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marimariposaposa · 4 months

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unspoken confessions | pedri gonzález

pairing: bf!pedri x fem!reader

content: flufff, mentions of sex and pregnancy

word count: 1.1k

summary: everything that pedri wishes he could tell you

7:35am

he loooves your lip balm. the way it tastes, the sweet flavour of it and how it nicely enhances the act of kissing you, making your lips all the more soft and plush for his own. he loves using it, stealing it from your bed side table in the early mornings before he leaves for training while you soundly sleep next to him, having you apply it for him; your frame stood tensely concentrated in front of him, focused face when you swipe the applicator over his lips and smiling when he pouts at you jokingly. it’s even gotten to the point where his friends have noticed.

“why do your lips always look wet?” ferran asks him, football at his feet and pulling at his jersey to let the cool air circulate underneath it. “you don’t wear lip balm?” pedri raises an eyebrow and ferran laughs, “i think i’ve put it on a total of two times in the past month”

but he especially loves it when you put it on your lips, only for the sole purpose to peck his and transfer it over. you call it ‘saving product’ but the both of you know it’s just to steal a kiss, and he wants to keep it that way. sharing is caring i guess. it reminds him of you, in the way scents bring back memories—he just associates soft lips with you.

he also just loves to be in your space. it’s kind of a given—you being in a relationship and all, but he takes it to another level. he’s there when your brushing your teeth, sat on the toilet lid and watching you in the mirror, sometimes he even takes the toothbrush and moves it around your mouth for you. wanting to be in your area and admire you from as close as possible. safe to say he’s completely whipped with just your presence, your aura, your warm energy that just calms him.

he’s there when your cooking. getting all in your way as you squeeze past him to grab some more ingredients, hands placed flat on your shoulder blades when he peers over your shoulder to see what exactly your doing and leaning down to put his head on your shoulder. “you’re in my way” you whine, turning yourself around to give him a quick peck. “im helping!” he says, suddenly taking an interest in chopping the vegetable that you’ve left out on the counter, only to get you off his back. “yeah, helping to be a pain in the ass.” you scoff when he returns back to his old ways, observing your every move and hugging you from behind like some sort of teddy bear.

if you let him, he’d even sit on the edge of the bath while you peed, not wanting to stop the conversation you were having and lose his train of thought. blabbering away while his gaze focuses somewhere on a tile on the wall. same way he’d let you get on with doing your makeup in the mirror while he takes a quick pee break, talking while he peers over his shoulder. but if not, he’d stand outside of the bathroom door like a sulking little toddler and continue the conversation by shouting at the door, making sure you can hear.

something he’d never admit though (at least not until your ready) is how much you he really wants to get you pregnant. honestly it borders a breeding kink. it’s said offhandedly during sex, something small like, “im going to get you pregnant” but he’s being dead serious. just say the word and he’s there, boxers down and ready for some baby making.

it obvious he’s good with kids, there’s been multiple cases to be observed. but when he watches you do it, whether it be with a niece/nephew, a sibling or even just randomly in the street because babies seem to just be drawn to your presence it sparks something within him. something primal that urges him to populate the earth with mini hims and mini you’s.

you’re so gentle, so tenderly it warms his heart the way you let them wrap their tiny little fingers around one of yours, squishing their cheeks while giggling.

even when you’re baby sitting, rushing around the house with a friend’s child latched onto your hip and a phone attached to your ear to chat mindlessly to a friend while you clean, he can’t help but imagine that to be your child. together. a child that has equal parts of you and of him, to see your personality in them in the way they would protest waking up in the mornings—like you always do.

that’s why your late night chats about how many kids you guys want, what their names would be are his favourite parts of the day, face in the crook of your neck to plant soft kisses on your skin while you giggle about your future.

pedri is also not a sharer. he is not the kind to just give his friends a bite of his food for them to taste, he can be a bit stingy in that sense.

“can i try this?” one of his friends would say, “you can try whatever you want next time we come here. im not stopping you.”

but for you…for you he’s sat at the restaurant table, taking a bite of his food then reaching it over to your mouth and waiting for you to take a bite too, awaiting your approval. he loves it. “how is it?” he asks eagerly, and you hum a delicious note, spreading a smile on his face. for you he takes sips of the same drink. he awaits earnestly whenever you order a drink from a local café, for you to let him take one sip and have that warm feeling he gets when he knows that your lips have just been around the straw. it’s childish, but he sees it as an indirect kiss.

his friends would be shocked seeing him be unfazed when you steal a fry of his plate at lunch, jaw falling open when he even offers one to you and not immediately becoming defensive. they would discuss in the locker rooms how much he loves you, teasing him about how badly he’s been star struck.

“pedri, share some that ped-D next!” gavi pranced around the locker room in a sing-songy voice after the first brunch you had with his friends, finally introducing yourself to everyone as his girlfriend—jersey slipped over his head and over his shoulders to look like hair, or maybe a make-shift vail. who knows.

