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kisses4reid · 6 months ago

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understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected.

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it.

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.”

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people.

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting.

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.”

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child.

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.”

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly.

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor.

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you.

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction.

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.”

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.”

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways.

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?”

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.”

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely.

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.”

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it.

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.”

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

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strwberri-milk · 4 months ago

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Can I please have the LaDS boys reacting to the reader speaking in another language (I won't choose a specific language) with a male friend and the boys are jealous because what do you mean he can understand you and I can't 🙄

hrmm i guess sylus is included now LMAO

Zayne isn't going to be too immature about it. He knows that you're not monolingual and it's not like it bothers him or anything. He just wants to feel included so he'll probably slowly learn the language on the downtime so he doesn't have to bother you for a translation.

Xavier will just quietly stand menacingly behind you. He puts his chin on your shoulder, trying to see if he can decipher any sort of meaning from the words you're saying and if he can't figure it out he'll ask you to translate right there. He doesn't care if it disrupts the flow of the conversation - he just wants you to tell him what's happening so he doesn't feel left out.

Rafayel, resident polyglot, gets upset when he realises you're speaking a language he doesn't. It's even worse if it's not a part of any language families that he does know because he can't even try to figure out what you're saying. He'll simmer quietly, glaring daggers at you. Once your conversation is done he'll ask for an intensive play by play, refusing to let you skimp out on any detail.

Sylus also seems like he could be a polyglot. If he doesn't understand the language he'll let you converse as much as you like, discreetly keeping his eye on you as he waits for you to finish. He doesn't say anything to you about the fact that you dared to speak without him being able to understand but you get the sense that the next time your friend comes over you're going to just use a communal language.

#love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads rafayel x reader #lads xavier x reader #lads sylus x reader #lnds zayne x reader #lnds xavier x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lnds sylus x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #l&ds sylus x reader

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

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eddie x shy!reader , she asks him on a date by giving him tickets to a concert and he thinks its a joke til she walks away feeling rejected & he realizes she’s like dead serious & goes up to her

thanks for your request! i sorta broke my own heart with this one — the one where eddie rejects you and immediately regrets it (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, 2.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Robin tells you that he’s nice. She says he won’t turn you down because he loves Mötley Crüe too much and he’s called you pretty too many times. Robin Buckley is many things — a dork, a polyglot, and your best friend, to name a few — but she’s never been a liar.

She wouldn’t lead you to the slaughter that way. She wouldn’t just let you get your heart broken. More than anything, though, she knows Eddie far better than you do — partly because she’s actually able to talk to him.

So despite your lingering worry, you swallow her words like a shot of vodka and maneuver helplessly through the bustling crowd of the Hawkins High lunchroom.

Eddie Munson sits alone at the Hellfire Club table — the smallest one in the very back corner by the large square window.

Instead of eating a real meal (even though the hamburgers might be horse meat instead of cow), the boy eats crumbled-up pretzels from a worn ziplock bag. He pinches them into his mouth blindly because his chocolate syrup gaze is trained on the well-loved book folded in his left hand.

J.R.R Tolkien’s, The Hobbit.

It makes you smile softly to yourself. You hope one day you’ll have the courage to tell him you’ve read that book so many times you could recite it in your sleep. You hope that day comes soon.

“Eddie?” you call softly to him when you reach his table. Your sweaty fingers fidget with the concert tickets you clutch between them.

He just thinks he hears his name at first. It’s barely audible over the sounds of muddled chatter in the cafeteria. He glances up from his book, not expecting anyone to be there, and gaping when he finds you standing in front of him.

His cinnamon eyes go wide. The boy blinks owlishly at you once, then flits his eyes behind you like he’s expecting to see someone there. When he doesn’t, he blinks at you again.

“Hi…” you waver with a trembling smile.

Eddie grins back, still obviously confused. “…Hi?”

“I, uh… I don’t know if you heard, but— well, obviously you heard, that’s… that’s stupid,” you laugh at yourself, shaking your head with your eyes squeezed shut. You’re already stumbling all over yourself, and you haven’t even managed a full sentence yet.

“Mötley Crüe is coming to Indianapolis in a few days, and a friend of mine was selling tickets, so I bought them. For us. Potentially. You know, if you wanted to… to go… With me.”

Your offer lingers and hangs in the air between the two of you.

A smile quirks at the right side of Eddie’s pink mouth. It isn’t a kind one, though. It looks more cynical than anything else.

His head juts back. He’s almost peering at you from the corner of his eye as though you were some suspicious thing he needed to analyze. A laugh sputters from his lips. “Did Buckley put you up to this? Is that what this is?”

