not wanting to go, of being terrified of seeing Mason.

‘All good. Mostly just worried about you.’ You shrugged.

‘I’ll be fine. Got my wingman, I’ll be okay.’ You shared a laugh as you walked downstairs to where he had a car waiting. He held the door open for you, letting you slide in with him following you.

You and Ben spent the journey talking about your days and what you’d got up to, how your job was going, what antics he and the boys got up to at training and other small talk. He didn’t want to say anything, as he could tell you were nervous enough as it was, but he knew you well enough to know that you missed Mason almost as much as Mason missed you. You were quiet, reserved, not your usual bubbly self. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t been your usual bubbly self since the breakup. Ben knew you loved Mason, but he never thought the breakup would impact you as much as it did.

Before long, the car pulled up at Declan’s house. The nerves in the pit of your stomach started doing backflips as you went up to the front door. Loud bass was audible through the walls, and you could tell there was a large crowd already, even though it was early by most people’s standards. You just wanted to stay for a couple of hours at the most before quietly leaving, all ideally without seeing Mason.

That plan quickly went out the window when Declan opened the door, arm in arm with Mason.

‘Hey guys! Oh…’ Declan’s wide grin disappeared the minute he saw it was you and Ben, clearly thinking you were someone else. The awkwardness was palpable. ‘Hey Y/N, Ben, glad you guys could make it!’ Dec brought you in for a hug, whispering an ‘I’m so sorry’ in your ear as he did so.

‘Don’t worry,’ you replied in an equally quiet voice, hoping he could hear you over the music. The squeeze he gave you told you he had heard you.

You avoided Mason’s eyes completely as Ben and Declan caught up, Ben asking about life at Arsenal and how Declan was finding his new club.

‘I’m gonna get a drink, did you want anything?’ You asked Ben at a break in the conversation. Mason’s eyes raked over you as you got close to Ben, one of your hands absent-mindedly on his arm. Jealousy raged in his stomach.

‘Just a beer, please, gorgeous,’ Ben replied. His usual pet-name for you was innocuous for the both of you, but took on a whole new meaning in Mason’s head. Why was he calling you gorgeous? Why were you touching him? Were the tabloids correct? Had you gone for his former teammate in the wake of the breakup? Mason’s head was reeling.

You handed Ben his drink and wandered off to mingle with some of the Arsenal WAGS, introducing yourself to Martin Ødegaard’s new girlfriend and giving Milly, Ben White’s new wife, a big hug to congratulate her, as you hadn’t been able to attend the wedding.

Neither Declan or Ben missed the fact that Mason’s eyes rarely left your form for more than a few seconds as he watched you chat and catch up with some old friends.

‘How are you, Mase, United treating you well?’ Ben asked conversationally.

‘Yeah, ‘s alright.’ Eyebrows were raised at Mason’s curt tone. Ben and Declan exchanged confused glances, before leaving Mason to his thoughts and continuing into the party to see some of the other guys who had made an appearance. Mason was left with his thoughts as he stood and pondered his next move.

As he was doing so, he saw you excuse yourself from the small throng of people to head to the kitchen to scope out the buffet. He seized his opportunity and followed you into the kitchen.

What he couldn’t have known was that instead of grabbing something to eat, you were having to physically stop yourself from having a full-blown panic attack. Gripping the counter with your hands and keeping your head bowed, you focused on keeping your breathing deep.

You had no idea how many minutes had passed, but an all-to-familiar voice brought you back to earth with an almighty bump.

‘Y/N? You okay?’ You turned, and before you knew it, you were face-to-face with the person you never thought you’d see again. ‘Y/N?’ he asked again.

‘Y-yeah, I’m okay.’ You had suffered with anxiety and panic attacks throughout your relationship, and Mason had always known how to help you.

‘You sure?’ A deep, shaky breath rattled through your body. You both knew the after-effects of the panic attack were the worst part of it all. You would feel exhausted, ashamed, guilty… But he had always been there to help you through it all. He would offer you cuddles, a listening ear, a movie, whatever you needed.

Things were so different now, though. There was a rift the size of the Atlantic Ocean between you, and you didn’t know how to get across it.

‘Let’s get you somewhere quiet, come on.’ He hesitated, before holding out his hand for you to hold. ‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’ But you realised you wanted to. You needed him, you needed his touch, his hold. You reached out and grabbed his hand, immediately feeling like you had been connected with the earth again.

He led you upstairs to one of the far guest rooms, opened the door and followed you in. You took a seat on the bed, fiddling with your hands in your lap. He sat on the floor in front of you, eyeing you carefully.

‘You sure you’re okay?’ You sighed. A big, deep sigh. Now that you had him in front of you, the questions you’d held in for a year were threatening to spill over.

