Pedri’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through his phone with a grin that can only mean trouble.
You lean over the back of the sofa, towel still wrapped around your wet hair.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he says way too fast. His thumb flicks across the screen. “Just posted a picture.”
You narrow your eyes. “Pedri. What picture?”
He turns the screen toward you, all innocent. It’s a photo of his breakfast spread , pancakes, orange juice, and two mugs of coffee.
Your mug. The pink one with the little chipped heart.
“Pedri!” you gasp. “That’s mine! People will notice!”
He shrugs, utterly unbothered. “So? Maybe I just drink two coffees now. I’m a growing boy.”
You groan and toss your towel at him. “You’re impossible. You promised we’d keep things private.”
He catches the towel mid-air, smirking. “Private, yes. Secret, no. There’s a difference.”
“There’s not a difference when your fans have CSI-level detective skills,” you retort, grabbing your phone. “Wait,oh my god. They’re already talking about it.”
You scroll through Twitter , or, as Pedri calls it, the battlefield.
@pedrilover97: “two mugs?? who’s he having breakfast with 😭😭😭”
@barcagirlx: “that’s definitely a GIRL mug. I recognize the nail polish color from his story last week 👀”
@footballtea: “he’s SOFT LAUNCHING someone I just know it.”
Pedri’s grin widens. “#PedriSoftLaunch? That’s actually a great tag.”
“Don’t encourage them!” you say, swatting his arm.
He leans back, smug and far too calm for someone who’s just sent half the internet into a frenzy. “You have to admit, it’s funny.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe,” he says, biting back a smile. “A little.”
That evening, you find him on the balcony, wearing one of his Barça hoodies and scrolling through fan edits of his own posts.
“They made a whole thread analyzing your kitchen tiles,” you say, holding up your phone.
He laughs. “My kitchen tiles?”
You nod gravely. “Someone zoomed in and matched them to a photo you took last summer. They know everything, Pedri.”
“That’s impressive, actually.” He scrolls again, face glowing from the screen. “Wait,this one says you’re secretly a chef. I like that one.”
“I’m a psychology major, not Gordon Ramsay!”
“Eh,” he says, waving you off. “Close enough. You’ve psychoanalyzed me while I eat your cooking. That’s balance.”
You cross your arms. “You’re impossible.”
Pedri looks up, grin softening. “But you love me.”
You sigh, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “Unfortunately.”
He laughs, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Come here, mystery girl.”
The next day, the soft-launching gets worse.
You wake up to another Pedri post , a blurry mirror selfie of him in the hallway. Your reflection is barely visible behind him, holding your phone.
“PEDRI!” you yell from the kitchen.
He yells back, “What? I blurred it!”
You storm into the room, waving your phone. “I can still see my silhouette!”
He peers at the screen. “That could be anyone.”
“It’s me! I’m literally wearing your hoodie!”
He grins, completely unrepentant. “Good. Now they’ll think I have great taste.”
You throw a pillow at his head. “Stop being cute when I’m trying to be mad at you!”
He catches it, laughing. “Sorry, amor. Can’t help it.”
You flop down beside him with a dramatic sigh. “You’re going to break the internet at this rate.”
“That’s fine,” he says, sliding an arm around your shoulders. “As long as they don’t find you.”
You snort. “They already have a spreadsheet of possible candidates. I saw someone saying I’m a makeup artist from Madrid.”
Pedri grins. “Well, you do my eyebrows sometimes.”
“That doesn’t count!”
He shrugs, pulling you closer. “I like keeping them guessing.”
By midweek, the fandom’s gone feral.
People are analyzing his playlists, your nail polish, the background furniture , even the way his smile looks “happier lately.”
You both spend the evening doomscrolling and laughing on the couch.
“Listen to this one,” you say between giggles. “‘The mystery girl has small hands based on reflection physics, probably around 5’3”’.”
Pedri laughs so hard he nearly drops his phone. “Reflection physics? No way.”
“Oh, there’s more. Another one says you’ve been soft-launching for seven months based on the presence of a second toothbrush in your bathroom.”
He wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “They’re not wrong, though.”
You blink at him. “Wait, are you admitting it?”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I like having my girl’s toothbrush next to mine.”
You groan. “Stop being sweet when I’m trying to yell at you!”
He grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Can’t help it.”
But things take a turn when you make a mistake.
It’s late , you’re curled up on the couch in Pedri’s jersey, watching highlights from the last match. You post a quick Instagram story: your legs on the couch, the TV showing Pedri’s goal, and his hoodie draped on the armrest. You don’t even think about it.
Thirty seconds later, your phone explodes.
DMs. Mentions. Notifications.
@barcafangirl: “THE JERSEY. THAT’S PEDRI’S JERSEY. SAME NUMBER. SAME ROOM.”
@pedrilover97: “the couch matches his last pic 😭😭😭”
@footballtea: “SHE SLIPPED. SHE POSTED. CONFIRMED.”
“Oh. My. God.” you whisper, watching it all unfold. “I just soft launched myself.”
Pedri walks in from the kitchen, bowl of cereal in hand. “What happened?”
You look up at him, horrified. “I think I just… hard-launched our relationship.”
He sets the bowl down, eyes widening. “You what?”
“Look!” you shove the phone at him. “They found me! It’s everywhere already!”
Pedri scrolls through the chaos, then bursts out laughing. “You lasted longer than I thought, cariño.”
“This isn’t funny!”
He grins, utterly calm. “It’s kind of funny.”
“Pedri!”
“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “What do you want to do?”
You bury your face in your hands. “Delete everything. Move to Antarctica. Change my name.”
He chuckles, tugging your hands away gently. “Or… we could just post a photo.”
You blink. “A real one?”
He nods, smiling softly. “Might as well. You look too pretty to hide.”
Your heart stutters. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.” He scrolls to the camera app, flips it to selfie mode, and pulls you close. “Come here, mystery girl.”
You laugh, cheeks warm, leaning into him. “You’re going to cause chaos.”
“Good chaos,” he says, snapping the photo , both of you smiling, cozy and unfiltered.
Within minutes, he posts it.
Caption: No more soft launch 💙.
Your phone explodes instantly. Comments flood in.
@barcagirlx: “I KNEW IT! SHE’S SO PRETTY 😭”
@footballtea: “soft launch era is over 🫶”
@pedrilover97: “they look so happy together 🥹”
You read a few aloud and glance at Pedri, who’s scrolling too.