“shut up man” pedri groaned, sighing as if he was mad, but the blush spreading across his cheeks gave him away instantly.

end.

angel’s note: something differentttttt something cute. hope its ur liking!!!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, don’t be shy:)

#pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez #pedro gonzález lópez #pedri one shot #pedri x y/n #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez headcannon #forcabarca #football imagine #football headcanon #pedri x you #pedro gonzalez #fc barcelona #fc barça

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sports-on-sundays · 25 days

Note

hii <3 i have a request for an hector fort one shot. basically he has a crush/is in love with reader but shes few years older than him… she doesnt want to admit her feelings for him because she doesnt date younger boys and thinks it isn’t right. in then end hector makes her realize her feelings or sth like that . thank you if youre going to write this, take Your time anyway <3 have a nice day/evening idk whats Your time zone lol !!

it isn't right / Héctor Fort

Summary: Héctor x adult!female!Barcelona videographer!reader - Description above.

Warnings: blood

Requested?: Yes.

Author's Note: I decided at the end, his birthday passes, just because that felt like it should happen, so that they're both adults. Other than that, thank you.

Héctor kind of refuses to call it a crush.

Because a crush sounds too immature. It sounds like just a little kid crush, that doesn't really matter.

But it does matter, and it's more than just a crush.

Héctor is sure he really does love you.

"Mate, but there's no way," Marc comments, crossing his arms as he walks onto the training pitch with Héctor. "She's, like, so much older than you."

"Not really," Héctor comments in annoyance.

"Do you know how old she is?"

"Yeah!"

"How?"

Héctor glares, embarrassed. "I asked her."

"You did? When? And what did she say?" Marc asks, eyebrows shooting up.

"I don't know... A couple weeks ago. She just told me, and said she just had her birthday."

"Oh. So...? How old is she?"

Héctor glances at his football boots. "Twenty-one."

"Pwoah! Yeah, and you're seventeen!"

"Four years! It's only four years!"

"What year would that be? She was born in 2002? At least she's not from the 90's... Then she'd be really old."

"Yeah, because twenty-five or twenty-six is really old, right?" Héctor comments in disbelief at his teammate.

"Just saying," Marc shrugs. "Either way, you should go for girls your age. You've got no chance with her. She's too pretty, anyway."

"You're saying I'm not good looking?!"

Marc grins. "You're putting words in my mouth!"

"Well, I'll prove you wrong. I'll make her like me. You'll see. I'm going to go talk to her right now."

"Alright. If you say so," Marc comments with an eye roll as he continues walking.

So you look up from your camera to see Héctor approaching you. You smile. You've had a few short conversations with him, and you have to admit, he's sweet. "Hey, Héctor."

He smiles back, blushing a little.

You're not stupid. You've picked up that he's got a little crush on you.

"Hey, Y/n," he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You glance to it, but pay that no mind as he continues, "How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Good... I... can I ask you something?"

You chuckle. "Shoot, Héctor."

"Do you.. Would you say I'm, like, good looking?"

You grin a little. "I think most football players are."

"But, like, me. Specifically...?" he pushes.

You smile. "You're alright." You really do like Héctor. You think he's sweet, and if he were a bit older, he's definitely the type of guy you could see yourself falling for.

But he's just...

He's still so young. You don't even let yourself consider those feelings, because you know that would be wrong. He's not even an adult yet.

"Just alright?" he leans closer.

"Do you want me to tell you you're handsome?"

"I want you to be honest," he grins.

"Why do you think I'm not being honest?" you inquire, turning back to your camera. His hand remains on your shoulder.

"I don't know..."

"Alright, Héctor. You're handsome."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No, I'm not," you respond casually. He remains there awkwardly, just standing there, so you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and say, "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Uh, date me?" he suddenly blurts.

You snort, but feel your face heat a bit. "You're basically twelve. Ew."

"I'm seventeen! And you just turned twenty-one, anyway! You're not that much older."

"So someone is just a little stuck on me," you state.

"So what?" he says in annoyance.

You sigh, your eyes softening. "Listen, Héctor. I like you a lot. You're sweet, and kind. But I simply can't date a seventeen-year-old. That goes against my conscience. It's not right. We can be friends, but that's it."

He grins, but there's still a bit of disappointment in his eyes. "I mean, hey. Friends is better than nothing... right?"

"Right," you smile. "Now, you better get to training. You're not paid to talk to me."

He rolls his eyes but runs off to do just that.

"Wow, Héctor... This is so nice..." you say softly as you look around the restaurant you sit in. You and Héctor have been hanging out more, going out places, but every single time, you're sure to remind him it's not a date.

"I figured you'd like it here," Héctor says with pride, crossing his arms across his chest.

You're aware of how much he tries to impress you.

And sometimes it works, but you try not to let him know.

As you eat, he slowly inches his hand towards yours, and slips it on top. But you slip it out, saying, "I reckon friends don't typically do that for no reason, huh, Héctor?" You grin teasingly, rolling your eyes.

He laughs, his cheeks reddening a bit. "Whatever."

You continue eating, and talking, just about life. There's a lot of teasing between you two that you're not ready to admit is flirting.

You've trained your mind to only think about Héctor when he's in front of you, because otherwise, you'd find yourself falling for a seventeen-year-old, and you simply will not let that happen.

