leclercloml

I ♡ Pedri & Le Normand

[leclercloml]

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Grace | indian-british | 19 | formula 1 , football and MARVEL | MESSI GOAT | Pedri and Charles lover | Bucky Barnes apologist

Request; CLOSED

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⧼visca barça⧽ | ⧼forza ferrari⧽

©LELCERCLOML all rights and credits go to the owners of the images. do not plagiarise or repost any of my original work. please be respectful when interacting with this blog. thank you!

[p8driesta]

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[targaryensource]

A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS S01E03 | "The Squire"

[mooondame]

ʚ♡ɞ pedri - kissing my spanish boy all over facetime

ꕤ pairing pedri x reader ꕤ summary while enjoying a well-deserved vacation with your boyfriend, a video will accidentally expose your relationship ꕤ word count 1, 953 ꕤ tags established relationship, fluff, kinda suggestive but nothing explicit ꕤ a/n i LOVED this request, it was sooo fun to write ୨ৎ hope you like it and let me know if i capture your idea. i still have a request that was sent before this one, but it’s taking me a bit more time to write, but IS COMING i swear. alsoooo, i was on a work trip this week and couldn’t write anything for guilty as sin (╥‸╥) but expect the next chapter on sunday next week ♡︎

masterlist

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This was one of those rare moments of peace and quiet. The stars had aligned so that you and your boyfriend could spend a whole week together in Barcelona. The summer sun kissed Pedri's tanned torso as he took a nap in the beach chair. The sound of the waves crashing against each other was the perfect finishing touch to a relaxing afternoon.

His vacation period had begun, and you had fought tooth and nail to squeeze in a short break to join him. Something the fans hadn't been slow to notice. You chuckled to yourself as you scrolled through social media, where followers of both of you had started noticing that your encounters were no longer "pure coincidences" but rather a recurring pattern.

You had met the footballer through a mutual friend who introduced you at his birthday party. From that day on, Pedri became a recurring figure in your life. Although you had wanted to keep things casual because of the nature of your job, which required frequent travel, Pedri didn't give up until he got you to give him a chance to show you that even with the distances and crazy schedules, there was room for commitment.

That was six months ago, and the brunette had proven him right. You couldn't always see each other in person, but calls, messages, and video calls were never lacking. But nothing could replace the feeling of holding him, of being enveloped in his scent, his arms, and his lips. Although this had unexpectedly funny consequences.

“They were both in England when he played there, even though she was on tour in North America.”

“I’ve already located the restaurant where Pedri posted the photo, and guess what? IT’S THE SAME ONE WHERE THE FANS TOOK A PICTURE WITH HER.”

“if you look closely, the reflection in his glasses is shaped like her.”

“I’M TELLING YOU, IT’S THE SAME WALL!!!”

“The sweatshirt she wore in the soundcheck story is his. It’s too big for her, and it’s a men’s sweatshirt.”

“I know it’s not clear, but I swear Pedri’s phone wallpaper is a picture of her. The hair color is the same.”

By the third month, the fans had started speculating. With each new thread or update, you were surprised by the level of attention. There were details you hadn't even noticed that the fans easily picked up on.

You heard Pedri groan beside you and turned to look at him. He had woken up and was now sitting with a sleepy expression on his face. He rubbed his eyes and focused his gaze on you, which softened instantly.

"Did I sleep long?" he asked hoarsely.

"About 15 minutes", you replied with a smile.

"Sorry, I'm more tired than I thought".

You laughed softly. "Don't worry, love, I totally understand".

Pedri opened his arms, gesturing for you to sit with him. You got up from your chair and snuggled against his firm chest. His arms wrapped around you, and he nestled his head against your neck.

"So, what were you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Looking at the new theories about our relationship", you replied, showing him your phone.

"So you do have my sweatshirt. And here I was fighting with Ferrán because I thought he'd stolen it", he joked, tickling you.

After squealing his name and writhing in his arms, laughing and begging him to stop, Pedri finally gave you peace and returned to the embrace.

“I swear I’ve had it for so long I’d forgotten I hadn’t told you,” you defended yourself, catching your breath.

“It looks better on you,” he murmured, kissing your cheek.

“We all agree on that,” you laughed.

Pedri traced small circles on your shoulders, a habit he had when he wanted to ask something but didn’t know how.

“So, what do you think about confirming the rumors?” the question timidly left his lips.

You thought about it for a few moments. You were happy with the situation you both were in, without external pressure or questions from people who didn't know you. But there was a part of you that wanted to be able to post pictures of your boyfriend like a normal girl. To be able to talk about him without it being a secret, and for people to know that he was as much yours as you were his.

"That would be fine with me", you finally replied.

You turned to look at him, and it seemed like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders; his expression was more relaxed. A proud smile spread across his face, and his eyes had lit up.