Your faltering smile fades entirely. Your features crumble in disappointment.

This worse he could say is no, Robin had told you.

You hadn’t prepared yourself for this.

“…What?” you wonder, voice fragile like a wilting flower petal.

Eddie chuckles to himself. He sets the book down to give you his full attention, though you’re not sure you want it anymore. “You know, I knew she was upset about me trying to set her up with Vickie and all, but this is a… whole new low.”

“Vickie…?” you murmur through a tightening throat, brows pinched in confusion. “I don’t understand—”

“Look, sweetheart… Tell Robin that this was a real funny joke, but I’m not interested, alright?”

Your chest aches with an empty feeling. You think your heart might be breaking. “J—Joke?”

“—Actually, tell her that this was very not metal of her, and that I will get my vengeance,” Eddie says with a sardonic laugh deeply rooted in his chest. His smile looks almost like he pities you as he shakes his head, eyes twinkling with pessimism. “I’m sorry she sent you to do her dirty work, but… You should probably go now. This is, you know, the Hellfire Club table and everything, so…”

You swallow thickly, then nod.

Eddie doesn’t want you here. Eddie doesn’t want you at all.

“I’m— I’m sorry if I…” The words get caught in your throat. You clear it and blink back burning tears. “I was just… I thought that maybe—”

“Eddie!” a boyish voice calls from across the cafeteria, only halfway drowned out through all the noise. A group of guys in Hellfire shirts walk towards the table.

You take that as your cue to leave. You don’t want to burst into tears in front of your crush and all of his friends.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage to choke out before turning on your heel and walking away.

He’d been smiling up until that point — like it was all a big joke to him — because it was.

The girl he’s been fawning over since junior year comes out of nowhere with tickets to see one of his favorite bands? That was the kind of shit he dreamt about — the kind of plan only someone as vicious as Robin Buckley could concoct to hurt his feelings. And after spending so many years being the brunt of bullies, Eddie was tired of being embarrassed.

And at first, he thought you were just a really good actor. You did look almost genuinely confused when he’d snuffed out the plan so quickly. But those wide, glassy eyes you looked at him with — he doesn’t know if a person can fake that sort of heartbreak. That looked real.

Eddie had been close to commending himself for not letting Robin win. He thought he was a genius for not allowing Buckley to use you against him. Now he knows he’s the same dumbass he's always been.

“Hey, man…” Gareth wavers as he sits at his designated seat adjacent to Eddie’s. The boy’s forlorn and faraway gaze doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the club. They all share looks of confusion, but the sandy-haired boy is the only one brave enough to speak up. “You okay?”

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on your figure as you maneuver through the crowd. Robin looks happy for you when you reach her, but the puppy-like excitement washes away when she notices how sad you are.

He feels like someone’s shoved a knife between his ribcage. He wonders if this is what a broken heart feels like.

“I think I screwed up,” he answers, laughing cynically at himself. “Like, big time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, right?” Dustin jokes before popping a fry into his mouth. He laughs, but no one else joins him. “…Right?”

Eddie glares at the boy.

He cowers. “…Kidding. I was kidding.”

—————

He stews over it all day — your offer and what he said to you and how sad you looked after he said it.

He pictures your pinched brows and big, glassy eyes and his chest starts to burn a little. Everyone always thought he was some raging asshole just because he had crazy hair and a crazier taste in music. Now he feels like they were sort of right about him.

Whatever chance he had with you has surely turned to dust by now. It wouldn’t surprise him after he shrugged you off like he did. But after waging a nearly four-hour war in his mind between lunch and dismissal, he knows he has to make sure.

He has to know if he’s ruined things entirely or if there’s a glimmer of hope he can hang onto.

He comes to you at the end of the day, dripping in metaphorical blood from the mental carnage he’d endured. He stood across the hall from you for five whole minutes as he tried to come up with something to say. He walks to your locker empty-handed and just blurts, “I thought you were joking,” like a total idiot.

Through the muddled conversation in the bustling hallway, you hadn’t heard him coming. You didn’t know he was there at all until he was right next to you. Seeing someone so suddenly close to you makes you flinch — hard.

And it’s not totally Eddie’s fault. You’re jumpy and too easily frightened at times, but he can’t help but feel like he’s messing things up more than he already has.

“Oh…” you deflate with a sigh, eyes still wide and swimming with something he can’t quite place. You look like you’re almost relieved to see him. Almost.

