#other london bridge

[mxmasters]

Other London Bridge

steakshift: hey steakshift: hey whistl steakshift: you online whistl_stahp: more and more these days, unfortunately. whistl_stahp: what's up? steakshift: check this out steakshift shared "NTE-2858-CYAN-BLAECCA.PDF" steakshift: boom whistl_stahp: wh whistl_stahp: WHY DO YOU HAVE A GOC FILE?! steakshift: I'm a librarian. whistl_stahp: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN steakshift: it means the tankfuckers leak a lot lol steakshift: anyway this one's a fun read steakshift: if you ever wondered what we get up to in london whistl_stahp: Ontario? steakshift: no the other london whistl_stahp: you've been to England? steakshift: no no I mean the OTHER london. steakshift: in SPACE. whistl_stahp: ... whistl_stahp: I admit I did not see that coming.

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

“If you believe that then I have a bridge to sell you” is one of my favorite expressions specifically because every time I hear it I think of the one well known case of a guy actually buying a bridge

In 1968 Robert McCulloch bought the London Bridge from the City of London for 2.46 million dollars. He then had all the exterior bricks sent all the way across the ocean and across most of the US to Lake Havasu, Arizona, where it was reconstructed around a steel and concrete frame, which cost an additional 7 million dollars.

[thederangedsolicitor]

🎖️👑🃏🔥🐍🪞 and 🎩, go

I am getting barraged! Still, thank you for sending in~

🎖️ — Proudest non-Ambition accomplishment?

The first thing that jumps to mind is the Flower from Hell - they're very fascinated by devils, just as the Fingerkings of old were, and thus have been working towards uniting the Little Kings and the Wandering Roses once more; being accepted as one of Hell's own is a very important/exciting achievement for Amets, and having roses blooming from their skin is exactly up their alley on the metamorphosis front.

(You'd think having turned a version of themselves into a city would be higher up, but the enormity of that is overshadowed by the complicated feelings they have about their shadow-self and the whole situation.)

👑 — Opinions on the Queen? What about other royalty?

They don't particularly care about the Queen, but they are quite invested in her children - they cultivate a positive relationship with the Captivating Princess (with whose hedonistic loneliness they sympathize) and the Recalcitrant Sculptress (whose eccentric taste they admire), and they serve as a personal tutor for the Generous Princess, gathering scraps of humanity and virtue for the young lady to learn and grow from.

🃏 — What would be/will be their name and domain as a Master?

Mr Masks, who deals in costumes, uniforms, shapes and identities. Probably eats up a lot of Mr Veils' textile trade, start producing subtly transformative garbs - a depersonalized mode of the Shapeling Arts.

They already have a strong focus on offering transformation as the Pontifex of Metamorphoses, so it's really just a question of distilling that into buyable Wares.

🔥 — Least favourite Master of the Bazaar?

Mr Stones, or Mr Mirrors, maybe? Frankly, all of the Masters blend together to them (the accumulation of wealth is such a prosaic goal), but they had a few bad encounters with those two.

For the record, Mr Veils is their favourite, because they also appreciate violence and beautiful clothing, even though Mr Spices is the one they're ostensibly closest to.

🐍 — Snakes or cats?

Snakes, obviously.

In recent news, Amets would be very excited for what the Seventh Coil is offering - tigers are not at the center of the Moulting Eidolon's attention, but they too are working on freeing their kind of old enmities, and closing the distance between the Is and Is-Not is something they've dreamt of for a long time. (They don't particularly care about the hypocrisy of the stars, but the end goal is very favourable to them.)

🪞 — Do they enjoy being in Parabola? Why or why not?

They do! Once, the thing that would become them chose to make its home here, and they do not regret the choice.

Still, they get bored so very easily, and one's home always seems the least interesting place in the world while you're there - and that is why they endeavour to belong everywhere, become anything, so that all of existence - from the depths of Hell to the lights of the Surface - can be a step away from their doorstep.

🎩 — What would an Exceptional Story featuring this character be about?

Most likely a story about the ES Perspective NPC Companion, having sought out a pact with them & now hesitating at the final juncture, and the first half focuses on learning about their life up to this point (and how a normal bohemian type goes about seeking out a spirit of change), and the second half happening in Amets' own demesne in Parabola, letting the Eidolon explain their reasons for doing this (and offering dramatic twists by being candid about their client's goals and desires).

The culmination is obviously you, the helpful FL PC, helping the companion choose whether to go through with it or not... but Amets would also offer to change you while you're here, trading a little of your life for a little of this place, leaving you in your bed with a unique quality and/or equipment (not sure what the change itself should be).

[lit-in-thy-heart]

never have i been more fearful for complete strangers than on the tube during rush hour when it's very cramped and people keep standing right by the doors

[frontmezzjunkies]

Unpacking Frontmezzjunkies's London Theatrical Trip 0f 2023

#frontmezzjunkies and his London Theatrical Trip of 2023 #NextToNormal #DrSemmelweisPlay #Vanya #FrankAndPercyPlay @BridgeTheatre #GuysAndDolls #Hamnet @NationalTheatre #TheFatherAndTheAssassin #NoisesOff #FlowersForMrsHarris #TheTimeTravellersWifeMusical

London Theatrical Trip 2023 By Ross It was one of those spontaneous but well-planned cross-Atlantic journeys, fueled by a one-show idea that blossomed into something bigger. Antonio and I (two theatre junkies of the highest order) typically would find ourselves traveling to London, meeting there for about five nights, give or take. That is after I spent one evening with a good old friend and…

[riosnecktattoo]

the bridge Rebecca drives over in S2 is not Tower Bridge lmao

[astonmartinii]

imgonnagetyouback [guilty as sin part four] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

PR jail did a lot of damage, but unlike SOMEONE else, charles is ready for the apology tour

MASTERLIST | GUILTY AS SIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

note: the timeline is absolutely all over the place in this and for needs must pretend that the spanish and austrian races are swapped on the calendar!

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 1,045,389 others

yourusername: i think your house is haunted, why are they always mad?

view all comments

user239: i have had it with little miss poet over here TELL ME IF MY PARENTS ARE DIVORCED OR NOT

user240: i hate that as this generation, them following each other on instagram is a key feature to whether they're still together or not

user241: my grandparents didn't have to go through this 😭

maxverstappen1: spill it sis

user242: WHAT DO YOU KNOW MAX

maxverstappen1: ummm nothing, and if i did i only take cash bribes. this is baby max relating hard to the caption

user242: oh :(

yourusername: oh maxy .... at least we now have good ways to express our emotions!

user243: ma'am he tore lando's wheel off because he can't handle wheel to wheel racing

liked by landonorris

yourusername: it's called hard racing, maybe mclaren should watch some of senna's old races instead of doing their 100th tribute livery xx

landonorris: you know he said you would do this exact thing, you can't handle anyone linked to your brother doing well

yourusername: oh i was perfectly prepared for you to win every race after miami since it was clear that the mclaren is the fastest car on the grid EVEN THOUGH you've publicly sided with them when anyone with a moral backbone (and a hint of PR awareness) would've run for the hills

landonorris: i'd really worry about the fact that the one piece of relevance you had left is no where to be seen, you're not worth defending for him

yourusername: it's insane the way you all have the same pompous attitude about this (i know that's a big word, but maybe you guys could get a couple of quid together to buy a dictionary)

maxverstappen1: also don't try and pretend 1. that you're completely in the right about everything that happened in austria 2. that you weren't scrounging around me (when we were friends i guess) trying to get details on y/n and charles

user244: okay this is wild

user245: i really thought lando would see the light on this

user246: or he realised that he can't race wheel to wheel unless he has the power of carlando friendship so he's burning bridges

oscarpiastri: i miss leo

yourusername: we literally are down the street bozo

oscarpiastri: i am ON MY WAY

user247: she's in monaco ???

user248: has to be, oscar only has a rental place he stays in london for mclaren and y/n has only ever lived in madrid or monaco

user249: there is still hope everyone

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 2,309,677 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: was i out of line? did i say something way too honest?

there are a couple things i need to get off of my chest.

first, a massive apology to my girlfriend. y/n is the love of my life and will be my wife sooner or later and i hate that as a 26-year-old grown man i haven't had the backbone to stand up to ferrari when it comes to her. she's incredibly strong and i hate that she's had to go through this without my public support. i can't take it back now, but if i could i never would've let them take my phone and take control of my social media. they have now been dealt with and no one will stop me declaring my love and support for her.

second, if i hadn't already ran out of patience before, the legal trouble that family have put their own blood through threw me over the edge. they will never, ever deserve that girl and if i have anything to do with it they will never talk to her ever again. i may have been silent online but money talks and we will have vindication soon.

third, a big thank you to max, oscar and ollie for their continued support of y/n. it means so much that the public still saw how loved she is when i couldn't.

four, i am awake and i am angry, these people will learn who they are fucking with. see you soon lecfosi, it'll all be worth it in the end.

view all comments

user254: WAR IS OVER

user255: my heart dropped when i got the post notification but this is the best news possible

user256: am i going to excuse a 26-year-old man for being a pussy? no. but i am going to celebrate him seeing the light and y/n having him back in her corner

yourusername: he was never out of my corner. true there was no public support, but he was there. i would rather have his support behind closed doors where it matters than plastered all over social media

maxverstappen1: you wouldn't believe the lengths these two were going, i became a messenger pigeon when they physically took his phone and the letters were so grossly cute

yourusername: that's literally mail tampering

maxverstappen1: and i'm a human not a pigeon, we can't all get what we want

charles_leclerc: i did i got y/n 😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ugh welcome back gross instagram comments

user257: so that's what max meant when someone referenced letters that's so cuteeeee

user258: the shout out to max and the extended leclerc family i know that's right

oscarpiastri: anything for my grid mum

olliebearman: actually charles can you get your phone taken away again cause the heist was VERY fun

yourusername: heist???????

charles_leclerc: don't answer that ollie

yourusername: answer it ollie, did you put yourself in harms way ???

charles_leclerc: it was hardly high-stakes

olliebearman: we only stole a phone from silvia's office

yourusername: ollie that's kind of slay but i'm going to need you to delete all of these incriminating comments i don't want you to get in trouble for charles

user259: i know this is just eating up carlos inside seeing how loved she is in his sport

user260: it really does seem that lando is the only one in his corner

sebastianvettel: i am proud of you charles, i know how much ferrari means to you, but never let them take you from those who matter

charles_leclerc: thank you seb, i couldn't have done it without you

yourusername: we love you seb

sebastianvettel: my impromptu not at all prompted trip to maranello definitely wasn't to give you a well-earned slap up the side of the head

user261: no carlos bitching it up in the comments... i've been dreaming of this

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,734,037 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

maxverstappen1: back to being a third-wheel, balance is restored - the united front of hating is BACK BABY

view all comments

user263: i prayed for times like this

user264: i know they didn't break up but i'm so glad y/n and charles are back together they're too pretty not to be in our faces 24/7

yourusername: just paying you back for you and kelly let me crash on the sofa

maxverstappen1: that really wasn't the burden you thought it was, jimmy and sassy loved their interactive cat bed

yourusername: i miss them (don't tell leo)

charles_leclerc: HOW DARE YOU MUM :((((((((

yourusername: okay baby we're not going to do that ...

