#it sounds like Louis though

[statementlou]

justice for Bigger Than Me, is it actually unpopular or are the haters just loud?

#the number of people I've seen being like I know I'm in the minority but I love that song... #ARE WE THOUGH???? #I will come right out and tell you it is one of my top fitf songs #I think it sounds beautiful and I feel really personally connected to the lyrics besides #sometimes it makes me a little weepy thinking about either me or about Louis #and always its soaring vocals and beautiful music are perfect

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Abbe Proyart talking shit about his former students compilation

(With the exception of student Robespierre, who he spoke so much shit about you can make a whole post only about it)

Camille Desmoulins, Robespierre's warmest friend and most ardent advocate, was the son of a Lieutenant-General of the Bailliage of Guise in Picardy. Appointed as scholar by the Chapter of Laon at the College of Louis-le-Grand, he completed his studies, if not with distinction, at least with some success. Although from then on he wrote his scholastic compositions well, he spoke very heavily and stammered in speech. He had an ugly and repulsive exterior, a black complexion, and something sinister about his eyes. He had nevertheless announced in his early youth the double emulation of work and virtue; but, disturbed in his higher classes by vicious comrades, he abjured piety, and soon showed himself a more bitter enemy than even those who had driven him away from it. From then on, a muddled spirit, surly and eloquent, he made himself odious to all his fellow students, and no longer had a single friend among them. We then saw him, son of nature and ungrateful disciple, displaying all the feelings of a bad heart. He made his debut at the bar with a plea against his father, whom he pretended to oblige to furnish him in Paris with an interview which exceeded his faculties. He never forgave his Masters for the efforts they had made to correct his budding vices. In the time of the Revolution, he was still cruelly resentful of one of them, on the occasion of a close encounter fifteen years earlier. “I will never forgive him, he said, for having told me one day that I would mount the scaffold.” However, if the horoscope wasn’t flattering, it was nonetheless verified. We shall see later how, still believing himself to be the friend of Robespierre, he was rewarded for his revolutionary labors by his friend. La vie et les crimes de Robespierre, surnommé Le Tyran, depuis sa naissamce jusqu’à sa mort(1795) by Le Blond de Neuvéglise (abbé Proyart), page 93

Fréron, in his youth, showed a gloomy and defimulated character, especially near his masters. He announced rather few talents, and no will to cultivate them; he was also cited as a rare example when speaking of laziness and indolence. He was one of those indifferent to religion to whom justice is done by always suspecting their morals. Coming out from the college, he walked his impoverished existence for a long time on the pavement of the Capital, a burden equally incumbent upon both his family and Abbé Royou, his protector and brother of the estimable Madame Fréron. Ibid, page 90

Duport-du Tertre, born in Paris, of a not very wealthy family, after having done fairly good studies at the College of Louis-le-Grand, became a lawyer, and got a certain reputation, above all, for probity and justice. He was of a gentle and honest character, although a little cold. He loved work and solitude. His conduct at the College had always been good; but of a wisdom more philosophical than religious. He was not born to be a scoundrel, and it cannot be said that he was; but he had not enough religion to cling to, in a slippery step, to the great principles which it enshrines, and he abandoned them. As Constitutional Minister, he tried to serve the Constitution and the King; and, without doing anything useful for the King or for the Constitution, he could not escape the guillotine. It had been less by any particular affection than at the request of his old college comrades whom Duport-du Tertre had endeavored to make known to Robespierre, whom he knew little of himself. Robespierre, in return for the disinterested zeal he had shown him on his arrival in Paris, worked harder than any other Jacobin to make him suspect and determine his execution. Ibid, page 85-86

