grantgustluv

[grantgustluv]

better together - pedri gonzález

pairings: pedri x reader

warnings: just cute, with a slight bit of angst…

author’s note: this has been in the drafts for yearsssss

The news came like a blow to the stomach. You sat in the small office at Ciutat Esportiva, your agent at your side, the directors across from you looking pained. “You know we don’t want this,” one of them said gently. “But with the financial situation… we can’t renew your contract. We’re devastated, truly. You’ve been family here since La Masia. But—”

But. The word that shattered everything.

That afternoon, you gathered the courage to do the hardest thing: tell your friends. The players you’d grown up with, laughed with, leaned on for years. You sent a quick message into the group chat: “Can you all meet me at the training ground later please? It’s important.”

Pedri saw the message and, coincidentally, had been working himself up all day to finally confess how he felt. He was tired of hiding it, of keeping the softness he felt every time you smiled bottled up inside. He told himself: tonight. Tonight, I’ll tell her.

But when he saw you, standing with your hands stuffed in your jacket pockets, eyes glassy and red-rimmed, his courage wavered. Something was wrong.

You gathered them all in the empty changing room — Gavi, Balde, Aitana, Alexia, Piña, Cubarsí, Lamine, Ona, Fermin… and Pedri, hovering closest, like he always did. Your throat was dry, but you forced the words out. “I… I need to tell you something. My contract’s being terminated.”

Silence. Your teammates blinked at you, not comprehending.

“What do you mean, terminated?” Gavi’s voice cracked like he’d just been punched. He looked younger in that moment, like the kid you first met at La Masia, wide-eyed and desperate for reassurance.

“They can’t afford to keep me,” you explained softly. “It’s not personal. It’s just… business. I’ll be moving to the WSL.”

“No.” Gavi shook his head fiercely, tears already spilling. “No, you can’t. You’re ours. You’re Barça.” He lunged forward, throwing his arms around you, holding on so tightly it nearly knocked you off balance. Balde followed, wrapping an arm around both of you, then the girls, then Cubarsí and Lamine, until it was a huddle of limbs and muffled sobs.

Pedri stood frozen. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to confess, to finally tell you how much you meant to him. Not this. Not watching you slip away.

When you finally untangled yourself from the others, you looked at him. His eyes were glassy, his jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He just stared at you like maybe, if he didn’t blink, you couldn’t really disappear. “Pepi…” you whispered, reaching a hand toward him. But he stepped back, shoulders shaking.

“I can’t—” His voice broke. He turned away before you could see the tears falling.

The goodbye hurt worse than any injury, any defeat. You hugged each of them tightly, Gavi clinging to you like a brother losing his sister, whispering “Don’t forget me, please,” into your shoulder. You promised him you never could. And when you got to Pedri, the hug was longer, heavier, filled with everything you both wanted to say but couldn’t. His hand lingered against the back of your neck, his forehead pressed to yours for the briefest moment. You thought you heard him whisper something, but it was so soft, so broken, you couldn’t be sure.

And then you were gone.

–––

Two years later.

The Camp Nou buzzed with excitement on deadline day. The women’s team had teased an “unknown signing,” but nobody expected anything monumental. The boys had a match that evening, the stadium packed, fans filling every corner.

Before the match began, the announcer’s voice boomed: “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Barça Femení’s new signing…” The crowd held its breath. Then, from the tunnel, you walked out. Wearing the home shirt. The number on your back shining under the floodlights.

The roar was deafening.

In the stands, Piña, Alexia, Aitana, and Ona were grinning like cats. They’d known. They’d kept the secret. But down on the pitch, the boys were frozen. Gavi was the first to react. His eyes went wide, then he bolted across the grass, sprinting like he was chasing the winning goal in a final. “HERMANA!” he shouted, leaping into your arms. You staggered back with the force of his hug, laughing through the tears as he buried his face against your shoulder.

Then Balde came, then Cubarsí, then Lamine and Fermin, all of them piling onto you, lifting you off the ground, yelling about how much they’d missed you. Cameras flashed, the whole stadium watching the reunion.

And then you saw him.

Pedri.