“Sorry— shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” The boy stumbles over his words, then trails off when they don’t come out the way he wants. He shakes his head and finds it in himself to smile. It’s bitter, though, filled with self-abhorrence. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

With one hand still clutching the door of your locker, and the other gripping a stack of textbooks, you peer at him through your lashes. “I know. It’s okay. I just— I wasn’t expecting it…”

He grimaces. “Sorry…”

“’S okay,” you repeat.

“I, um, I only came in so hot ‘cause I wanted to apologize— you know, for earlier. In the lunch room,” he stammers and puts his fidgeting hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He tries to laugh, but it comes out more as an insincere puff of air. “Honestly, I thought you were joking.”

Your brows pinch. “Joking? Why would I—”

“I sorta locked Robin and Vickie in the old chemistry room in the east wing a few days ago,” he confesses, bouncing his shoulders. “Just because I know they both like each other and everything, and I thought maybe they’d finally admit it if they were alone together.”

“Okay…?”

“Well, they didn’t. And Robin was pissed. So I thought she was using you to get back at me.”

“Using me?” you echo.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I’ve kinda been into you since junior year and everything,” he admits with a nonchalant shrug. The corner of his rosy mouth quirks into a half-smile. “It’s, like, the one card Robin could use against me that would actually hurt, you know? If she did try to get me back.”

Your heart swells so much it hurts, almost — the same kind of hurt you'd felt in the lunch room earlier. It feels fiery, like someone’s taken a match to your ribcage and lit your heart aglow. But it’s different now. This is a good hurt, a happy hurt.

“Really?” you squint at him, your voice high and light. Your lips twitch like you want to smile, but you don’t let yourself — lest this all turns out to be some kind of elaborate dream. Or a joke.

“Since we had Mr. Kaminsky’s together, yeah,” Eddie affirms with a slow, confident nod. His chocolate eyes flit up to the water-stained ceiling. “Let’s see… We were learning about reproduction, and Tommy Hagan made some stupid joke about using you as a real-life model instead of the pictures in the textbook—”

“I remember,” you nod, trying not to shudder at the memory that still haunts you.

“And I told him that he was making it real obvious that he’s never seen an actual vagina before and that the one in the textbook looked a lot like his mom’s,” the boy recalls with a soft laugh. “And you looked over at me, and you smiled, and I… have been a goner ever since.”

He looks down at you again, all sheepish like he isn’t gluing your broken heart back together again. His chocolate eyes twinkle in a way you’ve never seen before. They sparkle in their softness. You have to look away before it turns you into a puddle at his feet.

You smile widely into your locker, pursing it off to the side in attempts to conceal its brightness.

“No one’s ever stuck up for me like that before,” you confess quietly after a few moments, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “I’m pretty sure I gushed to Robin about it for days.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hums. He can feel his hopes getting too high.

“Yeah. I told her all about the pretty boy in the back of the room that finally got Tommy H. to leave me alone.”

“Oh… You think he’s pretty, huh?” the boy teases despite his pink cheeks.

You nod — made much braver by his previous admission — though you still have a little trouble looking him in the eye. You drag a notebook from your locker as you tell him, “I think he’s very pretty.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that the boy you think is pretty is super sorry for being such an asshole to you earlier,” Eddie murmurs, his nose scrunched and head tilted. “And that he’d really love to go to that concert with you— if you haven’t found some other schmuck to go with you, that is.”

Your eyes light up like a Christmas tree as you beam at him. No one’s ever looked at him that way before now.

“I’d like that,” you nod, then shrug. “I don’t think I’d wanna go with anyone else, anyway…”

“So, it’s a date?” Eddie asks, just to make sure. His raised brows disappear behind his fluffy bangs. His chin tilts to his chest as he smiles hopefully down at you.

You nod, and repeat it more softly than the loudmouth boy. “It’s a date.”

Eddie can feel himself grinning like an idiot. His cheeks ache with how wide he’s beaming at you, but he's too lovesick to stop. Like squinting into the sun, smiling every time he looks at you is muscle memory by now.

And what did a freak like him ever do to deserve a date with the freakin’ sun?

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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theostrophywife · 1 year ago

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the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

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

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

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

Until that one fateful fall morning.

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

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

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

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

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

Today, you were front and center.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know my name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that good or bad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, because she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, peach.”

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Pans.”

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

“Like I said, we’re friends.”

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

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

“Knock yourself out, mate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Riddle’s probably not her type.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright there, peach?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am a bloody idiot.”

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

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

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

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

“Scary?”

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

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s about time, Berkshire.”

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

“Not so scary now, am I?”

