#gio writess

[giowritess]

if you’re gonna lie [javier peña] 

masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Plot: totally based on the song If You’re Gonna Lie by FLETCHER. you can hear it here. reader has enough of Javi’s bullshit and decides to put an end to it. part 2: Hurts like Hell

Warnings: implied cheating, a bit of language, mentions of sex, angstttt

Word-count: 548

Author’s note: hey guys! this was totally unrequested for, but I’ve been in love with Javi for a while now, even before I watched the series (I started watching it yesterday!!!!), and ever since the 1st I heard this song I had the idea planted in my brain and I just  h a d  to write it. totally random and I’m usuaaaaally not a big fan of angst pieces, but... lol. I really hope you like this <3 let me know if you’d like me to write a part 2, I already have it in my head and it has a happy ending <3. English isn’t my first language and it’s not edited yet. Enjoy!

if you’re gonna lie [1/3] || hurts like hell [2/3] || forever [3/3]

gif credit goes to @pedropascalsource​

    He was supposed to be home by seven.

    By ten, you had already lost count of how many wine glasses you’d had. Your lipstick looked the same, only touched by the drink, and the only company you had in that lonely apartment was your own.

    You only knew he was home when you heard the door closing. You could already hear the excuses spilling from his mouth even before he opened it. They were the same as always — too much work, too much paperwork. You’d heard them so many times he was starting to get repetitive. You could even finish his sentences before he started them.

    So many nights you had waited for him, made dinner for him. There were nights where you finished an entire wine bottle waiting for him — once, you drank an entire bottle of whiskey. He would come home in the middle of the night, apologize, kiss you and make love to you as if nothing was wrong.

    You knew what you signed up for, dating a DEA agent, and you knew Javier’s reputation — everybody did. But it was too good to walk away, and... you trusted him. When he asked you to trust him, you did. When he said he loved you and you were the only one, you believed him.  

    Things were perfect in the beginning — it took a while for your first big fight to happen. And, God, the make-up sex was so good. That was how it happened: you screamed... you argued... and then you fucked. That became your routine. For a while, you enjoyed hearing him saying sorry and giving you all the love and attention — it almost made up for the lying. For a while, you even started believing his stories and you put up with the bullshit, because you knew how it was going to end. You knew you were going to end up in bed with him. And you knew it was easier than confronting the painful, hard truth.

    And then it started not being enough anymore, and Javi started getting more and more distant. Some nights he wouldn’t even kiss you, barely look at you. Others, he would fuck your brains out and make you scream his name.

    Eventually, you stopped arguing. You knew it wasn’t going to fix anything. And that was when you knew it had to end. You never thought you had the courage to leave, but extreme situations sometimes required extreme actions.

    Your suitcases were lying on the floor, ready to go. And you saw in Javier’s dark, deep eyes the moment he noticed them. An eternity seemed to pass as you quietly stared at each other — the only sounds came from the street below. You could see his chest moving up and down, and then the truth finally kicked in. You were never going to see that beautiful face of his again. You were never going to know how that mustache felt against your skin again, you were never going to kiss those rough lips of his again. You were going to lose him, but you were going to save yourself.

    Picking both your suitcases, you took slow steps to him. Then, you leaned and kissed his cheek.

    “Goodbye, Javi.”

    And then you left.

[giowritess]

Blink Twice If You Still Love Me  [1]

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!OC Dahlia Holdsworth

Requests: “Could you do a Tommy Shelby imagine where the reader is Ada’s best friend and her and Tommy are in the between of being friends and being a couple (they’ve loved each other since they were teens) and Ada pulls her into a fight she’s having with Tommy and is pissed when she takes Tommy’s side and basically causes them to get together?” — “Would you do general fluff/romance prompt of 22. You’re in love with her. for Thomas Shelby and the reader being Ada's best mate?”