He looks up, eyes warm and shining. “See? Not so bad.”
You smile. “You’re right.”
He grins. “I usually am.”
You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Don’t push it.”
He laughs, pulling you closer until your head rests on his shoulder. “For the record,” he murmurs, “I liked the soft launch. But I like this better.”
You look up at him, smiling softly. “Yeah. Me too.”
He tilts his head, lips brushing your forehead. “Told you. Private, not secret.”
You chuckle, closing your eyes. “Whatever you say, influencer.”
He laughs quietly. “Only if you’re my favorite post.”
♥︎ pairing pedri x reader
♥︎ summary after weeks separated from each other, you finally manage to join your boyfriend at the world cup
♥︎ word count 1, 645
♥︎ tags established relationship, fluff, a lil suggestive at the end but nothing explicit
♥︎ a/n hiii, it’s been a while (˶>⩊<˶) i’m going to start working on the next multi chapter fic, but first i wanted to post something for the wc. if you have any more ideas you can always submit your request to my inbox. enjoy ♡
masterlist
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
The World Cup should be the most exciting time of the year; the possibility of winning it and bringing it back to Spain for the second time should be the only thing on Pedri's mind. It should be.
But while he waits his turn to take shots at the goal, his mind can't stop traveling to the other side of the world, to the apartment you share, and wondering what you're doing right now.
It's 11 a.m. in the United States, so it must be early evening in Barcelona. According to your routine, you must be studying for your final exams with a hydrating face mask on in the living room of the apartment. Nilo is resting his head in your lap, a place he should be occupying.
Pedri didn't think being away from you would be so difficult; how wrong he was. The first week went more or less well; that was the kind of time you were both used to, so calls and messages seemed sufficient.
It was halfway through the second week that Pedri thought he was going to lose his mind. He would enter the hotel room expecting to find you reading, only to be disappointed when he found Ferran playing something on his phone instead.
The same thing happened when he woke up; his hand instinctively reached for the other side of the bed, looking for your waist. Not finding it, he slowly opened his eyes to find the other half of the bed empty of your body, devoid of your warmth.
He even found himself envying Lamine, who had managed to get Inés to accompany him all the time.
But you still had to take the last of your exams; you were joining him until the third date.
“Pedri, you’re going!” shouted one of the technical assistants, pulling him out of his head.
Automatically, Pedri sprinted to kick the ball that was hurtling towards him. He groaned under his breath as he heard it rumble off the post and went to the back of the line to repeat the exercise.
The fear of repeating the same mistakes as in the match against Cape Verde chills his blood.
“You did your best,” your soft voice comforted him through the phone. There wasn't a trace of pity in your eyes.
“And it wasn't enough,” Pedri buried his face in the pillow, overcome with embarrassment. “Everyone's saying I'm overrated and that I don't show up for important matches.”
“Most of the people talking have never even set foot on a football pitch, let alone a World Cup pitch,” you reassured him. Though he couldn't see you, Pedri knew a gentle smile was playing on your lips. “The important thing is to recognize your mistakes so you don't repeat them. And I know you'll do better next time, I'm sure of it.”
Pedri looked up at the phone screen again; your face offered him the encouragement he needed to keep going.
This time the ball slams into the net with a thud. A confident smile spreads across his face, his shoulders higher. Yes, he'd definitely do better next time, he owed you that.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
You rushed out of the apartment when the taxi driver told you it was downstairs. You struggled with your suitcases to get them into the vehicle in record time and head to the airport.
You had finally finished all your exams. Although the original plan was to join Pedri until you had the final results, the distance was like a pebble in your shoe that you had managed to ignore long enough to finish the semester, but not one more day.
So you moved your flight forward, let his family know you'd be arriving a few days early, and that you wanted to surprise him with your arrival. They agreed and promised to keep it a secret.
Out of excitement, you barely manage to sleep on the plane, arriving in Atlanta in the morning with jet lag that you knew would take its toll later, but now the priority was seeing your boyfriend.
His family had told you that the players would have that day off, so you planned to surprise them at the restaurant where they were having breakfast. You quickly arrived at the hotel where they were staying to check in, leave your bags, take a quick shower, and tidy yourself up so you didn't look like you'd just gotten off an eight-hour flight.
The restaurant was a couple of blocks from the hotel; upon arrival, they tell you that the group has breakfast on the terrace.
Pedri's back is the first thing you see, and you feel your heart racing. After so much time apart, you only had to walk a few steps to close that distance, which until a few hours ago was an immense ocean.
Fer's face transforms into a mischievous expression as he discreetly pulls out his phone to record the reunion. Rosy and Fernando settle in, trying to keep their eyes off you so as not to alert Pedri to your presence behind him.
“I’m getting worried because she hasn’t answered me since yesterday. Usually it doesn’t take that long, about two hours if she’s in class. But right now she shouldn’t be in class…” you hear Pedri explain.
“Who would dare to stop answering you?” you say playfully, hugging him from behind.
At first, you feel him tense up; his shoulders slump, and he pulls away from your embrace before he even sees your face. The second his eyes meet yours, a mixture of astonishment and disbelief dances in them. He scans you completely, as if he still can't quite believe you're actually there, in the flesh, right in front of him.
Perplexity gives way to emotion. Pedri jumps up and wraps his arms around you in an intense hug, as if trying to merge with you.
Pedri's arms tremble slightly, afraid that you might just be an illusion created by his mind because he missed you so much. He pulls away just enough to see your face, where a few tears of emotion are already welling up, gently wiping them away.
“What-? When-? How-?” Pedri stammered, shifting his gaze between you and his family.
“I couldn’t wait and came as soon as I finished my last exam,” you blurt out excitedly.
Pedri wraps you in his arms again, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply the scent he's missed so much. Then he leaves a trail of kisses along your cheeks until he reaches your lips, joining them in a deep kiss.
“Did you know?” he asks his family, turning to face them.
“Yes. So we hope you’re not as moopy and sad as you have been in the last few weeks”, Fer joked, still recording.
At another time, Pedri would have given him a withering look, but right now you were the most important thing.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"A little on the plane".
“That’s not a proper breakfast, come on…” he says, taking your hand and leading you to the chair beside him, handing you one of the menus on the table.
Breakfast passes peacefully. Pedri’s hands never leave your body, resting on your legs, intertwined with yours, around your waist, stroking your hair. He feels his heart race every time he hears you laugh.
“We’ll stay here a little longer”, Rosy indicated when Pedri asked for the check.