charles_leclerc: but :( his feelings are hurt

yourusername: i know lewis is cool and will be your new teammate, but i draw the line at pretending to be leo in the instagram comment section

roscoelovescoco: watch urs backs

yourusername: AHAHAHHAHAHA

maxverstappen1: this man is about to turn 40

lewishamilton: you people ever heard of having some whimsy in your life

yourusername: i got sued by my own family 👍

lewishamilton: um yeah, sorry that happened to you

user265: y/n be ticking up the amount of drivers she's gone toe to toe with in instagram comments

charles_leclerc: you can finally eat my ice cream without trying to hide it

maxverstappen1: i think it's against my partnership contracts to publicly say that i like that ice cream

yourusername: don't worry baby we both ate three tubs and cried watching chick flicks while you were locked away in maranello

charles_leclerc: there's a reason a special edition strawberry flavour made its way to you

yourusername: i love you :(

carlossainz55: you might be "united" but you haven't won yet

charles_leclerc: do you ever shut the fuck up?

carlossainz55: oh someone finally found their voice

charles_leclerc: yeah i did which means you don't get to control the narrative anymore and i can call you a bitch

maxverstappen1: also if there was anyway we would lose, at least we are united, i can count how many friends you have left in this sport on one hand and two of them are your dad and your cousin

charles_leclerc: and watch out, clearly you guys aren't afraid to betray family, who knows it could be you next?

user266: i think charles is still being restrained but can we please at least get one day when he can fully go off his rocker

user267: i think we deserve it after all of it

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,764,094 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: she's not only poet barbie but also lawyer barbie - THAT POETRY IS MINE BITCH, SUCK MY DICK AND RUN ME MY MONEY

view all comments

user268: i don't think i've ever been more happy for a stranger before in my life

user269: she deserves this so much i'm actually like over the moon

charles_leclerc: i'm so happy for you baby, i knew it would all be worth it in the end

yourusername: they can't stop my romantic ramblings now

charles_leclerc: i don't know if i want them to hear them all

yourusername: oh no some are for our ears only ;)

oscarpiastri: unfortunately it's NOT all just for your ears

olliebearman: for a millionaire i thought you'd at least buy a house with thick walls

maxverstappen1: you'll get used to it after a while

yourusername: THERE WAS CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION ARE YOU GUYS NOT HAPPY FOR ME ???

oscarpiastri: clearly not THAT happy

charles_leclerc: good. that would be entirely inappropriate

user270: finally some normal fucking couple stuff for y/n and charles

user271: their dynamic is so cute going from poetry to FUCKING

user272: i would be the exact same if i looked like either of them

fernandoalo_oficial: spoken like a real poet, i'm happy for you niña

yourusername: thank you pops !! couldn't have done it without you <3

fernandoalo_oficial: dealing with charles having close to a nervous breakdown every weekend was a lot, but i'm glad you have each other

charles_leclerc: thank you nando :)))) (i didn't have a nervous breakdown)

fernandoalo_oficial: you stress ate seven punnets of grapes

charles_leclerc: FERRARI I SWEAR I DIDN'T

charles_leclerc: wait i'm still annoyed at you ignore that

user273: i think charles is the first case of stockholm syndrome to a sports team

yourusername: @carlossainz55 come on i wanna tussle stop being a pussy

carlossainz55: enjoy your victory lap while you can, it won't last for long

yourusername: suck my actual dick, you put me through this i won't let you run away from it

yourusername: massive tip because i'm feeling generous, maybe actually come to court because there's a lot that you could know ...

carlossainz55: why would i waste my time on you?

yourusername: all will reveal itself

user274: oh it's finally on the other foot .... i'm enjoying this

user275: i think y/n and charles are too

f1tea

liked by user276, user277 and 21,056 others

tagged: carlossainz55

f1tea: sources close to us say that there is serious worry in the sainz camp after the courts decided they were unlawful in their actions against y/n sainz. the financial standings of the sainz family were already somewhat dyer before they took the youngest sainz' income but it's said to be even worse now they've had to pay damages.

in terms of f1, several of the teams that were interested in sainz were put off by the way he and his family were treating his sister but have fully backed out now the financial struggles of the sainzs has become clear.

this comes after a number of sponsors have ended their partnerships with the spaniard. where do you think he'll end up?

view all comments

user278: at the job centre hopefully

user279: i think this is what the kids call poetic justice

user280: the way charles just picked up a new sponsor... we love to see it!

user281: all the sponsors flocking to charles is so fucking real

user282: life comes at you so fucking fast

user283: in the words of his hero: KARMA!

user284: especially since fernando congratulated y/n on her win in court 😭

user285: bro can't even afford the tractor seat at williams i am HOWLING

user286: or at sauber, boy oh boy this is some great great content for a hater like me

user287: or HAAS and they fucking took nikita mazepin

user288: the next race can't come fast enough i wanna see how this guy spins it in the media

user289: for once in his life i can't see him spinning this is any way that makes him look good

user290: god i hope y/n is in the paddock as well

user291: oh gosh i need her diana revenge dress moment

user292: i don't care if that's your brother i need you to STUNT ON HIM

user293: other than y/n and charles, i know oscar is cheering at this news

user294: bro saw his grid parents get back together and his biggest opp be declared broke and jobless

user295: i really don't understand how y/n slutting round the paddock has been praised so much when her hopping from driver to driver has cost her brother his dream

user296: cope.

user297: also y/n has only ever been with charles DESPITE carlos and her father trying to pimp her out for favours

usr298: now we know this ^^ i don't understand why carlos was so annoyed that she was finally doing what they always wanted

user299: it was because it didn't serve him.

user300: he was probably happy y/n was with charles until he realised it was for you know an ACTUAL relationship rather than psychological teammate warfare

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 104,889 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

carlossainz55: it was never 'true love' if all you ever wanted was to bag a trophy husband and never work again

view all commments

user302: posting a picture of charles' crash and tagging him is nasty business

user303: would've been iconic if i wasn't him

user304: also that caption just really isn't the read he thought it was

user305: i grew up watching posh spice and cheryl cole in the stands at england games like obvs people want to be with athletes

user306: also this guy pretending he doesn't have a revolving door of models who are just there to be wags

yourusername: yes? and.

yourusername: at least wag isn't my only job. you better hope that rebecca stays booked honey

carlossainz55: don't bring rebecca into this she has nothing to do with any of this

yourusername: awwww did you already cheat? that does track...

yourusername: also you've been slandering my boyfriend all over the internet and ON THIS POST so shut the fuck up i'll bring up who i want to bring up

carlossainz55: get the fighting words out, you might need them when charles questions why you just happened to fall into his lap

yourusername: you've stolen every last penny from me, sued me and tried to turn everyone i care about against me - and guess what? YOU'RE STILL STUPID

carlossainz55: i'm not stupid you're a gold digging slut and you WILL BE FOUND OUT

yourusername: i actually think i could play pinball with the one remaining brain cell in your head

user307: i know this is serious drama but YES SASSY Y/N IS UNLEASHED FROM HER LAWYER'S GRASPS

user308: someone TAP CHARLES IN

user309: please you're out of the ferrari jail NOW IS THE TIME

charles_leclerc: you think i'm going to be offended that the most beautiful girl in the world has always wanted to be with me?

yourusername: what if i told you i'm a mastermind?

charles_leclerc: i would say i'm impressed and FLATTERED

yourusername: and now you're mine :P

charles_leclerc: and i'm glad

charles_leclerc: and i am of the serious belief that even if you didn't seek me out, we would've found each other regardless

yourusername: you made me believe in soulmates

maxverstappen1: @carlossainz55 this post really didn't do what you thought it would lOL

oscarpiastri: bro is falling at every hurdle

carlossainz55: yeah, yeah fuck you two. i'll see you on the track

maxverstappen1: if you can get close enough :P

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,783,088 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

yourusername: siri play hoes mad

view all comments

user310: this girl is a bestselling poet and this is how she's captioning her instagram posts

user311: babe we're like months into a family war that has had whole ass court cases we don't need eloquent captions

oscarpiastri: where's that one tiktok audio

yourusername: that audio has gone platinum in our house, i think i've saved every edit with it and charles

charles_leclerc: they do slap every time

maxverstappen1: HOES MAD HOES MAD HOES MAD

yourusername: someone is enjoying this

maxverstappen1: i've been praying on these people's downfall since i was 17 i've got a fancy bottle of wine i've been waiting to open

yourusername: we've really been through the wars with these people

charles_leclerc: and ME

maxverstappen1: well here's to them being BROKE AS FUCK LOL

yourusername: cheers!

charles_leclerc: 🥂

user312: this has been some kind of crazy turn around

user313: considering we all thought they had broken up not long ago we have come SO far

charles_leclerc: i'd have the whole world mad at me if it kept you by my side

yourusername: i love you so much

user314: tbf i'd say a good 80% of people were mad at you when you were being ferrari's bitch

charles_leclerc: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY I'M SORRY

sebastianvettel: if it's any consolation, he was very torn up about it

yourusername: i know what happened charles, don't worry. i know you're dedicated to your craft and have people you want to win for

charles_leclerc: but i'm also dedicated to you

yourusername: we're in it together, forever now

yourusername: although this does mean ferrari have to deal with me now

user314: ugh they're so precious

carlossainz55: i'll have the last laugh don't you worry. you may have won the battle but you have not won the war.

user315: does this guy ever Shut the FUCK UP

user316: i'm bored. can't you just let them be happy

carlossainz55: no.

fin.

note: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG but here she is, can't tell whether i love it or hate it - probably because i've been looking at it so long xx i guess p5 will be out hopefully some time soon and i hope my tagging works

[jezebelblues]

dress to impress | h.s

summary: in which you're a famous streamer n you finally let harry join one of your streams. (though the evening ends a bit differently than you expected)

cw: smut18+ oral (m receiving), daddy kink if u squint, spitting, fem!reader, unedited

word count: approx 3k

| yes yes i know that dti didn’t come out till last year just pretend 😔 also btw if this is cringe random then pretend i don’t exist fr i got this idea cause caseoh randomly posted a dti update while i was at the gym so thank u caseoh

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

December 2021 | London

Snow dusted the window softly, frosting the glass and sending melting droplets downward against the pane, dancing in the direction of the wind. The world was still in the throes of the pandemic, which allowed the lines between professional and personal to blur a bit. 