Le Brun, known in his youth under the name of Abbé Tondu, was from Noyon. Provided by the Chapter of this City with a scholarship assigned to young clerics, he found himself a contemporary of Robespierre at the College of Louis-le-Grand. He had made less of a sensation than him in his humanities, but showed more talent in philosophy. He then bore an extraordinary depth of timidity, which he retained something of his whole life. He was one of those soft and easy characters who, having neither the boldness of crime nor the courage of virtue, become what circumstances and societies that surround them make them into. The Abbé Tondu, who liked neither his estate nor his name, left both at the same time, and called himself Le Brun, after his mother. Leaving the college, he obtained at the Observatory one of the Places paid by the King to young men who had a marked inclination for Mathematics. The bad companies having thrown him into licentiousness, he pledged himself to it. […] The tottering Minister tried in vain to rely on his old liaisons with Robespierre: Robespierre no longer knew as a friend the one who could also have been friend of a man whose pride had always revolted his own. Le Brun did not cause the death of the King; but, like Dumouriez, he had the cowardice to consent to it; and, like him, he truly became its accomplice, while doing nothing of all that he ought to have done to prevent it, or to provoke vengeance. Ibid, page 87-88

Noël, born under the name Dumouchel to poor parents, had received, like Robespierre, the gratuitous education of the poor. Student first at the College des Grassins, then at that of Louis-le-Grand; after rather brilliant successes in the distribution of the University Prizes, he was made quarter master, and then professor, at the College of Louis-le-Grand. This sudden passage, from extreme poverty to the last term of ambition among the young masters of the university, turned his head. He had little religion, he became impious. At the beginning of the Revolution, his sentiments, expressed in a journal of which he had made himself the editor, earned him a post as clerk in the war office, and then a secret mission on the part of the Jacobins in a foreign court. Friend of Camille Desmoulins, the latter had introduced him to Robespierre when he arrived in Paris for the Estates-General. Robespierre, although welcomed and celebrated by Noël, had conceived against him a fund of aversion, because he had obtained more constant successes than him at the University, and because Camille Desmoulins never ceased to exalt his talents. He spared him at first as a proponent useful to his views, then fell out with him, and then lost him as soon as he found the occasion. Ibid, page 86-87

It is again from this school that came two low servants of these man-tigers, and the worthy adjudans of their villainy: the name of one was Sijas, that of the other Pilot. Sijas had obtained, from his college comrade Robespierre, the employment of confidence of overseeing the massacres of the guillotine in Paris; and Pilot, exercising the same Commission in Lyon, wrote to Robespierre that the pleasure of seeing the Lyonnais having their throats cut restored his health. Louis XVI détrôné d’être Roi, ou tableau des causes de la Révolution française et de l’ébranlement de tous les trônes (1803) by Abbé Proyart, cited in Le collège Louis-le-Grand, séminaire de la Révolution (1913) by H. Monin.

And some of his fellow teachers too…

None of his masters contributed so much to the growth of the republican virus fermenting in his (Robespierre’s) soul than his Professor of Rhetoric. An enthusiastic admirer of the heroes of ancient Rome, M. Hérivaux, nicknamed The Roman by his students, thought that Robespierre’s personality had a strong Roman physiognomy. He praised him, cajoled him unceasingly, sometimes even congratulated him very seriously on this precious similarity. Robespierre, no less seriously, favored compliments, and was grateful to bear the soul of a Roman, be it the atrocious soul of a parricidal Brutus, or that of a conspiratorial Catiline.   La vie et les crimes de Robespierre… (1795) page 46-47

One day, however, a prefect, suddenly opening a door, finds him (Robespierre) on the commode reading a very nasty pamphlet. Caught in flagrante delicto, Robespierre thought himself lost; and, forgetting his natural pride, falls at the feet of the Arbiter of his fate and comes down to the humblest supplications. The Master with whom he had to deal was neither inflexible nor fervent in Morale. He was a man who had been heard more than once to exclaim among the young people: "Long live liberty, my friends: far from us the hypocrisy.” It was the Abbé Audrein, who since deserved, by his apostasy, to become the collegue of Robespierre in the Assembly of Factious, where he still sits. With such a judge, the affair of the bad book was civilized without difficulty, and did not even come to the knowledge of the other Masters of the House. Ibid, page 37-38

