Olá, I'm Laura, 22 y'o, Portuguese, living in France.
Football ruins my life everyday. Most of the time, Real Madrid and Borussia Dortmund make my life better but sometimes, they make it worst. Portugal NT makes me cry a river all the time.
Gonzalo Higuain, Isco, Dani Carvajal.
Previously preciousisco and thedraxler.
Kiss me, out of the bearded barley
Nightly, beside the green, green grass
Swing, swing, swing the spinning step
You'll wear those shoes and I will wear that dress
The final whistle blew, and you couldn’t help but jump out of your seat. Barça had just won the Supercopa de España against Real Madrid. The stadium in Jeddah erupted in cheers, and your heart felt like it might burst with pride.
This wasn’t just any match for you. It was the first one you attended as Pedri’s girlfriend. You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him on the pitch, celebrating with his team. He had played so well, and all you wanted to do was run onto the field and tell him how proud you were.
But that was out of the question. You were here for work, not as Pedri’s girlfriend. As a journalist, it wouldn’t be very professional to run onto the pitch, no matter how much you wanted to.
Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked so happy, holding the trophy and grinning with his teammates. You held onto your press badge, reminding yourself to stay focused. Even though you couldn’t celebrate with him right now, you knew you’d get your moment later.
"So, you’re going to interview Raphinha and then maybe Balde, okay?" Your coworker’s voice crackled through the earpiece.
You nodded, even though they couldn’t see you. "Yes. Okay!" You replied, keeping your voice steady.
Everything was set. The mic was firm in your grip, and the camera stood ready in front of you and the buzz of the stadium hummed in the background.
Raphinha stepped forward, his jersey still damp from the match, a wide grin stretched across his face. You held the mic steady and met his gaze with a professional smile.
"¡Raphinha, felicidades por la victoria! How does it feel to take home the Supercopa after such a thrilling match?" (Raphinha, congratulations on the win!)
He laughed, his excitement almost tangible. "It feels incredible! We knew it would be tough, but the team gave everything, and moments like this make it all worth it."
As he spoke, you nodded, keeping your attention on him, but you couldn’t ignore the pull of your peripheral vision. Pedri was standing a few meters away, surrounded by teammates, but you could feel his gaze drifting toward you. Each time you glanced his way—brief, fleeting—he was already looking.
But you stayed composed, your focus fixed on Raphinha. "You mentioned how tough the match was. What do you think made the difference tonight?"
"The second goal, for sure. The penalty!" He said. "After that, it just gave us the energy that we needed. The fans were incredible too. They gave us so much support."
"It was a great performance." You replied with a smile. "Congratulations again!”
"Gracias!" Raphinha said, flashing another grin before heading back toward the group.
As he walked off, Alejandro Balde approached, his wide grin practically mirrored the gleam of the Supercopa trophy behind him. You greeted him with the same warm, professional tone you’d used all night, lifting the mic slightly.
"Alejandro, congratulations on the big win! What does it mean to you to lift this trophy with the team tonight?"
He chuckled, his excitement contagious. "Honestamente, es irreal. I’ve dreamed about moments like this since I was a kid... I’m just so grateful to be part of this team." (Honestly, it’s unreal.)
You nodded, smiling as you prepared your next question, but before you could get the words out, you heard quick footsteps behind you.
"Perdón!" A familiar voice interrupted, and before you could turn fully, Pedri was there, standing between you and Balde. "Un segundo, hermano." Pedri said, glancing apologetically at Balde, who looked surprised but amused, trying not to laugh. (One second, hermano.)
You barely had time to process what was happening before Pedri cupped your face with both hands and kissed you. Right there, in front of the camera, the crowd, and the entire world watching at home.
Gasps rippled through the nearby press and staff, followed by cheers and whistles from his teammates in the background and from the public. For a second, your mind blanked, caught somewhere between shock and the warmth of his lips on yours.
When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours, his expression soft and unbothered by the scene he’d just caused. "Lo siento, guapa." He said with a small, unapologetic smile. "I couldn’t help it." He said casually, jogging back toward his teammates, who greeted him with cheers and teasing shouts.
Your face burned as you looked back at Balde, who was clearly enjoying every second of the chaos. "Should I still answer, or do we need to cut?" He teased, barely containing his laughter.
Taking a steadying breath, you lifted the mic again, forcing yourself to stay professional. "I--wh--Let’s try that again." You said as the camera was still rolling.
The buzz of the post-match chaos had finally started to die down. Interviews were done, the cameras were off, and the crew was packing up. The Supercopa celebrations, however, were still in full swing on the pitch as players laughed and posed for photos with their families.
You stepped onto the field, the grass soft under your shoes, and scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot him. Pedri was chatting animatedly with his family, his smile was wide and his hair still damp.
As you approached, you couldn’t help but smile. His mom noticed you first, her face lighting up as she waved. "There you are!" She called warmly, as if she’d been waiting for you.
Pedri turned at her voice, his eyes finding yours immediately. His grin softened into something sweeter, and he looked at you like you were the only person on the pitch.
When you reached him, you playfully swatted his arm. "¿De verdad, Pedri?" (Really, Pedri?)
"¿Qué?" He asked, his voice innocent but his expression anything but. (What?)
"You know what!" You shot back, crossing your arms. "What was that back there? You kissed me on national TV! During an interview!"
His family chuckled nearby, clearly amused by the exchange, but Pedri just shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. "I couldn’t help it." He said simply, his voice so soft and genuine that it made your heart skip.
"Couldn’t help it?"
He nodded, stepping a little closer, his free hand brushing yours. "You looked so focused, doing your job... and you were amazing, by the way." His smile grew a little shy as he added: "I don’t know--I just had to."
Before you could retort, his mom spoke up. "Come on, you two, picture time!" She held up her phone, gesturing for both of you to join the family.
"Oh, no, no way." You said, stepping back. "I’ve already had enough attention tonight."
But Pedri reached for your hand, gently tugging you forward. "Come on. They want you in the photo."
"Listen to him!" his mom chimed in, smiling warmly at you. "Eres parte de la familia." (You’re part of the family.)
That made your heart swell, and you couldn’t argue with her sincerity. With a quiet laugh, you let Pedri pull you closer. His mom positioned everyone, and his brother cracked a joke, making you all laugh as the first photo was taken.
Then, just as his mom was about to snap another, Pedri leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. You froze, your face warming as the camera clicked, but when you turned to him, he was already grinning.
"Pedri!" You whispered, trying to sound scandalized but unable to hide the laughter in your voice.
"What?" He teased, slipping an arm around your waist. "I’m just making it memorable."
His mom laughed, shaking her head fondly as she looked at the photo. "Perfect." She said, holding up the phone. "This one’s going in a frame."
You shook your head, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. Pedri looked at you and squeezed your hand lightly. "¡Te quiero!" He murmured. (I love you!)
And in that moment, surrounded by his family and his quiet confidence, you believed him. "I love you too."
“Normally midfielders only pass the ball but I dribble as well. People say I take a lot of risks but I don’t think I do, because I don’t lose possession that much.”
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