YN had been a popular streamer for a few years now, but her numbers only grew once her relationship went public with the award winning, globe-trotting man that was Harry Styles. 

She had been avoiding this moment for months. Not because she didn’t want it to happen—oh no, she had definitely wanted Harry to join her on a stream, like a thousand times—but Harry had this way of throwing himself into new situations with such confidence that it was bound to lead to some seriously chaotic results.

But her fans, their fans, had been relentless. Every single time she went live on Twitch, no matter what game she was playing—among us, fortnite, mario world—the chat exploded with one resounding request: Get Harry on the stream!

At first, she’d brush it off with a smile and a laugh, always saying something like, he’s busy in the studio, or, he’s still getting in the hang of gaming, you don’t want to see him struggling on stream, trust me. But by the time December rolled around and the UK was stuck in another lockdown, YN realized she ran out of excuses to give. It was time to bring Harry on camera.

And so, on a cold December evening, she caved.

Harry was sitting in the same room. It was originally supposed to be an office, but since YN’s online career began to take off, it slowly transformed into a streaming room. Three monitors sat on a white desk in front of a large window. The one that sat in the middle showed the view of the stream and chat, while the other two were to be used for whatever.

Harry sat on a small couch in the center of the room, his head against the arm as he lazily scrolled through his phone, completely unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash on the internet. He looked effortlessly perfect, as per usual, in his gray sweats and oversized lavender hoodie, His growing curls were clipped into a tiny bun that sat on top of his head, a pair of brown glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

The glow of the computers illuminated the room as she finished up last minute technical checks, string lights twinkling around the edge of the room for a warmer glow. YN adjusted the camera, smiling brightly as the viewers started to pile in, the chat exploding from the sight of Harry in the background. “So,” she began with a giggle, averting her eyes from the screen to her boyfriend that sat comfortably behind her. “y’ready to join us, lovey?”

He looked up from his phone, his features softening as he shut it off. His eyebrows quirked in that familiar way as he chuckled. “Oh, honey.” He sighed playfully as he stood up, ambling over to the spot behind her chair. “I was born ready.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed, tilting her head backward to catch a glance from underneath him. “Sure you were.”

He placed a quick kiss against her forehead before he sat in the chair beside her, settling in and staring at the center monitor which revealed the chat that moved in an insane quickness. He leaned over toward YN, shoulders barely touching as he waved at her camera with a wide smile.

She snorted, pushing against her boyfriend as she leaned over to point to the other monitor with a smile. “Look, baby.” She said softly, adjusting the camera that belonged to that computer before pulling up the game roblox. She gently explained to him the set up of the stream, informing him that all he had to do was sit in his space and the chat would see him just fine. 

And they would, it took YN over twenty minutes to set the stream up in a split screen sort of way, which would allow the viewers to see both YN and Harry, and their respective screens for gameplay. 

“Oh.” Harry giggled, as he scrolled throughout the roblox website randomly. His gaze shifted between his screen and the center monitor, reading out whatever messages he could since the chat moved so quickly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How hard can this be? Look at this!” He laughed, nodding toward his screen.

His girlfriend snorted, shaking her head as she pulled up the game dress to impress. “This isn’t grand theft auto or fifa, I don't think you'll magically be good at this.” She grinned as she leaned over again toward Harry, pulling up the same game on his monitor.

“Oh ye of little faith.” He chuckled as he watched the game load in, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. “I’ve got this.”

harryfan1: OMG ur kidding i literally knew it

ynfan2: no WAY LMFAO

harryfan2: HES ON 

YN couldn’t help but laugh as she read the chat aloud. “You guys are way too excited for this,” she teased. “Harry’s not that big of a deal.” 

He feigned offense as he looked into the camera with his jaw slack, a huff escaping his lips. “Absolutely bonkers.” He laughed breathily, referring to his girlfriend that sat beside him. He let his shoulders falter as he settled in a bit more, a grin spreading across his lips as the neon lobby of dress to impress loaded in.

YN’s eyes flickered between both the camera and Harry as she explained the premise of the game, smiling at his cocky eye rolls and the flood of heart emojis and keysmashes from the chat that seemed to express a collective internet scream.

“Would you like my help?” YN asked, humor lacing her words as she stared at the theme that flashed over the screen, winter wonderland.

Harry cracked his knuckles, tongue in cheek as he shook his head, darting around the game’s lobby in search for the exact outfit he envisioned. 

She laughed at him, quickly putting on a cute outfit with hair and makeup that went along perfectly. Something elegant, a cream colored warmth. Her smile grew as she glanced at the chat, then to Harry’s screen.

user3: whos gonna tell bro

user4: oh honey…

His avatar was dressed in white, baggy jeans with a puffy winter jacket that had a hawaiian pattern on it. Harry could feel her eyes on him as he placed a santa hat on his avatar for the finishing look. The skin tone of the character was still a default gray, completely bald with no face. His smile began to falter as he looked over toward his girlfriend’s screen. “How’d you do that?” He pleaded, his mouth falling into a frown as he watched the timer go down. “I’ve got no face!”

She laughed again as she showed him how to put hair and makeup on, as well as put an actual skin tone on his little avatar. She couldn’t help but ask what the hell he was envisioning for his outfit.

He grinned as he spun his avatar around the lobby. “She’s wishing for Florida.” He said, pointing toward the screen. “She’s dressed in warm clothes but the patterns show she wishes to be elsewhere.”

user5: this guy has got to stick to writing songs

When the voting started, YN’s outfit was praised by the chat and those in the server—many of whom were fans who were able to join the same lobby.

And then came Harry’s turn.

The second his avatar strut down the runway, there was a moment of lag in the chat before it quickly exploded once more. 

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at the camera with a snap. “Five stars or m’not releasing the third album.”

YN’s mouth fell agape as she watched Harry place first, watching her boyfriend fold his hands together and shake them in victory as he hummed the tune to as it was. (a tune his fans were completely oblivious to) which only let his smirk grow wider. 

The next theme was royalty, and YN figured this one would be easier for Harry. After all, the man was basically British royalty in his own right. Surely he could nail this one.

But once again, Harry’s choices were questionable, but of course it made complete sense to him in his own mind. 

While YN opted for a pretty gown and tiara, Harry—ever the wildcard—dressed his avatar in what could only be described as a pirate. For royalty.

She stared at his screen, dumbfounded. “H..that’s a pirate.”

“Royalty of the seas, love.” He winked, “captain Styles at your service.”

The chat went ballistic again, loving every second of Harry’s presence on screen.

user6: h pulled out the arrgh 5000s

user7: HARRY PLEASE

They played a few more rounds, with Harry’s outfits growing increasingly outlandish each time, much to the delight of the viewers. The banter between them never let up, and the stream quickly became one of YN’s most popular broadcasts ever.

As the night wore on and the final round came to an end, YN leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “You guys are so spoiled.” She grinned in the direction of the camera. “I hope you enjoyed.”

Harry nodded, his smile unwavering. “And what did we learn tonight?”

“That this is why you have stylists?”

He scoffed before he muttered out a no, raising a finger like he was about to make a profound statement. “We learned that I am a roblox fashion icon in the making.” 

She burst out laughing again, and this time, she didn’t stop. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Harry was laughing alongside her, neither of them able to take the game—or themselves—too seriously. 

“Well baby, fashion icon or not.” She said, poking her boyfriend’s cheek gently. “I think we all learned this might not be your true calling.”

He gasped in mock offense, swatting her hand away and clutching his chest dramatically. “Rude. Just y’wait—next time I’ll come prepared. I’ll have a roblox fashion strategy ready t’go.” 

She smirked, titling her head in his direction. “Next time, huh?”

He paused with a smile, considering. “It was a bit of fun, but next time it needs to be guitar hero or something. I’ll wipe the floor with you on that one, gorgeous.” 

The chat immediately lit up again, the fans going wild at the thought of Harry in the streams more often than not, especially if he got to show off his musical side. Some were already throwing out more ideas for the future: 

Play minecraft!

Get this man on the sims! 

Releasing an album simulator (but irl) 

YN smiled again, clearly amused by the flood of suggestions. As the stream began to wind down, she and Harry took a few moments to read some of the comments and thank the viewers for tuning in. They said their goodbyes, waving at the camera and promised to do something like this again soon—though YN wasn’t sure if Harry had fully processed just how much the fans would hold him to that.

As she logged off, Harry stood from the chair and stretched his hand above his head with an exaggerated groan, revealing his belly button and the ferns peeking out from the hem of his sweatpants. She rolled the chair in his direction, resting her head against his waist with a content sigh. “Everyone loves you.”

He smiled, letting his hands fall onto her shoulders and rub them gently. “What can I say?” He hummed, a cocky sarcasm laced in his words. 

“You’re impossible.” She whispered against the wrinkled fabric of his hoodie, though the words held no bite. 

“Oh, please.” He laughed, “You enjoyed it, watching me flounder around.”

She shrugged innocently, tilting her head upward so her chin rested against his abdomen, their gaze fixed onto each other. Her smile was lazy as she parted her lips, “It was funny watching you struggle.” 

His breaths caused her head to jut softly back and forth as she continued to lean against him, his fingers running through her hair as he hummed. “Funny huh?” His tone was gentle, delicate, as his fingers ran down from her hair to caress her cheeks, making her shiver. “Y’think its a game to tease me, hm?”

She felt her pulse quicken, a tension settling around them that replaced the previous banter. “I wasn’t teasing.” She said, her voice softer than before, but the hint of a smile still played on her lips.

Harry took the teeniest step back as his hand fell from her cheek to her chin, gripping it ever so slightly. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, beckoning her mouth open. “No? Cause you’ve been doing it all night.” His voice was low, authoritative, and sent a rush of heat through her. He tutted toward her as he gazed down at her through his eyelashes, wanting her to part her lips a bit wider. His thumb slips into her mouth, the pad of it pressing down against her tongue.

“I think y’like pushing me.” He murmured, his breaths even and slow as he continued to hold her mouth open–which only allowed it to salivate even more. His eyes flickered from her lips to hers, a smile beginning to play upon his lips.

“What should we do about that, hm?” He cooed as he dragged his thumb away from her tongue, wetting her chin as his hand dropped to the side of her neck. Her own salvia glistened in the warm glow of the fairy lights around the room.

Her breath hitched as he bent at the waist, pressing a kiss onto her lips with his hand still cupping her neck. She melted into it, a heat pooling between her thighs as she felt his tongue against hers. His breath was cool with peppermint, his hair the scent of lavender and vanilla. 