“But I thought…”, Fer began before seeing Fernando’s knowing glance. “Oh, yes. This terrace is lovely”, he said, settling back into his chair.
“We’ve been together since we arrived, you deserve your space”, Rosy continued, seeing Pedri and you looking confused.
“Thank you”, you both said at the same time.
After saying goodbye, you got up to go for a walk. Pedri filled you in on what had been happening, while you updated him on the hotel where Nilo was staying.
After a few hours, you felt the fatigue starting to take its toll. Your body felt like it had a huge stone strapped to it, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to move. Pedri noticed and insisted on returning to the hotel so you could rest.
You collapsed onto the bed as soon as you saw it, and you felt Pedri take off your shoes and snuggle up next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“I’m glad you’re here”, he murmurs against your hair.
“So you won’t be all moopy and sad anymore?” you tease, pressing yourself closer to his chest.
“I’m going to kill Fer”.
You giggle softly, stroking his cheek. “You’re adorable”.
“You’re more so”.
Pedri continued stroking your hair until he felt your breathing become deeper and more regular. Even though he wasn’t sleepy, your presence had a calming effect, causing him to fall asleep as well.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆♡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
“I’m going to help you kill your brother,” you exclaim, looking at your phone.
Fer had uploaded the video of your reunion with Pedri to social media, and within hours it had gone viral.
“they are so cute”
“looooove them, my favorite couple”
“glad she’s finally here!”
“hoping someone misses me the way Pedri clearly missed her”
The comments kept pouring in every second.
“Considering it’s 2 a.m., we might be able to make it work,” Pedri sighed huskily.
You blinked several times to check the time. The jet lag was starting to get to you.
“Sorry,” you whispered, placing your phone on the nightstand. “My brain still hasn’t adjusted to this time zone.”
“We could do something about it,” Pedri suggested mischievously, sliding his hands under your blouse.
“Don’t you have training in a few hours?”
“And this could be the warm-up,” he murmured, sealing his lips with yours.
Can you do something about Pedri being jealous? You choose if it ends in smut or not. I love your writing.
౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Pedri - Jealous
⋆｡˚Pairing - Pedri x fem!reader
౨ৎ Summary - When a colleague drops you home from work, Pedri can't seem to control his jealously.
⋆｡˚Word Count - 3.4k
౨ৎ Warnings - jealous bf! possessiveness!
౨ৎ
It's 6:30pm and you're on your way home from work in a unfamiliar and abstract way. The train route which you usually took was cancelled at short notice, the bus routes were always packed full of people, the walk was far far too long and your boyfriend Pedri was still at football training when you clocked out the office.
So, instead you had been waiting around for thirty minutes for your co-worker, Julian, to finish his work and drop you off back at your boyfriends house.
And so here you were, in his navy blue Porsche which smelt of sandalwood and cologne which tried to hard to smell expensive. The city passed by like a blur as the engine purred under you. You engaged in conversation about work, and your colleagues and how their was weird smell in the break room today. Mundane laughter and simple flowing chatter filled the drive to Pedri's place in the Barcelona suburbs.
Julian was a good man, and a good friend in the office. During work hours he was someone you would spend a good chunk of your time with, sometimes going on lunch together with a few others or grabbing an after work drink together. If you both arrived early enough you would go grab a quick coffee from the local café around the corner form the office. But being in his expensive car, in a dark lit space, it made your tummy flip. Being in any Porsche that wasn't Pedro's felt foreign and forbidden.
Had Pedri not have been at training he would have come and got you. In fact, he offered to leave training early just to make sure you got to his home safely. When you told him that leaving his training session early just to pick you up from work was ridiculous he offered to send a car to come get you instead. You were about to take him up on the offer but then Julian came like a knight in shining armour. You text Pedri and let him know a friend from work was heading in a similar direction and would just drop you off on the way.
For Pedri, that was a relief. A girl friend was going to drop you off safely and he could get back to training without a worry. It also seemed like you would be arriving home at a similar time to him now, or he would get home a lit bit earlier than you which was a nice change for once. So, when training ended he rushed into his own Porsche filled with only the excitement of seeing you.
Julian turned the wheel with an easy confidence, glancing at you briefly as he merged onto a quieter street lined with the sloping trees of Pedri’s neighborhood. You were nearing the end of the drive now, the tension that had quietly built in your shoulders beginning to ease with the familiar sight of the Barcelona suburbs rolling into view. It was a strange feeling. Your work life seemed to be meeting you real life. Sure, the office knew you were dating Pedri. You'd get teased about it all the time but you never thought your work life would intertwine with him, with your love. But now it was about too. You just hoped that Pedri was already home.
The Porsche pulled to a gentle stop just outside Pedri’s house, that same navy blur now parked against the pale dusk like it didn’t quite belong. You glanced at the big house you had spent so much time in it was like your own home. The driveway was empty. Your boyfriend was not back from football yet, and for a moment you let your shoulders drop in relief. A sigh you didn't know you were holding in realised from your chest.
You unbuckled your seatbelt, "Gracias, Julian" you said while dusting your hands down your tight black work trousers just to give your hands something to do.
“Of course,” he said, one arm resting casually on the wheel. “Anytime.” His Rolex was catching in the light of the setting sun. Everything about him was so expensive and exuded old money, so old fashioned and chivalrous. Most girls looked at Julian and could not contain their blush, you'd seen it happen countless times at the café. The young baristas eyes cowering with nerves when they speak to him, or the older ladies who couldn't stop fawning over his muscles. But not you. Never you. You had Pedri. And Pedri was all you ever wanted.
You exchanged quick goodbyes and then reached for the door handle. Just as you did headlights washed across the front of the car. Another car, one which was sleek, black, and unmistakably familiar, rolled into the driveway at just the right moment to make your stomach drop and your heart quicken.
You froze, fingers still curled around the door handle.
The headlights flickered against the rear-view mirror, casting long shadows across Julian’s face as he looked toward the driveway, then back at you with a small, unreadable smile.
“That him?” he asked, voice low but casual, as though he wasn't fazed by the fact one of the best footballers in the world hadn't just showed up in front of him. Like he didn't watch him play week in and week out.
You nodded, too fast. “Si. That’s him.”
The engine of Pedri’s car purred low as it rolled to a stop. The light cut out as the ignition shut off, and for a beat, everything felt suspended. Caught between the final scene of one moment and the first flicker of the next.
You opened the door before the pause could stretch too long.