"Me too", he murmured, kissing your neck.

“How about we announce it after this vacation? That way we can enjoy our privacy for a few more days”, you sighed, snuggling against his chest.

“Great idea. That way we can be more relaxed during these weeks I’ll be accompanying you on your tour; we won’t have to be sneaking around”, he exhaled. “Is your reflection in my glasses really that obvious? Even I can’t see it properly, and I know your figure by heart”, he hinted, running his hands along your sides.

“Pedro González, behave yourself, we’re in public”, you scolded, your face flushed.

“If you want, we can take it somewhere more private then”, he purred softly.

“I thought you were tired”.

“That’s what the nap was for”.

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Waiting for Pedri to finish getting ready was a ritual that never ceased to amaze you. No matter how early he started, he always finished after you. Now was one of those waiting periods. You took advantage of being ready to record some TikToks.

"Stateside" by PinkPanthress and Zara Larsson was one of the trending tracks at the time. You loved the song; it perfectly represented what you were experiencing with Pedri and your singing career. You decided to use the song and prepared to lip-sync.

Worries fade away (fade away) When I hit the stage I've been touring stateside  Kissing my Swedish boy over FaceTime Who knew opening up would make me a headline? Boots, that's my ego boost Schedule ain't been loose for a minute Yeah, I'm that girl, I've been it

An idea popped into your head and you decided to repeat the video.

Worries fade away (fade away) When I hit the stage I've been touring stateside  Kissing my Spanish boy over FaceTime Who knew opening up would make me a headline? Boots, that's my ego boost Schedule ain't been loose for a minute Yeah, I'm that girl, I've been it

You highlighted the lip movement when you said "Spanish." It was a tiny part of the song, a subtle change.

"Ready?" Pedri's voice surprised you.

"For about half an hour", you laughed, turning to look at him and pausing the video.

"You have it easy, you're natural and effortlessly beautiful", he smiled, moving closer to you.

Pedri wrapped his arms around you and kissed you gently. Then he pulled away, took your hand, and spun you around in front of him.

“Beautiful”.

“That won’t make me forget you have terrible time management”, you laughed as you were pulled back into his arms.

“It was worth a try”, he winked at you before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “Shall we?”

Without giving it much thought, you decided to save the draft of the video. It could be a good way to announce the relationship without being too obvious. You left your phone in the hotel room; you didn’t want any distractions during such precious, rare time alone with your boyfriend.

You both went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. While catching up, you noticed Pedri's mood had improved considerably since you agreed to make the relationship public. You knew that this step was very important to him; it was a way to show that you had emerged unscathed from the madness of your busy schedules.

"Finally, I'll be able to take you down to the field in my jersey and kiss you in front of everyone", he admitted at the end of the evening. Both walking back to the room.

"I knew your proposal had ulterior motives", you joked, opening the bedroom door.

Pedri tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled you toward him to kiss you. Stroking his arms, you leaned against the door to close it. The player took the opportunity to pin you against it, closing the distance between you even further.

The ringing of your phone caught your attention, making you pull away from your boyfriend's lips.

"Do you want to answer it?" he asked.

"No, it's probably nothing," you replied dismissively when it stopped ringing.

You resumed the kiss, and this time it was your turn to run your fingers through his hair. The always soft and comforting sensation filled you. Again, your phone rang, distracting you. Annoyed, you pulled away from Pedri and went to answer it.

“What happened?” you answered, frustrated.

“I’m the one who should be asking that question. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to announce your relationship with Pedri? I would have been better prepared. Everyone wants verification, interviews, comments…” your agent’s voice scolded you, clearly agitated.

“I haven’t announced my relationship with Pedri. What are you talking about?” you clarified, confused.

“So what does the last TikTok you posted mean?”

Your eyes widened, and you froze. Without hanging up, you went to your TikTok account, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw that the video you thought you had saved as a draft had actually been posted. And not only was the “Spanish boy” lip-sync clear, but Pedri had also appeared behind you.

Your agent's voice calling you from afar snapped you back to reality. "So what do we do?"

You turned to look at Pedri, who had a confused expression on his face. You took a breath and replied, "We'll talk about it after my vacation, I promise". You hung up before you could rethink your answer.

"Is everything okay?" Pedri asked cautiously.

You showed him the video as a response. Pedri took it and smiled, amused by the situation.

"You're adorable. And to think you were the one who wanted to wait", he joked.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your cheeks flush. You grabbed your phone again and went into the comments.

"Beautiful, you got a draft uploaded"

"I can't believe this is confirmation of the relationship"

"DID YOU SEE IT? DID YOU SEE IT? DID YOU SEE IT??!!!"