He was already running. Faster than you’d ever seen him move, faster than his sprints in training, faster than any desperate chase on the pitch. He reached you, grabbing hold of you like he’d never let go again. His arms wrapped tight around you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. You felt him tremble against you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, the words muffled but desperate. He pressed a kiss against your cheek, lingering, as though he needed to prove you were real. You held him tighter, eyes stinging, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. Neither of you cared about the crowd, about the cameras, about the thousands watching. For a moment, it was just you and him.

You went up into the stands with your Femení teammates, waving to the fans, sitting with Alexia and Aitana while the men’s second half kicked off. Pedri played like a man possessed. Every touch was electric, every run sharp, every shot fearless. By the final whistle, he’d scored a hat trick.

He didn’t celebrate the third goal with his teammates. Instead, he turned immediately toward you, pointing up into the stands, his eyes locked on yours. The message was clear. For you.

After the match, in the tunnel, you waited. He came to you, sweat still dripping, hair messy, jersey clinging to his frame. Without a word, he cupped your face in his hands, breathing hard like he’d run straight through the walls just to get here.

“You have no idea how much I’ve waited for this moment,” he said hoarsely. “Two years, and I never stopped thinking about you. I should’ve told you before you left, but—”

You cut him off with a shaky laugh, tears in your eyes. “I was waiting too. All this time, Pedri.”

And then he kissed you. Finally. The stadium still echoing in the distance, the smell of grass and sweat around you, the taste of salt and relief and something you’d both been holding back for far too long.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise — that you were back, that this time, you wouldn’t be leaving.

[grantgustluv]

secret advantage - part 2 - jack draper

pairings: jack draper x tennis!player!reader

warnings: none just fluff

author’s note: wow i’m on fire

The further you and Jack went in the draw, the harder it was to keep your secret.

Every interview circled back to your “chemistry,” every social media clip zoomed in on the way he smiled at you after a point. Tennis Twitter was already convinced there was more going on—#DraperAnd[YourName] was trending nightly, fans dissecting every handshake, every laugh you shared between points.

The press conference after your semifinal win made it worse.

“You two look… close,” a reporter teased, notebook raised. “Closer than most new doubles teams. What’s the secret?”

Jack smirked in that boyish, disarming way that drove you crazy. “Maybe we just trust each other a bit more than most.”

The room chuckled. But under the table, his knee nudged yours and his hand found your thigh, a silent reassurance, and you had to bite back a smile.

⸻

The night before the final, nerves ran wild. You were sitting on the hotel balcony, the New York skyline glittering in the distance, when Jack slid the sliding door open and stepped out. He handed you a bottle of water, dropping down beside you.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly.

“Just thinking. Tomorrow’s… huge.”

He leaned closer, shoulder brushing yours. “It doesn’t matter what happens. We’ve already proved ourselves.”

You turned to him, catching the sincerity in his eyes. “You really believe that?”

He nodded, and for a long moment, the world shrank to just the two of you, the faint city sounds below, the weight of something unspoken between you. He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining. “Tomorrow, whatever happens, we win or lose, we do it together.”

⸻

The final.

Arthur Ashe Stadium was electric. The crowd’s energy crackled, cameras flashing from every angle. You and Jack walked out side by side, rackets in hand, and you caught the way his hand brushed the small of your back before you stepped onto court.

From the very first serve, you were locked in. The opponents were relentless, testing every angle, but so were you. Jack’s lefty serve boomed down the court, earning gasps from the crowd. You anticipated volleys like you had a map of the court in your head. Between points, the adrenaline was so high you could hardly hear anything but the pounding of your heartbeat and Jack’s voice.

“Come on, we’ve got this!” he yelled after you ripped a forehand winner down the line. His grin made your chest swell.

The match stretched on. Set one to you, set two to them. A decider. Every point felt like the edge of a cliff.

At 5–4, with Jack serving for the championship, the crowd rose to its feet. Match point.

He bounced the ball, glanced at you. You caught his eye and mouthed, ‘you’ve got this’.

He nodded, tossing the ball into the night sky. The serve thundered in, unreturnable, but somehow, the opponents scraped it back. The rally exploded, every shot faster, harder, tighter. Sweat dripped into your eyes, your lungs burned. And then, there it was. A gap down the middle. You lunged, your racket connecting clean, the ball knifing past both opponents.

Winner.

The stadium erupted, thousands of voices crashing over you. You dropped your racquet and turned just in time for Jack to sweep you off your feet, spinning you around as the scoreboard confirmed it: US Open Champions.

