Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The music pulsed through the club, loud and relentless, but Pedri couldn’t find himself swept away by it like everyone else seemed to be.

C'mon, it won't kill you to have a little fun, Pedri.

He wasn’t a party person, never had been; just planned to stick close to whoever he could. But somewhere between the drinks and the neon and the smoke that clung to the air, he’d lost his teammates. Or maybe they’d lost him.

He stood alone, drink in hand, watching the crowd blur into color and light. Bodies moved to the music, almost drawing him closer, but Pedri just leaned against the edge of the bar, fingers curling slightly around the cold glass in his hand.

This all felt like stepping back into a memory he didn’t want to relive. He was scared again, of being consumed by the chaos, letting it overwhelm him like it did back then. Pedri hadn’t meant to let himself go that night. He hadn’t meant to drink so much, not the kind of drink that strips your last vestiges of resistance away.

It’s been months. A year, maybe. Pedri isn’t counting. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself every time Jude’s name crosses his screen in headlines and whispers that make his skin prickle like someone’s peeled him open. He tries to convince himself that it happened because they were drunk, lonely; whatever lie fits the shape of his guilt that day, really.

He remembers everything. Everything, from the smell of Jude’s skin to the way the city lights sliced across his face like a painting Pedri shouldn’t ever dare to touch.

Jude had kissed him in a bathroom stall like he was starving, like Pedri was something worth feasting on. But it was what came afterthat Pedri can’t erase.

He hadn't known Jude lived near the river, in a modern looking apartment with high ceilings and cold walls. Pedri had barely stepped through the door before Jude was on him again, pressing him into the wall, mouth hot against his jaw, hands undoing his shirt with a kind of practiced ease that should’ve made Pedri nervous. All it did was make him ache. When his back hit the mattress of Jude's bed, he had looked at Pedri like he’d already won.

And maybe he did.

Pedri remembers how quickly he folded. He'd started with sharp words and a sharper glare, that same bite he always kept tucked under his tongue during Clasicos, but Jude had stripped it from him slowly, just like he'd done with Pedri's clothes. Pedri had let him, even wanted him to. He remembers saying Jude’s name like it hurt, whispering pleasepleaseplease, until it didn’t even sound like words anymore, just need.

There was a moment when Jude slowed down, fingers ghosting over Pedri’s face and something shifting behind his eyes. Possession, maybe. Like he knew Pedri belonged to him in that moment, in that bed, in that skin.

And God, maybe he did.

They hadn’t spoken after, not properly, and never about that night. They still saw each other, of course, but Jude would brush past him in tunnels and hallways like he hadn’t had Pedri gasping into his mouth, trembling under his touch. Jude might’ve forgotten the exact date, might’ve thrown the night into the pile of all his other conquests, but Pedri hadn’t. He couldn’t.

Once you’ve been seen like that, all laid bare, undone, worshipped and ruined all at once, you don't just walk away from it, not when your body still remembers and your skin still burns in all the places he touched.

His eyes wandered the crowd unfocused, until a shoulder knocked into him, snapping him back into the present. Was that Vini? Or no, someone that looked like him? Pedri blinked, chest tightening with something he couldn’t name. What the fuck would Vini be doing here, in a party in Barcelona?

The answer didn’t come, but something else did, slipping through the cracks of his distraction.

What if Jude’s here too?

His stomach twisted, dread curling like fists around his ribs. He dragged a hand through his hair, rough and frustrated, like if he pulled hard enough, he might be able to rip the thought clean out of his head. He wasn’t doing this again, not when he’d spent the last year carefully pretending that night hadn’t buried itself into the deepest part of him, clinging to his bones like it never wanted to leave.

He moved before he even knew why, weaving between bodies, trying to breathe through the tension pulling tight across his chest. He wanted to be somewhere else, where no one was and his thoughts could unravel in peace. He took a sip of his drink, letting the alcohol slide down like punishment, sharp and hot in his throat, as if he could scorch the memory into ash if he swallowed hard enough. Pedri leaned into the wall, eyes tracking the edges of the crowd but not really seeing anything.

“Pedri?”