Warnings: mentions of death, angst

Word-count: 1,693

Author’s note: Hello dear anons!!!! I’m so sorry that this took so long, I procrastinate a lot and I take a long time to write anything, but the wait will be worth it because, SURPRISE: this will be a multi-part fic!!! I had so many ideas NO way it was gonna be just one piece. I’m still not sure if three or four or five, though, I’ll decide as I go lol anyway, since these requests were almost the same, I joined them. I really love original characters, so please welcome Dahlia into our world. I haven’t described her appearance or stuff (it’s in my head though, if you’d like to know), so please imagine her however you like! This piece is more angst than anything, but it’s super important to the rest of the story. happy reading and hope you enjoy that!!!!!

Listen to the song in the title clicking either on it or here!

gif credit goes to @debnamcareys​ 

     Dahlia’s feet hit the rough pavement as she made her way to that old, familiar door. So many years had gone by since she had been there for the last time, but there it was, standing imposingly in all its glory, just like she remembered. If she could concentrate enough, she could almost feel as if she was back in her teenage days, and oh, how she missed them. Life was so much simpler and easier back then.

     She still had Tommy back then. Even if it was just a little bit of him.

     A deep breath left her cold, shivering lips as she stood in front of the door. And then another. Dahlia could still turn back if she wanted to, she still had time. She didn’t even know what she was going to say to him — she didn’t even know exactly what she was doing there in the first place. Would Thomas even remember her? Remember her name? Remember what they meant for each other, when they were both teenagers who had no idea of the wicked plans life had for them?

     Well, she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Tommy went through so much in life after “they” happened, and they barely did happen. No one knew about their love. No one knew about their plans to get married and have kids. So, Dahlia wondered — had it even been real?

     Ada liked to keep her well informed of everything that was going on, so Ada told Dahlia everything about the after the War, the growing business, even Grace’s betrayal, Charles… Ada not knowing about their teenage romance had made it all harder — Dahlia couldn’t simply ask about him all the time. Thankfully, Dahlia’s dutiful best friend liked to write long letters. So Dahlia would read them while being a good, fake housewife to her late gay husband in her false marriage, in London, where they lived. The marriage was only for appearances, to make him seem like a normal heterosexual man and to provide for Dahlia’s family. When Ada would visit them, Ada would repeat everything she’d written — and Dahlia would cherish every single word. That was the part of Tommy Dahlia had all to herself.

     The cold wind of Birmingham’s chilly autumn air hit her hard on the face, making her blink. She’d been in the city for not more than two weeks but still hadn’t grown used to the weather, and only God knew how long she had been standing there, like a lamppost.

     No. She had to do it. She had to see him face-to-face, look deeply in his eyes, do what she should have done a very long time ago. Do what she never had the courage to do. She still didn’t have it, but things were different now. She had her life for herself now. So, she knocked on the door.

     And she prayed to God that Ada wouldn’t be home. Dahlia loved Ada and would give her own life for her if necessary, but not now. She wouldn’t even be able to explain why she was visiting Tommy, and she still hadn’t replied to Ada’s letters.

     Time started to pass. When she started to think no one was home, the door was opened by a tall, blonde boy, who Dahlia didn’t recognize. Perhaps Michael, from Ada’s description.

     “Can I help you?” he asked in a low voice, eyeing her suspiciously.

     “Hello, is Thom—”

     “Dahl!” Ada’s high-pitched voice came out from nowhere and, in a second, she was holding Dahlia tightly. “Darling! What’re you doing here? You didn’t reply to my letters,” she said when the hug ended. Ada had already pulled her into the house.

     Dahlia forced a smile.

     “Oh, how rude of me,” Ada said. “Michael, this is Dahlia, my childhood best friend,” she explained to the boy, who was standing with a confused look on his face. “Dahl, I told you about Michael, Aunt Polly’s son.”

     “Yes, indeed,” Dahlia replied, and shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

     He nodded and, in an instant, left the room. The house was comfortably warm, so Dahlia took off her coat and scarf, and hung them by the door.

     “I wanted to surprise you,” Dahlia blatantly lied. “I’m sorry I haven’t replied to your letters. I’m still… sorting my life out. Everything is a complete mess right now, as you can imagine.”

     “Oh, don’t you even worry about that,” Ada cooed and linked their arms together. “I can only imagine how much you are dealing right now. Can I offer you some tea and a good company?” 

     “Only if it’s with chocolate cookies,” Dahlia said and they laughed together. It was their longtime tradition, since they were both little girls and would have tea parties with their stuffed bears. 

