#;;forte-fluff

[paucubarsisimp]

say it back

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

summary: in which you prank your boyfriend by not saying “i love you” back

warnings: suggestive stuff!

a/n: for my bae, @hollyf1 <33 i hope you like it gorgeous x

୨ৎ pablo gavi

it was late afternoon in barcelona, golden light slipping through the windows, warming up the little apartment you and pablo shared. he was stretched out on the couch, head resting on your thighs, one hand tracing lazy circles on your knee, the other scrolling through his phone.

out of nowhere, with no warning, he looked up at you and said it. quiet, but sure.

“te quiero.”

you heard it. of course you did. but today? you felt like causing just a little chaos.

so you didn’t say it back.

you just kept playing with his hair, eyes on the tv, like he hadn’t said anything at all.

he blinked. “¿qué?”

you hummed. “hmm?”

“i just told you i love you,” he said, already sitting up a little. “you always say it back.”

you gave him a tiny smile. “mhm.”

he stared at you like you’d just ended your entire relationship. “mhm? are you messing with me?”

you shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek.

“nah, no. don’t do this to me right now.” he sat up fully now, dramatic as ever. “you’re mad at me. i knew it. is it the thing i said this morning? because i didn’t mean it like that—”

“pablo—”

“no, wait. be honest. what did i do? i’ll fix it.”

you burst into laughter, finally cracking. “oh my god, i’m joking.”

he froze. “what?”

“i was messing with you.”

he looked at you, dead serious. “you nearly gave me a heart attack. my soul left my body.”

you were still laughing as he flopped back onto the couch, groaning like the world had ended. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m passionate,” he muttered, pulling you down with him. “and you’re evil. beautiful, but evil.”

you kissed his cheek. “i love you.”

he huffed. “too late. damage is done.”

“pablito.”

“nope.”

you rolled your eyes, then leaned in, whispering, “te amo, mi vida.”

he peeked up at you, already melting a little. “okay fine. i forgive you.”

“wow. how generous.”

he smirked. “but i am getting revenge. just so you know.”

you raised an eyebrow. “should i be scared?”

he nodded. “terrified.”

but he kissed you right after, so you figured you could survive whatever chaos he was planning.

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୨ৎ pedri

pedri was lying next to you, half-asleep, hoodie sleeves pushed up, arm slung around your waist like he had no plans to let go anytime soon. his face was buried in the pillow, voice muffled and lazy when he said it.

“te quiero.”

you heard it, and yeah… it made your heart do that little thing it always did when he said that. but today? today you felt like messing with him.

so you didn’t say it back.

you just hummed softly and kept scrolling on your phone.

he lifted his head slightly. “¿lo escuchaste?”

you smiled without looking at him. “mmhm.”

a pause.

“…and?”

“and what?”

he blinked slowly, sitting up just a little, eyebrows knitting together in the way they always did when he was confused but trying not to overthink. “i just said i love you.”

you glanced at him. “oh. gracias.”

he stared at you. silent. blinked again. “gracias?”

you bit the inside of your cheek, staying calm. “yeah.”

he didn’t move. just looked at you for a long second like he was trying to figure out if this was a prank or if his heart had actually just been broken in real time.

“wait, are you mad at me?” he asked, voice lower now, more serious. “did i say something wrong?”

you couldn’t hold the laughter in anymore — you turned to him, grinning. “pedri. baby. i’m kidding.”

he narrowed his eyes at you, lips pressed together like he was trying not to smile. “that’s not funny.”

“it was a little funny.”

“my chest actually hurt,” he said, laying back down dramatically. “i thought we were over.”

you laughed, pulling him closer again. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m in love, not dramatic.”

you kissed his cheek. “i love you.”

he pretended to ignore you.

“pedri…”

nothing.

you kissed his jaw. “mi amor…”

he sighed like he was giving in. “now you say it?”

“i was always gonna say it.”

“still hurt,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck. “wounded forever.”

“you’ll live.”

“barely.”

you smiled, running your fingers through his curls. “te quiero, pedri.”

“yeah, yeah,” he said, voice sleepy again. “we’ll see if you’re laughing when i get you back.”

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୨ৎ ferran torres

you and ferran were lounging on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background, though neither of you were really paying much attention to it. his arm was casually draped over the back of the couch, fingers brushing against your shoulder as you scrolled through your phone.

out of nowhere, ferran turned his head toward you with that familiar, teasing smirk.