‘Can I ask you something?’ The look on his face suggested that he knew what you were going to ask, but he nodded, all the same. ‘Why did you stop putting effort into our relationship? You always said that I was the love of your life, that I was it for you… what happened? What happened to us?’ He sighed, similar to how you had sighed earlier.

‘Honestly, Y/N, I don’t have a good reason. I wish I did, believe me, but I don’t. The media scrutiny, the fans giving me shit on social media, the move, everything to do with it, it all just got to me. I pushed you away without even realising and for that, I will never be able to apologise enough.’ You pondered his answer, and then debated asking a question you had longed to know the answer to since the day you left but were too scared to know the answer to.

Before you could ask it, though, Mason spoke up. ‘Are you seeing Ben?’ The gravity of his question made you pause.

‘What?’

‘Are you and Ben, you know, a thing?’ You shook your head.

‘No. He’s like a brother to me, Mase, you know that. All the boys are. When I met you, you gave me a whole new family I could only have dreamed of.’ Your eyes met again. His eyes hadn’t changed a bit. They were still the deep chocolate brown you’d found home in for all those years.

You climbed down from the bed and sat with your back to the bed. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to figure out how to ask the question you were starting to crave the answer to. You felt like the answer to it was yes, but you needed to be sure. Finally, you decided to just go for it.

‘Do you… do you still love me?’ The look on his face said it all. He was looking at you like he had never seen you before, as if you were the only woman in the entire world. And to him, you were. You were everything to him and he would be forever kicking himself for ever making you feel like you weren't. He scooted forward to crouch in front of you before gently holding your face with both hands.

‘Y/N Y/LN, of course I still love you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days loving and cherishing you the way you deserve. The way I should have shown you from day one.’ Your eyes brimmed with tears as you looked at the man who had your heart.

‘Of course, I’ll have you.’ You sat up and collapsed into his arms, finally feeling that you were home once again.

#mason mount #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount smut #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #mason mount oneshot #manchester united #chelsea fc #mason mount blurb #football imagines #footballer imagines

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sitp-recs · 2 months

Note

Hi Liv,

Do you have any recs where Draco is Harry’s gay awakening?

Thank you 🙏 You’re the absolute best.

Thank you, anon 💜 I got a few recs for you, these also include bi awakening. Btw Writcraft and ignatiustrout are great authors that often explore this theme in their works so I highly recommend checking their ao3. Enjoy!

Bridges by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 16k)

Harry and Draco are on a trip to Budapest to help with Kingsley's re-election, but that's the boring bit. More interesting: Harry Potter is changing his Tinder preferences to include men.

Poor Unfortunate Souls by @doubleappled (E, 19k)

Draco is a potioneer. Harry is trying to save his sex-challenged marriage. Everything is a mess, but at least there's an octopus in the lobby.

Harry Potter and The Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft (E, 23k)

Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

The Venice Job by nishizono (E, 25k)

Harry Potter was one of the youngest Aurors in history. He was the Boy Who Lived, and the Boy Who Lived Again. He loved Guinness and Quidditch, and hated pineapple. He wrote letters to Hagrid every Thursday, and on Sundays, he visited Hermione and Ron. Harry Potter was also not gay.

Buds, Blooms, and Beards by @corvuscrowned (E, 27k)

Harry and Ginny have built an easy, happy life for themselves after the war. They run a thriving plant shop together, they have a great relationship, and they're definitely not gay.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (M, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

War Wounds by SilentAuror (E, 30k)

Some wounds take longer to recover from than others. HP/DM, with background HP/GW. Themes of alcoholism, love triangles, and dubious fidelity.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft (E, 63k)

Harry has terrific friends, an amazing girlfriend and his job as Head Auror enables him to work on challenging cases and Ministry reform. He just wishes he could work out why he’s been so out of sorts.

Reparo by amalin (E, 85k)

Voldemort's final defeat does not mean Harry Potter's troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Level Two: Series One by Ashii Black (ashiiblack), blamebrampton, Catsintheattic, dustmouth, epithalamium, incandescent (lmeden), josephinestone (orphan_account), leveltwo, nerakrose, raitala, Romaine, Vaysh, Writcraft (E, 113k)

Witches and wizards are disappearing in a seemingly random fashion. Coincidence? Abductions? But no one is claiming ransom. The Aurors are not even sure the disappearances are connected, then one of the missing turns up dead. Meanwhile, Auror Harry Potter is thrown into the infamous Sirius Black Muggle murder case from 25 years ago.