The voice was bright and surprised, spoken with just the right amount of practiced delight to make his stomach turn.

He looked up.

A girl stood in front of him, bathed in low light and shimmering confidence, dress catching the light like glass. She looked familiar, just slightly, and Pedri was sure he'd seen her online somewhere before, maybe in one of his mindless Instagram scrolls. She had full lips and glossy eyes, definitely a face made to be noticed. And clearly, she’d noticed him first.

“Didn’t think I’d see someone like you in a place like this,” she said, smile curling.

He forced a polite smile, the kind he’d learned to wear a long time ago. “Just here with some friends.”

She tilted her head, letting her eyes drag down his body like she already knew how the night would end. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

Pedri shrugged, lifting the drink to his lips again even though it was nearly empty. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Her laugh felt like syrup sliding over ice. “Maybe you just need better company.”

She stepped closer, and Pedri didn’t move. He could feel her fingers brushing against his wrist, lingering there just long enough for it to count. Somewhere in his head, he knew what she wanted. People like her always wanted the same thing, to entangle themselves with the next big name. And maybe, just maybe, part of him wanted to give in.

No, not to her nor the mere idea of a body lying beside him in bed. To the idea that someone else could erase Jude from his bloodstream, if only for one fucking night. He hadn't slept with anyone since then, and the effects were clearly ruining him from the inside out.

He let her flirt, lead him away from the crush of the club and into a narrow hallway glowing red from a fading neon sign overhead. The air back here was still and heavy, bass muted, and her hands were on his chest now, perfume thick in the air between them.

“You’re even prettier up close,” she whispered, her breath soft against his jaw, fingers curling loosely at his waist like she already knew what was coming next. “I’ve seen your interviews. Didn’t think you’d be so quiet in person.”

Pedri let out something that might’ve been a laugh or maybe just an exhale, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there strangely detached, like his body was present but his mind had already drifted somewhere else entirely.

Because in his head, it wasn’t her.

It wasn’t her perfume filling his lungs, her hand on his chest or her voice brushing up against his ear like something he didn’t want.

It was Jude, always Jude.

The heat of his mouth and the way he’d looked at Pedri like he was something forbidden and worth wanting both at the same time. That night wasn’t just a memory, it lived beneath Pedri’s skin like it had made a home there. And no matter how hard he tried to forget, no matter how many months had passed without a single word between them, it just echoed louder in the silence.

He blinked, eyes lifting to really look at the girl in front of him for the first time, and for a second, his heart stopped.

She looked familiar. Not in the usual way, a fan or a model or someone from Instagram. Pedri didn’t know her name, but he didn’t have to. He’d seen her before, in pictures.

A yacht in Ibiza, the sun high and careless, her tanned legs stretched across Jude’s lap like she belonged there, his hand resting casually on her thigh like it wasn’t the same one he’d curled in Pedri’s hair. Then again, in Paris maybe, front row at some show, Jude’s arm slung over her shoulder.

And now she was here in front of him, pressed against him like she had no idea that she was living proof Jude had moved on.

Pedri's chest tightened, stomach lurching at the realization.

Oh my god. This is Jude’s girlfriend. Jude's girlfriend is about to kiss me.

He stepped back instantly, pushing gently at her hands to put distance between them that suddenly felt necessary. “You, are you—” The words stumbled out of him. “Are you Jude's—”

Pedri's never got to finish his sentence.

“Sofia.”

She flinched like she’d been shot, pulling away from Pedri, taking all that syrupy charm from earlier away with her. Her body snapped back with the kind of guilt that didn’t need to be explained. Pedri turned his head slowly, even though he didn't need to look to know who was standing at the other end of the hallway.

Part of him, the part he couldn't explain, still wanted to see Jude, even under the worse circumstances.

Jude stood there like he’d been dragged straight out of Pedri’s thoughts, as if the memory alone had summoned him. He stood beneath the flickering red neon, the glow catching on the edge of his jaw and the sharp bones of his cheek. Still impossibly beautiful, even now, like this.

One hand was shoved deep into his pocket, the other fisted in the hem of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him from doing something worse.

Pedri’s heart dropped, hard and fast.

