#pedri x reader

[dilemmars]

ㅤㅤ𑣲ㅤ━━ㅤCASANOVAㅤ⦂ㅤFERRÁN & PEDRI .

you had promised to be there on time, but occasionally promises turn into wishful thinking. when the car your boyfriend was taking to his work event leaves without you, your only option is to take another one, and arrive fashionably late.. with another man.

welcome to casanova beach club, what can i get you? fedri x f readerㅤ( 6556w ) ── warningsㅤthrouple content slightly angsty at the beginning because of #stress spanish terms of endearement used are 'mi vida' = my life / 'mi niña' = my girl / 'amor' = love slightly ferrán centered because he appears more please wear seatbelts when in a car guys! also joder means fuck in spanish, i think i dropped one around thereㅤno use of ynㅤ⟡ ㅤfluff , proofread ! .ㅤ⸝⸝ㅤclick to masterlist .

The big screen attached to the furthest wall from you was a blur of words and data you couldn't quite focus at the moment. You had your laptop opened in front of you, where the next presentation was on queue, and you were going through all the information you had memorized the day before over dinner while your boyfriend pretended to hear.

It was six forty something in the afternoon, AC turned on and the blinds dimmed so the bright May sunlight wouldn't bother you, and after all the preparation and lack of sleep now you were the one pretending to hear your colleague. The meeting, which had started almost three hours ago, was already running late.

And now you were running late.

You felt your phone vibrate against the wooden surface of the table, merely inches away from your hand, and picked it up before it could tremble a second time—not even daring to disrupt the monologue that your coworker was sharing with you about the content she wanted to include in her show during the following days.

As a senior content producer, you were supposed to be paying active attention, and even interrupting with constructive feedback as an expert in your field. You were also, however, allowed controlled slips from the gathering, if it had to do with work. And with the amount of projects and contacts that you had, there was always a chance that the next message was an important one.

At least if the device that you had left over the table at the beginning of the meeting was your work phone, which it wasn’t.

You unblocked your personal phone in a swift flick of numbers that were more reflex than memory, and disabled the sound in your phone in a heartbeat when you felt it buzz once again. At that time, that day, only two people could be the authors of the texts. A conversation that had started in the group chat because of a picture, so you lowered the screen light a notch before you went over the messages.

pedri: [attachment]

pedri: what do you think? too formal?

You bit back a smile, zooming in the selfie mirror that your boyfriend had sent you. You recognised behind his lithe figure the messy sheets he had forgotten to fix after leaving the bed that morning, and also the familiar way the reflection was slightly bathed by the evening sunlight. He was asking about the white button up shirt he was wearing, and the slacks and the matching suit jacket, but not about the nervous curve of a smile in his lips.

ferri: you look like you’re going to a wedding

ferri: drop the button up or the blazer and wear something more casual

And you agreed. The other third of your group chat, Ferrán, your other boyfriend, had a more enhanced sense of fashion, and it almost pained you that none of you could be in the room with Pedri to help him decide what to wear.

But the meeting was important, and you had already asked for days off for the rest of the week, so you had to be there. Even though in your very organised schedule, you were supposed to have already left—and you should have already done your presentation, but your boss had completely lost track of time and you were left with a cute picture and a conversation you could not be a part of instead of getting ready with him.

pedri: answer to @ ferri ‘you look like you’re going to a wedding’ my mom told me to look handsome

ferri: you always look handsome, don’t worry

You felt eyes on you, and when you lifted your gaze, your best friend in the office was looking at you. She had just written a quick sentence in her notebook, something your coworker had said and you had completely missed, and she delivered a short nod in your direction to check that everything was fine.

You answered with a tight smile, nodding back. Everything was as fine as it could be.

pedri: ha ha

pedri: what are you wearing, then?

ferri: [attachment]

ferri: casual but elegant

His clothes were still draped over his bed, but you could tell the classy details in his pants, and how well they unconciously matched the dress you had chosen for the occasion. You had sent a picture from the store the day you had bought it, and while you knew Pedri had cared, it was clear that it had been Ferrán the one to really take in the design.

pedri: you're a dork

pedri: it’s better if i wear black, right?

ferri: black goes with everything

ferri: stick to a dark colour palette

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment, hesitating. You wanted to respond, but your fellow editor was still going on and on about how to announce certain news in the roster; besides, you had already spent an increasingly suspicious amount of time with the phone between your hands. You desisted, this time shoving the phone into your bag, that was hanging from the back of the chair, and pretended to cough as you fell back into focus.

7.12PM

You couldn’t help but check the time just once again. The number had changed, but not as fast as you had wished for only one minute ago. Your presentation had finished not that long ago, followed by a positive commentary from your boss, and now that you were done, escaping that meeting had turned into your one and only priority.

Your friend had picked up where you had left it, changing slightly the subject into her direct field of expertise, and you wanted to listen to her, but your head was running over all the options to still, somehow, manage to get there on time. Arriving late was really not an option, since it was the first event from your boyfriend’s work you were going to attend with his arm around yours.

It had been a long conversation, throughout the days that followed the big parade in the bus around the busy streets of the Catalonian capital their football team had organised, when Pedri had locked eyes with you and sent you a flying kiss. In the heat of the moment it had seemed innocent, because there were a lot of people, and it could have been for a random fan, but after reflecting on it and following a couple of dangerous threads about it on X, you had decided to officialise your relationship with one of them.

That way, if someone actually saw something, you could control the narrative. It was basic journalism.

But you could not announce anything if you were not actually there, and you didn’t have time to go back to Pedri’s house and get changed in time to leave with him. Your work clothes were not that bad, but you could tell you were not going to be dressed properly—or maybe way too strict, too professional. More like a member of the directive than a plus one guest. And if you went straight from your office to his house, it was still a fifteen minute drive.

With a deep, anxious sigh stuck in the back of your mouth, you pulled the texting app in your laptop.

you: i cant leave yet

you: lara is talking about the data for this weekend’s articles

you: our articles

You saw the silly picture you had taken of Pedri during the recovery of his latest injury pop up in the chat as soon as you had sent the last text, and then the bubbles forming and popping while he wrote an answer.

pedri: how long do you think it'll take?

pedri: i have to leave in 10 minutes max, the car is already here

Right, the rental car his club had chosen to pick him up, because you had decided to go together and then come back with Ferrán, since he lived so close by. You failed to avoid muttering a low fuck under your breath, but no one around you seemed to be too invested on what you were doing, rather than in Lara’s words.

you: it's ok, you go

you: either i arrive late or i dont go and we'll make it official another day

pedri: hey, you still got time

pedri: you can make it, dinner’s supposed to start at 8.30

pedri: everything will be fine

pedri: just keep us posted about what you decide

You pouted to the dimmed screen of your laptop while your friend started to pick up her notes from the lectern, and then swiftly looked over to your boss, still typing, to check what was next in the agenda for that afternoon.

you: i know

you: i just really want to go and this meeting is stressing me out

The coordinator of editors for LaLiga content shifted the papers in front of him at the head of the table, and exhaled a sigh with the next point you were supposed to talk about. You tried really hard not to defeatedly sink further into your seat, and listened to his questions.

ferri: we know, mi vida

ferri: for now focus on your job

ferri: that's the important part

7.29PM

There were no more presentations scheduled for the day, but you couldn’t stop looking at the bottom corner of the screen’s right side, where a couple of pixels flickered into existence every few seconds. It made the light numbers of the time appear and disappear, and you wanted to swear that it made minutes pass faster, but you were not entirely sure.

It was almost seven thirty, and in one hour you had to be in the restaurant that FC Barcelona had rented for the occasion. You knew how it looked already because you had written an article about the celebratory dinner that the club had organised to gather all the players, coaching staff and even the management, including their families and spouses, to praise everyone for the good work during the season.