Dumouchel, son of a poor Peasant from Picardy, would not have found within his family any resource for his education: the Sanctuary and the charity of the Faithful paid all the expense. Scholar of the Community of Ste. Barbe, he entered the College of Louis-le-Grand in quality of a quarter master. He fortified himself to go and teach Rhetoric at Rhodez, from where he was called back to Paris to occupy a chair at the College de la Marche. The Abbé Royou, to whom he paid court, had employed him, for a time, for the drafting of certain unimportant articles of his journal, which he had no leisure to deal with himself. A fairly ritual appearance, a supple character, a lot of talk, a little literature, and many more ambitious pretensions had given Dumouchel a certain reputation among that swarm of deplorable subjects which filled the Colleges of Paris; and, by their votes, he found himself Rector of the University at the time of the holding of the Estates-General. Hiding his unbridled ambition and his irreligion under the mask of the most complete devotion to the respectable Archbishop of this Capital, he united the voices of the Clergy for the Deputation. Scarcely had the Hypocrite been in possession of the title he aspired to, than, abandoning the sacred interests which had been entrusted to him, he formed an alliance with Robespierre, whom he at first advocated, and of whom he was later advocated, so much so that the Jacobins of Paris, judging him worthy of the Episcopat, sent his name to the Club of the town of Nismes, with the injunction to make the subject known to the electors of the department, as the one who suited them and whom they should name. All the Catholic Electors, with the exception of two, having refused to cooperate in the crime of an intrusion by Eve that the Protestant Electors, less delicate, assembled, gave their votes to the one whom the Jacobins had designated for them; and Dumouchel, proclaimed Constitutionally Catholic Bishop that, by fifteen Electors only, of which thirteen were Protestants, said goodbye to his friend Robespierre, and went to install himself in the Episcopal Palace of Nismes, which soon, as we know, was defiled by the most scandalous Scenes. Ibid, page 83-85

#spontaneously i’d say teachers telling students they’re going to get executed is a bit more serious than students being too ungodly #though that might just be me #really sounds like something camille would get told after having gotten on the nerves on a teacher though so i bet it’s true #just as much as i bet proyart was the master telling him #abbé proyart #robespierre #desmoulins #fréron #louis-le-grand #frev #frev compilation

[indelicateink]

Do you think they'll bring lestat to paris early like ep 3 or 4 or will we only see lestat in louis n armand flashbacks? i feel like we're gonna get lestat with everyone in paris sooner than later i'm just really hope so bc i really would love to see a louis/armand/lestat interaction hehe

i started out writing nah i got no idea i haven’t even been imagin— no. that is a lie lol.

I want louis “the nights were made for thinking of him” de pointe du lac floridly hallucinating that french man as louis crosses the ocean, staggers around war devastated eastern europe, in france, in paris. our louis is looking Not Well in the promo we’ve had so far. it makes me speculate lol.

so honestly, for me? if we’re getting dreams and hallucinations and flashbacks? i’m sated, so…so far i’m wishing for a horrifying irl reveal later in the game. probably at the trial. so we can be as blindsided about irl lestat as louis is. for maximum devastation.

tbh the only louis-armand-lestat interaction that’s been vaguely in my head as likely to happen is the trial, and that is wildly painful so i uh haven’t been thinking about it too closely lol.

idk though, i’m just hanging on trying to recalibrate with every drop of promo we get

#lol zero speculation on what happens in what episode #it vaguely sounds like we’re doing eastern europe for a bit. that louis and claudia get to #explore being in paris/being part of the theatre(?) for a bit #generally slow burn? #idk based on that i’m struggling to imagine lestat being shown in paris until after we pass through those things? #unless armand wants to bend daniel’s ear in a major way that i’m not anticipating #i have this weird thing though #for some reason i want them to be true to the book in that #lestat shows up in paris *visually* obviously damaged from what happened in N.O. #not just emaciated #not just weak and delirious #claudia fucked him up and it hasn’t healed #television being a visual medium i want PROSTHETICS i want horror idk it feels like important storytelling to #have the beautiful antihero disfigured i don’t make the rules #iwtv #iwtv s2 spoilers sort of not really unless one hasn’t read the book or peeped any kinda promo or doesn’t want speculation

[larrylimericks]

8Nov22

An article in syndication— A chance to reach new populations! On new music? You’d think. No, these 200 links Share Lou’s “parenting’s hard” revelation.