They part slowly, strings of saliva snapping from the mutual disconnect. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he reaches him, gripping the back of his hoodie’s collar and pulling it off overhead. His chest rises and falls quicker than before as YN’s fingers lightly trace over the ink of the moth of his abdomen, the wings fluttering with every breath. His hands find hers as he pulls it toward the hem of his sweats. “Now,” He sighs heavily, watching her through half-lidded eyes, “be good f’me.”

She nodded as looped her fingers underneath both his sweats and his boxers, tugging them down in one continuing, slow motion until his cock slaps against the skin underneath his belly button. 

Her eyes find his, to which he grabs her chin once again, jerking it to face upward toward him. He leaned down as her lips parted, kissing her hungrily before pulling her bottom lip down gently. “Open.” He muttered, watching as she held her tongue out for him. She watched as his lips curled before spitting onto her tongue, saliva drooling from his lips to pool onto her tongue. 

She could feel her heartbeat in her core as he straightened back up, especially when he combed his digits through her hair and gripped as he reached the crown of her scalp. With her tongue still out, she neared the head of his cock—slick with precum already and the prettiest shade of pink. She swirled around the slit, watching through her eyelashes as his jaw clenched shut, a heavy exhale falling from his nose.

Her lips formed an ‘o’ as she enveloped the tip completely, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of him. She started off slow as she bobbed up and down his length, closing her inner cheeks around his cock with a hum. “Fuck.” He grunted, tightening his grip on her locks as he bucked his hips slightly. YN wrapped her hand around his length as her lips fell from his tip with a wet pop. She spat onto his cock, stroking him as she dipped her head down toward his balls, lapping and gently sucking the skin there, which had him tilt his head back in pleasure. Veins were more prominent in his neck as he groaned, the coil in his belly tightening. “Such a good girl.” He moaned softly as she wrapped her lips around his cock again, taking him deeper, her throat convulsing around the head that swelled with the threat of release. “Taking daddy’s cock so good.”

She hummed again, the reverberation causing his toes to curl against the carpet. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his fist, guiding her movements as moans continued to fall from his lips. She could feel him begin to twitch in her throat as she gagged on his length, his movements sloppy. She could feel his quickened breaths from the way his lower abdomen fluttered against her forehead. “M’close baby–” He grunted, loosening his grip on her hair only slightly. “W-where.?” He choked out in pleasure, his abs rippling and tensing under the glow of the fairy lights, glistening from sweat. 

She only trailed her hands up his bare thighs, gripping his hips as if to keep him in place. She wanted to taste him, to suck him of every drop entirely. 

His cock pulsed against her tongue as he thrusted once more into her throat, shooting white ropes of come into her mouth with a moan. Her head continued to bob as she swirled her tongue around him, licking every drop of his release to the sound of his whimpers–the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she parts from his cock, placing a few lazy kisses along his navel with a smile. He swallows hard, brushing strands of hair from her face with a lopsided smile. “I could get use to this.” He teases breathlessly, watching as his girlfriend shrugged his pants back up his long legs with a grin. 

She stood from her chair, pulling Harry into a kiss. His tongue brushes past her lips, his knees weak at the taste of himself mingled with her saliva. She hums against him, cupping his cheek as she parts. “Don’t get use to it, pretty boy. You still sucked.”

He laughed, his cheeks flushing a shade of pink as he shot a haphazard wink toward her. “Actually baby, that was all you.”

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

SO LONG, LONDON — lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: a goodbye to the city that gave you everything and nothing. (and the man that gave you everything and nothing.) warnings: angst angst angst, not proofread (please lmk if something's written wrong i love you guys😓) a/n: idk how to say this but lando is the perfect person to write angst about. like dating lando would be the best time of ur life, but when its over, its enough to make u bang ur head on the wall (don't tell me to write a part 2 i cave under yall's pressure and i have my exams coming up😋)

london was known for never being quiet. but that day, the city was absolutely quiet—just a faint hum in the air of the early morning.

you dragged your suitcase behind you, its wheels clicking against the uneven pavement.

streetlights blurred in the mist, golden halos stretching like they were trying to hold you back.

it was the kind of day you used to love once.

you passed a familiar corner, pausing as its fairy lights shined through the mist. the little cafe across the street glowed warmly, even at this hour.

if you closed your eyes, you could almost hear the sound of lando’s laugh, the clink of his coffee cup against the table.

that was your place—your and lando's.

the first place he had told you he loved you.

he had said it casually, like he wasn’t giving you the most fragile part of himself to hold.

"what are you staring at?” you had teased, wiping the layer of coffee that had collected on your lips.

“you,” he said simply, eyes soft in a way that made your stomach twist. “i love you, you know?”*

you remembered smiling, biting back the emotions that swelled in you.

you'd only nodded, whispering “i know.” as if that were enough.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking you from the trance. you didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was. the messages have been coming all night, one after the other, as if he had only just realised that you were leaving.

the city was awake now, slowly stirring. cabs passed by, the occasional commuter rushing past you without a glance. you leaned next to a streetlamp, looking up at the faint light of the sky.

he hates this moment, you thought. lando always hated goodbyes.

“why london?” he’d asked you once, not long after you moved there. the two of you were lying on the couch, legs tangled, his arm resting lazily over your waist.

“why monaco?” you had asked back, smirking when he groaned in mock frustration.

“not the same thing. i’m practically married to monaco,” he said.

you rolled your eyes. “okay. i guess london feels like somewhere you can build something. a life, maybe. i don't know.”

he’d gone quiet at that, staring at the ceiling.

"technically, you're a london boy." you said, breaking the silence.

"why?"

"you just give off london vibes." you stated, "like, if i was going to associate a city with you, it would be london. and anyways, london and lando are almost the same word."

you walked towards a bridge, one overlooking the thames. it was where he had kissed you that first night.

it had started pouring as you halted to a stop to stare out at the city that had given you everything and nothing all at once.

you closed your eyes, breathing the air.

it was a goodbye to london.

and for the first time, you let yourself accept that it meant goodbye to him, too.

your grip tightened on the railing, the cold stone grounding you in an unsaid way.

you used to hold lando's hand that way—tight, like you could anchor him to you, keep him from drifting out of reach.

and for a while, it worked.

but only for a while.

lando was always somewhere else, even when he was with you. his mind on the next race, the next city, the next thrill.

you had given everything you had to pull him back each time, to remind him of the two of you.

he hadn’t asked you to give him anything. not your time, your love, or the best years of you life. but that was the thing about lando—he never asked. somehow, he took without realising.

you were by his side as he flew across countries, to parties, to tracks, to houses that never felt like homes.

you poured yourself into his world until yours felt like a shadow.

there was that tiny flat the two of you shared in london—just you, him, and the possibility of something bigger. it wasn't flashy like the one in monaco, not big like the one in california.

you'd left in the night, without a word, just the hollow echo of a door closing behind you.

it wasn’t dramatic. there was no fight, no dramatic crying. just the dull ache of his absence, like he’d slipped through yours fingers when you weren't looking.

you had hoped that he would ask you to give a reason. that he’d say something. but he didn’t.

lando got all of you. all the bright, reckless moments that you'd never get back.

a couple jogged past you on the bridge, heatedly bickering as they continued down their path.

a few days before the breakup, lando and you had gotten into an argument.

you were sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, staring out at the blurred lights of the city.

he was pacing, the way he always did when he was restless.

“i don’t get it,” lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “you’re acting like everything’s falling apart. like i’m the problem here.”

you looked at him, shaking your head. “you are the problem, Lando. you’ve been the problem for weeks now, and i’m fucking tired of it.”

his face hardened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. “you always do this. you make everything about me.”

"i always do this?" you stood abruptly, scoffing. "are you being serious? you think i'm making everything about you? what about me, huh? you’ve been distant for months, pulling away every chance you get. i’ve tried—tried—to fit myself into your world, to make it work."

he shook his head, “you’re always looking for the exit, aren’t you?”

“don’t fucking do that. don’t try to make this my fault,” you snapped back, voice harsh.

his jaw tightened, knuckles white where he gripped the back of the chair. “you want me to pretend like it’s not? you know what this life is like. you know what i am like.”

your stomach twisted, head shaking slowly. “do you even hear yourself? do you even see me anymore?”

he threw his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. “you always try to make yourself the victim, don’t you? like you’re the only one who’s losing something here.”

“losing something?” you repeated, voice cracking. “lando, i gave up everything for you. everything! i left my life, my friends, my family. i waited in airports, sat alone at tables, smiled when I didn’t feel like smiling, all because i thought we were building something real. and for what? for this? for you to keep drifting away? fuck, i’m tired of pretending that it’s enough to just be near you when you’ve already checked out a long time ago.”

the words hit him like a blow to the stomach, harsher than you wanted them to be. for a moment, he freezed.

you saw it—the flicker of guilt, the realisation that maybe, just maybe, you were right. but he just stood there, the weight of the argument pressing down on both of you, suffocating the room.

that was the moment. the shot that fired without either of you realising it.

and then there was the night you had walked into his monaco apartment late, after a dinner with the wags. it was well past midnight.

he was on the couch, sprawled out in the dim light coming from the glass balcony, an empty bottle of beer resting on the floor beside him.

“lando?” you asked softly, setting your bag down.

his head turned lazily, eyes bloodshot but focused on you in a way that made you suck in your breath.

“you’re abandoning the ship, aren’t you?” he slurred, the words cutting even through his inebriated speech.

“what?” you whispered, taken aback.

“you’re never there anymore,” he muttered, sitting up unsteadily. “no races. no paddock. you don’t want to be with me. you’re... you’re not leaving, right?”

you froze. the irony was almost laughable. how could you be abandoning the ship when you were the silently one going down with it?