You and some of Héctor's other friends are on the beach, playing an epic sand volleyball tournament by the lovely expanse of cool light blue water.

Of course, Héctor made sure to be on the same team as you.

Your long hair has grains of sand in it, and your knees are a little red, but you don't care. You're having the time of your life.

When you take off your tank top in the heat so you're just wearing your swim top, you catch Héctor's eye and snap. "Hey, buddy! Keep your focus! It's your serve!"

He blushes and looks away, before serving.

It's quite a bad serve, and goes straight into the grass on the other end of the net.

You catch his eyes and teasingly stick out your tongue as he argues, "We're on the same team!" with a little laugh.

But then, you run for the ball a few volleys later, slide, hit it up, but have a little tumble, gently hit your head on the pole that holds up the volleyball net, and up laying on your back, staring up at the blue sky, eyes glazed over in confusion.

But only for a moment, before Hector's concerned eyes come into view. Immediately he's there, kneeling by you. "Are you okay?" he asks, putting his hand on your arm.

"Yeah... yeah, I am. I think so..." You feel a bit of a sting below your hairline on your forehead, so you drag your hand over it, and stare in horror when you bring your hand back down to see it covered in blood.

You scream.

"Hey, hey... Looks just like a gash," Héctor says immediately in a soothing tone, giving your arm a little rub. "Come on." He hold his hand out to you to help you up. "I'll help you clean it up in the bathroom."

"Should we keep playing without you guys?" one of Héctor's friends calls as you walk with him toward the bathroom slowly, kind of in a daze.

"Yeah!" Héctor calls back. "We'll be back in a few."

When in the bathroom, you immediately rinse your hand as Héctor begins gently wiping up your forehead, asking gently, "Does it hurt a lot...?"

"No..." you say softly, looking at yourself in the mirror. "Just a little sting... It was just the blood, I think..."

He nods. "The shock of seeing all that blood."

"Right. Exactly," you say with a shaky sigh.

"Just looks like a cut that's bleeding a lot. You'll be a okay," he reassures, and although you could have just told yourself that, it's nice to have someone else saying it. "Just need it to stop bleeding as much, and then we can go back, and I'll get you a Band-Aid for it."

"You thought to bring Band-Aids?" you ask, surprised.

"I somehow remembered, yeah," he chuckles. But then his cheeks redden as he adds, "I mean, it's good I did, in the end. That way, I can take care of you..." His hand gently strokes your arm.

"Shut up, Héctor," you respond, looking away from him in the mirror to shield him from seeing the stupid pinkness on your cheeks. "You realize I could have taken care of myself just fine. I don't need a seventeen-year-old taking care of me."

"Sure," he grins, "but one did, regardless."

You sigh and roll your eyes as he continues to dab at your cut. Once the bleeding has stopped enough to not be dripping blood, he takes your hand and leads you out of the bathroom, saying, "I'll seal this up with a Band-Aid now."

You almost forget to slip your hand back out of his.

When you reach the beach chairs, where the Band-Aids Héctor brought will be, he gently urges you to sit down. You do so, and he kneels in front of you, looking into your eyes. He brushes some hair off your forehead gently, away from the wound, before putting the Band-Aid on it, saying, "There you go! All better." He gives your bare thigh a little pat, which makes your face heat up.

"Héctor, keep your hands to yourself," you say rudely, but he doesn't take offense, and just continues, "Feel better enough to keep playing?"

You nod and stand up with him, walking toward the volleyball court again.

Héctor had a bunch of friends over for his birthday.

Eighteen.

It leaves you with some questions.

He's older, now.

Legally, an adult.

And clearly Héctor has some questions, too, because for a moment, he whispers in your ear, "Will you be able to stay a little longer? After everyone else has left?"

You blink a few times, and can't help but blush. "That's fine. We can do that."

He nods, looking relieved. "Alright. Good. Let's do that."

So later, after a fun couple of hours, you watch the last of Héctor's friends leave.

So only the two of you remain.

He gently takes your hand, and you sit down on the couch together. "So," he begins. "I'm eighteen. I'm an adult now."

You nod slowly. "You are. Look at how much you've grown up," you tease, grinning.

He squeezes your hand. You stare at the two hands, connected. He smiles a bit, saying, "You've had all these months, of really getting to know me."

"I know," you smile. "And I think I like you."

He nods. "Enough...?"

"Enough for what?"

"I know I'm so much younger than you. But think about it. Now I'm eighteen. Eighteen and twenty-one is fine. I mean, Vitor's wife is older than him! He's eighteen!"

You smile softly. "Yeah, that's a good point."

"So?"

"So what?" you grin.

"Would you date me now?"

"Maybe I would," you say softly, feeling butterflies a little.

He grins wider. "Come on. Just say it. I know you like me back."

"Sure, Héctor," you roll your eyes. "I like you back."

He grins, and suddenly hugs you tightly- not what you were expecting, but you didn't know what to expect. "Oh, thank goodness," he mutters. "I've been waiting to hear you say that for months..."

You grin and hug him tighter back, "Yeah, yeah," you say, ruffling his hair. "I'm sure you have been."

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