#larry #louis #louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson finds parenting challenging #that was the headline #with absolutely no mention of new music #just how he cooks shite pasta for the kid #other promo is happening though #louis announced silver tongues is the next single and it's coming out wednesday #he's doing album release shows in nyc and london #(sure sounds a lot like someone else's album-release approach) #but they're not ONOs as he doesn't seem to be playing the whole album #there will also be pop-up shops in both locations with exclusive merch #there was a cryptic anagram announcement for silver tongues #with a retro tv set and some wall hangings that sent people on mad searches #struggling to keep up with it all #in harry news ... he's got the number 1 movie on multiple streaming platforms #dwd on hbo max and mp on amazon prime video #forbes magazine has predicted him for some grammy nominations #he let marks and spencer use tpwk in a christmas advert #and donated the fee to centrepoint which helps young people facing homelessness #meanwhile zayn posted about ending child hunger #and louis liked it #discarded rhyme: #spare a thought for the lad / cos dad's cooking is bad #limerick-lt #november 8 #2022

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Think that's part of my problem with Interview with a Vampire show. They're trying to make vampirism all sexy and it's kind of not.

#There's other reasons #I really like black Louis. I don't like him with Lestat. Something about it isn't clicking #Despite being conceptually sound #Time period racism also puts me in a bad mood. #I really like what they're doing with Louis being very pitiable in the story but we come back to the present day #And he's absolutely insufferable #I think we're supposed to find stuff like him drinking blood from that hunk hot though and it really isn't

[dearest-lady-disdain]

this is making me insane, actually

#im going to sound like a lestat apologist but the fact that we don't actually see the beginning of the fight actually...... and like. #no one in this goddamn show is a reliable narrator. especially not louis #and we see claudia instead because this is louis' focal point at this moment - it's less about him and lestat #and their crumbling relationship - this is all about claudia - you see her fear her emotions #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #claudia de pointe du lac #don't get me wrong he was violent towards claudia and that's inexcusable #though like. cycles of abuse etc.

[hl-obsessed]

.

#didn't have louis birthday edit idea #and was going to just reblog yall wonderful edits and celebrate like that #but then i woke up to soon and go back to sleep for a little while longer #and my fucking brain insted of fully sleeping got stuck somewhere between and tried to play fucking poet #it though that what he created was sick and now i'm tied as fuck #i scribbled down whatever i could remember for louis' wishes trying to make it sound at least half how good my brain did before #and i get the idea for edit fitting the wishes #i'm gonna try to do it today #i hope it will be as good as o'm imagining it #a little christmas magic? please? #but it's first day of christmas here #and things going to be wild #and i'm already on the line even taking time to write this down #but like #i need some positive thing at the begging on the day #before i'm gonna hve to deal with all the yelling and no needed fucking rush #so cheers yall have a great day because i probably won't have (as every fucking year) until i get drunk at the end of it #this time at lest i'll get thoughts of happy louis my my mind to get me through it

[sarpazoa]

if i'm being completely honest i disliked so much of daniel's dialogue in the dubai scenes. trying to make him come off as cutting and wry became cringey and annoying more often than not to me... hope to god they tone that down. and not to be too uncharitable since i think the nola and narration stuff was pretty great (or maybe it's just jacob + sam's performances honestly) but so much of it just feels fucking like. lol. buzzfeedy. like straight from the brain of millennials who still say sweet summer child or doggo or put the trademark symbol after capitalized phrases of shit. even if objectively something doesn't seem that discordant in comparison to the language surrounding it to the blissfully ignorant viewer for me when burdened with the awareness of all the trappings of this specific kind of verbiage it is impossible for me to ignore. evidence for consideration: louis saying "...dabble in fuckery". i know what you people are. that early 2010s tumblrite speak that has since completely proliferated the internet and which now has terrible, terrible rammys on my viewing experiences