“i’m here, lando,” you said finally, your voice tight.

but he didn’t reply. he just shook his head, leaning back against the cushions as if continuing the conversation was too much for him to bear.

you turned away, retreating to the kitchen under the guise of fetching water. but really, it was to hide the way your hands trembled, how your chest ached with a sadness too big for words. you weren't abandoning the ship, fuck, you were going down with it.

now, standing on the bridge in the pouring rain, the memory felt distant, but it still left the same sting. you hadn't even realised how long you’d been standing there, the chill seeping into your weary bones.

the rain made you shiver, wet through your clothes, and you decided it was best to find warmth before heading to the airport. a small cafe caught your eye, its dim yellow lights asking you to enter.

you chose a seat by the window, your damp reflection staring back at you. but as you stared at yourself, another memory tugged at you, pulling you under.

in vegas, the paddock was loud, buzzing with the usual hum of race day, but to you, it was deafening in a way that wasn’t about noise.

kym illman had been snapping photos of the everyone, and when he got to lando and you, he told you both to 'appear more in love'—arms around each other, eyes set on one another, and smiles for the cameras.

but the second kym turned his back, lando stepped away, his expression blank as he moved towards the crew. no glance back, no acknowledgment of you still standing there.

he’d left for the track that morning without so much as a goodbye, and now he didn't even stand by your side for more than a moment.

hours later, you’d see the tiktoks. people talking about the way he pulled his arm away, the way his smile seemed forced. you trended for all the wrong reasons as strangers pieced together the cracks in your relationship from nothing more than a video captured from another angle.

you wished they were wrong. but they weren’t.

and the same truth had lingered that night at dinner. a dinner meant to be casual, a chance to reconnect with friends, but the moment he left the table, you knew it was over.

he’d said he needed to step out for a minute. then it became ten. twenty. eventually, max texted his girlfriend, explaining that the boys had gone to play golf because lando had suggested it.

so you sat there, at a table full of people you barely knew, the laughter and conversation swirling around you. pietra smiled at you once or twice, but it was still never enough to make you feel like you fit in, because you truly didn't.

when the check came, you paid your share quietly and walked back to his apartment alone, heels clicking against the empty streets. you realised you couldn’t keep doing this; couldn’t keep holding onto someone who didn’t want to be held.

there was so much love before everything had turned bitter.

when lando would call you after races, his voice bright and full of life, swearing he loved you like it was the easiest thing in the world. he’d leave you voice notes in the middle of the night, reminders that he was thinking of you even when you weren't there.

his parents used to joke about the two of you getting married, and it wasn’t just them. his friends would tease him, and he’d grin, pulling you close like he couldn’t imagine a future without you.

for a while, you believed it too. you’d pictured it—the altar, the vows, the life you’d build together.

but then, it all changed.

you started waiting for proof that he still loved you, that the spark you once shared wasn’t gone for good. but then the waiting slowly drained you, bit by bit.

and just like that, it was over.

lando and you had a good run—a fleeting moment in life that felt like sitting under the warm sun on a chilly winter morning.

but it ended just as quickly. clouds rolled in and the london rain took over to make you realise that you weren't the one for each other.

one gun dug two graves.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton

♡♡♡

A day late. No matter. At least you would be in London for the season, though you wouldn't be able to debut properly, much like the other ladies of the season.

It mattered not to you. You would rather keep to yourself than be shown off to the Queen in a satin gown, announcing to the ton you were eligible.

If you were to find a husband, it would be on your own terms. You swore by that. You would play the game much like all the others, but without shouting about it and making a statement.

Yes, you intended to marry. Perhaps not this year, but soon enough. It had been something you had thought about a great deal over the winter. Still, you'll see what the ton has to offer this year.

Though you were not there, you had received word that a Miss Daphne Bridgerton had been called a diamond of the first water by Last Whistledown in her gossip column.

Everyone was talking about it.

Bridgerton was a name you had heard but not quite familiar with on any personal terms. They were known for being beautiful. Handsome sons and beautiful daughters. Dowager Violet Bridgerton was very proud of her children, even when they vexed her sometimes.

But that was all you knew. It did not surprise you that her daughter would have the eyes of the ton on her. She would find herself a wonderful match, surely.

You sit at your vanity table and watch the reflection of your dear mother in the mirror as she enters the room. She saunters in and places your gown delicately on the bed. She then turns so elegantly toward you and smiles, coming to stand beside you. Her hand settles on your shoulder.

"You will look beautiful, dear."

You only smile softly and look at your reflection. You have no intention of standing out at all. You would go in, make yourself acquainted, and perhaps dance with a few friendly faces.

Within the hour, you were dressed and decorated with pretty jewels and accessories. Your mother owned a fine collection of jewellery, some of the few things she still had from the old house. Since the passing of your father, your belongings had shrunk as you moved around the country.

"Thank you, Mama." You touch the necklace with your gloved fingers gently, admiring the way it glittered in the light.

Before you knew it, you were on your way to the ball. Lady Danbury, a well-known figure in the ton, was hosting. Apparently, it was going to be quite the night. Your mother was most excited to see you dance tonight.

That is, should anyone take a liking to dancing with you.

The ballroom was well lit and full of colourful gowns and sparkly necks. Fans fluttered softly, barely brushing the chins of the beautiful ladies present. Gentleman circled the room looking for a partner to either dance or converse with.

You mother gave your arm a squeeze as she smiled, looking around the room.

"You shall find a man in this room, I am certain of it."

"Mother..." You sigh. You knew you weren't getting any younger, but you still had time to find someone for yourself. You did not want to feel the pressure of society weighing down on you because you were looking for someone suitable.

Love matches were rare, and you doubted you would ever be so lucky to have such a connection with someone. Your mother had not been in love with your father when they married, nor up until his death.

Love was rare indeed.

You scan the room, watching people dance, other converse, some take a turn around the room. There was much activity. All debutantes were here looking for a match.

"That young gentleman over there, I believe that's Colin Bridgerton. Mrs Brooks told me of that family in quite some detail." Your mother says. "Handsome, is he not?"

You hum softly as you continue looking about the room. A young woman in a bright yellow gown seems to be watching Colin Bridgerton with interest.

People star to turn toward the entrance. You move your head in the same direction to find three beautiful people entering the room.

"Ah, that there is Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest of eight. On his arm, I believe that is Daphne Bridgerton, and that's their mother, Violet Bridgerton." Your mother harpers on.

There is no denying the beauty that family holds. Each one is utterly perfect. They all look so like, yet differ in the most wonderful ways. You wonder what it would be like to have so many siblings, or any at all, for that matter.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes," you agree. Daphne was quite the sight. "She shall have no issue finding a husband, I am certain."

Your mother squeezes your arm. "Nor shall you."

You find it less likely than Daphne, but you will humour your mother for her own sake.

One such young man approaches Daphne, but after a short conversation with her brother, he scampers. You wonder what was said to leave a man looking so dejected. Surely she hadn't rejected him so easily. You begin to wonder if Daphne will have any ease at all.

You watch Anthony escort his sister around the room and decide you might do the same. No one was particularly paying you any mind anyway. You free yourself from your mother's hold and begins to drifting away from her side. She watches you go, sighing softly.

You stroll slowly along the sidelines, eyes fluttering from one couple to the next. A large group was already dancing. Everyone looked so dignified and elegant.

Not a single person was sparing you a glance. You almost expected as much. It was hard to stand out in a room full of such lovely people. You continued to watch other dance as you strolled.

With Daphne in Anthony's care, Violet Bridgerton felt she needed to take this chance to push one of her other sons in the direction of some of the fine ladies.

Colin was already out dancing.

Benedict was in her line of sight.

With a smile on her face, she began to approach her second eldest son. Benedict had been talking to Lady Danbury. However, when he caught sight of his mother coming over, he panicked. He bid a quick and barely audible farewell and hurried off into the crowds.

Violet came to stop beside Lady Danbury, knowing full well she wasn't going to chase her son down. The two ladies chuckled softly.

Not knowing his mother had decided to just let him go, Benedict fled further into the room. He was determined to put space between himself and his mother. He was so busy checking behind him, be wasn't paying attention to anyone in front of him.

It happened quite suddenly.

Benedict collided with someone. He moved so quickly, grabbing onto the other person and spinning them around to slow down his momentum and prevent them from falling over. He looked down and found himself looking into a pretty pair of eyes.

"I am sorry." You say, looking up at him. It clicks instantly that he's a Bridgerton. He looks like his brothers.

"No, no. Allow me to apologise. I wasn't looking," he says.

Benedict takes a moment to realise his hands are settled on your upper arms. He drops them instantly and takes a step back. No one seemed to take much notice, but he spotted a couple of people turning his way. People always notice his family.

You look at him silently for a moment. You feel awkward, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, good night," you curtsy and try to walk away, but he stops you rather quickly.

"Wait."

You turn back to him.

"Dance with me?" He asks suddenly. He can see his mother amongst the other faces in the crowd. She's looking for him, he is certain of it.

"Oh, um. Very well." You're caught off guard by his sudden invitation.

You take his hand and allow him to guide you to where the others are dancing. You get into position and begin. Benedict doesn't say anything for a while. He is keeping his gaze locked on the crowd. You break the silence between you by giving him your name. Benedict snaps out of his daze and looks at you.

"Oh, right. Yes. I'm Benedict. Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton." He gives a little smile.

"I've seen your other siblings here tonight."

"Yes. My sister is debuting." His eyes flicker back up to the crowd. Violet has spotted him she looks ecstatic. Benedict wonders if that's better or worse.

"She's breathtaking."

He looks at you again. "Yes. I suppose she is."

You get the idea that he isn't much in the mood for talking, and you keep quiet for the rest of the dance. When the music comes to a close, you curtsy, and he bows. The next piece begins to play.

"Well, thank you," you say softly.

Benedict snaps back into focus and looks at you. He takes your dance card and writes his name on it before excusing himself. You watch him go and sigh. You look at the card and see his neat penmanship.

"Benedict Bridgerton. Who would have thought." You mutter to yourself.

You leave the floor.

Your mother comes over quickly and snakes her arm around yours again. She looks delighted.

"You danced with a Bridgerton! That will certainly gain some attention for you." She sounded far too happy for your liking.

"Yes, I suppose it might."

As she begins to yap on in your ear, you turn in time to see Anthony and Daphne speaking to their mother. After a moment, they leave the ball altogether.

You wished you could do the same.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 -

[mxmasters]

Wren, do you spend a lot of time in Other London? what do you do there?

not a Lot a lot, but yeah! some! great place to lie low, bc Otherners don't talk to cops, but you've ABSOLUTELY got to make yourself useful while you're there. y'know how it is. "from each according to their abilities, to each according to their needs." Everybody chips in somehow! Gotta! colony systems don't run themselves.

personally, I put in a lot of hours at their community library. Other London is waaaaaaay the heck out there, so wireless signals are slow and lossy. it's much easier to deliver physical media (books, tapes, drives, etc) through the Bridge itself. I bring stuff in, organize the stacks, and take some local stuff back to earth. Otherner music, film, visuals, programming, performance art. They do a little bit of everything! lots of room to experiment.

fair warning, though: it's a rough town, and they don't like tourists. Fuck around, and you'll find out why the Angels fought so hard for the "right to deny hospitality" clause in the Kitchener Accords. they're not gonna yeet anyone out the airlock for minor offenses, but I hear every version of the Thames tastes like actual shit!!

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑫𝑰𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑯𝑼𝑮 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑶𝑵𝑬.