"Kissing my Spanish boy all over FaceTime? Pedri appearing in the background? This seems both intentional and accidental"

"Pedri is so lucky"

"Let's pretend we're surprised"

The fans seemed just as shocked as you were that you'd posted the video. Most were leaving positive comments and congratulating you on your relationship. A minority were those who "lamented" that Pedri wouldn't be as focused on his career as before. But you were left with the majority who were celebrating the announcement.

Pedri picked up his phone and put it back on the small table.

"Don't believe everything you hear. Neither of our careers is going to suffer because of this relationship," he reassured you, stroking your temples with his thumbs. "I love you, and I wouldn't let you go for anything."

His eyes were brimming with sincerity, and you nodded slowly. You went over to hug him and try to calm your racing body. It had been nice while the privacy lasted, but now you were entering a new phase. One where you could hold his hand in public, kiss him at his games, and not hide him backstage during your performances.

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[namjin44life]

He's so pretty I can't.

[pedripics]

Pedri has donated a signed Barça shirt and signed boots for the 59th edition of "Cap Nen Sense Joguina"

This year, in addition to the traditional distribution of new toys to vulnerable families in Barcelona, ​​the campaign will also reach Gaza, in collaboration with the Barcelona City Council and UNICEF. A portion of the funds raised will go towards humanitarian projects on the ground to address the most basic needs of children.

People can bid for this and other objects online by sending a WhatsApp to 648 834 378. The charity program will begin on January 5th at 7 pm and can be followed on all Cadena SER frequencies in Catalonia and via YouTube.

[leclercloml]

Shopping Spree | PG8

Pairing; Pedri Gonzalez x gf!reader

Summary; where his girlfriend was actually flabbergasted by his fashion sense and decided to take the matter in her own hands

genre: written work

warning: none just bad jokes

author's note: i wrote this a while back when he had bad fashion sense sooo

Pedri stepped out of the bathroom and immediately regretted every single life choice that had led him to this moment. He was wearing a lime-green hoodie with a giant cartoon avocado on the front, paired with baggy cargo pants in a shade of orange that hurt to look at directly.

The hoodie had been a joke gift from Ferran last Christmas. The pants… well, he’d grabbed them off the floor this morning because everything else was in the wash.His girlfriend was sprawled on the couch scrolling through her phone. She glanced up, froze, and then very slowly lowered the screen so she could take in the full disaster .Silence . Then she pressed her lips together so hard it looked painful. “Don’t,” he warned, pointing a finger at her.

Too late. A tiny snort escaped. Then another. Within seconds she was curled into a ball, laughing so hard she had to clutch a pillow to her face.“Baby,” she wheezed, “did you lose a bet with a traffic light?” Pedri groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I have training later, I didn’t think anyone important would see me.” “I’m important!” She sat up, wiping her eyes.

“And I’m traumatized. That avocado is staring into my soul.”“It’s motivational,” he deadpanned. “It’s telling you to guac and roll.” She lost it again, flopping back against the cushions. “Oh my god, stop. We’re fixing this. Right now.” “Fixing what? I’m comfortable.” “You look like a smoothie that got confused and became a person.”

She stood up, grabbed his hand, and started dragging him toward the door. “Come on, pretty boy. We’re going shopping before someone posts you on the internet and it becomes your legacy.” He let her pull him along, secretly pleased by the way she kept giggling every time she glanced back at the avocado.Two hours later they were deep in the men’s section of Zara.

her arms already loaded with hoodies, tees, and jeans she insisted were “normal human colors.” Pedri trailed behind her carrying the pile like a very expensive pack mule.She shoved him into a fitting room and started passing things over the door.First outfit: simple black hoodie, slim dark jeans, white sneakers.He stepped out. She tilted her head, eyes soft. “Okay. This is illegally handsome. I’m having heart palpitations.” He spun slowly, smirking. “Better than the avocado?” “Night and day, amor.” Next: oversized cream knit sweater and beige cargos.When he walked out she actually gasped, then pretended to fan herself. “Who gave you permission to look this cozy and hot at the same time? This is unfair to society.” He laughed, cheeks pink. “You’re ridiculous.” “Your turn,” he said,

plucking a ridiculous bucket hat off a nearby rack and plopping it on her head. “Model this for me.”She struck a pose, lips pursed like a fashion editor. “Iconic. Revolutionary. The people aren’t ready.”They kept going like that, trading clothes back and forth, turning the fitting room hallway into their own private runway. She made him try on a leather jacket that made him look like he belonged in a boyband. He found her the softest pink hoodie and begged her to keep it because “it makes you look like a strawberry cloud.”At one point she handed him a bright red Hawaiian shirt as a joke.He put it on without hesitation, stepped out, and started doing the worst attempt at hula dancing known to man.She doubled over laughing so hard she had to lean against the mirror. “Sir, this is a crime against fashion and rhythm!” “Take it back,” he demanded, still swaying his hips dramatically. “I’m giving tropical vacation realness.” “You’re giving midlife crisis at a barbecue.”