⸻

You expected him to pull away after the hug, to remember the pact to keep things professional. But he didn’t.

Still holding you, Jack lowered you just enough to look into your eyes. For once, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His hand slid to your cheek, and before you could catch your breath, he kissed you, right there, center court, under the lights of Arthur Ashe.

The crowd lost its mind. The commentators screamed over one another. Cameras flashed so quickly it felt like lightning.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, grinning like the happiest man alive. “I told you,” he whispered, his voice rough from adrenaline, “whatever happens, we do it together.”

You laughed, breathless and teary. “Guess the whole world knows now.”

Jack’s smile widened. “Good. I was done hiding anyway.”

Hand in hand, you raised your arms to the roaring crowd. Champions. Partners. And finally, out in the open.

[grantgustluv]

training camp (part 2) - jude bellingham

pairings: jude bellingham x fem!footballer!reader

warnings: just a bit fluffy tbh

author’s note: LONGGGGG awaited part 2, soz guys…<3

The mini-tournament ended with your team unbeaten. Jude and Mason had run the midfield like they’d played together for years, and you’d bagged three goals, each time Jude found you with the perfect pass.

When the final whistle went, your teammates piled on top of you in celebration. Jude had been the first to reach you though, scooping you up in a hug before quickly putting you down, realising how obvious it looked. Not quick enough though as you saw that Tooney and Less had clocked it. The smirks on their faces told you they wouldn’t let you live it down.

⸻

The next morning, training was back in full swing. You were stretching on the sideline when Gareth and Sarina strolled over.

“Since yesterday was a success, we thought we’d continue with a few mixed sessions,” Sarina explained, glancing between you and Jude, almost knowingly, you thought. “Small-sided drills, possession games, then set pieces.”

You ended up paired with Jude again. Dribbling drills, one-touch passing, quick transitions. At first it was all professional, sharp and competitive. But you couldn’t ignore how natural it felt. He anticipated your runs before you made them, his passes always inch-perfect.

“You two play like you’ve been teammates for years,” Mason called out in a teasing tone, jogging past with a grin. You rolled your eyes, but Jude’s cheeks flushed pink and he looked away nervously.

Later, during shooting practice, Jude jogged up beside you, dropping his voice so only you could hear.

“Want to make it interesting?” He mumbled in a low voice. You raised a brow. “Go on.” He licked his lips and leaned closer to you, “loser of this drill buys the other a coffee in the canteen after training.” You smirked. “You’re on,” giving Jude a wink, making his cheeks flushed pink.

Twenty minutes later, after Jude skied his last shot over the bar, you were grinning ear to ear. He groaned, running a hand over his face, “alright, alright, coffee’s on me.”

⸻

That afternoon, the media team whisked a group of you away for a video challenge, one of those silly YouTube shoots the fans loved. They paired you and Jude together for the “Guess the Teammate” quiz.

It started innocently enough. Jude would glance sideways every time you answered correctly, biting back a smile. At one point, when you smacked his arm playfully for getting one wrong, he caught your hand before you could pull it away. The cameras didn’t catch it, but Alessia and Bukayo did, both of them raising their brows with barely concealed laughter and sharing a knowing look with each other.

“Stop being weird,” you muttered under your breath as Jude finally let go, leaving your hand feeling cold now. “I can’t help it if you’re distracting,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your ear making both of your stomachs flip at the close proximity.

⸻

That evening, most of the squad gathered in the common room at St George’s Park. Card games, music, and the sound of laughter filled the space. You were sat cross-legged on the sofa with Ella and Alessia playing fifa, when Jude dropped down into the empty space beside you, his thigh brushing yours, warm and solid.

Trent clocked it instantly. “Here he is,” he drawled. “Couldn’t sit anywhere else, mate?” Jude rolled his eyes and mumbled a “shut up” under his breath.

But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. You chucked your controller to Trent who wanted to play and when the others finally became distracted with the game, Jude leaned closer, his voice low.

“You know… I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed training this much before.”

You tried to keep your cool, though your heart was thumping. “That’s because you’ve had me carrying you the full time we’ve been here.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Keep talking. Just remember who set up all your goals yesterday.”