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

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

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

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

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

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

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

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

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yourbasicqueerie · 2 days ago

Note

can we hear ur lilia headcanons... as many as possible i am starving

be careful another what you ask lol, these r some of my fave ones:

( i am and will be ignoring her death. try me hoes)

• that woman can cook, she’ll make you a MEAAANNNN pesto alla trapanese and don’t get me started on traditional sicilian dishes. can’t bake for shit tho.

• she sews most of her clothing herself.

• that woman has had some questionable gigs to rank up some cash, some of those being:

- a history teacher who made some questionable comments about vampires and their uselessness in actual fighting ( “you know kids, vampires are absolutely shit heads, you think they are going to be these big scary people but noooo, terrible at hand in hand combat too” . )

-a hand reader at various kid parties. the amount of times she’s had to tell moms that no, she will not know the gender of their child is astounding ( . )

-a jazz singer at some dingy bar ( she got approached by a big time producer once, but refused to do anything with him after he made some off handed comment about her hair)

• talking about hair, she’s very very proud of her curls, she might not be keen on chemical peels as much ( smth jen later got her on) but if you want to talk hair care? she’s your girl

• after she got kicked out of her place, she moved into agatha’s house and took over the couch. though she will never say it, the couch is the most comfortable thing she has ever slept on ( maybe even the MAAASSIVE bed she must have had in her young days)

• talking about her young days, even though she was not from a royal family, YOU CANNOT TELL ME she wasn’t somehow related to the médici family, i mean LOOK AT HER!!!

• she owns a small artemisia gentilieschi portrait of herself she commissioned while at florence.

• her favorite colour, contrary to popular opinion, is not yellow, but orange

• she sings in the shower, beautifully and loudly so. ( can’t exaggerate the loud part, you can hear her from the whole house, the coven does not complain tho, they acc quite like the everything shower days, it means they get at least 40 minutes of lilia’s singing)

• when drunk, lilia is so chatty and touchy, agatha is not keen on it, but rio loves it, their karaoke duos are astonishing too.

• she laughs the loudest between all of them

• agatha full on laid all her mommy issues in this woman ( now, if that is to say that if she and agatha were to have sex, agatha would call her mommy, or if agatha sees lilia as a motherly figure is up to you)

• the whole of the coven depends on her, if lilia is gone then they all fall apart

• she is a sucker for an aldi, would spend hours grocery shopping if she could.

• wine enthusiast lilia calderu

• polyglot lilia calderu

#your basic queerie #agatha all along #lilia calderu #patti lupone #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #rio vidal #kathryn hahn #laa ( lilia all along)#lilia my beloved #lilia calderu x reader

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spencerlicious · 6 months ago

Note

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная девчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

#emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss cm #emily prentiss criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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thir10th · 7 months ago

Text

ciao, bella! - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: you love your polyglot girlfriend TW: smut, oral sex, dirty talk, language kink (i don't actually speak Italian so i apologize for any possible mistakes), hair-pulling, i think that's it A/N: requests are welcome! i still have some drafts to finish first tho. Like and reblog, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

The hours seem to pass so slowly when there's nothing you can do.

You're sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs on that bullpen, a cup of coffee running cold on your hand. Staring at te board with all the names and pictures, you were starting to memorize it.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, the main suspect handcuffed and struggling to get away from Morgan's hard grip. Emily takes er bulletproof vest off to enter the interrogation room, you and Hotch following behind. She happened to be the only one who spoke italian on the team, so this one was hers.

You had profiled the unsub as the classical sexist, misogynist, scared of women over 130 pounds, or like you liked to call them- the unresolved mommy issues type.-

Your girlfriend was gonna eat him up alive, and you could not be more proud.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, he tells him to sit down, which he does seem to understand. Hotch and you watch the scene from the other side of the glass, your eyesnever leave Emiy, she carefully reads the file, in complete silence, making him nervous, until she starts speaking.

You certainly weren't expecting it, although you should've. It wasn't the first time you heard her speak other languages. Arabic, Russian, even Spanish, she always sounded so smooth, mysterious even, but there was just something about this exact moment, the way she challenged him, antagonized him, it was easy to tell she had complete control of the conversation despite that you could not understand a single word of what nether of them was saying.

Your braking point is when they start an argument, you cant really tell what it's about but she shoots from her seat, hitting the table hardly with a strong hand, you excuse yourself. You had to get out of there if you wanted to be able to finish the day.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

it takes you less than a second when she closes the door of your shared hotel bedroom behind herself, to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your mouth to hers, pushing her body against the door.