The air outside was cooler now, with the early evening breeze tugging gently at your white work blouse. You stepped out of the Porsche, the sound of the car door clicking shut unnaturally loud in the quiet street.
Pedri emerged from his own Porsche a second later, gym bag slung over his shoulder, dark hair still damp from a post-training shower, his Nike hoodie zipped halfway up. He looked good; flushed from training, tired in that soft way he always looked when he’d come home from training. He was smiling when he saw you, but it faltered slightly when his eyes landed on the navy Porsche.
Then they looked at you again.
He slowed a little as he crossed the driveway, his hand coming up in a lazy wave, his eyes trailing you up and down because something about you in tight fitting office wear always got him worked up. But, he could not stop himself from wondering who was in the navy Porsche that still waited outside his house. Who had driven you home?
Julian didn’t move, but the driver’s side window lowered slightly. You could feel his gaze watching, calmly, from behind the wheel. Not smug. Just curious.
Pedri greeted you with a small kiss on the cheek. Then his eyes flicked to the car again, then to you. “Didn’t know your friend from work drove a Porsche.”
You smiled, small and tired, brushing your hair behind your ear as you adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder. You could feel the question lingering in his voice, wrapped in velvet but edged in something firmer. Curiosity, maybe, or protectiveness. Possibly both.
“He offered,” you replied softly, not wanting to make it a bigger deal than it was. “I didn’t want you leaving training early, remember? You’ve got a match in a few days. I was going to take a cab but Julian said he was heading this way. Made sense."
Julian. The name of man made Pedri's ears ring. It was a man who had driven you home. A man who you spent eight hours a day working alongside. Suddenly, that fact clicks in his head. The fact that you almost have a separate life existing in an office building in Barcelona's city centre. A world where he doesn't really exist. It makes his stomach turn.
You watched your boyfriend's eyebrows crease in the way they do when he's thinking hard. The way his jaw tightens in what was seemingly annoyance.
The noise of the car window rolling down even further broke some of the tension between us.
Pedri’s head turned slightly toward the sound, his eyes sharpening with something unreadable, his hand slipping from your waist back to the strap of his gym bag. He didn’t say anything , he didn’t need to. You could feel the shift in him, like something inside had straightened up, alert.
From the car, Julian leaned slightly into view. He looked out through the lowered window, his face calm, casual, eyes flicking between the two of you with no rush, no nerves, no intention of stepping out or overstepping.
Pedri looked at him. He was full of muscles, a sharp set jaw and wavy light brown hair. He was older, and looked it. Not in a bad way but in a manly way. He looked like most girls dream guy. His suit perfectly tailored, he expensive watch glinting away. He was stable, and respectable. He had a proper job and a good salary.
This was the man you were spending eight hours a day with. Your friend. Pedri thought.
“You good?” Julian called out to you lightly, in Spanish, just loud enough to carry across the short distance.
You nodded, turning your body more toward him instinctively. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again.”
Julian offered a small nod and half a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright then. I'll see you on Monday morning, the usual time. Have a good night.”
And just like that, the window rolled back up. The navy blue car rolled away into the dying light of the evening. The engine roar getting further and further away.
Silence.
Pedri watched the spot where the car disappeared for a moment too long, then turned back to you.
"The usual time, eh?"
You blinked, caught slightly off-guard by his tone—not sharp, but not exactly light either. It hovered somewhere in the middle. Almost playful, but laced with something else; something heavier. The usual time. Three little words who have flicked the night like a switch.
You gave a small smile, trying to brush it off. “We get coffee most mornings before work. It’s not a big deal.”
Pedri nodded slowly, but his lips pressed into a thin line. The same look he gives when he has been fouled on the pitch and disagrees with the referee. A frown. “Right. Coffee. Just you and him?”
“Sometimes with others. Sometimes just us,” you admitted, honestly, but gently. “It’s just a routine. We both get there early and it’s convenient. That’s all it is.”
Jealousy was seeping through his veins. He couldn't stop imagining it. You and Julian in the corner of a café in the early morning, alone. Did he pay for your order? Did he pull out your chair? Did he carry your work bag just to be a gentleman? Did he fill the role he was absent from? He began to overthink the whole interaction that just happened, the way Julian checked to make sure you were okay. The way he didn't even really acknowledge Pedri, his eyes only ever remaining on you. He looked at you with what Pedri knew as desire, forbidden attraction that he could not act upon. Did your work attire work Julian up as much as it worked Pedri up?
Pedri didn't say anything, he just nodded his head to the front door and you followed behind him. You could feel the heat fuming from him. The raw jealousy.
౨ৎ
Inside the house, it was too quiet. The kind of quiet where you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, your kitten heels clicking on the hardwood, the distant hum of city noise wrapped in a suburban quiet.
Pedri dropped his bag on the floor by the door in a sudden thud. He didn’t look at you when he did it. He stood for a moment with his back to you, still in the threshold, fingers flexing once at his sides like he was trying to contain himself from emotion.
You closed the door softly behind you, the click small and definite. Your bag slid from your shoulder and landed by your feet. You wanted to speak, but your throat felt thick. You weren't used to this side of your boyfriend. You didn't know how to navigate it.
You followed him into the kitchen, walking slower than usual. He opened the fridge, stared at it blankly, then closed it again. He leaned against the counter like he needed something to hold him up.
You stood near the kitchen island, your fingers worrying the strap of your handbag, waiting for him to speak first.
He finally turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “So, he drives you home. You get coffee together. What else?”
The words weren’t cruel, but they felt precise. Like he was picking them out carefully, deliberately. You blinked.
“It’s just coffee,” you said. “Just work stuff. That's all it is.”
Pedri nodded, but it didn’t feel like agreement. It felt like stalling. He looked at you again, really looked, his brown eyes dark under the overhead kitchen lights. His under eyes tired from his workout.
“I don’t like it,” he said. Simply. Without apology.
You opened your mouth, maybe to defend yourself, or maybe just to say his name, but he cut in before you could.
“I know you love me,” he added. “I’m not insecure about that.”
He walked a few steps closer. His voice didn’t rise. “But I don’t want you being close with another man. Not like that.”
“Like he knows you,” Pedri said, now standing just in front of you. “Like he knows you before nine in the morning. Like he knows all your wants and all your needs. Like he takes care of you. That's mine.”
You looked at him carefully, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze.
Pedri was watching you, waiting. His hand moved like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t.