And after dating two of those players for almost a year, this time you were going to be inside the beach club, surrounded by their teammates, instead of in the office, writing about whatever information the photographers of your company had collected in the time they waited outside the building.

The thought of introducing yourself to the footballers that already knew you in your most professional mindset as Pedri’s girlfriend would’ve had you restless if you weren’t already preoccupied about how to get there in the first place.

You slid your finger along the touchpad of your laptop to check the time one more time, and saw a new notification. It was Ferrán.

ferri: @ you do you want me to go pick you up?

The seat sighed under your weight when you sat up straighter, writing an answer as quick as possible.

you: don't worry

you: if i leave to go back home and change, i'm going to be late anyway

you: i'll probably go directly as soon as i'm done here

ferri: in your car?

You winced, knowing that he was going over the same path of options you had gone a while ago. Taking your car would be useless, because you didn’t have any type of identification or invitation to the event, so security wouldn’t let you pass. But if you went by walking, you could go up to the entrance as another fan and then ask Pedri to help you in.

To get there, unfortunately, you had to take a thirty minute suburban train, which right now was your last resort.

you: no

you: train

pedri: taking the train to castelldefels is a nightmare, amor

You knew. Of course you knew. And you also knew that he was trying to help, but with the echo of your boss’ voice in the back of your head, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of one of your coworker’s pen against the table, and the annoying speed in which the corner of the projector’s screen was flickering, you couldn’t even begin to explain how his words were only stressing you more.

you: i don't see any other option

And you saw him typing once more, but you closed the texting app before glancing at the answer.

7.51PM

When the clock on the wall—because you had decided to stop looking at the screen, for the sake of your sanity—had hit ten minutes to eight in the evening, you had already set your mind on just not going. It was not fair to the organisers of the event, it was not fair to the punctuality values your parents had taught you and it was certainly not fair to your heart, that had been stammering against your ribcage at an alarming pace.

Now it was calm, and even though you felt like you were disappointing your boyfriends in some way, you were also very at peace with yourself.

Everyone at the celebratory reunion knew you, and you were not about to appear in your work clothes, out of breath and slightly dishevelled, when they all had praised your professionalism, and your elegant composure in all the interviews you had performed with them. It was pride, but also your personal brand, that was in the line.

So for a while you had focused back into the meeting, earning approval and corrections in your plans for the following week. All national competitions were over, and now the football branch of your company was turning their focus on complete coverage of the upcoming World Cup, so they had decided to talk about it right then and there since you were going to be gone until the following Monday.

Great.

You took your phone from the leather bag hanging from the back of your chair, and opened the group chat with your boyfriends once again to a picture—the latest message of twenty three.

pedri: [attachment]

pedri: i just arrived

pedri: there's a lot of people

It was a cute selfie, with the curve of his chin slightly cropped and a dreamy background. You could see the beach in the back, thin and darker towards the shore, and the profound blue of the sea that was way darker than the one in the pool to his left, light twinkling over the water. The decorations were a haze of white and esparto grass and straw, and you couldn’t really see who was the player in the table behind Pedri, but there were drinks already half finished.

Still, you could tell he was nervous in the tightness of his sweet smile.

you: here they're still going at it

you: it feels like it will never end

you: going over some world cup prep

You crossed your legs under the table, trying to conceal the fact that you were paying more attention to the conversation held between your hands than to the chosen correspondents to travel to the USA during June and July. You knew your name was among them, because you had signed off those papers two days ago, so you really didn’t need to listen to the same list once again.

ferri: tell them you have an emergency

you: what emergency?

ferri: a relative is in the hospital

You almost snorted, your eyes rolling in exasperation. Ferrán was the one that teased the most when he was in a good mood, but he also had a good sense to understand when you were not in the right place to be teased. The problem with it came when he tried to make you laugh within your sour temper. Most of the time it worked, but not when it was job related.

And after all the risks you had gone over when talking about going official with one of them, it seemed like they didn’t remember a thing and you were the only one still going over all the possible terrible outcomes of a small slip.

you: they will see the pictures tomorrow and know is not true

you: i’m not risking my credibility at work, thank you

pedri: answer to @ ferri: ‘a relative is in the hospital’ that's too much, ferri

ferri: shut up, i'm working on a solution

Now, that was the message you had been fearing. Because Ferrán was not going in a rented car but his own, and he was also the most impulsive out of the three of you, he was more prone to stupid ideas that ended up in chaos—and you were not taking the chance for that to happen.

Your fingertips danced over the keyboard of your phone, deciding what to type, and then you heard someone clearing their throat. 

“Something you want to add?” your boss asked, strict and low, with a wrinkle of annoyance around his sharp eyes.

“No, sir,” you called back, setting the phone screen down on the table like it burned. “All clear.”

8.04PM

By the time the meeting followed the sweet path of the last point in the agenda, your fingertips were already twitching in anticipation to open the text message app in your laptop and check if Ferrán had said anything else about his possible ideas. But every time that you didn’t follow with your gaze the conversation, that you didn’t nod to the words of your coworkers or added your own input, you felt your boss’s eyes over you.

So you waited until the final part of the meeting, when the secretary of the director read the minutes of what you had agreed on during the neverending hours of non stop babbling, to sneakily open a new tab over the wallpaper picture of your hometown.

pedri: ferri, i think some spots in the parking lot are reserved for us so you can park there when you arrive

ferri: got it

You smiled, somewhat relieved, that everything seemed to go according to their original plan. Pedri was already there, having fun, and Ferrán was on his way, ready to spend some nice time with their team in a deserved celebration of their hard work.

You added a message, typing as slow as you could to avoid suspicion.

you: i will try to get out in 5 minutes if they don’t shut up by then

you: i’ll check if i have some extra clothes in my office

you: but if when i get there is too late, i’m going back home

pedri: hey, take it easy, it's ok

pedri: im not trying to stress you, amor

The tip of your friend’s sandal nudged your shin, and your eyes went upwards immediately. She pretended to cough, and proceeded to add some information to one of the points—the one you had been working on about the details in the farewell to Robert Lewandowski from FC Barcelona. Old news, but a nice article to complete all the information from your web.

She left her last sentence hanging just in the right way so you could continue for her, and actually add your voice to the discussion, and when you finished, the meeting continued smoothly.

You winked at her. Nice save.

you: i know

you: we all know what time is it, anyways

you: are there any cameras?

pedri: yeah, a lot. i think everyone sent journalists here

Of course there were. It was not just any football event, where all the companies would send their fair amount of photographers to capture every second, on top also of the usual fans that wanted to earn some signatures and pictures; it was a domestic dinner where sports met privacy and everyone got to have a glimpse of the footballer’s inner circle. Known and unknown spouses and girlfriends, and the way they interacted with each other, feeding the public’s morbid curiosity.

You looked over to your right, where the director of photography seemed as close to falling asleep as you were to flee the room any given minute, and considered the names you had talked about before the meeting, trying to remember if he had mentioned who he had selected to take pictures of the event that afternoon.

you: yeah i know

you: i don’t know who javi sent to cover the entrance tbh

pedri: everything is going to be alright, mi niña

pedri: let me know when you arrive and i'll go out to escort you

pedri: there's no rush

When your boss’s voice picked up in one last sentence before ending the meeting, you tried not to look too eager to leave. You closed the laptop in a heartbeat, and grabbed your bag so fast you almost tripped over the chair on your way out.

You heard your friend, probably confused, throwing some questions at you, but you shouted over your shoulder something messy and quick that you wished it sounded like ‘Talk to you later, promise!’, but really just came out as gibberish in the empty corridor.