“te quiero,” he said, as if it was just a casual comment, but the way he said it made it feel a little more like a challenge.

you didn’t answer right away. you kept scrolling, pretending not to notice his expectant gaze.

he raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “¿me escuchaste?”

you looked at him briefly and shrugged, still not making it easy. “mhm.”

ferran tilted his head, clearly not impressed. “just ‘mhm’? that’s all i get?”

you smirked and finally put your phone down, turning to face him. “yeah, why?”

his grin widened, a little mischievous now. “you’re not gonna say it back?”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms casually. “what if i don’t?”

he leaned in closer, as if he was going to take you seriously, but the playful glint in his eyes said otherwise. “you really wanna do that, princesa?”

you couldn’t help but smile at his teasing tone. “maybe i do.”

ferran leaned back, clearly enjoying this little game. “well, i’m not letting you get away with that.”

he slid his hand over to gently tap your leg, like a reminder that he was still there, still waiting for that response.

“come on,” he said, voice light but with that confident edge. “i say i love you, and you’re just gonna leave me hanging?”

you chuckled and shrugged. “maybe i like leaving you hanging.”

he laughed, a deep, amused sound, then leaned in just a little closer, making sure you felt his presence. “i’m patient, princesa. but not that patient.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his persistence. “you think i’m gonna say it just because you’re being dramatic?”

he grinned, giving you that cocky look. “oh, i know you will. it’s just a matter of when.”

with that, you finally gave in, shaking your head with a smile. “te quiero.”

ferran’s smile softened, but there was still that playful spark in his eyes. “took you long enough,” he said, leaning back comfortably, still keeping his arm around you.

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling too. “you’re lucky i said it at all.”

“just wait till i get you back.”

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୨ৎ pau cubarsi

you and pau were sitting on the couch at his apartment, a movie playing in the background, though neither of you were really paying attention to it. pau was lying on his back, his head resting on your lap, scrolling through his phone while you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair.

the atmosphere was calm, comfortable. you had been dating for a while now, and things felt easy with pau — natural. but, of course, you couldn’t resist having a little fun.

after a few moments of silence, pau looked up at you, his eyes soft. "te quiero," he said quietly, his voice warm.

you felt a small smile tug at your lips as you met his gaze, but instead of immediately replying, you gave him a mischievous look.

he waited for a moment, clearly expecting you to say it back. you could tell he was being patient, that little glint of expectation in his eyes, but you decided to tease him a bit.

you simply nodded, a soft "mhm" escaping your lips.

pau blinked a couple of times, as if he wasn’t sure if he had heard you correctly. he straightened up slightly, looking at you with confusion. "what?"

you kept your gaze cool and nonchalant, pretending you hadn’t noticed his reaction. "i said 'mhm'," you replied casually.

he let out a small laugh, though you could see the playful frustration creeping into his expression. "no, no, no. i said te quiero, and you're supposed to say it back."

you shrugged, still pretending you were clueless. "i did say it back."

"uh-uh," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "that’s not how it works, princesa. you have to say it properly."

you leaned back into the couch, making sure to keep a neutral face. "why? i already said it… kinda."

pau’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could tell he was trying to hold back his laughter, but his patience was starting to wear thin. "come on, stop playing with me."

you let the silence drag on for a bit longer, enjoying how much it was getting to him. he shifted closer, putting his hand on your leg, eyes narrowing playfully.

"you know you want to say it back," he said with a smirk.

you met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "oh, do i?"

he nodded, clearly confident in his charm. "i know you do."

you smiled sweetly but didn’t say a word. instead, you let your fingers gently tap his arm, pretending you hadn’t noticed how close he was getting.

pau exhaled dramatically, letting out a small, exaggerated groan. "this is torture, you know that?"

you finally couldn’t hold it anymore. your smile broke out into a grin, and you leaned in closer to him, your face softening as you whispered, "te quiero," just as he was about to say something else.

he paused, his whole demeanor shifting. a smile slowly spread across his face, and he shook his head, chuckling.

"te quiero, huh?" pau said with a playful grin. "took you long enough."

you couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you. "you were starting to get dramatic," you teased, gently poking his side.

pau grinned wider, his hand resting on your waist as he pulled you closer. "i knew you’d say it eventually. but next time, don’t make me wait so long."

you laughed again, wrapping your arms around him. "i’ll make sure not to."

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୨ৎ hector fort

you and héctor were on the couch, the day winding down as you both relaxed after a long, busy week. he was lounging beside you, his arm casually draped over your shoulders while you fiddled with your phone, scrolling through random stuff. it was quiet, but not in an awkward way — just in the easy, comfortable silence you shared.

out of nowhere, héctor’s voice broke the stillness, calm but with a little something playful in his tone. "te quiero."

you didn’t immediately respond. instead, you kept your eyes glued to your phone, pretending like you didn’t even hear him.

he waited for a moment, clearly expecting a reply. when you didn’t say anything, he raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "¿no vas a decir nada?" he asked, sounding a bit more teasing now.

you shrugged without looking up. "what do you mean? i heard you."