"I know how men look at women they want but can’t have. He looks at you like that. I don’t want him anywhere near you.” His eyes darken with a serious glare you rarely ever saw.
Your stomach flipped because your body betrays you by liking this side to him. This man that's claiming you so boldly all while dressed in a matching black training tracksuit with curly wet hair, smelling like hard work and musk.
The air felt so charged, like you were being struck with electricity and flying sparks.
You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “He’s just a friend,” you said finally. Your voice sounded small in the big kitchen. “He’s never crossed a line.”
Pedri’s eyes flickered, a tiny movement, like a muscle twitch. He took another step, closing the space between you until the counter pressed against your back. His voice dropped even lower.
“He doesn’t have to cross it,” he said. “He's already standing on it.”
You swallowed. He was so close now you could smell the faint chlorine from the training ground shower still clinging to his hoodie, the sharpness of his cologne dulled by sweat.
“I’m here,” you said gently. “I come home to you.” You try to reassure him.
You reached up and touched his wrist, his skin warm under your fingers. Slowly, his hand lifted, hovering before it finally settled at your waist. His thumb pressed against the fabric of your blouse, not hard, just enough to feel you there.
“I’m not asking you to quit your job or anything stupid,” he said, eyes still locked on yours. “I’m just saying, if he’s giving you rides, if he’s sitting with you in cafés, if he’s paying for your lunches, he’s not just being polite.”
“I don’t let him pay,” you said quietly. “And it’s not--” you stopped, trying to choose the right words, but none of them seemed to fit.
Pedri’s thumb drew a small, slow circle against your waist, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. He looked at you the way someone looks at a photograph they’ve stared at for too long, their eyes tracing every line until it becomes burned into the brain.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes still locked on yours. “you don’t see it. But I do. That’s my job.” His fingers pressed a little harder into your waist, not rough, but enough to feel it. “To see it before you do.”
You swallowed. “Your job?”
He nodded once. “To protect what’s mine. Not because I’m afraid of losing it, but because I won’t let anyone else have it.”
Your stomach flipped again. He had no doubts. Only certainty and confidence.
His hand slid a fraction higher, palm spanning the curve of your waist now, his fingers warm against your skin through the fabric. "No more morning coffee, Si?". It wasn't really a question but he tried to make it sound like one. His lips dropping to your ear making your breath catch in your chest. Instantly your body responds to him. A rush of heat at the base of your spine and between your legs.
“I’m yours,” you whispered, voice small but sure, meeting his dark, steady gaze.
His eyes flickered with something deep and fierce, a quiet fire behind the calm. “Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “Because no one else gets to touch you like this.”
Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, mouth brushing your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in his wake as he unbuttoned the white blouse you had spent the long day wearing.
Your hands found his sweatshirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric, holding him close. The subtle power in his touch, the deliberate claiming, sent a shiver straight through you. Your hands tugged gently at the hem of his hoodie, and he let you, lifting his arms without a word as you pulled the fabric over his head and dropped it beside you.
Pedri's forehead rested against yours for a moment, the tip of his nose brushing yours. His breath was steady, his eyes searching. As if he needed to see you clearly. As if this wasn’t just about jealousy anymore, but something deeper. Possession, yes. But also an undying love.
You kissed him. He kissed you with back with hunger and want. His fingers threaded into your hair, cradling the back of your head.
He tugged you down the hallway, lips still longer. Breathes panting. Your back hit the edge of the bedroom door, your blouse falling the rest of the way open under his hands. He paused, just long enough to look at you, to take you in.
And then he said it, low and certain:
“It's just me and you. No one else matters”
You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least. You didn’t need to. The way your hands found his face, the way your mouth found his again. That was the only answer he needed.
The rest of the night unfolded slowly, wrapped in warmth and low murmurs, in the quiet promise of closeness. Skin on skin. Moan after moan.
Come Monday morning, Pedri woke up early enough to drive you to work. A little later than usual. No morning coffee. No Julian.
And that evening, he was there again; parked outside your office, leaning against his car in sunglasses, waiting. You walked out to find him like that, calm and oozing confidence, while Julian trailed behind.
Pedri didn't say a word, he just watched as Julian watched him open the car door for you, and instead of jealousy -- this time it was something sweeter. The satisfaction of watching Julian realise he would never have you, no matter how hard he tried or how long he waited.
Growing up near the Santiago Bernabéu stadium in Chamartín, Madrid, always meant you bled white, gold, and blue. Your grandparents, your parents, your siblings, and you were avid supporters of Real Madrid. So much so that whenever Madrid had a game on home turf, and even a few away ones, your family and you always made it a point to go and support your favorite team.
It was for this very reason that when you entered into a relationship with FC Barcelona’s midfielder Pedri, it shocked everyone around you, including yourself.
You hadn’t meant to fall for one of FC Barcelona’s golden boys. The two of you had met at a bar in Madrid after an El Clásico match. Barcelona beat Real Madrid 2-1, with one of the goals scored by Pedri himself. He had been out with a few of his teammates celebrating their victory, and you had been out with a friend recuperating from the devastating loss at the hands of your rival team.
Pedri had approached you first, while your friend was in the bathroom, after noticing your Real Madrid jersey, which you were still wearing over jeans and sneakers. He leaned against the bar next to where you were sitting, scrolling on your phone, waiting for your friend to come back.
“Rough night?” His voice caught your attention, causing you to look up from your phone. Pedri had a cocky smile on his face, and he seemed to exude so much confidence. You couldn’t help but notice that he had very defined features, but, reminding yourself that he was the enemy, you rolled your eyes.
“Did you need something?” You asked more sharply than was necessary.
“I figured I’d check in on the Madrid fans,” Pedri returned, that stupidly handsome smile still on his face. Leaning closer to you, he whispered the next part in your ear. “You looked like you could use some emotional support.”
You tried not to show how his voice affected you. The shiver that threatened to run down your spine was suppressed, but just barely.
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Your eyes looked him up and down as you spoke. “I’m surprised you’re here. I figured if anything, you’d be busy watching the replay of your goal for the hundredth time today.”
Pedri’s smile seemed to only widen at your response. “Not hundredth. I’ve only seen it 99 times now.”
You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face at his response. You hadn’t expected Barca’s golden boy to have a sense of humor. However, you were never one to give up easily, and besides, this was your rival. No way were you about to let him win and have the final word. You were enjoying this little back-and-forth.