     “How could I ever forget that?” Ada smirked.

     Making their way through the house, Dahlia was about to ask about Karl when her heart stopped.

     Tommy. Standing like the most beautiful creature on the entire planet, the owner of Dahlia’s heart, the cause of her thoughts, her daydreams, her memories. Because he was all of that, and so much more. He was dressed in what she supposed was his usual attire, a dark navy waistcoat over a white-collared shirt, and a navy tie, that matched the waistcoat. Simple, but he still managed to look godlike. He was even much more handsome than she remembered — her daydreams and memories did not do Tommy Shelby’s beauty justice.

     She could swear the temperature in the room rose while staring at him. Her heart skipped a beat at every second that passed, and she seemed to forget how to properly breathe. The tingling on her skin was like fire. Was she even blinking?

     “Oh, Tommy,” Ada said, completely oblivious to what was going on in front of her eyes, just like she’d always been. “You remember Dahlia, I believe.” 

     The weight of Tommy’s gaze completely drowned out the sound of Ada’s soft voice. Dahlia couldn’t believe it, there he was — right in front of her for the first time in what felt like a millennium.

     He nodded, and not even a single emotion crossed his face. Nothing at all, and his eyes felt like a sharp, cold knife twisting in her heart, marring the skin, scarring it beyond repair. Despite the blatant lack of warmth in Tommy’s cornflower blue eyes, Dahlia found herself swooning all over again. The memories of the two of them running through the streets of Small Heath, hand in hand, laughing their arses off because it was just so much fun.

     “Mrs. Holdsworth.” Tommy’s voice was all wrong, it wasn’t happy, not light with childlike curiosity, it was low and gravelly. It sounded like the voice of a dying man’s cry for help. But Dahlia knew that Tommy Shelby was the last man to ask for help.

     No, she wanted to scream. That wasn’t who she was to him. To him, she was Dahlia, and the only thing she wanted was for him to call her that.

     “My condolences for the loss of your husband,” he said, and she had to blink a few times to believe he had really said that.

     Tommy was the last person she expected to know that, after all, her late husband was just a regular man — he had money, but didn’t act like any of the other rich pricks Dahlia had dealt with. He was kind, which was unusual for London, but Dahlia knew why. He had seen a fair share of pain in his time.

     Did that mean Tommy still thought about her? Did that mean… he still cared about her? Well, Dahlia wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. They’re right when they say “ignorance is bliss when it comes to matters of the heart.”

     Instead of yelling at the top of her lungs and saying all the things that should’ve been said before, Dahlia forced herself not to react and tried her best to look as unaffected as he did. But that was easier said than done... she supposed Tommy had been practising it a lot.

     “Thank you, Mr. Shelby.” Dahlia’s voice was still tense and uneasy despite her best efforts.

     Vanishing faster than he appeared, Ada continued to walk. To her, that had been just another regular interaction between someone and her brother.

     “It’s a pity Aunt Polly isn’t home,” she said. “She would’ve loved to see you.”

     “Yes, me too,” Dahlia replied.

     But her thoughts weren’t there. Her mind wasn’t there. They were focused on that devilish man who stole her heart years ago and never gave it back.

     “Milk and sugar?”

     Dahlia nodded. 

     God, how was that possible, she wondered. She could fight against it, but she knew that it was useless. Thomas Shelby was her first love, but she sadly wasn’t his. 

     “So,” Ada started when they finally sat down, and Dahlia tried her best to focus on Ada. “Do you know what you’re going to do now?”

    “Well, I’m still… figuring things out. But what I know is that I’m staying here. Birmingham. It’s home,” she replied with a warm smile on her face. Despite all the hurt associated with the coal-stained city, it still was home.

     “I cannot believe we’re going to be close again,” Ada cheered, grinning like a child on Christmas. “It’s been so long.”

     “Too long,” Dahlia replied with a small smile.

     They spent a while in silence, enjoying the tea and each other's company. That was one of the things Dahlia most liked about their friendship, just being close to each other. There was never the need to fill the silence with words, their company was plenty.