Sofia took a step forward, panic starting to bleed into her voice. “Jude, I, I thought you were in Madrid,” she said, almost breathless. “I didn’t know you were here, I swear. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean—”

But Jude didn’t look at her, not once, because he hadn’t taken his eyes off Pedri. Jude looked at him like he had done something wrong, like Pedri was the one who’d cheated, not his own girlfriend. It almost felt like he’d crossed a line that neither of them had ever actually drawn.

It wasn’t fair.

It didn’t even make any fucking sense. Jude had moved on and let the memory of that night rot between them instead of doing anything about it. And now he was angry? At Pedri?

What if Jude’s here?

Of course he was, and of course he’d show up at the exact worst moment when Pedri had finally stopped resisting and let himself drift toward someone else.

Pedri’s throat went dry. He swallowed hard, desperate to make it make sense, to pull himself out of this before it became something worse. “I didn’t know who she was,” he said, and he hated how weak his voice came out. “I swear, Jude, I didn’t know.”

Jude didn’t speak, he just looked at Pedri with those eyes of his cold and unreadable, and it felt worse than yelling. Pedri opened his mouth again, but Jude had already turned, walking away just as quickly as he'd appeared.

Sofia chased after him, heels clicking against the tile, voice desperate. “It didn’t mean anything!” she cried. “Jude, please. We didn’t even, like, nothing even happened, I swear—”

And then they were gone, leaving Pedri standing in the glow of a dying red light, the hallway suddenly too quiet. All that remained was the echo of Jude’s stare still burning in Pedri’s skin. He hadn’t even done anything, but somehow, it felt like everything had shattered.

And the worst part was, he still didn’t know why.

Chapter Text

The thing about Pedri, was that Jude was used to being in and out of his orbit, like a comet flying a little closer to the sun than it should. Whatever they had was only the crossing of paths of two people who shouldn't know each other like this. Jude never asked for anything more than that memory with Pedri, not when he didn't think they deserved it.

But he'd been with other people even before Sofia, but there was never this much longing; longing that couldn't be quelled by something or someone else.

So when he'd come to Barcelona, come to the party that she was at just to feel like a good boyfriend by surprising her, the last thing he'd expected was seeing her leaning into him, lips so close together they could've kissed.

The worst thing, though, was that he was stood there. Fucking stood there, like this was supposed to happen. Maybe it was the jealousy poisoning him when he watched how easy it was for her to be with him, how it didn't need to be a secret buried carefully between the lines of club rivalries. Jude didn't care. Either way, when the city lights blurred past him as he drove, all he could think of was Pedri; bathed in that deep red neon, looking like sin incarnate.

He hated this feeling, the ache in his chest that hadn’t gone away no matter how many nights he spent trying to forget. All the suppression, all the times he'd tried to bury it under Sofia’s touch never worked. And now, knowing she’d gone after Pedri, the one fucking person Jude couldn’t let go of, it felt like betrayal.

Jude stormed into his hotel room, slamming the door so hard the walls seemed to shake. He buried his head in his hands, willing, begging himself to forget the one person that would only end up ruining him.

JUDE BELLINGHAM SPLITS WITH GIRLFRIEND

El Mundo Deportivo | Madrid

Real Madrid midfielder Jude Bellingham has reportedly ended his relationship with long-time girlfriend, sources close to the couple have confirmed.

The split is said to have occurred after a private falling out last week, though speculation continues to form regarding the real cause of the breakup.

A source within the Madrid camp claims that Bellingham "hasn’t been himself lately."

This is a developing story.

Sofia must've called him close to a hundred times over the next few days, after he stopped answering her texts. It wasn't just her, because now the entirety of Spain seemed to know about their breakup. Jude’s phone was a nonstop barrage of texts, calls and notifications. He ignored most of them, until one afternoon.

I’m sorry.

Jude stared at the screen, thumb hovering. He didn't reply.

A few hours later, Pedri texted again.

Fine, don't accept my apology.

Jude still didn't reply.

Fuck you, Jude. I'm trying to be a good person.

He didn't know what possessed him; boredom, weakness, maybe the need to see how far Pedri would go to get his attention, but the only message he sent was the name of his hotel.