The flat sole of your sneakers barely left any sound over the tiled path to your office, and when you arrived, you had less than an exhalation to leave your blazer in the little closet by the corner and take a cute, warm shawl that you kept there for emergency situations like that one. You put the laptop and the agenda into the key-secured drawer of your desk, and grabbed the black heels that you had left under the table some time last week in between meetings and projects.

Then you took off, making sure that the light was off and the door was closed, and didn’t even think twice before rushing to the hallway and down the stairs, too full of adrenaline to take the elevator.

Your bag was big enough to keep the items you had just gotten, and you juggled it with one leather handle over your shoulder to take your phone and check when the next train was going to be. You would have enough time to freshen up and get ready on the way to Castelldefells.

When you unblocked the device, instead, you had a private message from Ferrán:

ferri: i'm outside

ferri: no need to run

And someplace between a heart attack and absolute relief, you sighed his name out of your mouth—there had been a plan, after all. You should have known.

You ran your hand over your face in a defeated gesture, quick feet flowing over the stairs, until you got to the private parking of the building. Not the underground one, more hidden from the public eye, but the one upfront, where everyone could see who parked there.

And in the first row, in a shadow of luxury and care, there was a hybrid model of the Cupra deal FC Barcelona had made with the car company, waiting for you. And leaning into the driver's door, but outside of it, the strong silhouette of Ferrán, with his black, simple T-shirt folding into the curves of his arms with reverence. He was smiling, almost grinning, under the stupid cap he had at least decided to wear to pick you up.

“You stupid, stupid boy,” you muttered under your breath, approaching him like a storm brewing behind the horizon. The afternoon had been a carousel of emotions, but certainly the permanent one since you had started dating them was anxiety at everything Ferrán did that decided not to share with you two.

Like risking your privacy by appearing, out of nowhere, in your work place for everyone to see.

“Get inside,” you all but snapped at him, punching him strengthless in his chest, brows furrowed into the poor attempt of masked anger. You couldn’t stay irritated at him for too long, but every time you had to try a little longer.

“Not even a ‘thank you, amor’?” he asked, the grin still dancing on his lips, but taking the heels from your hand and opening the car for you nonetheless. “Joder, tough crowd.”

You ran to the passenger side, settling into your seat in an exhalation, and prayed for your coworkers to wait a couple of seconds before leaving the building. They were all sports journalists for LaLiga—even with the cap on, there was no way they didn’t recognise Ferrán’s face driving you away. They all would know anyway, when the pictures of your arrival appeared in their mail that night, but there was no need for them to find out beforehand.

“What were you even thinking, amor?” you hissed, lowering your bag in between your legs while he started the car.

“Well, my sweet girlfriend was stressed out of her mind trying to figure out how to get on time to dinner,” he answered, taking his cap off and throwing it in the space between you, then rearranging his hair with one swift move of his hand.

Your heart melted a little at his words, leaning back into the leather of your seat.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and when his free hand found yours in your lap, you held it for a second too long before he lifted it to kiss it.

“I know it was risky,” he told you, and you fought the need to scoff in his face, back to the playfulness that you two usually shared. “But it'll work, I promise.”

“I'm still going to look a mess, but I guess you're right,” you conceded, anticipating the incredulous way he opened his eyes.

“‘I'm right’?” he rested his hand on your thigh, and teasingly squished it, “Walah! Hold on, I need to record it or Pepi will never believe it happened! Can you repeat it?”

Warmth spread over your chest when you heard his laughter and joined him in a fit of happiness, pretending to roll your eyes at him. He hadn't even taken his phone to record it一this was just him messing with you enough to make you relax.

“It's your word against mine,” you said, “and you know my sister is a lawyer, so I'll probably win anyway.”

“Like Pedri wouldn’t take your side just because it's yours,” he added, glancing sideways between you and the road before making a turn. “You don't need no law一Ok, wait, hear me out. In the next red light, which will be in like a minute, I need you to change seats and move to the back.”

You frowned, setting your hand over his in your leg, “Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty to sneak into your apartment on my way to you,” he explained, the enigmatic curve of his lips merely a gesture of mischief. “So, unless I fucked it up, you should have everything you need back there to change.”

“You what一” but you were already looking backwards, his hand leaving the softness of your flared jeans to rest it on the wheel.

In the seat right behind you there was a hanger that you recognised as one of the set of ten you had bought in Ikea when you had first moved out of your parents’ house, an elegant, dark dress flowing into the clean carpet of the car. In your smaller travel bag, tossed carefully over the leather of the car seat, you could see the zip open, but none of its contents.

When you looked back at him, he had a faltering smile plastered on his mouth, clearly waiting for you to confirm if he had made the right call or not.

Instead of trying to word an answer, you slid your hand into his hair and whispered a tender kiss on his cheek.

“Graciès, guapo,” but your eyes were saying much more.

Before you could even begin to notice the reddish hue in his ears he stopped the car, red light right in front of you, as he had promised, and patted you gently in your knee, “Go, go, go!”

You opened the passenger's door in a shriek, and while you heard his chuckles from inside, turned immediately to the door behind, taking the travel bag over your lap and wincing to the loudness of the door when you closed it after you.

“Done!”

Ferrán glanced towards the bag you had left on the floor by his side, putting it where you had been seconds ago, looking for something you could use to cover yourself, and you missed the way he bit his lips in concentration through the rear mirror.

You were too busy going through the stuff he had taken for you, and preparing what you were going to use first. There was a dark, strapless bra, carefully wrapped in its original box, because you didn’t get to use it that much, and a small toiletry bag with some make up.

“Take this,” his voice made you connect your gaze with his in the mirror, and you took your own shawl without thinking twice. “I think it's a little bit see through, but with the tinted windows, and this wrapped around the backrests, no one should see anything from outside.”

“Perfect,” you called, but he knew you had already fallen into the simplicity of your usual routine to get ready. And, as he started to drive again, twenty minutes away from the beach club you were going to, all he could think was that even if it was a little bit see through, the only one to actually see anything would be him一and if that was the case, he wouldn't be too sad about it.

8.22PM

Ferrán had tried his best to behave behind the wheel. He really had, especially when you had asked him to let you know when he was going to stop at any red lights, to work on your make up without unfortunate movements that messed it up.

But at the same time, he was just reckless like that, and even more so when he knew his girlfriend was half naked in the back of his car. It was that haze of trouble in his gaze every time he glanced in the rear mirror and you caught him, and the sinful way in which your dress had flowed over you and you had put it on.

The jeans had been a little bit complicated to take off, but now everything was folded and kept inside the travel bag, and you had your phone in your hands. You were talking to Pedri, you had said, and he felt the vibrations of new notifications in his phone every time you sent a message.

“How’s he doing?” he asked, turning his head towards you.

“He's nervous,” and your voice sounded as agitated as he assumed Pedri would be feeling. He waited for more information, but you kept quiet, still typing, cornered in the further seat to him.

He was a touchy person, he couldn’t help it. His twitching fingertips longed for your presence in the passenger seat, close enough so he could feel you under his hand. But you were putting distance between the two of you on purpose一if he got used to it during the drive to the restaurant, then it would be less difficult for him to keep his hands to himself during the actual dinner.

But seeing you there, with your silky dress, and those thin straps that threatened to slide down your shoulder under the least amount of breeze, he thought it was close to torture. The heels you were going to wear were beside you, black and short and delicate, and the bag he had chosen was discarded by their side, its chain dangling over the carpeted floor of the car.

You were close to your destination, and the closer you got, the more wrinkles that appeared in your dark tinted lips. If Pedri was on edge, waiting and holding the secret of your relationship by himself in the restaurant, he couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling, about to step into the other side of a world you thought you were used to.

“Pedri says in two minutes he will go outside, to wait for us,” you murmured, but you didn’t even look at him while saying so.

“In two minutes we will be arriving, so it's perfect,” he answered, and he tried to sound as reassuring as reassured he wanted you to feel.