#another instance of wording that always strikes me as weird but not really an example of this ^ #church monologue lestat calling louis' sadness ''voluminous''. don't know. every time i hear it i'm like that just sounds wrong. #never heard that be used to describe emotion but then again may just be me being a classless fuck who hasn't read in years. but still #at times the floweriness seems like it's overcompensating or unnatural. i could be wrong though put me in pillories in the middle of the #town square for all to look upon and mock if so. i would accept #🥬 #interview with the vampire

[twopoppies]

.

#gossip anon #yikes #Mind if I ask how you know? #they sound pretty awful #I find that anyone who’s given the tiniest bit of access #tends to get like that though #For anyone else reading this #This is nothing to worry about #It has nothing to do with Harry or Louis directly

[sangcreole]

i just. i’m genuinely so scared because i KNOW the show is going to be successful and i dont want to gatekeep but like. louis is my boy. louis is so threaded throughout my life like he’s one of those characters who has just stuck with me through every major event, every milestone growing up. writing louis on here has challenged me in the best ways. it’s made me a better writer, a better friend, a better human. writing louis for the last 7 years has absolutely been one of the best highlights of my time on this dumb platform and idk i’m just feeling very grateful for everything louis (and anne) has given me

#idk how to articulate any of this without sounding territorial over him LOL #other people are allowed to love him but like. loving louis de pointe du lac is in my fuckin DNA man #genuinely though like it's so crazy to look at my writing from when i first started writing louis to now #it's evolved so much! i'm so proud of myself! #I JUST LOVE LOUIS DE POINTE DU LAC A LOT #*【 ❛I'm not the spirit of any age. ❜ 】 ➤ OOC

[pynkhues]

ive just read part of an interview that says iwtv s1 was originally going to be the whole book and they had scripts written but amc asked them if they could just do s1 in new orleans. i think thats really interesting that it wasn't the writers choice from the start, and i know we cant compare because we haven't seen what the show would have been, but i think it makes for a better show this way. you really feel the weight and hurt in the relationships. what do you think?

Oh, that is really interesting, anon! I absolutely think it was the right call. The season already moved at such a breakneck speed (and I think actually would've benefit from being a longer season already) that I can't even imagine what it would've been to try and put the whole first book into seven episodes.

I think ending the season with Lestat's 'murder' is a really organic place to end it, and it bookends the season with two not-quite-deaths - Louis' and Lestat's - in a way that creates a really thematically strong season of TV. It's also - - mmm - - makes for a satisfying conclusion if the show had been a failure and was cancelled, which of course was a possibility (and thankfully hasn't been the case).

Like you said though, I think it's a poignant place to end it in terms of emotional stakes, but I think too that with Claudia and Louis heading to Europe next season, it really creates a logical transition point for the series to open up. The external world expands for these characters as Louis' internal world shuts down, and I think thematically that's just so ripe with possibility.

It also gives them space to I think bring other parts of the books, particularly The Vampire Lestat, into the second season as well. Between Armand's role being formally introduced and potentially being able to introduce characters like Gabrielle earlier (which I suspect they will do, given she's got so much potential as a bridging character while Lestat and Louis are separated and can introduce elements from the second book in a way not many characters outside of Lestat himself can), pulling that second half of the book out for s2 works in more ways than one.

So yeah! I definitely think it was the right call. I actually saw an interview too where Rolin Jones said that each episode more or less ended up being twenty pages of the book, which I thought was really interesting as well.