Eventually they collapsed onto the little bench outside the fitting rooms, surrounded by bags, breathless from laughing. He had his arm around her shoulders, her head resting against his chest.She poked the final pile of clothes they’d decided to buy. “No more avocado hoodies without my written approval.” “Deal,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But I get to keep the red Hawaiian shirt. For emergencies.” “Emergencies like what?”“Like if I ever need to make you laugh until you cry again.” She smiled up at him, eyes bright. “You do that just by existing, Pedri.” He kissed her properly then, slow and sweet, right there in the middle of the store like they were the only two people in the world.

When they finally checked out, the cashier scanned the mountain of clothes and raised an eyebrow.“Big day?” she asked.Pedri looked down at the girl tucked under his arm, still wearing the strawberry-cloud hoodie he’d picked out for her.“Yeah,” he said softly. “The best.”

[p8driesta]

🥰

[leclercloml]

please make something like this againn with other player https://www.tumblr.com/leclercloml/753156746754850816/shameless-pg8?source=share nfiwjdiwjwj ☝🏻

Aw sure, who would you like it with?

[leclercloml]

Silver Lining, Golden Heart | PG8

Pairing: Pedri González x gf!reader

Genre: oneshot

Warning: none, just pedri being hard on himself

Summary: After Spain’s heartbreaking penalty loss to Portugal in the Nations League final, Pedri drowns in self-blame, but his girlfriend’s tender comfort reminds him he’s still a champion in her eyes.

The stadium lights cast long shadows over the pitch as the final whistle blew, the scoreboard frozen at 2-2. The air was thick with tension, the roar of the crowd a dull hum in Pedri's ears as Portugal’s final penalty soared past the goalkeeper. The Nations League final was over. Spain had lost. The weight of it settled on his shoulders like a lead blanket as he stood, hands on his hips, staring at the ground. His chest heaved, not just from the match, but from the storm of thoughts tearing through him.

He’d given everything, every pass, every tackle, every sprint. He’d been a metronome in midfield, dictating play, creating chances, even setting up one of the goals. But the penalty shootout? it wasn’t enough. His teammates had faltered, and now the trophy was slipping through their fingers. If I’d done more, if I’d pushed harder, if I’d— The self-blame clawed at him, relentless.

He barely registered the walk back to the locker room, the claps from the crowd a hollow echo. His boots felt heavier than ever as he slumped onto the bench, head in his hands, the silver medal dangling from his neck like a mockery. The room buzzed with quiet murmurs, teammates processing the loss in their own way, but Pedri was lost in his own spiral. I should’ve carried us. I’m not enough.

A soft hand on his shoulder broke through the fog. He looked up, eyes meeting yours, warm and steady. You’d slipped into the quiet corner of the locker area, away from the chaos, just for him. No words at first, just your presence, a lifeline.

“Hey, mi amor,” you said softly, kneeling in front of him, your hands gently prying his from his face. Your touch was light, thumbs brushing over his knuckles. “Look at me.”

He did, reluctantly, his brown eyes glassy with frustration. “I messed up, cariño,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “I should’ve done more. We lost because I didn’t—”

“Stop.” Your voice was firm but kind, cutting through his spiral. You shifted closer, resting a hand on his knee. “You were incredible out there. Everyone saw it, me, the team, the fans. You held that midfield together. That assist? Pure magic. This isn’t on you, amor. It’s a team game, and you gave them everything.”

He shook his head, jaw tight. “It wasn’t enough. I let them down.”

“No,” you said, your hand moving to his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “You didn’t. You were their heart out there, the best player on that pitch. I watched every second, and I’ve never been prouder. Penalties are a lottery, not a reflection of you. You carried them as far as you could.”

His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as your words sank in. He leaned forward, forehead resting against yours, eyes closing as he let out a shaky breath. “I just… I wanted it so bad, cariño.”

“I know, querido,” you whispered, your fingers threading gently through his damp hair. “And you fought for it. That’s what matters. You’re still my champion, trophy or not. I’m so proud of you.”

For the first time since the whistle, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. “What would I do without you?” he murmured, voice softer now, the edge of self-blame dulling in your warmth.

“You’d be fine,” you teased lightly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “But I’m here, always. Let’s get you to hotel, yeah? Hot shower, some food, and we’ll forget this for a little while.”

He nodded, pulling back to look at you, gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Okay, cariño. Thank you.” His hand found yours, squeezing gently, and for the first time that night, he felt a little lighter. The loss stung, but with you by his side, he knew he’d be okay.

Author's note!!: I'M SO SAD, pedri and Lamine deserved it so much :(

[leclercloml]

My name is Abed.