     “I hope you don’t have any plans for the weekend,” Ada said, joyful. “You’re coming to our dinner party at Tommy’s manor.”

     Dahlia barely choked on her tea. She coughed, trying to disguise it. 

     “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude anything.”

     “Nonsense,” Ada replied. She definitely wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “You’re family. To everyone.”

     One question loomed in Dahlia’s mind. Who was everyone?

Taglist:  • @ab-haya​

[giowritess]

MASTERLIST

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prompts masterlist | works in progress

last updated: march 29th, 2024

︵﹆ . ⁺ . ✦ ﹒₊˚ ★﹒₊‧ ★・⸝⸝﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒₊˚・・

disclaimer: works marked with a "♡" have adult content. you are responsible for the content you consume. proceed at your own risk.

javier peña ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ one-shots

dangerous games | being the ambassador’s daughter, flirting with agent peña has always been harmless and fun. but suddenly, it’s not so harmless anymore. ♡

︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ series

if you're gonna lie [1/3] | you’ve had enough of javi’s bullshit in their relationship and decide to put an end to it. hurts like hell [2/3] | javier’s side of things and why he’s doing what he’s doing.

michael corleone ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ one-shots

dull | tatiana and michael have always been pushing each other’s buttons. one day, when confronting him about a deal that went south, their relationship takes a different path. ♡

fire |  michael and sienna have been long time friends with benefits, no strings attached, but things changed when she left for college a few years ago. now he’s back from the war, and connie’s wedding is the perfect opportunity for them to rekindle their flame. ♡

weaker | work in progress. ♡

henry cavill ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ one-shots

straight to my head | henry and reader are long time best friends, but reader happens to be in love with him. Henry finds out in the most peculiar way.

note: i no longer write real person fanfiction.

thomas shelby ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ one-shots

minefields | an aesthetical-y vision of how tommy and reader got to where they are now.

︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ series

blink twice

blink twice 01. | tommy and dahlia had plans to get married and have a family. then, the war came. now, many years after, it's time to get some wrongs right. note: possibly not going to be continued.

benny miller ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ series

fortnight | you somehow end up pretending to be Benny's girlfriend for two whole weeks. is your heart going to survive that? probably not. ♡

will miller ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ one-shots

untitled | yet to be written. ♡

colonel rick flag ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ one-shots

untitled | yet to be written. ♡

bucky barnes ︵﹆ . ⁺ . ★ one-shots

untitled | yet to be written. ♡

[giowritess]

Javier Peña Masterlist

main masterlist —

❤️‍🔥 = smut || ❤️ = fluff || 💔 = angst

if you’re gonna lie [2/3]

if you’re gonna lie [1/3] — Reader has enough of Javi’s bullshit in their relationship and decides to put an end to it.  💔

hurts like hell [2/3] — Javier’s side of things and why he’s doing what he’s doing.  💔

forever [3/3] — The aftermath.  ❤❤️‍🔥💔

dangerous games —  being the ambassador’s daughter, flirting with agent peña has always been harmless and fun. but suddenly, it’s not so harmless anymore. ❤️‍🔥

[giowritess]

straight to my head [henry cavill]

masterlist

Pairing: Henry Cavill x bestfriend!female!reader

Request:  “Hi! May you please write a Henry Cavill one where you’re hanging out with him and you have feelings for him but haven’t had the guts to tell him but that day your sister called you and you started speaking in Spanish to her about Henry but little did you know that he actually knew Spanish and he teased you about it. Happy ending please, thank you!”

Warnings: cursing, some angst, fluff

Word-count: 2,697

Author’s note: HEY GUYS! I can’t believe I’m finally posting my first writing piece here on Tumblr! It’s my first attempt at writing this kind of fanfiction (well, the second, actually), and I truly hope you like it, especially you, dear anon, who requested this. I did some changes, hope you don’t mind. This one was based on the song Straight to My Head, by You Me At Six, and I’d really like if you listened to it. A big thank you to my best friend, @naturiz​ for the Spanish part, and a big shoutout to my amazing beta/daughter/friend/love of my life @amirahiddleston​ <3333 I’d be lost without you!

gif credit goes to @b-n-a-o​

Straight to My Head

  You had never been the kind of person to enjoy dancing. 