"wow, not that I'm complaining but, what's got you all riled up?" she asks, a big smile on her face, the second you separate to catch your breath

"nothing... it's just..." you doubtfully say, her eyes scanning you, going from your eyes, to your lips, back to you eyes, both of you heavy breathing into each other.

"c'mon, spit it out" she says, leaving soft pecks on your lips to get you to talk

"just you, your voice" you confess "you know... when-"

"you like hearing me speak Italian?" she finishes for you, grabs you by your waist, and switches places with you, now she's pushing you against the door, running her hands down your back, reaching your ass giving it a gentle squeeze which makes you jump in your place.

"a little bit" you admit. Emily grins, cocky and gorgeous, she slips her hand into your pants and underwear, running two gentle fingertips up your center, collecting your slit, she shows you her hand, a proud smile on her face, you squirm underneath her touch

"this doesn't look like a bit to me" she kisses your cheek, your neck, you bring your lips to hers, your tongue slipping over her lower lip, in the desperate attempt that she’ll grant you access "Questo è quello che volevi?" you cannot control the moan that escapes your lips, her voice is soft, smooth, it makes you feel things, you kiss her again, this time she complies, granting you access.

She pushes you even harder against the door, her free hand finds its way underneath your shirt, you're not wearing a bra which gives her free access, she lets her fingers dance over your sensitive nipples, your breath becoming quicker with each passing second. “Please, Emily, I-” you got cut off as she sharply took one of her nipples into her fingers and twisted it, the pain quickly turning into pleasure

"what's that? or, should i say che dici?" you can't form any coherent words, you just let out a deep breath, grabbing you by the waist, she forces you onto the bed, her hips aggressively sitting on top of yours

"aww, la mia bambina è nervosa perché le piace che parli italiano?" she's loving the teasing, she loves making you nervous but mostly she loves how worked up she's getting you with only a couple of words.

She placed soft kisses all over your breasts, her lips wrap around your nipple, licking the rosy bud, her teeth softly tugging and nipping the sensitive area, you moan in pleasure.

Finally, she moves her mouth down, placing soft kisses all over your stomach, filling it with butterflies. She unbuttons your pants, aggressively taking off your underwear with them.

Even though you had her exactly where you wanted her, she was still too clothed. You pull on her shirt, hoping to get the message across, as your mind was all nice and fuzzy, she just put her hands up, so you could clumsily remove her shirt, leaving her in her bra and workpants.

"Em, please, just please" you cry desperately for her to finally finish what she started. You moan out as she forcefully shoved a finger up your dripping pussy, licking a strap long of your slit.

"ti piace questo tesoro?" you know you're in for a long ride, now that she knows that you like her Italian, she will be taking advantage of it, not that you're complaining, obviously.

"I don't understand a word of this, but it's working" you say, closing your eyes in pleasure, your hands pulling on her hair, in a desperate attempt to pull her closer to where you needed her the most.

She was going slow just lapping up your juices, her tongue enjoying the taste of you, how drenched you were. Her lips finally met your clit, licking over the bundle of nerves, sucking the hardened bud.

"Oh fuck, yes baby don't stop" She began fucking you faster and harder, using her fingers, loving the wet sounds your pussy was making around them. Her fingers curled at the perfect spot inside you making your eyes roll back into your head. Her mouth sucking on your clit, her fingers drilling roughly into your pussy was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, Em, I'm going to-"

"andiamo tesoro, puoi venire" you can only assume that's her way of approving, you came all over her mouth, her fingers, she lets you ride your high, and then collapses over you, laying on your side.

You open your eyes and see her laying next to you, playing softly with a strand of your hair, you need to catch your breath before you can return the favour.

"Who would've said that it would only take me speaking Italian to make you this horny ugh?" she asks, a playful grin on her face.

"It's just something about the accent i think, or maybe just the way you sound, i don't know, but you looked so sexy in the interrogation room today" you try to explain

"Well lucky for you, i'm fluent" you move to kiss her lips

"however there's someone else who can also speak Italian, right?" your mouth falls open when you realize what she means "OH! No, Emily! Why did you have to bring Rossi up now? You're ruining it" you close your eyes trying to erase that image from your head, Emily giggles "I'm sorry! C'mon, Scusa, amore mio, ti amo" she kisses you cheek, your lips, your face "Ok that one i know what it means" you hold her face in your hands, trapping her lips between yours, kissing her in return, her voice and herself the only thing on your mind again.

"C'mon baby" you straddle her hips "It's your turn, tesoro"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

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