I’m a survivor from Gaza, holding on to hope in a world that has fallen apart around me. 💔

The life I once knew — my home, my family, my sense of safety — has been shattered by war. Today, I live among the ruins, trying to find a path forward through the rubble and heartbreak. 🏚

Every moment is a battle against fear and uncertainty. What was once ordinary — a safe place to sleep, a future to dream of — now feels like a distant memory. 🕊️

I share my story not to seek pity, but to keep hope alive — to believe that even in the darkest places, kindness can still find a way. 🤍

If my story touches your heart, please consider sharing it or offering support. Every voice, every act of care, brings me one step closer to safety. ✨

Thank you for taking the time to listen. 🙏

Post Link

Please donate if you can

[leclercloml]

Hello, wonderful souls! 🤍🌍

I hope you're doing well. 🌿

Could you help me amplify my family's story and bring awareness to our struggle? 🙏🏻

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or consider donating just $5—your support could truly make a difference in saving lives amidst war and hardship.

Your kindness and voice matter more than you know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍🌿

🕊️ @mosabsdr | Every share counts. 💫

💙

[leclercloml]

Do you write for Hector Fort?

Yes, you can check here who i write for 💗

[leclercloml]

Crutches and Kisses | MB28

Pairing: Marc Bernal × gf!reader

Summary: Marc’s on crutches, but he’s healing fast, and you’re there, hyping him up every step of the way.

Genre: oneshot

Warning: nothing just fluff<3 (might be a bit cringy idk)

Author's note: he's recovering super fast and I'm so proud of him, i can't wait for to be back on pitch, in the mean time enjoy this<33

The sun streamed through the window of the cozy Barcelona apartment, casting a warm glow over the living room. You were sprawled out on the couch, a half-finished cup of tea in your hands, when the front door clicked open. The sound of crutches tapping against the floor followed, and your heart did a little flip. Marc was home.

“Babe, I’m back!” his voice called out, bright and cheerful despite the long physio session he’d just endured. You popped up from the couch, practically bouncing as you hurried to meet him.

There he was, Marc Bernal, your favorite person in the world, standing in the doorway with that lopsided grin you adored. His dark hair was slightly messy from the wind outside, and even though he was still on crutches, there was a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there a few months ago. His ACL injury had been brutal, a tear that had sidelined him from the pitch and broken his heart a little. But now? Now he was healing, faster than anyone expected, and you couldn’t be prouder.

“Look at you!” you said, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice as you rushed over. “You’re practically sprinting through the door. Did the physio say you’re secretly a superhero or something?”

Marc laughed, the sound warm and rich, and leaned one crutch against the wall so he could pull you into a one-armed hug. “Not quite. But they did say I’m ahead of schedule. Might even get to ditch these things soon.” He wiggled the remaining crutch for emphasis, and you beamed up at him.

“See? I told you! You’re unstoppable,” you said, poking his chest lightly. “I’m so proud of you, Marc. Like, so proud. I might need to throw a party when you’re back on the pitch. Confetti, cake, the works.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning playful. “Oh yeah? What kind of cake?”

“Chocolate, obviously,” you replied, rolling your eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Your favorite. Only the best for my star midfielder.”

Marc’s cheeks flushed a little at that, and he ducked his head, pretending to adjust his crutch. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, but you could tell he was loving every second of it. You always knew how to make him feel like the center of the universe, even when he was stuck on the sidelines.

“C’mon, sit with me,” you said, tugging gently at his sleeve. “You’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a break.”

He didn’t argue, letting you guide him to the couch. Once he was settled, crutches propped nearby, you plopped down next to him, close enough that your knees brushed. You couldn’t help but reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. His hands were warm, a little calloused from years of training, and they fit perfectly with yours.

“Seriously, though,” you said softer now, your thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve been pushing yourself. The way you’re recovering, it’s amazing. I can’t wait to see you back out there, doing what you love.”

Marc turned to look at you, his brown eyes softening. “You really think I’m doing okay?”

“Are you kidding?” you said, squeezing his hand. “You’re crushing it. I mean, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure you’re rewriting the rulebook on ACL recoveries. They’re gonna name a rehab program after you or something.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’re too much. But… thanks. It means a lot, you know? Having you here, cheering me on. Makes it feel less heavy.”

Your heart swelled at that, and you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder. “Always, Marc. I’m your number one fan, crutches or not.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you like a blanket. Then, because you couldn’t resist, you tilted your head up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re gonna be back on that pitch before you know it. And I’ll be in the stands, screaming louder than anyone.”

Marc turned his head, catching your lips in a soft, unexpected kiss that made your stomach flutter. When he pulled back, he was smiling again, that shy, sweet smile that always melted you. “Promise?”

“Promise” you whispered, grinning back.

And as the afternoon faded into evening, you stayed curled up together, talking about everything and nothing, his comeback, your silly party plans, the future. Because with Marc by your side, even the tough days felt like something worth celebrating.