[ side hug ] a casual and friendly hug where one person puts their arm around the other's shoulder / waist [ back hug ] a hug where one person comes up to another and wraps their arms around them [ bear hug ] a tight, warm, and engulfing hug [ waist hug ] a hug where both partners put their arms around each other's waist and hold onto them [ welcome hug ] a hug given to someone as a form of greeting [ goodbye hug ] a hug given to someone before they leave [ reunion hug ] a hug where one leaps into their partner's arms after time apart [ quick hug ] a quick hug that's usually accompanied by a quick pat on the back [ unreciprocated hug ] a hug where one partner remains motionless while the other hugs them [ eye-to-eye hug ] a hug during which two people gaze into each other's eyes [ patting hug ] a hug where one / both partner(s) give a pat on the back [ cuddle hug ] a tight hug where both tightly hold onto each other and one snuggles into the other person's chest [ pickpocket hug ] a hug where they have their arms behind their partner's back and their hands in their pockets [ straddle hug ] a hug where one straddles their partner's waist who is holding them up and they both keep eye contact [ heart-to-heart hug ] a hug where the left arm is over the partner's right shoulder and the right arm around the partner's left side [ london bridge hug ] a hug where the upper bodies are close to each other but the lower bodies are kept apart [ head-on-shoulder hug ] a hug where one partner holds onto their partner's arm and rests their head on their shoulder [ twirl hug ] a hug where one twirls the other around while tightly holding onto them [ flirty hug ] a hug where one has their arms around their partner's neck and their head on their chest [ lingering hug ] a long-lasting hug between close friends or romantic partners [ comforting hug ] a hug given to someone to comfort them [ touch starved hug ] a careful hug given to someone after noticing some signs of touch starvation [ running hug ] a hug where both partners run into each other's arms [ surprise hug ] a hug where one catches the other off guard with an unexpected hug [ apology hug ] a sincere and heartfelt hug given to convey apologies [ group hug ] a hug that involves multiple people [ slow dance ] a type of hug where both partners are incredibly close to one another and sway to some music [ shoulder-to-shoulder hug ] a hug where two people stand side-by-side with their arms around each other's shoulders [ family hug ] a hug given between two family members [ no-words-needed hug ] a hug given when no more words are needed and they just want to be close to one another

[allthornsnopetals]

We are not Friends D.Bridgerton

Description: A falling out results in a lost friendship, between Y/n and Daphne, due to this, the two have not been friends for some time. But a sticky situation occurs and they are to come back together again. Let's hope the truth comes out, or God help these women.

"Mama!" Daphne cries, clenching the newest Lady Whistledown gossip in hand, pacing the drawing room, breaking closer to tears.

Violet Bridgerton rushes in, barely having a moment to steady herself before Daphne is crashing into her arms, weeping a set of worked up emotions.

"What seems to be the matter?" Violet takes her hand, sitting them both on the sofa, ringing for tea.

"Look!" She shoves the parchment in her chest, sulking in her handkerchief.

Violet's eyes blew open, shock visible on her face. "Oh, no... Anthony!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n gasps, her mouth agape, caring not for her breakfast, storming out of her room.

"This has to be some sort of joke."

"Papa! Edger! Look at what Lady Whistledown had published!" She almost screams, running to the drawing room, slamming the parchment down on the breakfast table.

Damon jumps, spilling his tea with Y/n slumping herself on the sofa, visibly hopeless. "Must you be so loud, Y/n." He hisses, taking the paper with a scowl. "Sorry, papa but just read it."

Dearest gentle readers,

It seems, a simple ruse, can stain even the purest fabrics, even a Baudelaire and Bridgerton. Something new has come to this authors attention... Something rather fake, such as a false friendship. It seems, Miss Y/n Baudelaire and Miss Daphne Bridgerton, have never been allies, let alone friends for almost a year. You see, before the season of debutantes and marriage, the close friends had a falling out, one that led to tears, unspoken words and unfortunately an unmendable relationship. If it were me, I would have guessed a man had been involved. They have fooled us all with their plastic grins, gentle tones and 'friendly' banter. All this time behind closed doors, the two ladies loathed each other with a burning passion, all over a man.

Of course, Daphne and Y/n have not been friends for some time, but they both assumed their roles to be well-kept, keeping a distance and only conversing when need be. But that did not fool Lady Whistledown and now everyone in town knew of their broken alliance, leaving a gaping hole in their family relations. You see, both dynasties held a strong relationship, one of favors and marriage. They were like kin to each other, all relying on their relationship, like kings and queens to neighboring nations, for here in London their is always some sort of war among the tons.

"What did you do!" Damon booms, tossing the paper to the floor in a rage.

"Nothing, I swear it, papa. It's blaspheme, lies. Lady whis-"

"Lady Whistledown, is never wrong, child. In this situation, you best hope she is." Damon marches off, rage fuming from his ears.

A long silence fills the air, one thick and angry. Edger, her eldest brother hunches over, squeezing the bridge of his nose, frowning deeply, breathing harshly, clearly angry. Y/n tries to speak, feeling the need to smooth the tension over but nothing comes.

"Don't speak, your words will only upset me," He sighs sharply, legs crossed, trying to calm himself. "I don't want to know what happened but only, how are you going to mend your friendship with Miss Bridgerton." He's staring at her now, eyes calm, body still tense

"What am I going to do? It is but a rumor, Daphne and I are, thick as thieves." She nods, setting herself up with haste, leaving him alone before she suffocates herself on the tension.

What was she to do, indeed? Y/n, had not a clue. Her heart was not yet ready to be fixed, let alone face the girl who had shattered it with her lies. She was done with her but it seems the ton is not.

If she is to face Daphne Birdgerton again, she will have the truth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Daphne paces the room, sure to burn a hole through the carpet, waiting on Y/n, if she shows up of course. Surely she would, surely she is to care about the reputation of here family. But as the time drew to midnight, the ball soon to end, Daphne began to slowly lose hope.

"My apologies gentlemen, but my dance card is full. Better luck, next event, yes?" Y/n slides past the double doors, closing them with a shaky breath, turning the lock as she enters.

"Where have you been?" Said Daphne, her tone strained and irritated.

Y/n does not answer, pouring herself a glass of bubbles, no doubt a method to pull it together. "My feet do hurt." She flops on the cushioned sofa, past Daphne, near the fire, slipping her feet wear off, tucking her them under herself, getting comfortable.

The library of the host wasn't as large as the Baudelaire Mansion, but it were a library and a private place, certain to keep unwanted eyes and ears away.

"Sit, I do prefer our conversation to be comfortable." She says, lazily waving Daphne over, ignoring her exasperated groan as she sits on the other end of the sofa.

She could see in the corner of her eye, Daphne pouting, legs crossed with her dainty arms folded over her chest. If the circumstances were different, Y/n would tease and even draw a laugh, but they were no longer friends, so the thought of making fun and jokes were nothing but a past-time, forgotten and never to be forged again. Anyways, she's exhausted, feet aching, Y/n was in no mood for banter or going through memory-lane, as if they could.

"Why were you late." Daphne turns to her, stern and still sulking. Y/n laughs, sipping her drink, effortlessly turning her head, staring at her, as if she were a child. "I am to marry before the end of the season, can't do that if no man asks for my hand." She explains, rather plainly as if she were bored.

A sharp pang jabs Daphne's chest. She knew Y/n would stop at nothing, until she had found a Suitor and wed. It's the goal of every young lady present at the party, except hers. Daphne wanted to make her dynasty proud and wed out of love, but she could not do that, if the one she loved stared back at her, wanting not a woman but a man. Oh, how she wished, she were a man, not a woman. Perhaps, she could wed Y/n, run to the countryside and build a family together. But the longer she stares at her, the more doubt she felt, for the eyes that looked at her were filled with bitter anger and unforgiveness.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore, Y/n. I think it's best, that you and I make our separate ways."

Daphne could still recall the pain in her eyes, her smile erased in a few simple words, their long lasting friendship gone in a few moments. Guilt still loomed over her, like a shadow. But she couldn't pretend anymore, her heart became far too great for her to handle, Daphne could not trust herself to be alone with her, afraid she might flip and do something she'll regret. It had to be done, even if the eyes she once found comfort in hated her, wishing her dead.

If only things were different.

Y/n waves a hand in her face. "Hello, did you not hear a single word I said?" Her tone harsh, expression tight and clearly annoyed.

"Yes, of course!"

Y/n laughs humorlessly, visibly unconvinced. "You were spacing out again." She scoffs, setting the empty glass on the small wooden coffee table.

"You always do that! Especially when under hot water! Do you not car-"

Daphne zones out, losing herself in Y/n's visible rage. She were the only woman who could make anger look effortlessly beautiful, even if her words stung, which most of the time they did. But she cared not, for she knew Y/n did not mean what she said, only saying what comes to her mind when overwhelmed with fits of anger. She couldn't help the grin curving her lips, she's been starved of her company for too long, she had missed her yelling, her anger, her imperfections, that made her so perfect. She has missed every part of her, even her most messyest parts.

"What are you grinning at?" Said Y/n, frowning deeply, her tongue laced in poison, readying to kill.

"Nothing," Daphne snorts, clapping a hand over her lips, as if it could stop her uncontrollable chuckles. "Truly, nothing. My apologies, continue."

Y/n stood, furious and exhausted. "If this is how you defend your reputation— my reputation, you can kindly sod off!"

She picked up her skirts, making a b line for the exit. "Wait! You can't walk out there looking like that!" Daphne shields the only way out, blocking Y/n's path, trying her best not to buckle under glare.

"Looking like what."

Daphne swallows thickly, afraid of the wild fire before her: beautiful, stunning, luring, but dangerous and even deadly.

"You look displeased, angry, mad, furious... may I say, beautifully deadly." Daphne squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for another applause of sharpened words, but they never came.

Silence fell, like rain, cooling and even putting out the angry fire. Opening her eyes, she watches Y/n pour herself another drink, this time offering her a glass, eyes soft and gentle.

So that is all it took to calm her. Complements and sweetened words, is all that was needed to extinguish the flame. If only Daphne knew sooner, she could have saved her plenty of burns. Taking their places back on the sofa, Y/n slipping her slippers off once again, finding a comfortable position, they sat awkwardly, no words spoken.

"What I said before was, acting, pretending. We are already doing that, but we have to be closer, and spend a lot more time in public. Form a believable ruse." Y/n went on to explain, shifting in her spot, attention glued to Daphne.

Ruse.

The word made Daphne's stomach stir, making her sick. She did not want to pretend, did not want to act. She wanted her company to be raw, genuine. But she's fairly aware of her shortcomings, she just hoped that she could keep her wandering heart under control. There were many things Daphne wished for, but she will never wish for the falling of another's dynasty because she simply couldn't keep it together.

"Deal?"