"uh-huh," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "you heard me, but didn’t feel like saying it back, huh?"

you kept scrolling, acting like it was no big deal, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he was having fun with this. "maybe i just didn’t feel like it," you said casually, as though it was no big deal.

"oh, so that’s how it is?" he leaned in slightly, his tone playful but with a hint of challenge. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"

you shot him a quick glance, trying to keep your face neutral, but his smile was contagious. "maybe."

he leaned back into the couch, pretending to think for a moment, but you could see the smirk tugging at his lips. "you know, i’ve been pretty patient with you," he said, his voice low and teasing. "but if you’re gonna leave me hanging, i might just have to do something about it."

you raised an eyebrow, still pretending to be uninterested. "like what?"

"oh, i don’t know," he shrugged dramatically, "maybe i’ll just have to keep repeating it until you can’t stand it anymore. or maybe i’ll just—"

"te quiero," you cut him off, finally giving in with a teasing smile, "happy now?"

his eyes lit up, a triumphant grin crossing his face. "finally! i was starting to wonder if i was gonna have to resort to more drastic measures," he teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "but now i know you really do love me."

you couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. "you’re ridiculous."

"you know you love me," he said confidently, his hand gently resting on your waist. "next time, don’t make me wait so long."

you smiled, enjoying how easily he could shift from teasing to serious in an instant. "fine, fine. i’ll be quicker next time."

"that’s all i ask," he replied, pulling you closer, his voice warm and content. "but if you think you can get away with not saying it back again, we’ll see how long you can hold out next time."

you chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. "i’ll keep that in mind."

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୨ৎ alejandro balde

you and alejandro were lounging on the couch in his apartment, both of you winding down after a long day. the tv was on, but neither of you were really paying attention to it. he was lying next to you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders, his head resting against yours.

out of nowhere, he turned to you, his voice light and a little teasing. "te quiero."

you looked up from your phone, raising an eyebrow at him. you didn’t say anything right away, though. instead, you just smiled to yourself and kept scrolling.

alejandro’s grin faltered for a second, clearly expecting a quicker response. "¿qué pasa? no me vas a decir nada?" he asked, his tone already playfully accusing.

you shrugged, acting casual. "i did hear you."

"mhm, but you didn’t say it back," he said, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. you could see the challenge in his eyes. "what’s going on? you’re making me wait?"

you could feel the playful tension rising as he waited for your reply. you looked at him with a teasing smile. "maybe i’m just thinking about it."

alejandro leaned in a little, his lips pulling into a smirk. "thinking about it, huh?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "i see how it is. you just wanna leave me hanging?"

you let the silence stretch on for a moment longer, not replying immediately, letting him get more curious.

he shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you, his eyes narrowing just a bit. "you’re not gonna say it back, are you?" he asked, sounding more amused than frustrated.

"maybe not," you said with a shrug, still not giving him the satisfaction of a full reply.

alejandro let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be wounded. "ouch, that hurts," he said, though there was no mistaking the teasing tone in his voice. "but i’ll give you one more chance."

you chuckled at how much he was playing it up, finally putting your phone down and meeting his gaze. "why should i say it back?" you asked with a sly smile.

he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more playful, almost smug tone. "because you know you love me," he said, the smirk on his lips growing wider. "and i’m pretty sure you don’t want to make me beg."

you rolled your eyes, but you could already feel yourself breaking. "fine," you said, barely holding back your laughter. "te quiero."

alejandro immediately flashed a grin, his posture relaxing as he pulled you close. "finally," he said, his voice full of satisfaction. "was that so hard?"

"you’re ridiculous," you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder.

he laughed too, wrapping his arm around you. "hey, it’s your fault for making me wait. i’m just making sure you know how much i like hearing it."

you smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment. "next time, i won’t make you wait."

"i’m counting on it," he said with a grin, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "but don’t think you can get away with not saying it next time."

you chuckled, enjoying how playful he was. "we’ll see."

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୨ৎ lamine yamal

the apartment smelled like garlic and something good simmering. music played low from the speaker — something chill, maybe feid or bad bunny, one of lam’s go-tos. you were at the stove, focused on stirring the pasta sauce, and behind you, lamine leaned against the counter with that lazy little smirk of his.

he was watching you like he always did when he was in that soft mood — hoodie on, curls a bit messy, probably still thinking about training but pretending like he wasn’t.

“i love you,” he said, like it was just another thing to throw into the air. casual. natural.

you smiled a little to yourself, but didn’t say it back.

there was a pause.

“wait… did you hear me?”