#i'm curious to see how the storyworld opens up and the changes they make #especially as they've said explicitly a few times now louis will be staying a main character #which he doesn't in the book series at all #and they've definitely mixed stuff up already so we'll see! #i'm excited though! #also a random aside but i read a really interesting article months ago about amc #and how they're struggling with bcs walking dead and killing eve ending this year #and that iwtv is where they were putting a lot of their hopes #because they can't merge with or sell to another network because the billionaire who owns them blocks attempts #which sounds like a nightmare situation for the network #but anyway #i'm glad iwtv seems to have been a real success for them #i can share that article if people are interested #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv meta #welcome to my ama

[gracefullou]

Not trying to defend him, he doesn't need defending. 1D discussion is already tired and most people don't care, but I think it's fair to use correct information.

" not trying to defend him" and yet you sent me an anon after reading my tags to a post that wasn't even mine 😭. If you really felt the need to correct information about something/ someone you're so detached from, then as someone with medical knowledge, i suggest you consult a psychiatrist bc you most likely have ocd (obsessive compulsive disorder)

#but it's not a case is it #if nothing else he “doesn't need defending” gave you away anon #it's so funny when hrries try to sound casual 😭 #it's ok to get out of that man's asshole and breathe sometimes yk #like i love Louis an unhealthy amount but you'll never catch me sending anons to hrries about him #even though the things they say about him/ his family not only incorrect but beyond disgusting #*not the case

[agapemoon]

i really want to know why some people really want to pity the people they supposedly “admire”

#like why is it 🧐🧐🧐🧐🧐🧐 #It makes me uncomfy #Bc when i admire someone i feel like they are so cool and want them to see me as equal #but never crossed my mind to pity them for the hardships they might have endure. #dont wanna sound like i hace a superiority conplex but it’s longing in social media and see these type of behavior #It’s like another reality. #watching people doing mental gymnastic to create an scenario where the person they admire is SUFFERING and so they can be #like ‘they must feel so awful. They must be so sad 🥺🥺🥺’ like shut the fuck up #have u asked ????? how do you know ????? Even if that was the case you think they want your pity ????? #to see this person over your shoulder like that ……….. #Oof bro i could talk like this for hours bc i hate pity #i dont like people pitying me in any way #i saw people pitying jisoo over the stupidest things like for bc she doesnt know english like BRO 🔪🔪🔪 #also the other day i saw ppl on quackity’s fandom assuming he was suffering for another dumb shit #He had to say he didnt care bc people were blaming his friends 💀 #And then all of this reminds me of louis tomlinson as well #Idk how louis’ fandom is rn but hell back then they just loved to create scenarios where he is the victim so they can pity him even though #he said he doesnt like people pity him 💀 #like in which minddddddd do you want to pity the people you say you admire ???? #is it like an inferiority complex ???? So that instead of working hard on yourself to feel like an equal to THEM u want to pity them so tha #they can be YOUR equal ?? #Am i reaching rn ? Probably but still. #im really curious as to why there are people like this in this world. They def need some help. #what was la gota que derramó el vaso u might ask …… #well i was in youtube shorts and people in the comments were pitying jisoo once again 🤡 so i had to come here and get it out #now im leaving

[gh0st-in-green-c0nverse]

golden

percy jackson x reader — you take his place on the throne

cw: EPISODE 5 SPOILERS (ish), swearing

The boat bobs along the water slowly. You feel sick. For a while, the two of you just sit there, still reeling.

“You okay?” Percy asks after he catches his breath.

You’d reached out and grabbed his hand without realizing it in your panic. You’re suddenly very aware of his skin on yours, warm and kind of clammy. You disentangle your fingers without comment.

“Yeah.”

He’s about to say something to fill the awkward silence when your eyes widen.

“There’s the shield!” You exclaim, standing.

He follows your gaze to a golden statue, the shield wedged between its hands. The boat doesn’t stop, though. He looks at you, and then back at the statue.

“We’re gonna have to jump,” he says, and you grimace. The artificial waves are getting choppier.

You eye the water.

“On three?” You finally say.

Percy smiles in a way that he hopes is reassuring. “On three.”

“One…two-!” Before you can say three, the boat lurches and you both topple over the edge.

As soon as the water closes over your head, you’re struggling and kicking. You can’t tell up from down. Your lungs squeeze, your eyes sting. Somewhere in the haze, you see Percy, and you reach out, but he’s so far. He disappears in a whirl of water, and you think, wow, after all of this, I’m about to die in an amusement park.