There was a pause, a pause of you putting your phone back into the bag he had taken from your so-well-organised closet, a pause that exhaled a sigh from your mouth and into his ribcage, and then he talked again:

“Hey,” and your name sounded so soft when he pronounced it that you couldn't not look at him. “Everything is going to be fine, and I mean it.”

“I know.”

He chuckled under his breath and used the flashing lights. You could already hear the fans screaming names一though you couldn't make out whose name they were saying.

“You know,” he repeated, “but you don't believe it.”

“I know that people will see me exiting your car, and assume I'm your girl, and then I will have to go up to Pedri and act like I'm just his for the night,” you explained, a pained little sound escaping your throat right at the end of the last word, “and it's not fair to you.”

He felt a knot of vulnerability building up in his chest, and said nothing after that. You were too close to security and the slow looming of reality, anyway.

He stopped the car right where the gate of the Casanova Beach Club started, and lowered the window so he could get identified by the agents in charge of security. They gave him the thumbs-up, and he drove a couple of meters to the first free spot in the parking lot.

Silence was beginning to swallow you whole by the time he finally turned the engine off, a myriad of journalists and fans buzzing outside, but he took a second to look at you一really look at you, with his hand in the passenger's backrest and his body turned to you一and smile.

“I love you,” he said, and there was not a glimpse of regret or doubt or the resentment you had expected in his chocolate eyes. “Nothing anyone could say will change that I love you, you and Pedri, and I don't care that I have to pretend to just be your friend out there if that means that I get to love you both quietly when no one is looking.

“Ok?” he asked, a heartbeat later, when all he could see was a shadow of tears in the waterline of your nude gaze.

“Ok,” you repeated, and his smile widened.

“Let's go then.”

He exited his seat gently, all gracious elegance and a troublesome smirk, and he waved at the fans while walking in front of the car to your side, the keys dangling from his hand.

You took his phone from the space between seats to give it to him later, and slid the thin chain of your purse over your shoulder, waiting for him. Your work bag and all the clothes were inside the travel bag, so when he opened the door for you, you gave it to him. He took it with his free hand, and then offered the other to you.

As graceful as possible, you put on the heels, and then rested your hand into his, getting out of the car. In one last look that belonged to you two only, and making sure that his frame hid your words, you murmured, “I love you too, by the way.”

His smirk softened into something sacred, something that disappeared when he remembered where he was, and he just nodded, helping you into the sidewalk.

He went back to the trunk, to leave your travel bag secured, and you just stood in the entrance of the restaurant, in front of the flashes instead of behind for the first time in your life. You felt rather awkward, under the heat of May, still and useless over the pavement. You were not even processing what the journalists were shouting at you, and for a moment your mind betrayed you into the image of a deer caught in front of a car.

You were standing in front of Ferrán’s car, after all, and you felt your heart stammering in the back of your mouth rather sickly.

Until one of the journalists actually said your name, and you abruptly turned in his direction一one of the journalists of your company. You didn't properly remember how he was called, just his surname after hearing it around the office.

And before you could even conjure up a way to smile without looking terribly uncomfortable with the situation, you felt your boyfriend’s hand around your waist. The left one, with no ring in his index, so it was Pedri.

You smelled him first, soft and barely there, then turned towards him, and only that way your smile felt genuine.

“You ok?” he asked, his grip slightly tight over the thin fabric of your dress.

“All good,” you said, resting your hand over his and squishing reassuringly.

“Can I just kiss you on the cheek?”

“If you don't,” Ferrán said, his back to the public as he approached you two, “I will. And then a lot of people will have a lot of questions.”

You giggled, shoulders relaxing now that you had your favourite people next to you, and nodded at Pedri. He lowered a bit his hand, slightly protective over you, and drew a circle with his thumb over the bone of your hip, leaving a cute peck on your cheek.

And as they greeted each other the same way they had been doing for years, the voices of the journalists came clearer, like you had just woken up from a dream and reality was settling around you. It was Pedri's touch on you, Ferrán close enough for his presence to feel grounding, and the multitude of questions about who you were thrown right before you.

Pedri guided you through the entrance, politely waving at everyone while security followed you along the way, and you knew Ferrán was somewhere behind your back. When you got to the outdoors corridor right before the hall to go inside the restaurant, you took a big breath.

You had come all the way already, the rest was going to be the easy part. You knew everyone inside, either because you had interviewed them, or because you had come across their name while investigating for your articles. They would be surprised when Pedri introduced you as his girlfriend, but not necessarily that much.

The hired photographer in front you didn't even ask before taking a couple of pictures of you entering the gathering, and you caught a glimpse of the director of the FC Barcelona already inside, as well as some of your boyfriends’ closest friends.

You felt Pedri's exhalation against your temple when he looked down at you, “Ready?”

You took a glance back towards Ferrán, who was already smiling at you in all supportiveness, and mirrored it with a curve of your lips. You leaned slightly into the Canary Islander next to you, and released the puff of air you had been holding.

“Ready.”

After your first step inside, you heard a big applause coming from the table where Gavi was sitting, and once you couldn't contain the laughter, the rest went as smoothly as it could go.

🍸ㅤ𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦.ㅤi think this fic might be my baby. i'm obsessed with it and i got overboard with it - i created a 2k word document with info about their backstory before being together haha but it's fine. they're cute. shout out to my partner in crime @aaksuitac for always supporting my craziness and being there to 'give me her life if i wrote fedri x reader'. esta vai pa ti, guapa. i hope you guys liked it 🤍

production of maars ! do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[cinnam-0-ngirl]

POV: Author uploading a new part of a story after months

Me who forgot the whole plot but still happy they updated it

[nnymph0]

patiently waiting for the 2026 world cup to revive football tumblr

[mickyschumacher]

This month, in my country, there's a challenge among men to not masturbate/have sex for a month. Do you think the drivers would participate, or Dean Huijsen? If so, would they win?

the one month challenge

pairing: some selected f1 drivers/footballers x gf!fem!reader

summary: what the request says really ._. // headcanons

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected and protected sex, p in v, eating out, blowjob, masturbation, mention of toys, themes of possessiveness, light degradation | barely proof read <3

a/n: oooh this is exciting! love a quick drabble since i'm notorious for waffling. i'm so curious what country this is from!!! anyways, hope you like it ♡︎ if anyone wants a part two with other people lmk.

🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist

oscar piastri

honestly he's not that into it initially. he couldn't give a damn because it's not about his pride or ego. the man just wants to feel good and make you feel good. why would he want to stop that? but then you start with the teasing.

"i think you're saying no because you're afraid you'll lose, osc."

he looks at you blankly. "what?" i'm not afraid i'll lose... i just think it's stupid."

"then why don't you prove it?" you raised a brow.

that sets him off. so he tries and he tells you to be fair. to not tease him. but you're only just innocently eating an iceblock. and it's only fair to walk around in nothing but his shirt because it's laundry day. now oscar's struggling. he thinks about just jerking off while your asleep. but now you've hurt his pride a bit. and he knows you won't let him hear the end of it if he loses. so he goes through with it. he wins. plain and fair. and with a lot of pain. and you wake up the next morning getting absolutely pounded.

"look at you," oscar huffs, hands on your hips, gripping you tightly as his thrusts from behind. the sounds of your skin slapping are obscene. "could've been fucked like this all month but no," he muttered, grunts falling from his lips at the speed of light.

you fist your bedsheets tightly, knuckles white, whimpers matching the pace of his cock drilling into you. your skin flushed, hot, and bothered. "fuck, osc," you moaned, eyes shut. "ngh– feels so good!"