“hmm?” you asked, pretending to be super focused on the sauce.

“i said i love you.”

you glanced over your shoulder, gave him a soft smile, and just said, “oh yeah. i heard you.”

he blinked. “so say it back.”

you shrugged, turning off the stove. “no need. i already know.”

he stared at you, eyes wide like you’d just told him you hated football. “nah… no, no, no. don’t play like that.”

you walked past him, brushing his arm, trying to hold in your laugh. “i’m not playing.”

he followed you into the living room immediately, hands in the air. “so that’s it? you’re not gonna say it back? after everything we’ve been through?”

you flopped onto the couch, cool as ever. “you’ll survive, superstar.”

“this is emotional damage,” he muttered, sitting down next to you like his whole world just ended. “i scored two goals last week. i deserve better.”

“you want a trophy or something?”

“no. i want my te amo back.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. he was pouting now, head thrown back on the cushion, being 100% dramatic.

“fine,” you whispered, leaning close. “i love you.”

he peeked at you with one eye. “you’re only saying it ‘cause you felt bad.”

“maybe.”

“hm. fake.”

you kissed his cheek. “you still smiled, though.”

he rolled his eyes, pulling you onto his lap like he couldn’t stay mad if he tried. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

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୨ৎ marc bernal

the apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the washing machine and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl. you were both sitting on the floor — something you did often. no couch, no noise. just the two of you, sharing cereal and quiet.

marc had a blanket thrown over his shoulders like some kind of sleepy king. curls a little messy, eyes still heavy from his nap. he was always like this after long days — quiet, but not tired of you. never tired of you.

he looked up at you suddenly, like something just came to mind.

“t’estimo,” he said softly, voice low.

you glanced over and smiled, but didn’t say it back. just kept eating, like you didn’t notice.

he blinked. “hey.”

“hm?” you didn’t meet his eyes.

“did you hear what i said?”

“yeah,” you said, cool as ever.

he tilted his head, trying to read your face. “and?”

you wiped a bit of milk from your lip with your sleeve. “and nothing.”

“nothing?” he repeated, a small laugh slipping out. “you’re really not gonna say it back?”

you shrugged. “maybe you’ve heard it enough.”

he didn’t say anything for a second. just looked at you with those warm, steady eyes. the ones that didn’t rush anything. he picked at the edge of the blanket.

“you always say it back.”

you looked over at him, pretending to be serious. “maybe i’m starting a new trend.”

he smiled, slow and crooked. “you’re not serious.”

you didn’t answer — just leaned your head against the wall and looked away dramatically, like some indie film character.

he scooted closer, bowl in hand, now clearly onto you. “you’re messing with me.”

“maybe.”

he laughed again, but there was something soft behind it. “i was starting to think i did something wrong.”

you finally turned toward him, kissed his shoulder lightly, and whispered, “i love you, bernal.”

he gave you a look. one of those quiet little grins that made your chest feel stupidly warm. “you forgot something.”

“what?”

“saying it when i say it. not five minutes later.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “you’ll live.”

he leaned in, forehead resting against yours. “barely.”

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

[halfwayhearted]

Can you do one story where Hector Fort its SUPER clingy w his gf and when they're in the middle of a making out he literally can't stop kissing and saying how much he loves her

Kiss Me — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which he just can’t get enough of you.

Word Count: 355+

Disclaimer/s — Hi, kissing of course, anddd that’s it I think!

A/N: This is short :/ but it’s been marinating in the requests for quite a bit sooo! + I stared at my screen blankly writing this

Air, you mused to yourself. You guys needed air.

Your hands fall from his hair—his curls—and drop to his shoulders before you pull back, utterly breathless. “Wait, you’re actually trying to kill me.” You say, catching a much-needed breath.

“You know I’m not,” he huffs.

“Yeah, well,” a pause—the silence broken only by the sound of both your quickening breaths. “Could’ve fooled me. Or anyone, for that matter.”

Héctor narrows his eyes at you. His hand moves from your hip to your jaw, thumb hovering over your bottom lip. “Never fail to always be the dramatic one, do you.” His finger traces your lip gently. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, gaze drifting away. You feel your face heat at his words.

“Can I kiss you now?”

Oh, he’s so going to be the death of you.

When you don’t reply, he leans forward, a whisper of a kiss landing on your shoulder blade. Slowly, his kisses trace a path up your neck, until he reaches your jawline. “Can I?” Héctor questions.

“You’re sickening,” you grumble, but the words are lost as you capture his lips. He smiles into the kiss, amused by your impulsiveness. Oh, okay.

And as if on instinct, his grip returns to your hip, his thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin where your shirt doesn’t quite reach your pants.