Suddenly, something solid rushes to meet you and there’s air on your face and you can’t stop coughing.

Percy places an unsure hand on your back as you suck in rattling breaths. He says something, but it still sounds like everything’s underwater.

You shake your head sharply, hand pressing your ear flat until the water drips out and you can hear again. “I’m alright,” you say, before he asks. He helps you stagger into a standing position. For a few moments, the only sound is your wheezing.

Percy squints at the chair. “This is Hephestasus’ park, right?”

You nod.

“I think this is Hera’s throne,” he says slowly, glancing at you for confirmation.

You vaguely recall that story. “She sat in it and couldn’t get up,” you think aloud.

“It was a trade,” Percy continues. “Aphrodite’s hand in marriage for Hera. The shield for…”

One of us.

Oh.

“I’ll do it.”

He catches your arm as you start forward. “Wait a minute!”

“Whoever goes in there isn’t coming back,” you explain, brows set in a hard line.

“I know, that’s why I said wait!”

You yank your arm back. Percy’s face flickers with something you can’t read.

“You need to stay alive,” you say, stressing every word.

“So do you!”

You shake your head. “You have your mom. You have Grover. You have people who need you.”

The I don’t hangs in the air, unsaid.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

I need you, he wants to say.

But he doesn’t.

“The gods chose you, Percy. This is your quest.”

This is wrong. This is so wrong. It’s cruel, and so unfair that they have to choose. Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“This isn’t about that,” he protests, though he knows he can’t beat you. You’d always had a sharper tongue than him.

You unhook your dagger. He remembers the arch, only yesterday. Is this how you felt? This burning in his chest?

“It is. It all goes back to that prophecy. To fate. To the Fates.”

Your eyes burn with tears as you hold out your dagger for him to take.

He blinks hard. “This is wrong,” he says, voice wavering, and you’ve never seen him like this before. Always tough, always witty. Unserious, sure, but never afraid.

You push it towards him, and he takes it.

“I know.”

Your fingers twitch. You’d hug him, one last time, but you remember how he froze back in St. Louis.

So you don't.

You walk over to the chair, heart pounding. This is a death sentence. This is it. This is it.

“Hey, Percy?”

His head snaps up, lip tugged between his teeth as he holds back tears too.

“Go save your mom,” You say. “Save her, save the bolt, and tell Grover I’m sorry.”

You picture Grover’s face when he finds out what happened to you. You turn away, stand right in front of the throne. It glints in the swimming light.

“And if you have a chance, I don’t know, maybe swing back around here and try to get me out?”

He laughs sadly. “You think you had to ask?”

“Just making sure.”

You sit.

For a moment, nothing happens, and you're worried that you’d said all that for nothing. You’d feel pretty stupid.

And then—

“This is weird,” you say. “It’s warm.”

There’s fear in his eyes and your dagger in his hand.

Something snakes its way up your leg, smooth and fast. It feels like wax, almost, hardening over your skin.

“This is a bad idea,” Percy says, eyes tracking something at your feet. “Stand up.”

You don’t look at what he’s looking at. You don’t want to.

“I can’t.” Panic rises in your chest, fast and unwelcome, and you’d be shaking if you could move.

“y/n—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, voice hoarse. The words don’t sound right in your mouth. Your legs are completely immobile. Your breath comes in short gasps. “I’m okay. I’m… okay.”

You look at him, trembling and still pretty damp, mouth open like he wants to say something.

Whatever’s seeping onto your face is warm and brittle. You stare hard at his eyes. They’re a shining blue. They’re afraid.

It’s the last thing you see.

a/n: sorry guys cliffhangers make me giggle ‼️ I’ll write another part If u guys would want me to !

#pjo #percyjackson #percy jackson #percy jackson fics #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson disney+

[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.

#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

[hedgehog-moss]

"rn I feel like reading about someone's quiet daily life, maybe a diary or letters, set in a place or context I don't know much about, without turmoil or tragedy" oh! do you have any recommendations for books like this?

