#peplucho

THE SHIP OF MY LIFEMY NICHE SHIPTHE BEST OF THE RARE PAIRS-(I actually have a bunch of headcanons for them. I have different ones for different series of stories I want to write for them lol)

But here’s some (general ones and others)

- Lucho tends to be the one that gets all of latest slang especially the things on the internet. People don’t realize it but he knows the internet, has crept through the dashboards of some people on Tumblr, hell, he’s even glanced at some of the fanfic. It’s all very amusing to see how fandom transforms.He’s show Pep a couple of fics before.“What even is this?”“Marc is vampire and so is Andres.”“You read this?”“All of it. Makes sense, no? Andres is so pale.”“But it doesn’t account for Andres’ balding.”“Side effects of going vegan?”“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

- Pep once suggested they should Netflix and chill in his flat in Manchester. He thinks it means relax on the couch and just watch some good shows. But when he sees the way Lucho looks at him, a mix of mischief and want, he realizes he must have used the phrase wrong. But it’s not like he’d admit it. So he insists that he knows this new show on Netflix that everyone has been watching so he figured they should watch it to. He even has them sit on the coach with some snacks and wine, but Lucho’s eyes don’t change. “I like how innocent you’re trying to be.”“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”“Netflix and chill.”“Netflix is on and it’s quite - how do you say - yes, chill.”When Pep feels Lucho’s hand on his thigh, he stiffens and looks toward the other man. Lucho’s eyes are hungry, but they aren’t looking at him anymore.It takes only five minutes into the show for Pep to turn it off.

- Lucho thinks the cold weather is the best thing that has happened to him. He likes how it makes Pep wear more turtlenecks and long coats. It’s a style that Lucho believes fits Pep. He likes how the color black looks against Pep’s skin. It’s all so - inviting.

“Replay treats me well.” Lucho says as he fixed Pep’s red tie. His eyes look Pep up and down appreciatively. “So so well.”

Pep refrains from biting his lip. “Keeps me warm.”

“There are other ways to stay warm.”

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(GIRL YOU KNOW I HAVE SO MANY MORE SO MANY SO MANY)

FINALLY THE SEQUEL TO

WHEN I RULED THE WORLD

IS HERE.

Feel free to read if you want.

Summary:

“It’s good to be home.” That’s what Pep would have said.

He would be happy.

The calming cool to his right would smile in acceptance while the soothing heat to his left would make a sound of confirmation.

“It’s good to be here.” That’s what he would have added.

There he would be with the man he couldn’t ever be without to his right and the man he couldn’t ever leave to his left.

Oh of course! Note that this isn’t the sequel that I promised for When I Ruled the World. It’s more like an in-between fic between WIRTW and it’s sequel (the sequel takes place before the group stage CL match between Barca and Man City)

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The kiss from Tito that felt like he dived into a pool. He again ruminated over his failure to support his ailing counterpart. He delivered a low blow that he believed couldn’t be recovered from. He should have just visited or done something to show that he was there. He was just a cab drive away from a visit. Just a pen stroke away from apologizing. A phone call away from admitting his wrongs. He remembered each cool kiss, but no longer did they send him into a winter hideaway. the cold battered against his heat and he wrapped his arms around himself to keep the fire from being put out.

“I would have been okay with sharing.”

The kiss from Lucho that felt like he was sitting in front of a hearth. He pondered over the shadows he had cast over his rugged comate. He set the bar so high that many believed that it would never be reached least of all overtaken. He should have made words of encouragement or something positive. A little speech while handing over the captain’s armband. A little chat while he was Barca B coach. A louder vote of confidence when the first team was taken. He remembered each hot kiss, but no longer did they send him into a warm refuge. The heat clobbered against his fire and he hissed as he willed the flame from losing its strength. 

Camelot.

Catalunya still fought for its independence.

Guinevere.

Barcelona carried on no matter who loves her.

Lancelot.

Tito - the one everyone loved - loves - and now missed - misses.

Mordred

Lucho - a titan who followed no way but his and conquered where none thought he could.

Arthur.

Pep - was once a king, but now just a man.

A curious image surfaced through the pestering pictures of his wounds. An almost what if scenario had begun to play. There he was at Camp Nou walking on the large green pitch with his arms crossed as the night sky showed off stars and the full moon. On the right side of him was Tito, ever clam, a scarf no longer wrapped around his throat with a smile on his face. To the left side of him was Lucho, kinetic always, sunglasses unworn, with a grin on his face. He walked with them around the pitch twice then found they found themselves seated inside their box on the sideline.

“It’s good to be home.” That’s what he would have said.

He would be happy.

The calming cool to his right would smile in acceptance while the soothing heat to his left would make a sound of confirmation.

“It’s good to be here.” That’s what he would have said.

There he would be with the man he couldn’t ever be without to his right and the man he couldn’t ever leave to his left.

All of them in a place he couldn’t forget. 

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