Star Quality by who_la_hoop (E, 118k)

Two years after the war, and Harry’s content with his life. OK, so it’s a little annoying that he keeps winning Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor award, and he’s really not looking forward to the unveiling of an enormous gold statue of himself, but he loves his friends, and he loves being an Auror. And if he yearns for something more, something he can barely bring himself to think about, well, he’ll probably get over it. No one’s happy all the time, are they?

Things Worth Knowing by Femme and noeon (E, 164k)

After the Battle, Harry thinks he's left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco's just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He's hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #bisexual awakening

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writeforfandoms · 11 months

Text

Waking Lions 3

Find the series masterlist

We see more of Ace doing her job (and she is very much morally gray), see Captain again, and start down the slow path of curiosity towards yearning. I did mention this is a slow burn, didn't I?

Warning: Swearing, mentioned violence, events of MW2019, tension. Morally gray characters.

Word count: 1.9k

You were in Greenland when you got the call.

“What intel do you have on Al-Qatala?” Laswell sounded cool, in control. As always.

“None,” was your immediate response. “I may have contacts in low places, but I’m not suicidal.”

“You always know something,” Laswell said, faintly impatient. “What about their connection to the Russians?”

“Bad news,” you grumbled. “That’s my intel. They’re all bad news and they don’t care if they blow up the world. Pretty sure some of them live in hope of that day.”

“I need anything you’ve got.”

“This is not my department.” You glanced around, ensuring your privacy. “This is, in fact, so far outside my department that it should be your people’s job. I don’t get in bed with that kind of asshole, Kate.”

“I need whatever you can find on them,” she said, temper audibly fraying. “Anything and everything. As soon as you can get it to me.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I won’t get the kind of intel you want,” you growled. “I don’t have those kinds of contacts.”

“Then get me whatever intel you can,” she snapped back.

“Kate,” you finally snapped, curling your fingers into a fist. “Why the fuck are you asking this of me?”

She was silent. Five seconds passed. Ten. You almost thought she wasn’t going to answer, but– “I can’t tell you everything, but… Keep an eye on the news. When it happens, you’ll know.” She hung up.

You thought, briefly, about calling her back just to yell at her. Or remind her that you were an independent intelligence agent, not one of her lackeys.

But you shoved the urge back down and breathed deep. A few times.

Then you started working, using your phone to type out a few emails. This was going to burn more than one bridge, you could already tell.

Laswell was going to owe you for this one.

There were a lot of things you could get information on with varying degrees of ease. It was all about knowing who to ask. And you had built up quite the network of connections over the years, all over the world. It was how you kept in business, how you were able to swan around the world as you pleased.

Most of these contacts were straightforward. Money for intel. You’d weeded out the ones who were unreliable or lied to you. This was also the one time you bent your own rules about names. Because you took care of your trusted contacts, in your own way. Unreliable people got blacklisted.

And if sometimes that ended in bloodshed, well, that wasn’t your problem.

But even with your resources and your contacts, asking questions about Al-Qatala was dangerous. It took time. You had to be very careful who you asked and how you asked. You absolutely did not want your name floating around, or any of your aliases, not for this.

When you finally had a chance to sit down and turn on the news, you understood why Laswell had called you.

They’d bombed civilians. In London.

You breathed deeply for a few minutes, watching the shaky news footage and the interviews. Then you changed channels to another news station, watching their footage.

You’d seen a lot of shit in the world. Much of it you were hardened to, jaded after all this time.

But this… Well. This hurt. This wove into your chest, tracing the singular path to the soft of your heart.

I’ll have everything I can manage for you in 36 hours. Send me a drop off location. The text was perhaps brusque but Laswell wouldn’t mind. She might not be happy about the timeframe, since these things tended to be pretty time sensitive, but if she was asking you for information… She knew what she was getting into.

And then you flipped through your little black book, just in case there was anyone you hadn’t thought of to reach out to. If nothing else, it kept you busy for a little while.

You didn’t leave your hotel room at all for the next 24 hours, busy compiling all the information you were getting back. You stopped long enough to book a flight to London, using a smaller company.

With two hours to go until the drop point, you pulled out your laptop again and finished compiling all the information, including the last bits that had come in while you were on the flight.

Thirty minutes to go, cutting it close. You were ready to move, waiting on a final location, USB tucked safely in your pocket and your hands stuffed in your pockets as well to hide your fidgeting. This had left you keyed up, extra paranoid.

Finally, though, Laswell texted you. Pub called Lion’s Head. You’ll recognize him.

It took moments to find out where the Lion’s Head was, and you strode off with purpose.

The pub was not busy this time of day (and you had to glance at your phone to see what time it actually was), so it was not hard to spot him sitting at a shadowed table. He looked just the same as last time.