"just had to be a brat about it. didn't you?" oscar growls, brown eyes rolling at the way his cock disappears into your pussy. fuck, he wasn't going to say it. you would definitely tease him afterwards. but he missed being inside you.

does the challenge once. never again. absolutely not.

lando norris

literally has to pause when you ask him about the challenge. like his ego has to process what you're saying. and he's looking at you like... "pff yeah i can do that. easy."

if only his ego hadn't spoken before his brain.

you haven't even done anything. no provoking. no teasing. its business as usual. (you're pretty sure he would've lost on the first day if you did.) but the abscence of your intimate touch has him reeling. because he's only halfway through the damn month and you cuddling him while watching your favourite movie has him hard as shit.

it's only three days later, where you're dressing up to go out to dinner and lando comes out of the bathroom, stopping in his tracks when he sees you in that goddamn dress. his favourite. his favourite waist hugging, breast clinging, backless dress. fuck.

you hadn't even made it to dinner. you were on his lap, dress riding up your body, staring at the both of you through the mirror in your bedroom. and he's fucking up into you, trousers half undone, buttons of his shirt loose. sweat covering you two from head to toe.

"i was doing so well," lando moans, moving your hips up and down onto his cock, one hand wrapping around your stomach, pressing you closer into him. "but you just had to wear that dress, didn't you?"

"i felt you on the couch that night. y-you probably would've fucked me while watching superman," you retort, teeth biting your lips as you feel his tongue wipe down the side of your neck, low hums flowing out of his throat.

lando chuckles darkly. "yeah i would've," he admits, hips snapping faster, cock dragging deeper and deeper into your cunt. the way you were clenching around him... christ. "let me show you how much i missed you, doll."

that dinner wasn't made even hours later. by the end it, you were both sitting in the kitchen, naked and next to each other, munching on some fries and ice cream.

lando would try every year just to see if he could improve his time.

isack hadjar

he's actually the one who brings it up to you. on a whim. he saw it on some tiktok. and he doesn't understand why you're laughing.

"isa, amour," you breathe quietly, calming yourself down, "listen, i love you... but you won't win."

isack looks at you blankly. like you had just told him he had grown two heads. "w-what?" he shifts on the couch, sitting up all serious and firm. "why not?"

you press your lips together, trying not to laugh at the small whine in his tone. you clear your throat, hooking one leg over his waist and then the other. you can feel his body tense underneath you, already proving your point. "you can't go a second without touching me let alone fucking me. we just went two rounds yesterday."

isack swallows at the sight of your pretty lashes blinking at him as you lean in, lips grazing over his. he blinks, pushing you away gently. "i'll win. you'll see."

and much to your surprise, he does.

you probably should've known better to challenge him. he always had such a big ego. because the next morning, you're on the bed, legs wide open with isack's head between them.

you're sweating. and not just because of how hot you feel. "isa, i-i can't," you breathe, body torn between pulling away from his tongue on your clit and staying.

"another," isack moans, voice muffled between your cunt. your back arches at the feel of his tongue gliding down your folds, prodding at your gaping hole.

"y-you said that four rounds ago," you moaned, hand darting to to grab those beautiful dark curls. you gasp when his nose collides with your clit, tongue lapping up every single drop of you.

the ghost of his smirk is embedded onto your pussy. "i'm trying to make up thirty days here."

he won. so he'll never do it again. but he will always brag about it.

kimi antonelli

wouldn't do it. absolutely not. and it's not a matter of pride or anything. he just knows he couldn't last. he's not experienced enough to hold out on you either. he loves spending those intimate moments with you. and banning it for a month would simply make him go crazy. besides... why would he deprive the both of you?

yeah no. he couldn't do it.

"aren't you so happy so you didn't do it?" you query, legs on either side of him, straddling his lap while you rode him.

kimi nods numbly, eyes fixated on the way your breasts hung in front of him. just so delicious!

you sigh at the feel of his mouth wrap around your nipple, tongue swirling around in small, brief circles, teeth grazing and nipping at the ample flesh surrounding it.

you were right though. he was happy. because fuck, the way you were riding him, walls all pressed around his cock, gripping him so good, so warm... all he could think was, "thank fuck i didn't do it."

his hands fly to your waist when you start picking up the pace. he moans, head falling back into the pillows, squirming at the deep grind on his cock. "fuck, baby, i'm gonna come."

you hum, feeling the blooming heat unfurl in your lower stomach. "yeah? you gonna come, pretty boy?" you coo, nails grazing his lower abdomen, sending shivers up his body.

"yes, yes, yes, yes," he moaned, fingers tightening into your flesh, eyes shut as a long whine falls from his lips, body stilling as his cum spills into the condom.

dean huijsen

he's cocky and young. he thinks he can do it. scratch that. he knows he can do it. for him, it is about the pride. you weren't the one who even proposed the idea. it was his stupid brothers, much to your disappointment.

all of them had decided to bet on who would last the longest. winner gets an all expenses paid holiday. dean wants to win, of course. he tries to convince you when you complain about it.

"cariño, it's just a month. and then we can make love all day wherever you want to in the world, hmm?" he hums, hugging you, batting those sleepy blue eyes at you.

"or... you could do that whenever you want to. literally," you retort back, brows raised, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you put.

dean swears to god he almost folded right there and then. but no. he was going win.

and he was so serious about it. keenly keeping his hands on you, careful to not linger for too long. yes... this was it. he was going to win.

unless, of course, he were to lose a day before he could've won...

dean's jaw is wide open, hand tightening around your hair curled around his fist as you let your throat accomodate his large length down the tight path.

his eyes roll at the sound of your gag and the sight of his cock creating a small bulge in your throat. oh jesus...

you pulled back up, breathing hard, grinning smugly as your lips graze over the side of his cock, tongue lingering over the vein on the underside. "regret losing?"

dean looks down at you, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. "shut up," he huffs, groaning when your lips stretched over his cock again. "oh my god," he cried out, hips jerking up. twenty nine days of nothing had him so sensitive.

you only chuckle around his cock, humming to send small vibrations. your scalp slightly burns at his grip but god, it doesn't help with the wetness between your legs.

you weren't sure about it but if you had to guess, he was pretty happy to lose. even if his brothers teased him afterwards. he would try again next year only to fail within two weeks.

pedri

to everyone's pedri is a sweet guy. and he is. but you've also never met someone more competitive than pedri. it's just a fact. so when you say that he can't last more than two weeks, his feelings are lowkey pretty hurt.

he takes that challenge with open arms. the first week passes and pedri's thinking, "this is easy." he walks around the house a cocky smile.

it only drops when you shrug. "i can still get myself off."

truth be told, pedri hadn't thought of that. so he's definitely not caught off guard when he comes back home from practice and the small crack of your door leaves him watching you finger yourself. he has to literally turn around and do breathing exercises and think of something horrifying to stop the blood rushing to his cock. it's a lot easier said than done when all he can hear are your moans in the air.

he survives another week. somewhat. he reminds himself what this was about. he needs to win this. to help him, he tries to make peace with the fact you're getting yourself off with your fingers. fine. of course. that's only natural considering he can't pleasure you himself for the time being.

pedri only knows he's walking on thin ice when your usual shower together turns into you teasing him. standing in front of him, warm water pelting off your skin. his brown eyes glued to the way your hands travel down your stomach and push into your cunt.

he swallows thickly. "s-seriously?"

"what? you can't lose from just this," you teased, voice soft and light as you moan his name. you can see his cock twitch, making you grin.

pedri closes his eyes, taking in a sharp breath. it's okay. all he needs to do is win.

but he loses. he can take you pleasuring yourself. but he absolutely cannot stand for the use of the godforsaken dildo you stored at the back of your drawer. the same one he banned you from using because, "why use that when you have a real one right here?"