   Yet, here you were, jumping, moving and swaying your hips to the beat of your favorite song in the middle of an empty dance floor. A little tequila-and-other-alcoholic-beverages-induced, yes — but you were happy, not even minding the glances you were getting. All the stress that had built up in the past few weeks had finally left your body, and you had your friends to thank for that. They were the ones who’d dragged you down here, to a cosy small pub. It had been way too long since the last time all of you had spent time together, and everyone seemed to benefit from a bit of fun and forgetting the real world. 

   Exactly as you were doing right now, completely oblivious to everything and everyone else. How good it felt to be trapped in your bubble, with nothing but your fuzzy mind and your favourite song.

   “Didn’t know you could dance, y/n,” Henry teased, not far from you. You could even hear the smirk in his deep voice.

   “Shut up, idiot,” you replied, snapping out of your bubble and walking closer to your friends.

   “Seriously, though,” he insisted, grinning like a kid, “those were amazing dance moves. You should teach me.”

   You just rolled your eyes, making him laugh, and tried to hide your smile. Your relationship with Henry had always been playful like this, ever since you met a couple of years ago. You two had been through a lot together — it was quite a fun and exciting journey to follow his success as an amazing actor that close, which meant celebrations, parties, even a few premieres.

   As the boys got ready to play some pool, you stood in the back with a beer in hand, watching him — always him and no one else. You sighed as you watched him move with the ease and gracefulness of a cat. A big, fluffy cat who seemed to be serious and almost dangerous on the outside, but was nothing more than a playful little kitten on the inside.

   The dim lighting in that corner of the room sent shadows over his godly features, the sight sending warmth up your core. He was always the most handsome man in the room. And in your head.

   That was where he was. He’d taken over your thoughts ever since you met, and there was nothing you could do to take him out; he was already at home and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You tried as hard as you could, even dated other people, but it was pointless. You still fell hard for him anyway.

  But Henry was your best friend, and you were his. You talked about everything, helped each other with everything — even his own love life. It hurt you. Like hell, but there was nothing you could do about it but listen and be there for him when he needed, just like he did for you. His friendship is one of the most precious things on Earth to you, but that is all you were meant to be. He was yours, but not in the way you truly wanted.

   Which was why sometimes it got too hard for you. Sometimes you had to step back and pull yourself together when it was too much for your heart. Seeing him with other women, especially when you knew he was happy, was far more than you could take, a pain you couldn’t avoid. 

   You straightened yourself up and dropped the bottle on the table. You needed to sober up. Being drunk around Henry was always a dangerous idea — you were a complete mess. Crazy, unpredictable and suddenly brave. The possibility that you’d end up saying or making anything that could lead to regrets and ruining your friendship was a giant risk — one you couldn’t take. So, you always tried your best to be as sober as possible, but tonight you desperately needed the freedom and release that only alcohol could give you. And he happened to be around.

   “Be right back,” you muttered to no one in particular, making your way towards the ladies room. They were too entertained in their game to miss you, anyway. 

   Thankfully, the bathroom wasn’t crowded, just a few girls who seemed half your age, many who had probably got in with a fake ID. You went straight to the sink and splattered the cold water in your face one, two, three times. But it was the girls’ conversation that caught your attention.

   “Did you see Henry Cavill playing pool by the back? Jesus fucking Christ, that’s Heaven made of flesh,” one of them said. 

   “Can you believe our luck? Gotta be fate,” the one applying mascara in front of the mirror replied.

   They laughed together and started to make their way outside.

   “I think I’m gonna try my luck, who knows,” you heard one of them say as they left the bathroom, and you gripped the sink with both hands, taking a deep breath. 

   You had no right to be angry with their words. In fact, you understood a-hundred-per cent how they felt — you felt that way almost all the time, too. But fuck. There was no way in controlling the anger that was taking over you, as well as the few lonely tears that escaped the corner of your eyes. There was nothing you could do about it but simply accept it. That was your job as his best friend.

   After a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself together, and finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. Your anger alone, still tingling through your face, your arms, your fingers, had sobered you up some seventy-per cent by now. You stopped by the bar to buy some chocolate and was met with one of your friends.