“How very humble of you,” You spoke sarcastically. “I didn’t know that humility was something that Barca players had: what with the way you guys always seem to have a holier than thou approach when dealing with other clubs.”
“No other clubs,” Pedri responded. “Just Real Madrid. Besides, even you have to admit that my goal tonight was a world-class goal.”
You thought back to the second goal that Pedri had made earlier in the day. He had taken on two defenders and bypassed both of them to find an open spot and put the ball in the back of the net. It was the goal that secured Barcelona's lead once again and ultimately their victory. You wished you could say that it wasn’t an impressive goal, but it had been. It hurt you to admit it, but you knew it to be true. Never would you tell him that, though.
“Not as good as Mbappe’s,” you retorted. A part of you wanted to stick your tongue out at him, but that felt like it would have been childish to do.
Pedri laughed, shaking his head. You had said that, wanting to get under his skin, but instead, he looked impressed by the comeback. There was no irritation on his face. That realization annoyed you more than it should have.
“Do you argue with everyone that you meet like this?” Pedri couldn’t help but be curious about the person in front of him.
“Only Barcelona midfielders,” You responded by smirking at him. “Somehow they just seem to bring it out of me.”
Pedri laughed once again. “That is oddly specific.”
“Well,” you began. You leaned in closer to him to say the next part. “You’re the one who came over to speak to me. You're also the one who is choosing to continue the conversation.”
“Maybe, I like the conversation.” It was the most outright flirtatious comment that Pedri had made so far. “Or the conversationalist.”
You could feel your cheeks heat up and a genuine smile threatening to form on your face. You tried to keep it neutral, however, not wanting him to see that he had made you smile.
“Do you go around annoying all the Madrid supporters?” You asked.
“Only the pretty ones,” He responded with a cheeky smile on his face and a wink in your direction.
The back-and-forth flirtatious banter continued between the two of you for some time before your friend returned. The two friends Pedri had come with that night, Gavi and Ferran, eventually joined you and your friend. You hadn’t expected Barca boys to be so down-to-earth or funny. The night had given you a new perspective, which is why, at the end of the night, when Pedri asked for your number, you surprised even yourself by giving it to him.
Your relationship had started out really slow, with you living in Madrid and him in Barcelona. You would talk all the time; however, the only times you could see each other were when he came to Madrid for games or when you had time off from work. Your relationship began long-distance, started out as just friends, and eventually, you both realized that all the banter and flirting were because you felt more for one another.
He had been so nervous the first time that he had met your family. With your family being long-time supporters of Real Madrid, they had taken a while to warm up to him. For a while, it had even caused tension in your family, with some members seeing your choice to be with him as a sense of betrayal. However, you had stuck by him, and he had also put in the work, eventually winning over your family. They might never become Barcelona fans, but they respected him enough not to be hostile, and you couldn’t have asked for more.
The relationship you two had was great. In fact, you would go as far as to say it was the healthiest relationship you had ever been in. Pedri was respectful and supported you in your endeavors. He never pushed you to do things you didn’t want to do and seemed genuinely eager for you to succeed. You both had your fair share of disagreements, but you were able to talk them out. Relationships, as you learned, require compromise, and since you both wanted this relationship to work, you were willing to make compromises to make it work.
There seemed to be only one thing that you both were unwilling to compromise about. One thing that seemed unresolvable between you two: Barcelona vs. Real Madrid.
“Can’t you wear it just once?” Pedri seemed to beg you. “For me.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. “Pedri, I told you at the beginning of our relationship that I would never in my life wear a Barcelona shirt. I love you, and I will always support you and root for you, but I won’t wear a Barcelona shirt.”
“It’s just a shirt,” Pedri tried to reason with you.
You shook your head, laughing at the absurdity of it. “No, Pedri, it’s not. It’s THAT shirt. My parents might actually disown me.”
Now it was Pedri’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re being so dramatic. They wouldn’t do that.”
“They might,” you retorted. “I can almost already see my grandmother changing her will right now. Besides, I already wear your jersey when you play for Spain, isn’t that enough?”
He seemed to soften slightly. “You know I appreciate it, but it’s just not the same thing. I play for Barcelona for the majority of the year. I try to score goals for a living. The least my girlfriend could do is wear my colors.”
The pout on his face made you almost give in. He looked adorable; you couldn’t deny that face. However, ALMOST was the keyword. You continued to tease him, an idea popping up in your head.
“Fine, I’ll wear your shirt,” you said cheekily. The look on his face was almost comical, like he couldn’t believe you had actually agreed. The second part of the sentence caused his face to fall. “When you wear a Real Madrid shirt.”
You had to prevent yourself from busting out laughing at his expression to your suggestion. He looked like just the thought of putting himself in a Real Madrid shirt offended him. His eyebrows furrowed, and the scrunch of his nose gave away just what we thought of your idea.
“That’s blasphemy,” his response caused you to actually burst out laughing. “Also, I’m pretty sure that that’s emotional blackmail.”
You walked closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His hands found your waist immediately, before either of you even had to think about it. It was almost second nature at this point. “Aww, baby, I’m pretty sure it’s called compromise.”
You leaned up on your toes and placed a quick peck on his lips. When you pulled back, he no longer had that look on his face. Rather, he was once again pouting. “This isn’t fair. You’re trying to distract me from the conversation.”
You pecked him on the lip again, pulling away with a smirk on your face.
“I would never do that,” you said, even though you knew you totally would. “But, while we’re on the topic, is it working? Are you distracted?”
You pecked him on the lip again, but this time, as you moved back to pull away, Pedri tightened his grip on you and refused to let go. He increased the pressure of his lips on yours and deepened the kiss. You felt yourself melt into the kiss, your hands moving from his neck and into his hair. You could feel his tongue swipe at your bottom lip, and you felt yourself give in and open up to allow his tongue into your mouth.
You don’t know how long the two of you had been kissing, but when you pulled away, you were both out of breath.
“So, you still won’t wear my jersey?” Pedri asked in a slightly out-of-breath voice.
You giggled and shook your head. “Nope. As convincing as that kiss was, I haven’t changed my mind. I’ll wear your name and the number 8 on a jacket or shirt, but it won’t be a Barca shirt.”
Pedri sighed but eventually nodded his head, “I suppose I can live with that. As long as you support me.”
You pecked his lips, “Always.”
“You know,” Pedri spoke with such confidence. “One day, I will convert you.”
“No, you won’t,” you retorted, giving him another peck on the lips. Your resolve was firm. “I’ll never wear Barca blue, but I will always stand by you.”
