pairing; lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader
summary; enzo loves you, and that includes loving how extraordinarily unpredictable you can be
content; reader is a drama queen, enzo can handle it
Lorenzo Berkshire was a terribly predictable guy.
If he wasn’t having a smoke with his friends or stuffing his face in the kitchens late at night; he was with you.
But even Enzo couldn’t predict your mood swings or when you’d find another reason to be upset with him. Maybe that was why he loved you, you kept him on his toes.
“C’mon, baby, I’m sorry,” he was currently pleading desperately as he followed you into the common room.
The speed at which you could walk in those heels of yours should’ve surprised him, but he had long since learned to expect the unexpected from you.
You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, not even bothering to hold the door open for him. It nearly smacked him in the face, but Enzo trudged on.
He was calling for you again when the corner of the common room, where all of you two’s friends usually congregated, erupted into synchronized groans.
“What’d you do now, Berky?” Blaise’s voice was the first one he heard, low and teasing, from where he was sprawled along a couch by the fire.
“He didn’t forget the anniversary of your goldfish’s death again, did he?” Daphne piped up, leaning forward on the green arm chair.
Finally, you stopped, turning to your friends as they awaited what was sure to be another very logical reason why you were upset with Enzo.
“Worse,” you hiccuped, pressing a hand to your mouth to stifle your cries, only making Lorenzo deflate more. He hated seeing you cry. “I asked him what color I should get for my nails next, and he said—”
A pause as you gathered yourself, sniffling.
Every head snapped to where he was standing uselessly by the door, their eyes burning into him like he’d threatened to cut your fingers off.
You dabbed at the dampness below your eyes, blinking fast. “He knows that red isn’t in my color palette,” you croaked out, not even looking at him.
He exhaled and the action physically pained him. He thought that a thousand knives to his chest would ache less than seeing you so distraught. It never got easier.
Slowly, Lorenzo approached you, and when you didn’t flinch away from him, he encircled his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest.
His voice was a low murmur into your hair as one of his hands rubbed up and down your spine. “I know that every color looks divine on my gorgeous girl,” he soothed, then shot a glare over to the idiots he called friends, who were watching like reality television. “Everyone knows that, don’t they?”
When the friend group didn’t do so much as let out a peep, Lorenzo narrowed his eyes threateningly.
“Don’t they?” he repeated more firmly.
“Absolutely breathtaking.”
“You’d look stunning in a garbage bag, girl.”
Satisfied, Lorenzo pressed a tender kiss to your hairline, then walked you backwards until you were near the staircase to the dormitories, away from prying eyes.
“Then it’s settled, no more tears,” he cooed, soft and sweet just for you as he brought his hand to gently lift your chin.
You looked up at him with those red, glossy eyes, and he swore he fell in love with you again. You were beautiful, even when you cried.
His voice dropped even lower, his breath a careful caress against your lips. “You get whatever color your pretty heart desires, but know that it isn’t your nails or a specific color palette that makes you beautiful, okay?”
You nodded but he tutted disapprovingly, lips quirking up.
“Words, sweet girl,” he coaxed.
The sight of your tiny smile was like sunlight breaking through the clouds, warm and inviting.
“Okay, yeah,” you said sheepishly, swatting at his chest with a noncommittal glare.
“Yeah?” he murmured, lips nearly brushing yours now.
With an impatient huff, you curled your fingers into his shirt and pulled him the rest of the way down, crushing your mouth to his.
He laughed, the hand on your chin, running along your jaw and threading through your hair, angling your face just right.
When Enzo pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, words rough with emotion and his panting.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you,” you muttered back just as he pulled you in for another sweet kiss.
And love you he did, unpredictability and all.
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