[leclercloml]

Pedri González as boyfriend | Headcannons

Fluff

Attentive Listener: Pedri’s the type to remember the little things you say. You mention loving a specific dessert? He’ll surprise you with it after a long day, grinning shyly as he hands it over, saying, “I thought you'd need this."

Cozy Nights In: He loves low-key evenings with you—think cuddling under a blanket on the couch, watching a movie or a match. He’d rest his head on your shoulder, murmuring commentary about the game or laughing softly at a rom-com scene, his arm draped lazily around you.

Playful Teasing: Pedri’s got a gentle, cheeky side. He’d tease you about stealing the covers or how you cheer louder for him than his actual fans, his eyes sparkling with mischief before pulling you into a warm hug.

Supportive: Whether you’re stressed about work or chasing a dream, he’s your biggest cheerleader. He’d leave you cute notes like, “You’ve got this, mi campeona,” or send a quick text before a big moment, just to remind you he’s rooting for you.

Soft Physical Affection: He’s not over-the-top with PDA, but in private? He’s always brushing your hair back, holding your hand absentmindedly while scrolling his phone, or resting his chin on your head when you’re standing close. It’s quiet, but so him.

Thoughtful Gifts: He’d surprise you with small, meaningful things—a bracelet he saw you eyeing, a Polaroid of you two from a random day out, or even a playlist he made of songs that remind him of you.

Suggestive

Morning Wake-Ups: He’s a sleepy cuddler, pulling you into his chest at dawn, voice raspy with a “Buenos días, cariño.” But then his hands roam under the sheets, tracing your curves as he smirks, “Five more minutes? I’ve got plans,” his lips finding yours with lazy heat.

Shower Shenanigans: He’d drag you into the shower after a workout, all innocent “saving water” excuses. Soon, he’s pressing you against the tiles, water dripping down his back, whispering, “You’re too distracting,” as his hands slide over wet skin, slow and teasing.

Late-Night Drives: Pedri loves a quiet drive with you—windows down, music soft. But he’d pull over somewhere secluded, tugging you across the console with a grin, “C’mere,” his kisses hungry, hands gripping your thighs like he can’t wait another second.

Locker Room Vibes: Post-match, he’s buzzing with adrenaline. He’d sneak you into a quiet corner, still in his kit, panting, “You’re my good luck,” before kissing you hard, his sweaty frame pinning you, fingers digging into your hips with pent-up energy.

Flirty Banter: He’d toss you a wink over breakfast, saying, “You’re trouble, you know that?” Then he’d prove it later, backing you against the table, voice dropping, “Can’t stop thinking about you,” his touch turning the tease into something hotter.

Lazy Sundays with a Kick: You’d start with pancakes and cuddles, but he’d flip it—pulling you onto his lap, syrup-sticky fingers brushing your lips before he kisses you deep, muttering, “Taste better than breakfast,” as things escalate on the couch.

Private Dancer: He’s shy about it, but one night he’d sway with you to slow music in the living room. The mood shifts when he spins you against him, hands low, growling softly, “Move like that again, and we’re not finishing this song.”

Possessive Softie: He’s gentle until someone flirts with you at a party. Back home, he’d crowd you against the door, eyes dark, “You’re mine, yeah?”—kissing you with an edge, hands claiming every inch like he’s proving a point.

[leclercloml]

Defensive Heat | RLN24

Pairing: Robin Le Normand x Physiotherapist!reader

Genre: oneshot

Warning: smut

Summary: She’s the physiotherapist who keeps Atlético Madrid running, hands steady and smile bright, especially for Roro, the teammate who’s been her rock from the start. But Robin Le Normand’s been watching, brooding, his quiet intensity simmering under the surface for months.

The physiotherapy room at Atlético Madrid’s training complex was my sanctuary, white walls, neatly stacked rolls of tape, the faint smell of antiseptic. I’d been part of the team for nearly a year, long enough to know the players’ quirks, their injuries, their banter. Rodrigo Riquelme or Roro, was my anchor from day one. He’d stroll in with that cheeky grin, tossing playful jabs about my “magic hands” while I patched him up after a rough tackle. We clicked instantly, a friendship that made the chaos of match days bearable. But there was someone else who’d been creeping into my thoughts lately, someone I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried, Robin Le Normand.

It started months ago, subtle at first. The way his hazel eyes lingered a beat too long when I’d stretch his calf after a game. The quiet “thanks” he’d mutter, his voice rougher than it needed to be, like he was holding something back. He wasn’t loud like Roro, didn’t fill the room with charm, he was all intensity, a wall of quiet strength that made my stomach flip whenever he was near. I’d catch myself noticing the way his broad shoulders filled out his kit, the flex of his forearms when he’d grip the table during a session. And he’d notice me noticing, his lips twitching into that rare, almost-smirk that felt like a secret between us. We never spoke about it, but the air had been humming with it for weeks, unspoken, electric, dangerous.