"don't ever do that shit again," pedri huffs, body hovering over you, your heels digging into his back as he slams his cock into you, rutting his hips at an obscene pace. "you hear me, cariño?" he murmurs.

but you can't. your heart is thrumming, blood rushing. your skin burning with need. this is so much better than that dildo. "fóllame," you beg, hands travelling to his forearms, tightly gripping his skin.

"i am fucking you," he grunts, snapping his hips faster, cheeks flushed with at pretty pink you loved so much.

"shit!" you moan.

refuses to do it again because he's embarrassed af. proceeds to say, however, that he would've won if you didn't tease him.

alejandro balde

dubious. kinda weirded out by the idea. like why in earth would you do this? but he also thinks it could be fun. he always like a challenge. kinda laments on the fact that he doesn't get to touch you but you said you'd reward him if he wins.

so obviously he tries his very best.

the second week was actually worse than the first. initially, he didn't really realise anything was happening. walking around you and with you like he wasn't doing the challenge. he was so busy with training and recovering...

but then you came to training. he didn't notice at first. not until all the younger team members started complimenting you. maybe he was having withdrawals or something. maybe he was crazy. but you looked prettier than normal. with the sun shining over you, skin radiating, pretty wide eyes only staring at him.

and now everyone was telling you how pretty you were except for him. and that kind of pissed him off.

that why you were here, in the empty locker rooms, getting your brains fucked out by alejandro, being reminded of you who belonged to.

the locker room shower is cold as it runs over you. but you can't tell. your moans and whimpers and alejandro's grunts are covered up by the pelting water. his hands on either side of you, flat and pressed on the tiled walls as he fucks up into you, teeth grazing your bare breast.

"never doing that again," he moans out against your chest, pulling away to admire your flushed expression and the way the water sticks to your hair and skin. "never realised how much i missed this."

your hands rake over his bare back, nails digging into his skin while you moan in his ear. "ale– ugh, fuck," you drawl out, gasping for air.

alejandro smiles, placing his lips onto yours. "gonna come for me, princess?" he teases, one hand moving from the tile to find your clit, rubbing in short, firm circles.

"shitshitshit," you cry out, body writhing under him, coil in your lower stomach beginning to unravel.

"come on. let go, cariño," he murmurs against your lips.

you only see white stars, body shuddering as waves of pleasure roll over you. you pick up your slack jaw, catching your breath, still feeling his cock thrusting in your cunt, making you whimper. you nod finally. "never again," you agree.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[andy-15-07]

Soft Launch

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Reader

Word Count: 1221

Request open!

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.”

You look up, half horrified, half laughing. “You’re trending again. #PedriSoftLaunch.”

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.”

[piecredheart]

Going Out At 12 AM Prank

Summary: You decided to prank your boyfriend and see how he would react to you leaving late at night.

A/N: Prank inspired by @chriskeverian on TikTok. My Request Are Open. Please Follow, Like, And Reblog.

Lamine Yamal -

Lamine was half asleep on the couch when he heard your bedroom door open. At first he didn’t pay attention but then he looked up. And immediately sat straight up. You were fully dressed with your hair and makeup done. And in a cute outfit with a matching purse. You looked like a goddess but then he checked the time seeing it just struck midnight.

“…Amor where are you going?” You looked at your phone casually. “Oh, I’m going out.” “Out?” “Yeah.” Lamine checked the clock again and seeing its 12:03 AM. His brain visibly stopped working.

“OUT WHERE?” You shrugged. “Just meeting someone.” The silence was deafening. “Someone?”“Yeah.” Lamine immediately stood up. “Who is this someone?” You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

His eyes narrowed then he spotted your phone recording. “…You’re annoying sometimes.” You burst out laughing hugging Lamine as he wrapped his arms around you. “I almost had a heart attack.”

Pedri -

You called out to Pedri from the bathroom saying you were about to head out. Pedri looked up from his book then looked at you. And he looked at the clock and back at you.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You smiled innocently.“I told you I’m going out.” “Now?” “Yep.” Pedri blinked.“It’s midnight.” “I know.” “Well are you meeting anyone or are you going to be alone?” You pretended to think. “Hm.” Pedri immediately closed his book.

“Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Don’t ‘hm’ me.” You laughed and his suspicion grew. “You’re filming this.”You failed to hide your smile and Pedri sighed.

“I knew it.” Then he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the couch. “Sit down.”

Gavi -

The moment Gavi saw you he froze. You looked absolutely amazing which was the problem because it was midnight.

“Where are you going?” “Out.” “No.” “No?” “No.” You stared and stared right back at you. Which was hard because you tried not to laugh.

Gavi pointed toward the window. “Do you not see how dark it is outside?” “Yes.” “Then why are you dressed like that?” You immediately lost it and Gavi groaned.

“You’re pranking me.” “Maybe.” “I knew it.” He absolutely did not.

Joao Félix -

Joao was scrolling through his phone when you walked into the room. His jaw dropped as you stood infront of looking gorgeous. Then his brain processed the time and he saw it was 12:01 AM.

“Meu bem?” “Yeah?” “Where are you going?” You picked up your purse. “Out.” Joao frowned.

“With who?” “A friend.” “A friend?” “Yes.” He just stared at you while you put on your heels. Then João stood up.

“No.” You laughed. “What do you mean no?” “I mean no.” “You can’t tell me no.” “I can when it’s midnight and you’re looking like that.”

You couldn’t even finish the prank because you were laughing too hard. Let’s just say Joao just dragged you into bed with him.

Richard Ríos -

Richard looked genuinely confused. He wasn’t angry or jealous just simply confused.

“Did I forget something?” “What?” “A party?” “No.” “A birthday?” “No mi amor.” You laughed a bit. He looked at your outfit then at the clock.

“Then why are you dressed like that?” “I’m going out.”“Oh.” A pause. “Wait.” You started laughing. “You’re setting me up.” “How?” “There’s no way this is real.”And he was absolutely correct.

Kylian Mbappe -

Kylian immediately noticed the second you walked downstairs. “Princesse.” You smiled. “What?” “You look beautiful.” “Awe thank you.”

Then he looked at the clock. And he could see it was 12:07 AM. The compliments now disappearing from his mind.

“Where are you going?” “Out.” His eyes narrowed.“Out?.” “Yes.” “At midnight?” “Yes.” “Without me?”

You nodded and Kylian stood up. “No.” You burst out laughing. “No because now I know this is a prank.”“How?” “Because if you were actually going somewhere, I’d already know.”

And is Kylian wrong here? No, no he is not.

Virgil van Dijk -

Virgil was too calm it was suspicious. He was lying down on the bed as you walked onto the room. You were fully dressed and ready to go.

“Hey.” Virgil looked up. “Hi.” “I’m heading out.” “Okay.”You froze. “Okay?” “Yeah.” You blinked. “You’re not gonna ask where?” “No.” “What if it’s dangerous?”“You’ll tell me if it’s dangerous.”

You just stared at him laying down eyes still on the tv. The prank was failing miserably then Virgil smiled. “You’ve been standing there waiting for me to react for thirty seconds.” He laughed at your surprised reaction.

“I got you.” As he laughed pulling you into bed with him.

Memo Ochoa -

Memo looked up from the kitchen with his coffee nearly hitting the floor.

“Wow.” You smiled. “Wow?” “You look beautiful.” You grinned as you picked up your purse.

“I’m heading out.” Memo checked the clock then checked it again. Because he was believing you were leaving at 12:04 AM.

“…No you’re not.” You almost laughed. “Yes I am.” “No.”“Why not?” “Because it’s midnight.” “So?” Memo crossed his arms. “So where are you going?”

“Out.” “With who?” “A friend.” Memo immediately looked offended. “A friend gets to see you looking like that at midnight and I don’t?” You burst out laughing and the realization hit him.

His eyes narrowed. “You really scared me.” “Got you.”Memo shook his head while laughing. Then pulled you into a hug.