Hey guys, my fanfics on Tumblr blew up again because of the World Cup, and I'm so happy about it. You’ve probably been wondering what I’ve been up to for the past three years since I stopped writing here. Well, I created a character.ai account and mostly made football player bots for myself at first, but later on, that account was completely taken over by The Weeknd, tbh. If you like roleplaying with The Weeknd on character.ai, you’ve probably tried my bot, because I have one of the bigger accounts in that fandom. Anyway, nothing exciting has been happening in my private life, other than the fact that I graduated from university 🎓. I moved from character.ai to Janitor AI last year because it offers way more creative freedom. It’s a small account, I only have 7 followers there but if those 7 people were in the room with me, I’d probably lose my mind because that already feels like a crowd to me 😭 Anyway, with the World Cup going on, I remembered my Tumblr account and was shocked that people are still visiting it. I was thinking that if you guys want, I could make some football player bots for you on janitor.ai (which I think is way better than character.ai), maybe based on your requests or something. Let me know what you think 🩷
- Pablo has a sister so he knows about periods and understands that you won't be feeling your best overall before and during your period
- As much as he knows about periods when it comes to you it's different he used to just ignore Aurora and try not to interact with her too much but he cant do that with you and he doesn't want to as he wants to make you feel as good as he can
- To find out what to do he calls his sister who helpfully goes over all the details which Pablo hated hearing but he listened for you he even wrote some things down so he wouldn't forget anything he was supposed to do or get
- After talking to his sister he goes out and buys all sorts of things like all your favourite snacks and plenty of chocolate as well as a selection of pads and tampons which was a complete minefield to him so he just picked up a range of things and hopes for the best
- He will do pretty much anything for you when you are on your period if you finish your water he's up and refilling it for you before you can even move to do it yourself and he'll make dinner for you especially on the days when your cramps are the worst
- Once Pablo gets used to being around you when you're on your period he really is the best he always knows what will make you feel better and he's willing to cuddle anytime you want which he does when you’re not on your period but he's especially cuddly when it's your time of the month
Pedri
- Pedri isn't stupid so he knows what periods entail but his mum tells him more things he should know when he told her about your relationship so he definitely has a pretty good idea of what goes on with your body
- As much as he has some knowledge his mum made it very clear that periods are different for everyone and so he was very aware that he'd have to get used to what it was like for you and how you feel on any given day
- It doesn't take him too long to work out things like when your cramps are going to be at their worst and when you will be feeling the most sensitive he also picks up on the signs that your period is due soon so he roughly knows when to go out and get you all your favourite snacks
- Pedri is really good at dealing with whatever you throw at him for example he knows when you are angry it's nothing to do with him it's just your hormones making you act like that so you don't mean to be short with him and he understands that
- He knows exactly what to do when you are feeling certain emotions when you are angry he knows to give you some time alone when you are feeling upset he knows exactly how to comfort you as well which is usually with lots of cuddles
- Pedri always wants to keep you happy especially during your period so he’s more than happy to do whatever you need him to do that will keep you happy and make life a bit easier
Jude
- Jude quickly learns what not to do or say when you are on your period which he definitely learns the hard way
- He made the fatal mistake of calling you moody one time after you'd had a small argument which did not go well for him as it only made you more angry for a few minutes before your burst into tears all of which took Jude by surprise but after a scolding by his mum he learnt to not do that again
- From that day on he never utters the word moody ever again instead he learnt that during your period you are more fragile mentally and things that wouldn't get to you on a normal day can make you cry for hours
- To make you feel better he always gives you lots of compliments on anything that he knows you can be insecure about on a normal day he also makes sure to tell you that he loves and that he thinks you are beautiful just the way you are
- Even when you are being moody Jude just leaves you be because it never lasts long and he's found it's best if he doesn't try and help because he can never do it right so it only makes you mad at him which neither of you need
- Most months Jude gets you flowers when you are on your period as he notices that little things make you happy and it's something he can do quite easily that you always really love
Joao
- Joao is always prepared for when your period comes he keeps the bathroom stocked with the products you use and he makes sure that you have the right pain killers in the house as there are certain ones you like to take to help with cramps
- He usually has a pretty good idea of when your period is due he doesn't track it a he thinks that's weird but he is able to pick up on the pms symptoms you get which gives him a pretty good indication
- He likes to know when your period is due so that it doesn't catch him off guard as that has happened a few times and when you come home in tears after work he always thinks something bad has happened but that’s never been the case so he likes to prepare himself for the few days of heightened emotions and pain you'll be experiencing
- When he can he likes to make your favourite meals for dinner as not only does it mean you don't have to cook but having your favourite comfort foods always makes you feel better and Joao likes to be able to make your day just a little better when he can
- Another common occurrence is relaxing nights on the sofa usually by the end of the day you don't want to do much so when Joao is home you both cuddle on the sofa under a blanket together watching movies or whatever tv show you've been watching together at that time
- Joao likes to try and make you feel as happy as possible on your period everything he does is to make you happy because he knows you never feel your best during that week so if he can brighten your day in any way he will
Hector
- The first time you told Hector that you were on your period he freaked out a bit he didn't expect you just to say it and he didn't know what to do as he didn't want to do or say the wrong thing and upset you or make you mad
- He is quick to text some of his older friends who have girlfriends and ask them what he should do and after making fun of him for freaking out and acting like you were some sort of alien they told him the best things to do for you
- From then he's pretty good he knows to just read each situation as it arises if you seem down or upset then he knows to try and cheer you up but if you are getting frustrated with something he knows to just let you rant or leave you alone
- Hector will usually do pretty much everything you ask so if you want ice cream he will get you some as quickly as he possibly can even it involves going to the store to buy some, sometimes you don't even have to ask he will just greet you with your favourite chocolates when he sees you
- He will also go and buy you pads/tampons if you are out but it will take him over an hour and require many texts to you as he doesn't know what all of it means although eventually he figures it out and gets what you need
- He's always extra sweet to you when you're on your period as he definitely wouldn't want to go through that every month so he likes to treat you even more like a princess than he usually would as he thinks you deserve all the extra love
Marc
- Marc always does his best to be as supportive as possible when you're on your period whether that's giving you someone to rant to, a shoulder to cry on or just simply being there he'll do all of that just to make you feel better
- He knows that being on your period isn't much fun and he knows that the hormones mess with your self confidence so he likes to make sure you feel beautiful at all times because he really does think you're perfect so he doesn't want you thinking you are anything less than that
- Marc is always really helpful when you're on your period he always likes to bring you lunch while you're at school and if he can stay to eat with you he will and he will help you with any homework or assignments you have too as sometimes your brain just isn't working properly so he helps keep you on track and figure things out
- Another thing Marc does is give you his clothes to wear he knows that being on your period is just generally uncomfortable so you like to dress as comfy and cozy as possible and Marc is happy to facilitate that by topping up your wardrobe
- Whenever he sees you he brings another one of his hoodies for you and it's always one he's sprayed with his cologne as well because he knows you love that and you will secretly sit there and sniff anything he gives you which you think he doesn't notice but he does
- Over the week or so of your period Marc just becomes the best boyfriend he's like an angel not that he doesn't treat you well on any normal day but he's extra attentive and sweet during that time as he knows you don't need anything else on your plate
a/n: just to give a little context because i don’t know if it was super clear 😭 both families are really close friends and decided to spend a holiday together. the reader also invited some of her friends, so everyone’s hanging out in the same house.