You should’ve told him to catch his breath with you, especially when he tilted his head back.

He just had to be impatient.

“I,” Héctor starts, trailing off to peck you on the lips before pulling back. “Love you. I love you.”

A smile graces your lips. “I love you.”

That’s when he groans, pulling you in for another one. God, when did he become so needy? He doesn’t care; he’s got you. When does he not?

“Héctor,” you manage to murmur. “Breathe. You’re acting like you won’t see me for months.”

“I love you.”

Uh-huh. He’s a goner. “So you’ve said.”

All he does is roll his eyes, but does as you order. Breathe. Even if he’s back to pecking at your lips within seconds. You’d have to deal. Unfortunately.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @levidazai + @ferrarifudds + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ��ৎ

[strawberryblue-blog]

Can you do one where hector is playing video game and reader get bored and start leaving kisses and hickeys on his neck, then he got turned on and just stop playing and they do a rough makeout session

Attention —Hector Fort.

summary: This imagine is a mix of the two requests above.

warnings: YES. +18. smut, hector being dom, unprotected sex, fingering, etc.

words count: +2.3k

You are sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently with your legs crossed and the phone in your hand. You had been sitting here for at least twenty minutes after your shower, waiting for some attention from Hector. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to sigh too loudly, though you know he wouldn't notice. He's there, just a meter away from you, but he seems farther away than ever, slumped in his gamer chair, the giant headphones covering his ears like a shield against the outside world.

"Go, go, cover me!" he shouts and the microphone in front of his mouth vibrates with every word.

The screen flashes with lights of explosions and gunfire. The sound is deafening but not as deafening as his laughter when one of his friends says something in voice chat.

You lean toward him a little, just enough to touch the arm of the chair with your fingers.

"Love?" you say in a soft, almost shy tone.

Nothing-not even a flicker.

You give the chair a little nudge, subtle enough not to seem annoyed. He leans forward, as if you're reinforcing his concentration on the game rather than interrupting it.

"Hector?" you repeat, this time a little louder.

Nothing. You snort starting to bite your lip. You don't want to interrupt him but you want your damn boyfriend. You walk over to his spot and stare at him, hoping that somehow he senses your presence. But he doesn't.

Another victory cry erupts from his microphone and he pumps a fist in the air like he's celebrating a World Cup goal.

You lean forward and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. For a moment, he looks like he's going to react, he turns his head slightly but only to adjust his headphones with a small, disinterested smile.

Oh no. He didn't just ignore you with that smile.

You squint your eyes in annoyance. Your hands go to your waist and you scoot the chair with your foot, pushing him away. Hector barely looks up in confusion, you hear Gavi call him on the headset and you snort, crossing your arms. He's been playing for five hours since the afternoon, he barely went to lunch with you and had already gone back to playing at the boys' request. You have to admit that at least he doesn't do it every day, it's once in a while. But completely ignorant? Oh no. You won't let him off that easy.

He settles back in, not even caring, when you hear how Pedri calls him too when he's not paying attention. Damn kids. Don't they have anything else to do with their lives?

Then, an idea flashes in your head like a light bulb.

You scoot your chair back a bit and stand in front of the screen, Hector dodges you with his head as he screams for help in the game. You sit on his lap sideways, holding his shoulders and leaving one hand to stroke his head. Hector continues to watch the screen as he dodges your body, each time you try to get his attention.

"I'll finish soon, baby" he quickly indicates.

You snort at his words. How long exactly? Half an hour? One? Two? Damn it. You're sick of waiting for him. You want to go to bed with him, you want to hug him, talk to him or just look at him.

You sink your head into his neck and feel the helplessness in your body. Your lips move down his neck, slow and wet, you begin to kiss his skin as you move closer to him. Hector shuts up from the talk he was having with his friends and you hear him swallowing saliva.

You're still sucking on his neck when he places a hand on your waist, as a warning. But you don't care. Your tongue wanders along his neck and jaw as you feel your nipples harden against his shirt. When you have his attention, you kiss him on the mouth, dirty and needy, one of your hands stroking his crotch just barely, giving it a light squeeze. Hector quickly wraps his arms around your waist, squeezing you with his fingers, and gasps into your mouth. You hear the boys call out to him as gunshots ring out in the video game. They are about to lose.

The kiss is fiery and hot but when you have his full attention and when you know he's about to lose the video game, you get up from the chair and pull away.

Hector's eyes watch you leave and he quickly removes his headphones, despite the shouts of his friends as they chastise him for his distraction.

"What the fuck?" he asks getting up from the chair with a jump.

You ignore him. You walk over to the bed and before the sheets, ready to sleep.

"Did you just make me lose just to ignore me?" he asks opening his hands.