“For the record, you do look very cute.” “Thank you.” “But if you ever do that again, I’m checking your purse first.” You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your phone.

[paucubarsisimp]

Heyy queen, not sure if your taking requests atm but would you be open to doing the ‘current boyfriend’ tik tok trend with the Barca boys??

Love your work xx

current boyfriend

pairings: pablo gavi x reader,, pedri x reader ferran torres x reader, pau cubarsi x reader, hector fort x reader, alejandro balde x reader, lamine yamal x reader, marc bernal x reader

summary: in which you do the current boyfriend trend on your boyfriend

warnings: none!

pablo gavi

you’re tucked against pablo’s side on a rainy afternoon in barcelona, his hoodie drowning you, your legs tangled with his under the blankets. the soft hum of the tv plays in the background, some old barça match he keeps watching like he doesn’t know how it ends.

he’s got his phone resting on his stomach, barely paying attention. you, on the other hand, are holding yours up sneakily — recording already.

you glance at him, then at the camera, trying not to smile.

“vale,” you whisper to yourself, clearing your throat dramatically. “hi everyone! so today we will be seeing how well my current boyfriend knows me.”

pablo’s head turns so fast you nearly drop the phone.

“¿cómo que novio actual?” he says, brows furrowing, voice full of dramatic offense. “perdona?”

you can’t help it — you burst into laughter.

he sits up, pushing the blanket off his chest like he’s ready to fight an invisible threat.

“actual? like… like i’m temporary?” he blinks, eyes wide. “so what am i? a trial version?”

you’re giggling uncontrollably now, clutching your stomach as he starts pacing the end of the bed like a man betrayed.

“ah, i see. this is why you didn’t want me to meet your tía at easter. you were planning my expiration date.”

“pablo!” you squeal, still laughing, “it’s a tiktok trend!”

he stops mid-step and looks at you, dead serious. “you think trends will save you when i’m heartbroken? huh?”

you fall back onto the bed in tears (from laughing), and he finally cracks a grin. crawling back over, he snatches your phone and flips the camera around.

“listen,” he says, addressing the imaginary audience with one hand around your waist, “i am not her current boyfriend. i am her only. su único. por siempre.”

you try to roll your eyes but he kisses your cheek dramatically, then mumbles into your skin:

“y si algún día dice que me va a dejar… no va a poder. porque ya la puse en el grupo familiar.”

“you added me to the family whatsapp, pablo. that doesn’t make us married.”

“sí que sí. you’ve seen the memes. it’s forever now.”

you look at him, still flushed from laughter, and suddenly he’s soft. less chaotic. just him. warm brown eyes, a slightly crooked smile, and the way his thumb brushes against your hip like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

“oye,” he says, quieter now, “if i was actually your current boyfriend… would you tell me if you were planning to replace me?”

you blink. he’s joking, but also kind of not. there’s a flash of real feeling behind his teasing.

you lean in and kiss him, slow and certain.

“you’re not my current anything, pablo,” you murmur against his lips. “you’re my always.”

he exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.

then — with zero warning — he grabs the phone again.

“and that’s how you win, chicos. take notes.”

pedri

you’re curled up on pedri’s bed, face half-buried in his pillow, phone in one hand, feet nudging at his side. he’s sitting up next to you, back against the headboard, scrolling aimlessly through some article about barça tactics like it’s the most thrilling novel on earth.

he doesn’t notice you start recording. not at first.

you turn the camera toward the two of you, face blank, voice casual.

“hola chicos,” you whisper. “today im here with my current boyfriend.”

his head turns so fast it’s like he heard a whistle blow.

“¿qué?” pedri says, blinking. “current boyfriend?!”

you turn to him, eyebrows raised like you’ve just been asked what 2+2 is. “yeah?”

his mouth opens. closes. opens again. he looks genuinely stunned. like he’s been called offside while standing still.

“‘current boyfriend’?” he repeats slowly, like he’s trying to translate it into something that makes sense. “me estás vacilando, ¿no?”

you furrow your brow, all wide-eyed innocence. “what? that’s just… what people say.”

“no, it’s not,” he says, staring at you like you’ve personally rewritten the dictionary. “that’s what you say when you’re... i don’t know. rotating the squad.”

you blink. “rotating the squad?”

“like you’ve got backups. a bench.”

you gasp. “you think i have backup boyfriends?”

pedri folds his arms across his chest, staring you down. “well. apparently i’m the current one, so.”

“pedri,” you giggle, crawling over to him. “you’re being silly.”

“am i?” he says, fake offended. “who’s next, then? ferran? ansu? don’t lie.”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “hmm. héctor.”

“wow,” he says. “so you’re into the young guys now. okay.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, still recording. he stays frozen, arms crossed, pretending to be emotionally wounded.

you poke his cheek. “you know i’m joking, right?”

“don’t talk to me,” he mutters, nose scrunching as he hides his smile. “i need to reevaluate my relationship status.”

you kiss his jaw softly. “you’re not my current boyfriend.”

he perks up slightly. “no?”

you shake your head sweetly. “you’re my favorite one.”

his face drops again. “that’s worse.”

you laugh, full-on now, as he reaches over and tries to snatch your phone.

“delete it,” he says, but he’s grinning. “delete it or i’m telling your mom you bullied me.”

ferran torres

you didn’t mean to prank him.

well. okay. you kind of did.

you’d seen the “current boyfriend” videos all over tiktok lately—girls casually calling their long-term boyfriends “my current boyfriend” and capturing their reactions. most of them blinked. some looked offended. some acted like it was the end of the world.

you had a strong feeling ferran would fall into the last category.

he was in your kitchen now, quietly snacking on cereal out of the box, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, hair still messy from his post-training nap.

you turned your phone to selfie mode and whispered, “okay guys... this is my current boyfriend.”

you angled the camera toward him.

ferran looked up, mid-chew. smiled automatically—then blinked.

“…wait.”

he squinted.

“current?”

you bit your lip, trying not to smile.

he slowly lowered the cereal box like it was suddenly very heavy. “what do you mean current, cariño?”

“you know,” you say, way too casually, “like… my boyfriend for now.”

he tilted his head, fully confused.

“for now??? am i... am i on a trial period or something?” he blinked. “is there a deadline?? did i miss a meeting???”

you cracked, laughing into your sleeve.

ferran pouted. properly pouted. full lips pulled down, forehead creased, arms crossed loosely in front of him like a kicked puppy.

“wow. i was gonna share the cereal with you,” he muttered.

“you never share cereal with me.”

“yeah well. current me was about to.” he glanced at your phone. “are you recording this?? oh my god.”

you put your phone down and walked over, wrapping your arms around him lightly. he didn’t hug you back immediately. just stood there, all soft and betrayed.

“you know you’re not just my current boyfriend, right?” you said into his hoodie.

he was quiet for a second. then—

“…okay but like. just to be clear. i’m the final boyfriend? like. endgame? credits roll?”

you smiled into his chest. “final boss.”

he let out a tiny sigh of relief, rested his chin on your head, and mumbled, “okay. but no more ‘current’. i almost had a heart attack. i thought i got dumped mid-cheerio.”

pau cubarsi

you were half sprawled on the couch, bored, lazy, and dangerously close to falling asleep, when your phone buzzed with yet another “current boyfriend prank” video.

you’d seen like six today, and every time, the boyfriend's reaction made you giggle. confused, dramatic, sometimes genuinely offended.

and now you were eyeing pau, who was across the room trying very seriously to fold laundry—his tongue poking out slightly as he focused on folding a t-shirt into a perfect square.

too perfect an opportunity.

you opened your front camera, hit record, and called out in your sweetest voice, “hey guys, just wanted to introduce you to my current boyfriend…”

pau looked up instantly, soft brown eyes lighting up—until he processed the words.