The banter came easy, the tension just beneath it undeniable. Everyone else might still be teasing, guessing, nudging, but sitting there with Jude, you knew this was becoming something more than stolen glances. And for the first time, you didn’t mind if people started to notice.

tags: @bowielovesyou , @chaoticbananaruins , @anifffff , @tumbleisgrest , @chloejuliana

[grantgustluv]

secret advantage - jack draper

pairings: jack draper x tennis!player!reader

warnings: none

author’s note: eeeeekkkk, i’m back and with a new obsession…

The roar of Arthur Ashe Stadium was still echoing in your ears as you tightened the grip on your racket. The US Open lights felt almost blinding, but your focus was set and not just on the match, but on the tall figure jogging toward you from the baseline. Jack Draper. Your doubles partner. Your secret.

To the world, you were just the experimental new pairing on tour, a last-minute substitution that replaced Jessica Pegula in the draw. To you? He was late-night hotel whispers, shared playlists before matches, and stolen kisses under the cover of practice courts when the reporters had gone.

“Ready?” Jack murmured as he brushed past you to take his side of the court. His voice was low, just for you.

“Always,” you shot back with a grin, bouncing on your toes.

From the outside, your chemistry looked purely tactical. But every time his eyes met yours across the net, you felt the unspoken current, like you weren’t just reading each other’s games, but each other’s hearts.

The first serve came screaming at you, an ace waiting to happen, but you dove, sending it back in a clean, unexpected return. Jack let out a laugh, meeting you at the middle for a quick high-five. His fingers lingered just a fraction too long against yours, and the cameras caught nothing but two teammates celebrating.

Game after game, you moved as one. He anticipated your volleys, you read his serves before he even tossed the ball. The crowd gasped at the insane winners, but all you could think about was the way he looked at you after each point, as if winning beside you mattered more than any trophy.

At the changeover, he leaned close, handing you a towel with that boyish smirk.

“You know,” he whispered, “if we keep this up, they’ll start asking why we’re so in sync.”

You took the towel, hiding your smile behind it. “Let them wonder.”

The final point was chaos, fast exchanges, a net clash, and then Jack smashing the ball down the middle to seal the win. The stadium erupted. You dropped your racquet, and he swept you into his arms before either of you remembered the pact: keep it professional, keep it quiet.

But under the roar, he bent his head, lips brushing your ear.

“One day,” he murmured, “we won’t have to pretend this is just about tennis.”

And for a moment, wrapped up in his arms with the New York night buzzing around you, you didn’t care if the whole world found out.

[grantgustluv]

[grantgustluv]

When y/n does something so cringe that i have to look at the invisible camera for a sec.

[grantgustluv]

DAYUMMMMM

[grantgustluv]

training camp - jude bellingham

pairings: jude bellingham x fem!footballer!reader

author’s note: hope you like it, let me know if you want a part 2 or send requests xxx

Jude could never stop staring when you were around. He’d always admired you. He wasn’t just in awe of your beauty but also your football skills. However, the admiring he did, or creepy stalking as Trent called it, was always done from afar. Jude was intimidated by you, even though you were 22 and Jude 20, you had still achieved so much more at a younger age in comparison to him and this drew him in even closer. At the age of 16 you had made the move from Manchester United to FC Barcelona, you had made your international debut for England at the age of 16 too, you had won the Champions League, WSL title, Liga F title, the Euros and now the World Cup. He wasn’t jealous, if anything he was proud, you were constantly proving people wrong and doing good for the women’s game and he was truly in awe of you because of this.

The sun was beating down on St. George’s Park and the men’s team had been given the afternoon off after a full morning of training in preparation for the pre-euro friendly against Belgium. A few of the players had decided to go out and watch the women’s team train. They stood by the side of the pitch observing them play, none of them could deny the fact that the Lionesses had a team made of some world class players. The full time whistle for the mini game was blown by Sarina and the girls started to make their way to get themselves a drink.

Jude noticed Gareth making his way over to Sarina and the two seemed to be in conversation for a while before the girls were called back over by the latter, with Gareth jogging over to Harry asking him to get the rest of the lads to come out onto the training pitch. Once the two teams had made their way to the training pitch, Gareth began, “Hey guys, we are aware that both of you have the afternoon off, however for a bit of a change we think it would be fun to have a mixed match,” Sarina carried on, “we’ll split you into mixed teams and carry out a mini tournament,” Jude looked over at you and caught you being nudged by Ella and Alessia, whatever they had said had caused you to grin. Jude’s heart nearly stopped when you turned around and made eye contact with him before quickly looking away and putting your head in your hands, with Ella and Alessia yet again giggling and nudging you.