You get into bed and lie down on the bed, not answering him. You listen as he snorts as he turns off the computer. Bingo. You want to laugh but you just pretend to be tired. Now he'll come to bed.

With shuffling feet, he approaches the bed and with one hand, grabs your heel. With his strength he drags you onto the bed and stands over you, taking your attention.

"You want my attention, baby?" he whispers as his body is over yours. You feel his erection in your lower belly but you won't give in so easily.

"Really? I've been trying to get you to look at me for an hour" you say facing him with your hands on his chest as if holding him back. "You've been in that chair all day, Hector, you don't even remember me" you snatch.

He smiles, that idiotic smile that always makes you fall for his charm.

"Sorry, I didn't realize. Did you want something, baby?" his tone of voice sounds more teasing.

"Yes" you say, trying to remain serious, even though you're already starting to get annoyed. "I want you to turn that thing off and fuck me."

The words come out without you even noticing. You say it with such certainty and desperation that it sounds unreal coming out of your mouth. Hector bites down on his lip and his eyes are tinted a terrifying dark. His cock continues to prod at your belly and heat begins to course through your crotch. Damn. You feel his chest brush against your swollen nipples and Hector lowers his gaze to them.

"Okay, now you have my attention" he murmurs hoarsely as one of his legs slips between yours.

You gasp as his knee brushes against your crotch. He pushes a little and you pull your head back as you feel the pleasure begin to grow.

"Is that what you want?" he asks as one of his hands reaches inside your shirt and encircles your breast.

Your body alerts sound all at once as he takes your nipple between his fingers and his leg continues to put pressure on that area. You stir uncomfortably, trying to endure the whirlwind of emotions.

"Yes damn it. I've been waiting for you for hours"

Your hands cup his face and you kiss him, missing the feel of his sweet lips. Hector reciprocates as you melt into a hot kiss like the one a moment ago but this time much deeper. His hands caress you all over your body, yours tangle around his wavy neck, pulling them as his leg follows at your center. You moan in wonder.

He pulls away from your mouth when you growl at the lack of his lips but Hector smiles impishly. The movement of ends and you feel an emptiness in your chest and pussy. He reaches up a little to pull down your panties in one motion as he grabs your shirt and pulls it off your body, exposing it to him.

You now have his full attention and you can see it by the way he looks at you naked, how his erection keeps growing, how his eyes darkened, how his expressions changed.

"You have my attention, baby" he whispers before getting back on top of you.

You grab him by the face to kiss him again but Hector pulls away. Instead, he turns his face to your breasts and takes one with his mouth. You moan with a squeal as you also feel his fingers enter your soft spot. He caresses your thigh first, then inside it and finally outlines your slit.

You gasp grabbing at his hair again as his lips suck your nipple so hard you cry out. His other free hand, squeezes your remaining breast and you moan as you sink into the wave of pleasure.

Every pore of your body goes wild as he gropes your wet hole, barely caresses your clit and already he wants you screaming. He caresses it again, slow and torturous, while his lips continue to kiss your breasts.

He opens your vaginal lips and inserts two fingers slowly and gropingly, as if preparing you. He leaves them there for a few seconds, while your walls clench against his fingers and you moan in desperation. You hate him playing with you but you feel you deserve it a little. Or maybe you need it.

Hector's mouth keeps biting your nipples and holding your other breast so well you feel like you'll finish without even starting. It's hell.

"Did you want my fucking attention, baby?" he whispers when his face is millimeters from yours.

You can barely open your eyes to see him, you feel that with the slightest movement you will come and you're not ready yet. So strong is the tension, the pressure, the temptation.

"Hector" you gasp in an agonized whisper. He smiles sideways.

Your fingers beg caressing the beginning of his hair at the nape of his soft neck, as if asking him for a favor.

"I don't like to lose, you know that?" he asks again. Her eyes spit fire as she speaks to you.

"I just wanted to..." you try to say but fall silent as he begins to move his fingers inside you.

In and out. In and out, so slow, it burns you inside. You bite your lip trying to hold the pressure, your nipples start to ache from the need to be touched, your belly roars for more.

"What did you want, baby?" he insists as his eyes dart to your mouth.

"You, Hector!" you squeal in desperation. "I wanted you, damn it!"

Then his fingers curl inside you and he starts fucking you with his fingers fast. In a thrust in and out that takes you over the top of the mountain. You arch your back leaving him the perfect access for Hector to take your nipples again, beginning to suck and bite them vehemently. The double pleasure begins to build up in your belly and you need to release but you know Hector won't give it to you that easy.