   “Hey y/n, wanna play some pool? We need someone,” he asked.

   “Yeah, sure,” you replied, eating the chocolate before you walked back to the pool table.

   You grunted at the scene in front of you. The girls from the bathroom, one sitting in the back with her arms wrapped around one of your friends and the other one — the prettiest one, with long, dark hair and a beautiful black dress that hugged her body in the best way — tangled up with Henry, laughing and touching him whenever (and wherever) she could. Which meant all the time (and everywhere). 

   It wasn’t that this kind of thing didn’t happen often — it did, in fact; of course it would, when your group of friends had you as the only woman. And you didn’t care for your other friends, they could do whatever they wanted if it’d bring them a bit of happiness, even if momentary. But Henry was… Henry. He would never be like everyone else, and you couldn’t fool yourself or your heart to believe that.

   “Girls, this is y/n,” your friend said, and the girls smiled at you.

  You tried your best to look sympathetic.

   “Hey, I’m Devon,” the one in the back waved at you.

   “And this is Julia,” Henry told you and motioned at the girl beside him.

   With another deep breath, you smiled and hoped it looked real enough.

   You didn’t know what happened to you. You’d never been this jealous, you’d always been able to control your emotions and prevent them from rising to surface. But that night felt completely different. Probably because of all the alcohol, but there was no way you’d be able to look unaffected. 

   “Ready to kick some asses?” your pair asked, handing you the stick. 

   “Born ready, baby,” you replied, applying chalk to the end of the poolstick.

Julia was Henry’s partner, of course. He had to show her how to properly hold the stick and how to play, but you had your doubts if she truly didn’t know or was just pretending. Well, you’d pretend if you were in her shoes. 

   It was no surprise when you made the first ball — you had a natural talent for the pool. Especially when drunk. And angry.

   The chocolate in your mouth felt bitter because you kept hearing Julia’s giggles and saw the way Henry touched her. Every fucking time she was going to play, he had to be glued to her back, lingering touches on her hand, her arms. It began to piss you off way more than you imagined.

   You made a ball. And another, and another, and another. Four in a row, leaving only two of your balls on the table. 

   “Fuck, y/n,” your partner said, and laughed, clearly a bit shocked. “Where did that come from?”

   “What can I say,” you replied, “the effects of anger.” 

   The game soon came to an end, you made the victory hit. You started another, trying your best to focus on the game and nothing else. But it was hard. It was so fucking hard when Julia and Henry didn’t even pretend to play properly, due to their drunken stupor and lust for one another. When his lips went closer to her ear, you finally snapped. There was no way in fucking hell you were going to endure that. No. Enough.

   “I’m through,” you stated before dropping the stick on the table.

   You didn’t care about the stupid game. All you wanted was to leave the pub, to get away, and cry and scream and fill up your sister’s inbox with countless messages rambling about it. 

   That was exactly what you did the instant you crossed the door, drinking in the cold night air and fishing for your phone. After finding her contact, your fingers started to fly across the keyboard, but you realized that wasn’t enough for how angry you were.

   “No puedo creer lo enojada que estoy por eso [I can’t believe how mad I am],” you started. Of course, it’d be in Spanish, your mother tongue: it was the only way you truly could express your anger. 

   You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, but you had to say something, to get it out. There was a pressure in your chest that’d only be alleviated after you opened your heart to someone, obviously your sister. 

   “Tú no creerías lo tan enojada que estoy. ¡Pero ugh! ¡Simplemente no puedo controlarlo y no mames eso me deja demasiada enojada! [You wouldn’t believe how mad I am. But ugh! I just can’t control it and that makes me so fucking angry!]”

   You sent that first audio message to her. You didn’t even have an internet connection, so she’d only receive it after you connected to wifi or something, but it didn’t matter. You just had to speak. Get it out of your system.