pov: you
Family vacation, they said. it’ll be fun, they said. and honestly? it was fun… until my friends decided to betray me in the middle of karaoke night. right when it was my turn, they queued up a very suspicious song because apparently “it’s more fun when you actually mean it.” but seriously? why still into you? i should’ve refused. i should’ve walked away. i should’ve remembered that my friends love chaos more than they love me. but i did it. because we were there to have fun, right? and the worst part is… i was feeling every word. singing way too loudly, way too into it, like no one else existed. until i opened my eyes. and there you were. standing across the room like some kind of cruel surprise, watching me sing about how I’m still into you. With that stupid little smile on your face. idiot.
happy bday bb!!!! i missed you so much i’m so happy i found your account! do you think you could just do a headcanon of how pedri is as a bf! it’s up to you if you want to include smut
⋆ ˚｡⋆ 📂 pedri as a boyfriend …
contains smut, minors dni.
— the meeting.
he was back home in the canaries and met you a house party one of his mates had hosted
it honestly was just an instant connection
he had gone around talking to different ppl throughout the night but the second he started talking to you …
you were the last person he spoke to. bcs he would not speak w anyone else
but after that it was mostly silence, and he was sad bcs he rlly wanted to get closer
when he was back in barcelona, he found out you lived there too
and after some time and a million encouragements from fer
he had the courage to formally ask you out and you two hit it off not long after that
basically, a he fell first & he fell harder moment 🫶🏼
— dating life.
this man is so gentle with you. just so soft spoken, so attentive, so caring
and let’s not forget how clingy he is
you could be doing anything — chores, just scrolling through your phone and he’ll sneak up behind you and bury his face in the crook of your neck
and he wouldn’t say a single word. just dead silent
but that means all he wants is cuddles and you’re more than happy to oblige !
lets you go in his closet and steals whatever you want. genuinely half your closet is just his hoodies and t-shirts now
speaking of his closet, when you first got your hands on it, you were appalled to say the least. but you’ve since gotten it under control and no more ripped skinny jeans it is
in my eyes, pedri’s love language is quality times.
so when he has the time, it’s date night almost every single week ! renting out literally the whole restaurant so it’s more intimate and romantic
when he’s a bit busier, he does it in other ways
he’ll hire a private chef fer to his house, decorate the dining room with flowers
speaking of …
gifts. always. constantly. and spontaneously!
he’ll ask you what you want for your birthday, or christmas, etc — and you always say you don’t want anything. but then a few days later, you’ll get texts like: “gold or silver?” “what size shoe are you?” “do you like clutches or purses more?”
he’s a simple guy, he’s not flashy, and unless it’s for a new phone or a new car he hates splurging. but when it’s with you, then it’s a whole other story.
loveeees showing you off to his family and friends
he’ll run late to lunch with his friends and say something like, “sorry, my girl was too clingy this morning.”
and they’ll all be fake disgusted but he loves it
oh and about pet names
mi mujer — my woman, when addressing you, it’s his go-to.
and bebé for when he’s speaking to you directly
— the launch.
pedri is famous, which means one way or another, the public will have to know about you guys.
pedri is generally a private guy so i think he’ll let it out slowly
which means … soft launch !
it starts with a goal dedication, he makes your initial with his hands and blows a kiss to the camera
and ppl are instantly like whoa. who was that for
and then it picks up
he posts holiday pics and there’s little bits and pieces of you in them
your hair creeping in a mirror selfie, your manicured hands on a steering wheel, your reflection off of a mirror in a restaurant
and now it gets real serious
fans catch him with a girl as his wallpaper but your face is covered by his hand holding the phone
the bomb drops when he posts a pic on his story. it’s a mirror selfie, you’re both dressed up, and you’re the one taking it. he’s standing behind you, one hand across your abdomen.
both your faces are cropped out. still, ppl are like yeah, he has a girl it’s confirmed
finally, he post a whole dump for you, probably for something special like your birthday and he lets the world know he’s yours !
— the spice.
remember when i said pedri was very gentle earlier?
well he can definitely pull a 180 in bed
i see him as more of a switch, and it depends on his mood
at the start of the relationship, when you were navigating what you both enjoyed in bed, you had to guide him a lot
and that’s when you found out he loves being praised, and asking you to praise him
“does that feel good?” “fuck, right there, yeah?” “like this?”
and when he’s not in control he doesn’t shy away from letting you know how good you’re making him feel, always in your ear
ok but let’s get into how he is when he’s in control
generally at first your sex was pretty vanilla, but you were so tired from work one day and just needed to let it all out
and pedri delivered — he had you bent over the couch, and when you thought you were done, he carried you to his room and made you watch in the mirror as you took him
it was unexpected. but not unwelcome
has a thing for when you tug his hair or leaves scratches on his back. it hurts, but it eggs him on further
and if he's really feeling confident, like if he just won a final or scored an important goal, his stamina is quadrupled. you're not stopping until your legs physically give out
always, always makes sure you get aftercare, even if he can barely stay awake himself
even if it's as simple as just getting you something to drink or standing next to you while you're in the bathroom afterwards, he just wants to let you know that he cares about you
gets super cocky the morning after. especially if he sees you limp a bit
you'll tell him off because you'll have to be at work or smth and he'd sit there with a grin and say, "you were the one who kept begging, harder, please—" (you'd throw a pillow in his face before he could continue)