After Sarina and Gareth’s announcement you felt elbows being nudged into your side. “I wonder who you want to be teamed up with?” Tooney mumbled in your ear with a teasing tone. You rolled your eyes at her, “don’t start” you warned her with a chuckle, a faint blushing growing on your cheeks. It was as if you could feel someone’s eyes burning into the back of your head as you turned round and were met with Jude’s warm eyes gazing at you. You quickly turned back around in embarrassment before you heard the teasing giggles of Tooney and Lessi from either side of you.

You had to say that you were pretty confident with your 7-a-side team. You were up in front, with Jude, Ella and Mason in midfield, Stonesy and Leah in defence and Mary in goal. Leah was assigned role of captain for your team and obviously gave a very motivational team talk before the tournament started. Not that you were actually paying attention to any of it, being too distracted by Jude’s arm wrapped comfortably around your waist in the team huddle. Jude felt like he never wanted to move from that position. He had never actually realised how small you were until he was stood directly next to you, he kept catching himself staring at you at every possible opportunity. Maybe Trent was right, maybe it was more than a crush.

[grantgustluv]

mi chico

❤️

[grantgustluv]

girl breakfast. girl lunch. girl dinner…

[grantgustluv]

Pedri Gonzalez (FCBarcelona) - Duolingo

Requested: on tumblr

Prompts: 20) "Prettyboy"

21) "That pick up line was so shit"

Warnings: none, just fluff

Pedri and his girlfriend Y/n sat on the terrace of their holiday apartment overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, simply enjoying eachothers company. Whilst he sat with his eyes closed, breathing in the salty sea air, his tranquility was disturbed by an all too familiar sound; duolingo. His eyes opened, peering over to his girlfriend beside him tapping away happily at her phone. His resting face turned to a soft grin. "Is that duolingo?" Pedri asked quietly. Y/n nearly threw her phone with the sudden voice. "You went twenty minutes without speaking." She exclaimed. "Answer me, is that duolingo?" He asked. "Yeah? Why else would I suddenly be able to speak Spanish to your mother?"

"Learn from me?" He chuckled. "Come here, I help." She couldn't help but smile at the broken English that had improved so much since she met him first. Neither spoke eachothers language, hence it was difficult to even spark up the idea of a relationship, yet here they were a year later sat across from eachother on a balcony on their first vacation together. "Spell the word in Spanish." Pedri said, pointing at the word 'love'. Y/n typed at the keyboard. Amour. Just as she was about to confirm her answer, she felt her boyfriend lift her phone from her hands and delete the 'u'. "Why you spell it like that?" He asked, tutting. "What?" She asked, not understanding what she had done wrong. "If you spell amor with a u it's French, not Spanish." Y/n chuckled. "Okay professor." Pedri turned to her smiling and looking deep into her eyes. Y/n felt her heartbeat speeding up. Oh how she loved him. She didn't think she could love someone as much as this, but what a wonder a year is.

"Well now I show you how to spell love in Spanish, I can show you how to make it too, yeah?" Y/n slapped his arm playfully as a laugh escaped her lips. "That pick up line was so shit, pretty boy." His strong arms pulled her up off her own chair and onto his lap, letting her rest there as his head rested on her chest. He heard the heart that beat for him day in and day out and she was held by the hands made for her.

[grantgustluv]

Gavi and Pedri 💙

[grantgustluv]

😄👍

[grantgustluv]

💙

[grantgustluv]

so hot

💙❤️

[grantgustluv]

NOOOOO MY JUDE FIC GOT DELETED, I NEED TO STOP WRITING IT IN THE DRAFTS 😭😭😭😭

[grantgustluv]

it’s 🫶🏻man crush monday🫶🏻 time again

this weeks obsession is🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

🏆🥇chace crawford/nate archibald🥇🏆

🥈pedri gonzalez (his recent photo shoot oh lord🫠)

🥉lando norris (cutie)

reasons: gossip girl has me hooked recently and it’s only fair that the GORGEOUS man gets some recognition.