I'm downstairs.

It took him just over an hour. In that moment, Jude knew he wasn't the only one who wanted this, because Pedri had come here, for him.

Jude didn’t say a word as he led him upstairs. The elevator ride was silent, and when they got to the room, Jude opened the door and stepped aside. Pedri walked in without looking at him. The door shut behind them with some sort of finality.

“You’re a fucking coward.”

Jude didn’t flinch, just leaned back against the door, arms crossed. "I thought you were sorry?"

“Yeah, I apologised and you left me on read, Jude.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, still leaning lazily against the door. “And why am I obligated to reply to you?”

He pushed off the wood, taking a slow step forward.

“Why does that bother you so much?”

Pedri froze, like he hadn’t expected to be called out so plainly. His jaw tensed, like he was trying to keep something in, and Jude saw the panic underneath the anger. He smirked, sharp and satisfied.

Got you.

Pedri’s expression hardened,but it looked defensive, not defiant. “You think this is funny?”

“I think you wanting me this badly is funny, yeah.” Jude’s voice was maddeningly calm. He tilted his head, like he didn't know he was tearing Pedri apart from the inside out.

Pedri’s mouth pressed into a tight line. He looked like he wanted to punch something, maybe kiss Jude just to shut him up. The way his eyes flicked down to Jude’s mouth gave him away.

“I,” Pedri started, his voice too shaky for the front he was trying to put up. “I just feel bad for what happened.”

“Okay then,” Jude said coolly, turning slightly and gesturing toward the door. “I accept your apology, so you can go.”

Pedri didn’t move.

Jude looked back at him, brow raised.

“So this is it?” Pedri asked, his voice almost disbelieving. “You’re just going to let me go?”

Jude took a slow breath, stepping in again.

"I don't know what you want from me if you don't say it."

There was a pause.

"Do something," Pedri said, barely above a whisper.

Jude stared at him.

“Do what?”

Jude's hand was already sliding up Pedri’s side, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around the back of his neck.

Jude's eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into the touch. Jude saw it all, the way Pedri’s body tensed, the subtle shift of his hips. His fingers twitched like they were dying to reach for something, but he held back like he was waiting for Jude’s next move.

“Come on, say it,” Jude whispered, leaning in closer. He pressed a kiss to Pedri's forehead, trailing his lips down to his ear. “You want me to make you wait even longer?"

Pedri shuddered beneath him. “I, ” His voice broke again. “I need you.”

Jude’s chest tightened, but he wasn’t ready to give in just yet. He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged. “You want me to touch you?”

“Yes, please,” Pedri's voice was barely a whisper, a plea that cracked against Jude’s skin.

Jude studied him for a moment, his own control snapping at the seams. He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he reached for the hem of Pedri’s shirt, tugging it up slowly, deliberately, exposing the heated skin beneath. Pedri’s breath hitched as Jude leaned in, brushing his lips across his neck.

“Strip for me, then.”

Pedri’s breath hitched. His eyes flicked up to Jude’s, searching for approval, desire, maybe patience. Finding all three, he began to obey.

His hands trembled slightly as they reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly, revealing the pale skin beneath. Jude’s eyes followed every inch, the way the light caught the muscles beneath, the small rise and fall of his chest.

Pedri’s hands moved to the waistband of his pants and underwear, fingers fumbling at first, then sliding the fabric down inch by inch, revealing the smoothness of his hips, the curve of his thighs and the way his body seemed to glow under the dim light. He was already hard, much to Jude's satisfaction, that he was as turned on by this as him.

"You're perfect. As perfect as I remembered." Jude strips off his own clothes, tossing them aside carelessly, watching as Pedri's eyes widen as they drink him in, breath hitching.

"Please, Jude" Pedri's voice cracked slightly, and he leans closer into Jude, almost desperate. "I need you. Now."

That was it.

Jude's lips crushed against Pedri’s in a kind of kiss that erased everything else. He trailing his mouth down the curve of his neck, tasting the skin that was already flushed beneath his lips. Pedri’s hands were frantic now, gripping Jude’s shoulders, pulling him closer, as if trying to meld their bodies together.