His gaze met yours across the room, holding you in place for two beats, not even breathing. His eyes couldn’t hide the rage, although you doubted it was aimed at you. Given the info you’d been accumulating, you were fairly certain you knew exactly who it was aimed at.

You squeezed your hands into fists and strode over the table, shoulders set. No teasing this time. Not with this.

“Captain.” You dipped your head in a small nod of respect to him, holding out the USB. He took it, much larger fingers brushing against yours, a tiny spot of warmth in the shadowy room.

“No weather comments this time?” But his voice was muted, fingers quick to tuck the USB away.

Your jaw clenched. “Not this time. Won’t even quote movies at you.” You shrugged, leaning back. “Password is imperial, all lower case.”

He nodded acknowledgement and stood. It was his turn to leave a cash tip on the table. But you didn’t move out of his way just yet, holding his gaze.

“I hope that helps you.” You kept your voice quiet, more sincere than you usually allowed yourself.

He blinked, surprised, before he nodded more slowly. “You planning to stay in town?” he asked, holding your gaze.

You shrugged. “Hadn’t decided yet,” you admitted. And that was enough honesty. You mustered a bit of your usual flirtation, smiling. “Why, want to see me again so soon?”

He snorted softly. “Might want to be elsewhere for the next few days,” was all he said, low and dry, before he stepped around you. He left you standing there, walking out of the pub and vanishing.

With a wry smile at the swapped roles, you left after him. Normally you were the one leaving people behind. It was an interesting feeling to be the one being left.

In all honesty, you were curious about Captain. More than you should be. He couldn’t be intimidated or flirted with, refused to be cowed, and had openly challenged you. He also had no designs on you, acting solely as a go-between.

And that was rare. Very rare.

But you had your rules to consider, too. No names, for starters. He only knew the codename Laswell had given you, and you didn’t know his name. It was, honestly, safer that way.

But still.

Shaking yourself, you pulled out your phone with a little huff. He’d recommended getting out of London, so you would. You didn’t feel like disregarding that kind of advice.

Maybe it was time to go back to the US for a while. You generally avoided it, but you knew of several delightful hotels on the California coast.

It didn’t take long to get the flight booked, and then you had to go back to the airport. You didn’t have much with you this time, since you’d left Greenland in a hurry, but that was fine. You had a stash in California that you could raid.

And, really, you could do some work in the US. Visit some old contacts. Maybe see about finding a few new ones.

Maybe drop in on Laswell and have a very polite conversation.

You had just boarded the plane when your phone vibrated with a text. You settled in your seat and then pulled it out, humming under your breath.

Thank you for your help. Standard payment?

You hummed, leaning back in your seat. You could accept payment for this as usual… Or you could keep this in your pocket.

Keep it. You’ll owe me one. Your lips curled in a satisfied smile as you turned your phone off in preparation for the flight.

California this time of year was sunny. (Well, many parts of California were sunny all year long, actually.) You booked a hotel on the coast and spent three days lounging on the beach and keeping a very close eye on the news. Some of it didn’t surprise you. Some of it did.

Some things you learned from your contacts, because the news outlets didn’t go near some of those messes. You heard through the grapevine about the usurping in Urzikstan, a near-massacre of the Russian forces there.

Honestly, you kind of expected a call from Sergio about that one.

Not that he was military, but he had fingers in a few pies.

But you never heard from him.

The attack on the embassy ended up on every news channel, not that you were much surprised. It was pretty much a clusterfuck, and one you were happy to stay out of.

Big events like this tended to draw a lot of attention, and you figured there were two ways this could shake out: either you’d get a lot of requests trying to take advantage of the chaos, or you’d have radio silence. Either way was alright with you, honestly, just so long as nobody wanted anything to do with Al-Qatala or the Russians.

This one turned out to be quiet, wary of the chaos and the threat of chemical weapons. Not that you could blame them.

You’d seen what gas attacks could do.

One more week on the quiet coast left you feeling refreshed and ready to go again. You checked in with all of your people - two had fallen off. You weren’t sure if that meant they were dead or hiding. Either way, you’d go poking later.

You had other things to do, for now.

Downtime like this was good for checking finances, so you did. Downtime like this was also good at bringing up things you’d rather not think about, so you threw yourself in the ocean, and promptly regretted all your choices. (The Pacific ocean was too fucking cold for swimming, anyone who willingly ventured in there was a masochist as far as you were concerned.)

And then it was back to work, this time with new intel coming in from an arms dealer you knew. So you booked a flight.

Almost idly, you wondered how much Captain had been involved in all that trouble. If you did enough digging, you could probably find out. Find a name. A picture.

But you wouldn’t. Because that was against your rules.

#waking lions #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

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