   “Dios, desearía que pudieras verlo con tus propios ojos todos los toques y coqueteos. Simplemente me mandaron por un tubo y no sé cómo enfrentarlo, sabes? No hay ninguna explicación más allá de la verdad, que él debe haber entendido, de todos modos. O no, apuesto que Julia lo mantiene demasiado ocupado para que yo ocupe su mente [God, I wish you could see for yourself! All those touches and flirting. It just pushed me off the edge and now I don’t even know how to face him, you know? There’s no explanation besides the truth. Which he must have already figured it out, anyway. Or not. I bet Julia is keeping him too busy for me to occupy his mind at all],” you said in a single breath. There. Now you felt as if the weight was off your chest.

   After pressing the “send” button, you took a much needed deep breath. The cold weather had a calm, soothing effect on you as you breathed in the night air; you could feel yourself getting calmer. Still angry, yes, but a bit calmer.

   So trapped in your own space, you almost jumped when you heard his voice.

   “No hay nada que nunca pueda sacarte de mi mente [There’s nothing that can ever keep you off my mind].” 

     Even in a perfect Spanish, his deep British accent was still present.

   Oh, my, god. There he was, behind you, and you wanted to bury yourself six feet under and never, ever come out.

   “Henry!” Your voice was a shriek. “I… I’m… I sh…” you stuttered, not knowing what to say. You could feel your heart pounding violently against your chest.

   What to say, what to do, how to act. You had no idea Henry even spoke Spanish, and you sure as hell hadn’t expected him to follow you outside. Díos mio. Had he heard every single word you just said? You were glad that it was dark, ‘cause your face must’ve definitely been on fire.

   “I’m sorry,” he said, making you look at him with a visible question mark on your face. “For making you feel like that. I did want to affect you, though, and I’m quite glad I did.”

   “What? Henr—”

   “See, y/n,” he interrupted you, “I had a theory, and you just proved it.”

   He came closer, his beautiful face stepping under the thin lightning which made his baby blue eyes to shine. He hovered above you, like a lion over his prey, but you weren’t intimidated at all. Though confused and with your head spinning as fuck.

   “My theory was that you and I feel the same way about each other,” he continued, getting closer and closer at each word that left his lips.

   Díos. Were your dreams coming true? Was this real? Were you dreaming, or even seeing properly? You could hear your speeding heart, and you wondered if he could hear it, too.

   “Henry, I… I’m… I’m lost in translation here,” you replied, your weak voice almost a whisper.

   He had to say it. You needed to hear the words coming out of his very own lips, otherwise, it wouldn’t be real. 

   A low chuckle came from him. He left very little space between your faces when he got even closer and cupped your face with both hands.

   “I’ve been falling in love with you ever since you entered my life, love,” he said. Your knees were weak, and you felt as if you were going to fall dead on the ground. “But you never gave me any signal that you felt the same. Until I started to notice the small details. Your face, your eyes, your hands. Your words, your expressions. The little things gave you away, y/n.”

   The warm touch of his big hands on your face, all the love and tenderness with which he spoke every single word made your heart swell. No one had ever spoken with that much affection towards you, no one had ever held you that gently as he did. Your best friend. Your soulmate. 

   “So? Am I right then? He asked playfully, chuckling because you hadn’t said anything yet.

   You felt as if a lightning bolt had just gone through you, your skin prickling. 

   “Yes!” You instantly said, feeling some tears on your eyes. “Yes, Henry, yes. You are. I don’t even know for how long I’ve loved you. I was… I was scared of ruining our friendship. I’m sorry, if I’d kno—”

   He shushed you with a gentle kiss, timidly placing one of his hands in the back of your neck. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders.

   “No regrets or apologies,” he murmured, touching your forehead with his. “Though I do regret the method I used to prove my point,” he said, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I was getting desperate and running out of options. I just couldn’t bear to spend another entire day being nothing more than friends with you,” he explained, his eyes locked with yours. One of his hands started tracing the line of your bottom lip. “Not being able to touch you, to kiss you… God knows how torture it was to be around you all this time.”

   It was your turn to laugh. He felt exactly like you did, then.

   “Henry?” You whispered. “Come home with me?”

   An affirmation, an invitation, an order? You didn’t know. But all that mattered was his answer.

   “Yes.”

A/N: I hope from the depths of my heart that you enjoyed it! For now I do not have a taglist, but if you’d like to be tagged in my future works, let me know <3 

xoxo, Gio