"Deal." They shook hands in agreement, unknowingly dooming themselves in an unbreakable contract.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The spring sun bloomed a great deal of heat and light, the park bustling with noise of joy, celebrating the thaw, signifying the beginning of warmer weather in the ton. Y/n kept safe under the provided shade of her family camp, fanning herself and sipping pink lemonade, doing her best to keep up chatter with another possible Suitor, completely ignoring the second party drawing near her family tent.

"Well, good afternoon Miss Daphne! It has been much time since we last had your company over for tea." Edger curtsied, offering her a chair beside Y/n.

"It has, hasn't it? I have been preoccupied with far too difficult things, I'm sure you'll understand." She grins in thanks, taking a glass of pink lemonade.

"Yes, of course. I'm sure Mr Deluca would be happy to join me and the other gentlemen, elsewhere." He looks between Daphne and Y/n, sending him a silent message.

He nods, leaving a kiss to Y/n's gloved knuckles, curtsying, acknowledging both women in farewell.

Y/n flutters her lashes, grinning as Stephen takes his leave, his gaze still glued to the young lady, incapable of tearing it away, fumbling behind Edger. Once out of view, she turns her attention to Daphne, finding a rather nasty scowl.

"Fix your face, it appears to me that you have sucked a sour lemon." Y/n shifts in her seat, trying to get comfortable, watching her younger brothers: Harwin and Hamish, fly their kites with Hyacinth and Gregory, Daphne's youngest siblings.

She gasps, insulted, hitting Y/n in the shoulder with her fan. "I do not!"

Y/n winches with irritation, hitting Daphne back, acting like children. "Don't hit me, you sour lemon." She chuckles, dodging her attackers next move with a swift stance, ready to run. Without a second thought, she pokes her harshly in the thigh with her fan, making a run for it when Daphne decides to stand, surly for revenge, starting a chase.

Ladies should not run but in this case, Y/n saw it rather fitting to make chase from the woman hot on her tail, she sure were fast for someone rather slow. With the possibility of being physically harmed she couldn't help but laugh, a smile permanently stuck to her face, swiftly sliding past Daphne as she drove forward, fan in hand. Y/n gave a gentle tap with her fan to her behind, watching Daphne gasp, grinning as she shook her head, recollecting herself before continuing with the chase.

"You're going to regret that, Y/n."

With a squeal Y/n ran, dodging and weaving past young and old, even through the Bridgerton tent. "Sorry!" She yells, passing Violet, using her as a shield from her attacker.

"Using my mama, is rather cowardice, don't you think?" Daphne pants, trying to find a way past Violet who stood with a smile, finally happy to see her daughter and dearest friend frolic.

"Not at all, I'm sure your mama is enjoying herself. Aren't you ma'am?"

Violet rolls her eyes, stiff as a board. "Oh, Y/n what's that!" Daphne stills, pointing at something past Y/n's gaze, distracting her.

With her distraction she catches her, holding her in her arms, making it impossible for Y/n to escape. "Cheat!" She cries, laughing and without thinking, embraces Daphne, panting and grinning.

The two held each other, completely out of breath and out of hatred. The Bridgerton and Baudelaire girls back together again, even though it were a false friendship.

"Y/n would you join us for a glass of peach tea and perhaps chat about the season, so far? I see plenty of Suitors have swept to your feet." Violet offered a glass, acknowledging her state of jovial exhaustion.

"Yes, of course, Violet! I do adore your peach tea, I find it the most refreshing." She beams, taking the glass with Daphne's hand intertwined with her own.

Even with the presence of the spring heat, they chat for hours, drawing laughs, terrible jokes and even worse memories. "No, he didn't!" Daphne gasped, squeezing her hand.

"Oh, yes! Violet saw and had to step in. If she didn't I would have smacked him senseless." Y/n explained, high on story telling, completely oblivious or unbothered to her head resting on her shoulder, chuckling at the sudden throw back.

"Oh, yes... He was rather, rude and arrogant. His mother needs to teach him better manners." Violet gave a disapproving shake, sipping her peach tea, the pitcher almost empty.

"The worst part is, the young gentlemen came back! The nerve... And with his mother, no less." Violet tsk's, rolling her eyes.

"His mother!" Daphne chokes on her peach tea.

"Yes! A nasty blob of a woman."

"Mother!" Daphne scolds, Y/n laughing harder than intended.

"Your mother can be quite the... Bear." Y/n mutters, laying her empty glass down on the small white table, holding a silver tray.

"What? Would you have preferred that I do nothing? That witch bore an ugly heart of a boy, with a face of a donkey." She shrugged, pouring her guess another glass.

Y/n whizzed a laugh, Daphne slapping her on the arm, clearly not wanting her to encourage her mothers antics.

"Don't encourage her, she'll never stop." Daphne warns with a playful grins. "My apologies. Violet, next time go for the eyes before the crutch."

Violet chuckled with a wink, Daphne nudging Y/n.

At this time tents were slowly being stored away and the sun began to draw behind the clouds, dipping away for the night. With that, Y/n's lady Maid, Daisy strolled over, fetching the young lady.

"We are to leave in five, Edger wishes everyone to make haste to the carriage." She informs her, bobbing a curtsy, leaving faster than she came.

"Right, well the tea has been splendid, thank you Violet," She stands, sweeping her dress clean, bowing in farewell and thanks. "I do wish to spend another day like this, perhaps sooner than later."

"Oh, the thanks is all mine, you truly are missed. Our door is always open to you, if you ever need an escape from your brothers, but I can't promise much relief." She returns her bow, hugging her farewell.

"I'll walk you back." Daphne offers, high on a day filled with someone she missed, even with the sense of a ruse

She took her arm, moving rather slowly, not wanting to let her other half go, just yet.

"Stephen seems smitten with you, like all of your Suitors. He'll make an excellent husband and a great father, if you wed of course. You are to be wed?" Daphne asks, her tone and expression worried, searching for Y/n's gaze.

For a moment, her eyes pooled with fear, something Daphne thought she would never witness, for Y/n was always knowing, always confident and strong. Did she not wish to be wed?

Patting Daphne's arm, Y/n stops, looping her arm free, clearing her throat, her smile genuine to the eyes of a fool but Daphne is no fool, she sees right through her, like one sees through glass. Her smile seemed strained, pained, worried and hurt.

"I do thank you for today, it truly was a treat but I best go now and with haste, don't want to keep Edger waiting, you dare keep him waiting and he's all on you with claws. Hopefully Lady Whistledown buys our little ruse and our families reputation... Will be mended," She pauses, rolling her thumbs over Daphne's gloved hands, comforting and reassuring.

"I am sure you want me gone as much as Eloise, wishes to rid the world of men."

No, I do not want you gone, I want you near, close, incapable of leaving... I want you, as one wants oxygen.

But Daphne could not say that, not to anyone. To harbor affection for a fellow woman is forbidden, wrong, worse compared to her current situation. If Daphne were to bring speech to her hidden affirmation, she could be ruined─ her entire dynasty will be ruined, all because she couldn't stop her stubborn heart for loving this woman, who loathed her most. Would she hate her more, if she were to be honest? Would she kill her or out her if she were to give voice for her love?

Daphne wanted to scream, shout, yell and cry until her throat ran dry. She needs Y/n, like oxygen... Like a bed of roses that craves for water. But she couldn't have her, not in this life... Not in any.

Parting, broke Daphne, as if a weight had landed on her chest, crushing her heart.

"With haste, Daphne!" Eloise calls, her voice booming over the chatter of the bustling park, scaring a flock of birds, that took flight, frightened by the sudden noise, flapping and gobbling their own sounds.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Daphne is not the only person who eyed Y/n, as if she were the main course of the dinner party──"She's beautiful." Said Benedict, sipping his cocktail, eyeing the girl he's been trying to court for the entire season.

Of course, she were beautiful, it's Y/n, beauty came naturally to her and so did Suitors. She had not yet made it to the floor when a swarm of men crowded her, offering her a dance, a drink, a hand and even food. "Of course, she's beautiful, Benedict, only a fool will think otherwise." Said Daphne, gritting her teeth at her brother and the other men swooning for someone she wish were her's.

Y/n, wore her award winning smile, promising a dance to the first few boys, who pooled to her pink jeweled feet. Tonight she bared a rose quartz color dress, her neck donned with a matching gem necklace. Her hair flowed in ringlets, decoder with pink jeweled flowers, drawing back half her mane in a lovely back crown. Her ears, clipped with pink diamonds, rolling out a theme with her outfit. She stuck out.

Half way through the night Daphne had danced, performing that best she could, her gaze constantly shifting to the girl in pink, chatting to a ring off men, containing of lords, viscounts, dukes and even a prince.

She's growing tired at watching them frolic around her, making her laugh, gritting her teeth to dust. If she were a man, she would have courted Lady Y/n, long ago, asking for her hand with the most expensive flowers, gems, jewels and food─she loves her food, the best way to Y/n's heart is always food. Daphne is sure, that if Y/n had a choice between a husband and an infinite supply of her favorite foods, this season would have been short lived, less then a second spent on finding a husband, she'll be with a food child, living her best life.

By the expression on Y/n's face, she is growing exhausted, tired of these men, ready for sleep and perhaps a hearty meal. But the night was not over and the room is becoming far too warm. Fanning herself, Y/n excuses herself, gliding past men and women, young and old, shifting through until she were out, venturing to the fountain, relieved to finally have silence.

"I didn't expect you to leave such handsome men behind. Many looked rather wounded at your departure, I'm sure you shattered a few hearts." The sound of Daphne's voice makes Y/n jump, hand slamming against her chest in fright.

Calming herself, Y/n breaths an exhausted laugh, fanning herself still. She did not expect company, especially not Daphnes.

"Excuse my behavior but you gave me a fright. I was not anticipating your presence, not after Lady Whisledown's latest update." Said Y/n, scooting over, allowing Daphne to sit with her in the lip of the fountain.

"Uh, yes Lady Whistledown's paper, she seems rather impressed with our ruse, she even called us 'two peas in a pod'." The two shared a short laugh, consumed by awkward silence and embarrassing sniffs.

Lady Whistledown seemed pleased with their act, that she published two columns regarding their false friendship, speaking great praise for their public fondness. Thinking their friendship to be mended, fixed and thriving. So, why spend another minute in the same environment, pretending to enjoy their company.

Clearing her throat, Y/n turned her attention to Daphne. "Do you need something?" Her eyes wander, bottom lip stuck between her teeth, waiting for an answer.

Daphne paused, thinking for the best excuse possible. "No, I just wanted to see you... Perhaps offer a stroll around the gardens."

"I don't want to be your friend anymore, Y/n. I think it's best, that you and I make our separate ways."