Today, the training ground was winding down, the late afternoon light slanting through the windows. I was tidying up when the door swung open, and there he was, Robin, still in his sweat-soaked kit, his dark hair a damp mess from the session. He moved like he always did, deliberate and powerful, his 6’2” frame dominating the space. He rubbed the back of his thigh, a faint wince crossing his sharp features.

“Hamstring’s acting up,” he said, his voice low, gravelly from shouting drills. “Can you take a look?”

I nodded, gesturing to the table. “Hop up. Let’s see what’s going on.” My tone was casual, professional, but my pulse betrayed me, ticking faster as he settled onto the padded surface. His kit clung to him, outlining the hard lines of his body, broad chest, tapered waist, thighs thick with muscle. I’d seen him like this dozens of times, but today it hit different, the tension we’d been dancing around coiling tighter.

I started with the basics, my hands gliding over his hamstring, pressing into the taut muscle to find the source of the stiffness. His skin was warm, radiating heat from the workout, and I could feel every subtle shift as he adjusted under my touch. He was quiet at first, just watching me, but his breathing changed, deeper, a little uneven, when my fingers worked higher, near the edge of his shorts. A low sound slipped from him, not quite a groan, and my eyes flicked up to meet his. He didn’t look away, and that steady, burning gaze made my throat go dry.

“Been feeling this for a while?” I asked, trying to keep it light, but my voice came out softer than I meant.

“On and off,” he said, his tone clipped, like he was distracted. “You’d know if you paid attention.” I paused, hands still on his leg, caught off guard. “I pay attention to everyone.”

“Not like you do with Roro,” he shot back, quieter now, but there was an edge to it, something raw that made my stomach twist. He shifted, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes narrowing slightly. “He’s always in here, laughing with you. What’s that about?”

The air shifted, heavy with the weight of what he wasn’t saying. I straightened, brushing my hands on my pants, buying time. “Roro’s been there since I started. He’s easy to talk to, keeps things light. We’re friends.”

“Friends,” he echoed, the word sounding bitter on his tongue. He swung his legs off the table and stood, closing the distance between us in one fluid step. Up close, he was overwhelming, tall, solid, the scent of sweat and grass clinging to him. “I see how you are with him. The way you smile, the way you lean in when he talks. You don’t do that with me.”

My breath hitched, the accusation hanging there. “Robin, it’s nothi-”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing,” he cut in, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. He was close now, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him, see the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. “I’ve been watching you for months. Every time I’m in here, I’m waiting for you to look at me like that, just once. And you don’t.”

I swallowed, my heart hammering. “You think I don’t see you?”

“I think you see him more,” he said, his jaw tight, his hands flexing at his sides like he was fighting to keep them still. “I’m out there busting my ass, taking hits, and all I can think about is whether you’re in here laughing with him. Do you know how that feels? To want,” he stopped, exhaling sharply, his eyes searching mine. “To want you to notice me the way I notice you?”

The confession hit me like a punch, stripping away the walls we’d both kept up. I stepped closer, drawn in despite myself, my voice barely steady. “I notice you, Robin. More than you think. You’re not Roro, you’re different. Quiet, intense. It’s hard to look away.”

His breath caught, and for a second, we just stood there, the space between us crackling. “Then why don’t you?” he asked, softer now, almost pleading. “Why don’t you let me in?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” I admitted, my hands itching to reach for him. “You’re always so… controlled. I thought-”

“I’m not controlled around you,” he said, stepping in until his chest brushed mine, his voice rough with need. “Not anymore.” His hand hovered near my cheek, hesitating, then settled there, his thumb brushing my skin with a tenderness that didn’t match the fire in his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t feel this.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, and that was it, the dam broke. His lips crashed into mine, not tentative or slow, but hungry, desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long. I grabbed his shoulders, fingers digging into the damp fabric of his kit as he pulled me against him, his hands sliding to my waist, gripping hard. The kiss was messy, all heat and teeth, his stubble scraping my skin as he tilted my head back, deepening it. He pressed me against the table, his body a solid wall of muscle, every inch of him trembling with want.

I tugged at his hair, earning a low groan that vibrated through me, and he retaliated by nipping my bottom lip, his hands roaming up my back, possessive and sure. The room spun, the sterile shelves, the hum of the air conditioning, all of it drowned out by the thud of his heartbeat against mine, the taste of salt and longing on his tongue. He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against mine, his voice a wrecked murmur. “You’re mine now, yeah? Not his." I chuckled "I was never his"

His mouth found mine again, fiercer this time, a hungry edge to every kiss as he pressed himself closer, the table digging into my hips. His hands slid under my shirt, rough palms grazing the bare skin of my waist, sending a jolt of heat straight through me. I arched into him, my nails scraping down his back over the damp kit, feeling the flex of muscle beneath. He groaned into my mouth, the sound raw and needy, and shifted his grip, lifting me just enough to perch me on the edge of the table.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he rasped, his lips trailing down my neck, hot and wet, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear. His hands roamed higher, thumbs brushing the underside of my ribs, teasing the line of my bra as he pressed his hips against mine, the hard length of him unmistakable through his shorts. I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him tighter, and he rewarded me with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that made my head tip back.