His free hand hits your breast and you squeal as you feel one more finger join his other two fingers. You feel like he will break you at any moment and you are really looking forward to it as you moan and beg for him to keep it up. Hector is a good lover and he does just that, fucking you so hard with his hand and sucking on your breasts. This is paradise. Never before have you been able to feel this exquisite combination of pleasure. The way his hot fingers penetrate you non-stop, your walls wet and clinging to his skin, while your nipples ache from so much stimulation but it's such a pleasurable ache that you just want him to keep sucking and biting you. It's dirty and intimate at the same time. You love him.

All his attention is on you as his thumb adds to your clit and gently caresses it and you can't think of anything but the whirlwind of pleasure to come. He fucks you all over so right.

You hold onto the back of his neck as the pleasure begins to burn in your belly, your legs tremble as your moans are already desperate cries. The orgasm hits you in an instant but it seems like an infinite oasis in your body. His mouth never left your breasts, his movements are just as sudden. He continues to fuck you on your spot, as you stir in place but Hector settles you back down. Your legs burn and you feel the heat return to suffocating as the orgasm hits you like never before. For a moment you feel your soul leave your body and consciousness disappears for a second. Two orgasms. Damn.

Your walls clench your fingers as he stops them little by little, lowering the intensity. You feel so full with his fingers inside, your heart leaping with excitement. Your breasts ache from the sensitivity, not to mention your pussy that feels overstimulated at the slightest touch. Hector made a mess of you.

"Hector..." your voice comes out as a plea, this time, for him to stop.

He hears you and his fingers leave your dripping pussy, making you bristle as you feel the cold, empty nothingness. Your body is sweaty and your breathing barely begins to regulate.

Hector rises from the bed and removes his shirt, pulling down his pants with his boxer shorts. His erect cock jumps out of his underwear and you swallow saliva as he strokes the tip a little himself.

"Now that you have my attention, you'll have to take me, baby" he murmurs as they position themselves on top of you.

You smile exhaustedly. There's nothing more you'd want right now than his cock splitting you. But you know it will hurt, today, tomorrow and maybe for days to come. But you wanted this as much as he did. You had provoked him.

Your hands embrace his shoulders as he positions himself on your body, wrapping your legs around him. His cock strokes your wet lips, seeking some of your hot, cool juices. Your whole body gets a surge of electricity. You won't be able to take this. He will break you. Literally. But you're willing to do it.

[turn3tifosi]

operation cookie heist

pedri x gf!reader, pau cubarsi x platonic!reader, lamine yamal x platonic!reader, héctor fort x platonic!reader

your son brings home friends

Pedri should have known something was up when he overheard Pau whispering to Héctor Fort like a kid plotting a heist.

“No, seriously,” Pau insisted, voice low but not low enough. “Her cookies are nutritionist-approved. Do you know how rare that is? And she gives them to me. For free.”

Héctor’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me there’s a secret loophole to Barça’s diet plan?”

Pedri’s blood ran cold.

Your phone rings just as you’re settling into the couch.

“Mi vida,” Pedri’s voice is suspiciously sweet. “We haven’t gone on a date in a while, have we?”

You squint. “Pedri, we literally had dinner together last night.”

“Exactly. Too long.” He’s already talking faster. “I’m picking you up in twenty. Wear something cute.”

You don’t even get to question him before he hangs up.

Pau’s call comes exactly seven minutes later.

“Hey,” he says, voice already preemptively pouting. “So, hypothetically… if I, Héctor, and maybe Lamine showed up at your place tonight… would you maybe, possibly… make us those cookies?”

You bite back a laugh. “Sorry, Pau. I have plans.”

A dramatic gasp. “With who?!”

“Your ‘dad.’”

The silence is devastating.

Pedri, the smug little devil, grinned the entire drive over.

The date is nice. Pedri is smug the entire time, grinning like he just won the Champions League by simply existing in your presence.

You get home, still laughing at how ridiculous he’s being—until you open the door.

Pau, Héctor, and Lamine are sitting on your couch like three overgrown puppies who just got caught chewing the furniture.

“Surprise!” Pau says, grinning way too wide.

Lamine holds up a grocery bag. “We brought ingredients!”

Héctor adds, “And we won’t even make you cook! Just… supervise?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Pedri muttered under his breath, "I could murder three teammates. Just three. That’s not too many, right?"

It takes approximately four minutes for you to ban all three of them from the kitchen.

Pau somehow got flour in his hair. Héctor cracked an egg… directly onto the counter. Lamine almost put salt instead of sugar into the mix before you snatched the measuring cup from him.

You rolled your sleeves up. "Alright, since you three clearly can’t be trusted, I’m making the batter. You can watch like good little footballers."

Pau groaned. "This is unfair."

Héctor sighed. "We’ve been benched."