Y/n scoffs, lowering her gaze to the gravel floor, an irritated grin, spreading across her face. "What are you doing?" She questions, her tone angry and steady, fire blooming under her gaze.

What is Daphne doing, indeed?

She had made it abundantly clear, their friendship meant nothing to her, that she wanted no part with Y/n at all. So, what were she doing, indeed?

Daphne swallowed thickly, guilt pooling in her stomach, knowing what she meant. She could be honest and risk her friendship a second time, or lie, and simply never see Y/n's face again.

"Don't say you don't know what I speak, because you do." Said Y/n, leveling her eyes with Daphne's, killing the slightest light in her eyes. "Must I recall what you said to me... What you never want me to forget. I don't want to be your friend anymore, Y/n. I think it's best, that you and I make our separate ways." Her tone, sharp and mean.

"You lied to me, to yourself. You never thought it best for us to go our separate ways. If you did, you would not be here, you would be happy with Lady Whistledowns latest publish, leaving me be... Like nothing had changed."

Y/n spoke with confidence, anger, bitterness and unforgiveness. But behind her words, something sad, hurt and betrayed lived there. Something Daphne did not miss, hurting herself in the process, shifting her gaze to her hands, wanting to disappear, hating herself for allowing her heart to fall so far.

"Why did you lie?" The crack in her voice, sounded false, fictional, but one glance in her eyes, Daphne was sure her heart shattered. She had missed Daphne, wanting to let her go as quickly as she had come. Heal quickly and move on. But her heart wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow her to patch and sew herself back up again, until she had the truth.

Daphne's throat ran dry, she didn't know where to start, or even say anything, but her chest ached, she had to tell her. Sucking in a breath, Daphne steadied herself, bracing the threshold.

"I didn't want to let you go. I wanted to keep you, to steal you, to force you to stay and never leave my side... Not even for a man, for a Suitor, or for a husband." Daphne shook her head, laughing at herself. "Frankly, I wish I were a man, for a far different reason than Eloise. I wish I were born with a penis, because my affection for you... They're abnormal, wrong, forbidden... Strangling me, starving me of oxygen." Daphne sniffles, tears clogging her speech, her smile strained and tight.

"I wish to have you as a Suitor wishes to court you. Y/n I never wanted to go our separate ways, but what were I to do! You wish to wed a fine man, but I am a woman... You hate me, you don't feel the slightest affection for me... You'll love, and I'll die." She cries into her palm, body shaking, nose sniffling.

Y/n's mouth fell open, gaping, soundless. She did not expect her own friend to spill her heart out to her, to love her as a husband loved his wife. Y/n was speechless.

"You wish to be a man, for me?" Y/n leans forward, freeing Daphne's hands from her face, staring into her puffy eyes, searching for truth.

Daphne quivers. "Disgusting, for a woman to wish to be a man, so she could be free to love the woman her heart longs for." She chokes, leaning into Y/n's shoulder, her hand guiding her head, cuddling her closer.

Y/n grins, stroking Daphne's hair.

"You say disgusting, I say romantic." She giggles, rolling her thumb over Daphne's arm.

Daphne tilts her head up, gazing up at Y/n, clearly confused.

"What?" Her question barely, audible.

"If you wish to be a man for my heart, why not have it?" Y/n held her chin between her fingers, gently kissing her, sealing her vow.

"You do wish to have my heart?" She asks once a part, allowing Daphne to process the moment.

"Yes! A thousand times yes!" Daphne smiles, snatching another kiss, holding Y/n so very close, their chests embrace each other.

[neo-nomatrix]

Drunk words are sober thoughts

Hobie Brown x reader

Part three of the My Nuisance mini series. Find the other parts here

word count: 959

Synopsis: Hobie forgets everything he told you last night. Thank you @good-so for the inspo!!

When you woke up Hobie was gone. You were surprised you didn’t hear his obnoxious boot buckles clicking when he left. In fact you were surprised he left at all. He basically confessed his love and the fact he was Spiderman to you last night.

You needed time to process everything, make sure none of it was a fever dream. As soon as you woke up (and gathered your thoughts) you trudged over to Hobies flat. You knocked on the door similar to how Hobie always did, part of you was angry that he had left you but you would rather die than let him know he got to you.

“Hobie? You in there?!” You yell pressing your ear against the door.

As you lean into the door it opens up, he had left the door unlocked and didn’t even fully close it. You stepped into the rather dark flat and admired the decorations. He had a way of making everything look like a punk rock magazine, despite the chaos it was cleaner than you had anticipated. You searched throughout the flat trying to find him but it was clear he wasn’t there.

Eventually you came across a small box decorated with photos of the London bridge and bright colors. You didn’t mean to snoop around, really, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Inside were five things: three letters, a ring, and a necklace. You had recognized the ring and necklace, they were yours. You had lost both of them by mistake about a week ago but assumed they were long gone. As you thought about it more you realized something like that happened often, you would lose something of yours and a week later they would up outside of your door with a note attached to it.

Usually saying “You’re quite clumsy, love - Hobie”

It hadn’t occurred to you why he had found so many of your things until now.

You looked at one of the letters, and sure enough it said “You just keep losing stuff don’t you? Good thing i’m here to save the day -Hobie” You smile to yourself thinking about the fact that he would probably give you this tomorrow.

The second letter was from you. The first time you had ever told him to turn down his music. As you read it you realized how much you had changed from the first time you met him. You were so polite in the letter, the fact you had taped a letter to his door instead of screaming at him was polite in itself. After that first letter you don’t think you have ever said “please” and “thank you.” From then on it was mostly you stomping over to his flat and yelling while he stood there amused.

The last letter was addressed to you. And it was double sided, either this boy has a lot of baggage or he was really in love with you. You felt awful reading it though. You started at the first words for a while “For my Love,” until the lights switched on.

“You’re breaking into my house now? That’s cheeky init?” He smirked. God he is so stupid, and what British person actually says init?

“The door was open. I was… just checking to see no one like a robber had broken in,” you replied.

“Right, and you also wanted to make sure that box wasn’t broken into?” he replied.

You immediately set it down.

“I haven’t read any of it, promise,” you smiled

“Yet, you haven't read any of it yet,” he finished for you.

“So, about last night?” you bring up. Hoping he’ll want to talk about it.

“Right… uhm, i don’t really remember any of it? So whatever i said don’t pay any attention. I’m a compulsive liar when I get wasted,” he shrugs.

Oh. He didn’t remember anything he said. And he’s also a dunk liar. Cute. You were still slightly convinced he’s spiderman, though. He showed you the suit and the mask, which weren’t exactly replicas to your knowledge. And trust, you knew your spiderman suit replicas. But the other stuff?

The stuff about you hurting his feelings and him being in love with you? Yeah, you were almost one hundred percent sure those were lies. You don’t know why you were convinced with one but not the other. You just did.

“Yeah, of course,” you looked sad.

“But I should get going,” you said after a moment of silence.

“Right, we’ll uhm, see you,” he said.

You nodded before looking down at the ground, walking off without being able to look into his eyes.

You shut the door to your flat faster than you ever have before.

“Oh my lord,” you whispered to yourself.

Gods, if that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you. You didn’t even know what you were thinking, you had to be mental, right? Going into Hobies flat while he wasn’t around? And he caught you? You could never show your face again.

While you’re in your flat panicking your mind out, Hobie is filled with anxiety. He’s racking his brain trying to remember what happened last night and why he woke up in your bed. Did he say something horrible? Did he confess his deepest secrets to you? The answer was yes, but he didn’t know that yet. He only left early because Miguel had pinged his watch with some stupid mission.

“The fate of the multiverse is at stake,” or something like that.

He knew he had to talk to you again. Picking up the box he pulled out the ring. Admiring the way it glimmered in the fluorescent lights.

Throwing away the note that came with it, he knew exactly how to start a conversation.

Taglist!! @clown420cunt @good-so @anonima-2 @gh0stsp1d3r @miracleboylene @natthernandez @frenchbaddie @loislucky @juo6uvr @gaychaosgremlin @skiedrr @the-golden-goldie @hellok1ttycake @theleftkittycollection @xbl00dy-r0s3x @diamondroxypie

[youryurigoddess]

Gabriel’s (missing) cross

Let’s put everything we know about that spooky statue of the Archangel Gabriel in one thread to make the conversation about its possible meaning as a Good Omens 3 clue more structured. Starting off with the relevant part of the official commentary from X-Ray:

Douglas Mackinnon got one thing wrong in his part of the interview — Gabriel wasn’t carved by “some guy in Italy,” but a British sculptor and prop maker David Field working as a part of the team at 3DEye in London.

Technically speaking, it’s a gorgeous piece of hand-carved expanded polystyrene with a clay sculpted head on top of it — even if the Archangel’s smug likeness isn’t that pleasant to look at, all things considered. The scenic artists from 3DEye made it look like stone afterwards.

The body itself took ten days to sculpt and is a faithful copy of the famous statue on Ponte Sant'Angelo in Rome called Angel with the Cross by Ercole Ferrata. It stands on the inscription “Cuius principatus super humerum eius” (“Whose government shall be upon His shoulder”, Isaiah 9:16), and this quote makes much more sense for Gabriel than the cross in his hands. The usual iconography of the Archangel uses a trumpet or a white lily instead.

Ponte Sant'Angelo was originally used to expose the heads of those sentenced to death — each of the angelic statues on it carry Arma Christi, the Instruments of the Passion. Like the Second Coming, what seems to be a hopeful message to the Chosen Ones can also be a warning for the others.

The statue of Gabriel, first shown in full in the cemetery scene of the Good Omens 2 title sequence, reappears at the very end as a part of the bridge leading to the biggest Easter egg — at least according to Peter Anderson, the animator behind it — which is the lift in the background, implying how we’re getting closer towards the Second Coming. Notice how the cross broke down in half at some point between these two scenes!

And it disappears in the plot as well: Gabriel’s memory depicts it only from his point of view, with the camera deliberately moving slightly to the right and stopping at his eye level. The centered, establishing shots show the statue with empty hands as a bookend.

I believe that this cross is meant to serve as a foreshadowing, a reminder of the absolution of sins and eternal life through Christ’s sacrifice and Second Coming. We see it only through Gabriel and Aziraphale’s eyes — when Beelzebub looks at the statue, the cross is not there.

As seen in the BTS photos and videos, it’s not an editing error, but a deliberate positioning of the physical props on set. The cross was clearly meant to be a removable part of the statue and displayed in a specific way to convey a message to the audience.

The question remains: is it a reassurance, something to look forward to, or maybe rather a warning?

Not helpfully at all, the traditional use of angelic imagery in Christian cemeteries matches both interpretations.

[theostrophywife]

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.