“Robin,” I breathed, barely coherent, my hands fisting in his hair as he sucked a mark into my collarbone, his stubble burning against my skin. He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark and wild, his chest heaving.

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice thick with want, one hand sliding down to grip my thigh, fingers digging in as he rocked against me once more, the friction dizzying. “Say my name.” His other hand yanked my shirt up higher, exposing my stomach, and he dipped his head, his tongue tracing a hot, wet line just above my waistband. I moaned, louder than I meant to, and he smirked against my skin, his teeth nipping at the edge before he straightened, pinning me with that feral stare.

“Robin,” I gasped, my voice breaking as he ground himself harder against me, the thin fabric of his shorts doing nothing to hide how much he wanted this—wanted me. His hand slipped under my thigh, hitching it higher, opening me up to him as he pressed himself flush, the pressure maddening. “Fuck, please-”

“That’s it,” he growled, cutting me off with a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, messy and desperate. He shoved my shirt up completely, tugging it over my head in one rough motion, and his hands were on me instantly—cupping, squeezing, thumbs brushing over the lace of my bra until I whimpered into his mouth. His hips snapped forward again, harder, and I could feel every inch of him, thick and insistent, the heat pooling low in my core as he murmured against my lips, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this".”

He dragged his mouth down my chest, kissing and biting a path over the swell of my breasts, his stubble leaving a delicious sting. One hand slid between us, fingers teasing the waistband of my pants, dipping just inside, testing, while the other pinned my hip to the table, keeping me exactly where he wanted me. “Tell me you want this,” he said, his voice a low rumble, his breath hot against my skin as he rocked into me again, slow and torturous. “Tell me, or I stop right now.”

"I want this".

[leclercloml]

Rain Soaked Sparks | PG8

Pairing: Pedri González x f!reader

Genre: oneshot

Warnings: very light smut

Summary: Pedri’s been relentless, training in his Barcelona kit under a darkening sky—until the rain hits. Soaked and unstoppable, he steps inside, dripping with more than just water. A mischievous grin, a heated touch, and suddenly the storm outside isn’t the only thing brewing

The backyard was alive with the sound of Pedri’s cleats cutting through the grass, his Barcelona kit clinging to his frame as he moved with effortless precision. He’d been training for hours, dribbling the ball with that signature focus, his lean muscles flexing under the late afternoon sun. I watched from the livingroom, captivated, until the sky darkened and fat raindrops began to fall. Most would’ve stopped, but not Pedri, he kept going, a determined glint in his eye as the downpour soaked him through.

The air was thick with the scent of rain as Pedri finally pushed open the backyard door of the house that led straight to living room, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. His kit hugged his body now, drenched and outlining every curve of muscle. He turned to me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, his dark eyes glinting with something irresistible.

“Caught me off guard,” he said, his voice smooth and warm, shaking the water from his curls as he stepped closer. The cool droplets on his skin glistened in the soft light, and I couldn’t help but reach out, brushing a bead of rain from his cheek.

“Looks good on you,” I teased, my fingers lingering. His grin widened, and in one fluid motion, he caught my wrist, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body contrasted with the chill of his wet clothes, igniting a spark that raced through me.

“Careful,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, sending a jolt down my spine. “I’m not done playing yet.” His kiss came fast and fierce, tasting of rain and desire, his hands sliding up my back as the storm outside faded into a distant hum, His free hand slid to my waist, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp softly, a hungry edge to it that stole the air from my lungs. His hands roamed up my back, confident and deliberate, tracing the curve of my spine as he pressed me closer, the dampness of his kit soaking into my shirt. Thunder rumbled outside, but it was nothing compared to the storm building between us, the world fading into a distant hum of rain and heat.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and searching, a smirk tugging at his lips as he caught his breath. “Te necesito” (I need you) he murmured, his voice husky, before leaning in again, slower this time, savoring every second as his fingers tangled in my hair.

The rain pounded harder against the windows now, a relentless rhythm that matched the pulse racing under my skin. Pedri’s hands slid lower, resting at the small of my back as he tilted his head, studying me with that same playful intensity he’d had on the field. “Think you can keep up cariño?” he asked, his tone daring, a challenge wrapped in velvet. "Can you?" I replied raising my brows. His lips hovered over mine again, close enough to feel but not quite touching, leaving me hanging on the edge of whatever came next