This is one of my favourite types of books! Here are 30(ish) recs...

May Sarton's The House by the Sea or Plant Dreaming Deep

Gyrðir Elíasson's Suðurglugginn / La fenêtre au sud (not translated into English unfortunately!), also Bergsveinn Birgisson's Landslag er aldrei asnalegt / Du temps qu'il fait (exists in German too)

Gretel Ehrlich's The Solace of Open Spaces, which iirc was originally written as journal entries and letters before being adapted into a book

Kenneth White's House of Tides: Letters from Brittany and Other Lands of the West

Sei Shonagon's Pillow Book

The Diary of a Provincial Lady, E. M. Delafield

Growing Up with the Impressionists: The Diary of Julie Manet

Elizabeth and Her German Garden by Elizabeth von Arnim (do not read if you don't like flowers)

The Road Through Miyama by Leila Philip (I've mentioned it before, it feels like this gif)

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, I keep recommending this one but it's so nice and I love snails

Epicurean Simplicity, Stephanie Mills

The Light in the Dark: A winter journal by Horatio Clare

The Letters of Rachel Henning

The letters of Tove Jansson, also The Summer Book and Fair Play

The diary of Sylvia Townsend Warner—here's an entry where she describes some big cats at the zoo. "Frank and forthcoming, flirtatious carnivores, [...] guttersnipishly loveable"

The Letters of Rachel Carson & Dorothy Freeman were very sweet and a little bit gay. I mostly remember from this long book I read years ago that Rachel Carson once described herself as "retiring into her shell like a periwinkle at low tide" and once apologised to Dorothy because she had run out of apple-themed stationery.

Jane Austen's letters (quoting the synopsis, "Wiser than her critics, who were disappointed that her correspondence dwelt on gossip and the minutiae of everyday living, Austen understood the importance of "Little Matters," of the emotional and material details of individual lives shared with friends and family")

Madame de Sévigné's letters because obviously, and from the same time period, the letters of the Princess Palatine, Louis XIV's sister-in-law. I read them a long time ago and mostly I remember that I enjoyed her priorities. There's a letter where she complains that she hasn't received the sausages she was promised, and then in the next paragraph, mentions the plot to assassinate the King of England and also, the Tartars are walking on Vienna currently.

Wait I found it:

R.C. Sherriff's The Fortnight in September (quoting the author, "I wanted to write about simple, uncomplicated people doing normal things")

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith

Pond, Claire-Louise Bennett

Rules for Visiting, Jessica Francis Kane

The following aren't or aren't yet available in English, though some have already been translated in 5-6 languages:

ツバキ文具店 / La papeterie Tsubaki by ito Ogawa

半島へ / La péninsule aux 24 saisons by Mayumi Inaba

Giù la piazza non c'è nessuno, Dolores Prato (for a slightly more conceptual take on the "someone's everyday life" theme—I remember it as quite Proustian in its meticulousness, a bit like Nous les filles by Marie Rouanet which is much shorter and more lighthearted but shows the same extreme attention to childhood details)

Journal d'un homme heureux, Philippe Delerm, my favourite thing about this book is that the goodreads commenter who gave it the lowest rating complained that Delerm misidentified a wine as a grenache when actually it's a cabernet sauvignon. Important review!

Un automne à Kyôto, Corinne Atlan (I find her writing style so lovely)

oh and 西の魔女が死んだ / L’été de la sorcière by Kaho Nashiki —such a little Ghibli film of a book. There's a goodreads review that points out that Japanese slice-of-life films and books have "a certain way of describing small, everyday actions in a soothing, flawless manner that can either wear you out, or make you look at the world with a temporary glaze of calm contentment and introspective understanding [...]"

I'd be happy to get recommendations in this 'genre' as well :)

#book recs #i should have posted this ages ago but i was waiting to finish the book i was reading to see if it #should be added to the list #but in the end it wasn't worthy #sorry for the delay!