"Fuck,"Pedri breathed.

Jude pulled back just enough to look at him. Pedri’s hips bucked involuntarily, desperate for any kind of friction, but Jude held him firmly, not letting him move an inch.

"No," Jude said softly, but the command was there.

Pedri’s lips parted, as though he might protest. But then he bit his lip, nodding instead. The way he was looking up at Jude like he was ready to surrender everything made Jude’s chest tighten with something fierce and possessive.

Jude tilts his head towards the direction of the bed, pressing Pedri down onto it, one hand moving to slide down Pedri’s chest, thumb brushing against a hardened nipple.

Pedri moaned in response, tilting his head back into the pillow. Jude’s lips traced a path down Pedri’s neck, the skin soft under his mouth. He pulled away just slightly, eyes locking with Pedri’s, a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze.

"Look at you,"Jude let his fingertips dance along the line of Pedri’s stomach. "So fucking perfect. And all for me."

“Jude,” Pedri moaned against his lips, his hands running up Jude’s chest, tugging at his shirt, desperate for more contact, for more of whatever Jude will give him.

Jude's hands gripped Pedri’s thighs, pushing them apart. He spit onto his fingers before pressing them into Pedri, quickly realising that Pedri's already prepared himself for this, clearly opening himself up for Jude to use while Jude was busy wrestling with his own thoughts. Fuck.

A quick mental calculation leads Jude to derive that his hotel, in fact, was only fifteen minutes away from Pedri's house.

"You actually-"

"Yeah. Call me a slut or whatever. I'm ready. Jude, c'mon."

Jude exhaled harshly, but still thrusts his fingers into Pedri a few times for good measure, listening to his little whines. When Jude finally pushes his cock deep into Pedri, it feels like salvation. The way Pedri’s hands clenched the sheets, the way he arched up in response to every inch, drove Jude insane. His body ached for this, to claim Pedri, to have him completely.

When he starts thrusting into Pedri, Jude's heart thunders at the way Pedri gave himself up completely to his will. His own body reacted to it, desire burning low in his stomach. The only sounds Jude could hear were breath and skin and everything else in between. i's hands gripping onto his back, clawing just to stay grounded.

"Fuck, Jude. Please."

Jude didn't stop his thrusts, but they were rougher, more merciless now. He wanted to pull something out of Pedri, he wanted proof that Pedri wouldn't be anyone else's. And Pedri gave it to him. With his mouth, his hands, and the way he pressed his cheek to the side of Jude's head and let out the smallest, most broken sounds when their hips met and stayed.

"So fucking needy, aren't we?"

Jude moved lower, lips brushing across Pedri’s collarbone, then to the smooth skin of his chest. His mouth found a sensitive spot beneath Pedri’s nipple, sucking gently, enough to make Pedri gasp and arch into him. The sounds that slipped from his mouth, ragged and needy, made Jude’s pulse spike.

Pedri's close, and they both know it. Then again, so is Jude, anyways.

"Need to come. Please."

A choked sound left Pedri’s throat as he pressed his hips up, silently begging for more. The way his body moved made Jude ache, his body reacting despite the restraint he was trying so hard to hold onto. He finally relented, his hand finding Pedri’s neglected cock, fingers wrapping around with just the right amount of pressure.

Pedri's already so gone to the point that it doesn't take much. Or anything more than a few strokes, really. His body tenses when he comes, breath faster, sharper, like he’s suffocating in the weight of the moment.

Jude knows this, but still he fucks Pedri at the same ruthless pace, chasing his own release. He leans in again, mouth brushing against the curve of Pedri’s neck when he finally spills into him, feeling Pedri's hole clench around his cock, taking all of it so fucking well.

He can't resist pulling him closer as he comes down from his high, even closer than they already are. He collapses onto the bed next to Pedri, fingers tracing the line of Pedri's spine, gently, almost like he's afraid to break him.

But perhaps that's exactly what Pedri wanted.

"Fuck. That was," Pedri pauses, like he doesn't have the words to describe whatever this was between them.

It's not like Jude does, either. Not before, and most definitely not now, not after what'd just happened.