“...your what?”

you tried not to laugh. “my current boyfriend.”

he blinked. once. twice. his whole expression shifted—eyebrows furrowing, nose scrunching, lips forming the tiniest pout.

“current?” he stood there holding your hoodie like it had personally betrayed him. “what do you mean current, amor?”

you bit your lip, pretending to stay casual. “you know… the boyfriend i have right now.”

he dropped the hoodie. full-on stared at you. “so i’m just a phase now? like… like a monthly subscription?”

you snorted.

“pau—”

“no no. don’t even,” he cut in, arms now crossed over his chest. “what happens after me? is there a waitlist? auditions?”

you couldn’t stop giggling now. he was so serious about it, even as his pout deepened and he looked away like the most offended golden retriever alive.

“i folded your clothes,” he added quietly. “i was gonna make you toast.”

“and i love you for it,” you grinned, putting your phone down and padding over to him. you wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned into his chest. “you know i’m joking. you’re not just my current boyfriend, you’re my forever boyfriend.”

pau looked down at you, still pretending to be mad but already melting. “you can’t just call me current and then snuggle your way out of it.”

“i can if you like snuggles.”

he let out a dramatic sigh. “…i do.”

you reached up to boop his nose. “thought so.”

he finally smiled—barely—but then buried his face in your hair and mumbled, “i’m unfollowing you on tiktok.”

“no you’re not.”

“okay but only because you smell nice.”

hector fort

you’d been meaning to try the “current boyfriend” prank on héctor for days... héctor is chill. confident. annoyingly hard to rattle. but you knew if you caught him off guard, you’d get something out of him.

and today felt like the right day.

he was lying on your bed, arms behind his head, scrolling through something on his phone with his usual “i’m bored but also deeply unbothered” expression. he was wearing grey sweats, socks half on, one of his training shirts, and just existing in your space like it was his second home.

you hit record quietly.

“hey guys,” you said, voice sweet. “just wanted to show you my current boyfriend.”

his eyes immediately flicked over to you.

“...sorry?” he raised an eyebrow. “current?”

you blinked innocently. “yeah. my boyfriend at the moment.”

he let out a small laugh. one of those “you’re not serious” kinds of laughs.

“nah. no way you just said that.” he sat up slightly, resting on one elbow. “you really called me your current boyfriend? that’s crazy.”

you bit back a smile. “what? you are.”

he gave you a look. “babe. be serious. i’ve met your mom. i have a drawer here. i help you parallel park. we’re past current.”

you snorted. “parallel parking makes you permanent?”

“yes.” he leaned forward, still smirking. “also you kissed me this morning and said ‘i’m obsessed with you’ so...”

“i don’t recall—”

“i do. you were wearing my hoodie. looked very in love. kinda embarrassing for you.”

you groaned. “you’re so cocky.”

he shrugged, smug as ever. “i’m your forever boyfriend. you said it, not me.”

alejandro balde

you’d been scrolling through tiktok all day, watching all these “current boyfriend” prank videos where girls called their boyfriends “current” and got hilariously confused or offended reactions.

and then you caught alejandro just chilling on the couch, sneakers off, socks barely hanging on, flicking through his phone with that lazy grin of his.

you smirked.

“okay, let’s see what happens.”

you grabbed your phone, hit record, and with your sweetest, most casual voice said, “hey guys, this is my current boyfriend.”

alejandro looked up instantly, eyebrow twitching. “wait, current?”

you smiled, trying to keep it innocent. “yeah, like, the boyfriend i have right now.”

he blinked, then gave you a mock scandalized look. “current? so like… i’m temporary? a loaner? what’s the deal?”

you laughed. “no! it’s just a prank, chill.”

he threw his head back dramatically. “ay nooo, you’re breaking my heart over here.” then he wiggled closer and poked your side, grinning. “but if i’m just current, does that mean you might get a better one next week?”

you rolled your eyes but smiled. “no one’s better than you, ale.”

he smirked, looking all confident but his eyes softening. “good answer. because i’m staying.”

then he reached over and stole a quick kiss, still grinning. “current? nah. i’m forever.”

lamine yamal

you and lamine had been hanging out all afternoon — just snacks, music, and lazily throwing popcorn at each other while you argued over who had the better spotify taste. (spoiler: it was you, obviously.)

he was lying across your bed now, halfway on his stomach, hoodie sleeves all bunched up, phone in one hand while his other reached for snacks he wasn’t even looking at.

you sat down at the edge of the bed, grabbed your phone, and pressed record quietly.

“hey guys,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice level. “just wanted to show you my current boyfriend.”

you angled the camera to show lamine, still flopped on the bed. he turned his head slowly.

“…your what?” he blinked. sat up slightly. “nah. say that again.”

you smiled innocently. “my current boyfriend.”

he made a face — somewhere between “wtf” and “am i being pranked.”

“current is wild,” he muttered, sitting all the way up now. “you sayin’ there’s, what, a next one coming soon? someone on the bench or what?”

you laughed, trying to stay in character. “i’m just saying… things change, you know?”

“nah nah nah,” he said, holding up a hand, clearly fighting a smile but also a little bit serious now. “you can’t say stuff like that. i do math homework with you. i let you put your makeup on me last week. i carried your tote bag.”

“and i appreciate it, current boyfriend.”

he gasped. dramatic.

“don’t call me that. take it back.”

“you’re so offended.”

“i am offended,” he said, half-laughing. “i thought i was him. i thought i was ‘final boss boyfriend’. this is crazy.”

you giggled and finally leaned in to stop recording, flopping onto the bed beside him. “baby, i’m joking.”

he rolled his eyes but you could tell he was smiling for real now.

“you better be. ‘cause i already planned our next 5 dates and i’m not deleting them.”

you turned to look at him. “you planned five?”

“yes. and one of them includes gelato. you’d regret losing me.”

you laughed again, pressing your face into his hoodie. “you’re ridiculous.”

he smirked, brushing a crumb off your forehead.

“and permanent. don’t forget that part.”

marc bernal

you were sitting on your bedroom floor, half-folding laundry, half-pretending to be productive, while marc lay stretched out on your bed — arms behind his head, legs crossed, watching you with that small, steady smile he always had around you.

he wasn’t saying much, just watching. you knew that look. it was the “i like being here” look. the “i’m too comfortable to move” look. the “you’re my peace” look.

you smirked to yourself and grabbed your phone.

“okay,” you whispered into the mic, “so i just wanted to show you guys my current boyfriend.”

marc blinked. slowly sat up.

“…your what?”

you kept a straight face. “my current boyfriend.”

he just stared for a second, head tilted slightly, his expression somewhere between confused and mildly offended.

“current?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “like... as in, temporary?”

“mhm,” you said, pretending to focus on folding a hoodie. “he’s great for now.”

he let out a short breath, then slowly got off the bed and walked over, sitting down next to you on the floor.

“so when does my contract expire?” he asked, teasingly calm. “or do i get to renegotiate?”

you smiled, finally meeting his eyes. “depends. you offering long-term?”

marc gave a soft little huff of a laugh, then leaned his shoulder against yours.

“preciosa. i already signed for forever.”

you laughed under your breath. “you sure?”

he nodded. “one hundred percent.” then, just a little pouty, added, “but it did hurt. hearing you say current. like i’m on loan or something.”

you nudged his arm. “i was just messing with you. you’re my one and only, bernal.”

he gave a small, quiet grin, and you could tell he’d already forgiven you.

“…still rude, though.”

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted, @landoslutmeout , @meganesanchez, @linnygirl09, @spidybaby,, @vicolette, @bernalswifeyy lmk if you want to be added/removed!

[cinnam-0-ngirl]

How it feels getting into a new popular fandom and having so many fics and edits to read and catch up to.

(In honour of me finally watching supernatural)