Lamine, ever the optimist, perked up. "But we still get cookies, right?"

Pedri, now in an excellent mood, threw an arm around you as you mixed the batter. "Yeah, but I get the first one."

Pau narrowed his eyes. "That’s favoritism."

Pedri grinned. "Damn right it is."

Pau glares. “You’re a terrible father.”

“And you’re a terrible son.”

Lamine sighs. “Can we at least lick the spoon?”

You point the spatula at him. “If any of you move before I say so, no cookies.”

Three professional footballers immediately freeze like statues.

By the time the cookies are done, the three of them have migrated to the floor in front of the oven, staring through the glass like it’s the most fascinating thing they’ve ever seen.

���They’re rising,” Lamine whispers, awed.

“That’s what cookies do, genius,” Pedri says, but even he can’t hide his smile when you pull the tray out and three pairs of eyes follow it from the oven to the counter, hypnotised.

The second the cookies were cool enough, all three of them lunged—only for you to hold the plate just out of reach. “What do we say?”

“Please,” they chorused, slightly surprised by their own politeness.

You sighed, handing them over. “I can’t believe I’m babysitting Barça’s future.”

Pedri, wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And yet, you’re so good at it.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

Yeah. You’re definitely stuck with them.

[universefcb]

Hii can you make a fic with Hector with a reader who moves a lot when she sleeps and hogs the blanket?

↬❥ Early morning crime

Hector Fort x Reader!fem

Synopsis: You're sleeping together, but you end up taking the whole blanket.

a/n: I want to date him 😩

REQUESTED

warnings: fluff

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The night was silent, and the only light in the room came from the moon outside, which cast a silvery glow through the gaps in the curtains. The wind blew softly, making the window creak slightly. Inside the bed, you slept soundly, curled up under the warm, fluffy blanket, completely oblivious to what was happening next to you.

Hector, on the other hand, was not having the same luck.

He had started the night off well, comfortable beside you, but as the hours passed, something inevitable happened: you took possession of the blanket. At first, it was subtle—a light tug here, a light tug there—until, without him realizing it, you had completely monopolized the only protection against the early morning chill.

Hector groaned softly and tried to pull it back a little, moving carefully so as not to wake you. His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric, and he tugged slowly. It worked… for exactly two seconds. You shifted, turned over, and, almost supernaturally, curled up even tighter into the blanket, as if protecting yourself from a harsh winter.

“Really?” Hector muttered under his breath, staring at you with an incredulous look.

He let out a tired sigh and ran a hand over his face. The room wasn’t absurdly cold, but without the blanket, the temperature seemed to have dropped drastically. Hector tried another approach, pulling a little more firmly. But all he managed to do was make you mumble something incomprehensible in your sleep and cling to the blanket even tighter.

“This can only be a test of patience…” he said to himself, closing his eyes for a moment.

Could he get up and get another blanket from the closet? He could. But that would require him to get out of his warm bed and onto the cold floor. So he simply crossed his arms and huddled together as best he could, hoping that his own body heat would be enough.

Hours later, in the middle of the night, you slowly woke up, for no apparent reason. Your body moved reflexively, seeking Hector's familiar warmth. It was only then that you realized something was... strange.

When her hand touched his arm, a shiver ran down his spine.

He was freezing.

You frowned, fully waking up. Moving carefully, you turned to face him and, even in the dark, you could see that he was huddled together, his arms crossed over his chest, as if trying to protect himself from the cold.

Shock and guilt hit immediately.

“Hector!” you whispered, touching his face with your fingertips.

He shifted slightly, letting out a sleepy mumble.

“Hm?”

“You’re freezing! Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Hector opened one eye, clearly still groggy from sleep, and let out a tired sigh.

“Because you’re a blanket monster…”

Your eyes widened, feeling the guilt rising. With a heavy heart, you quickly pulled the blanket over him, making sure to wrap him completely.

“Oh my God, honey, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize…”

He closed his eyes again and sighed in relief as he felt the warmth of the blanket finally covering his body.

“Now it’s over… I almost froze to death…” he joked, although his voice was thick with sleep.

You bit your lip, still feeling guilty. With one quick movement, you snuggled against him, wrapping your arms around his body and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m your human blanket now. Is that better?”

Hector didn't respond immediately, but his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her even closer.

“Much better…” he murmured, his voice low and satisfied.

You smiled against his skin and closed your eyes, feeling the warmth finally return to Hector's body.

This time, I would make a point of sharing the blanket.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @p4uul0vr @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott @htpssgavi @luvvpedri

[ennkis]

hi, i love your writing can you do one where marc guiu is secretly dating lewandoski's daughter and he finds out?

MR LEWANDOWSKI (marc guiu x lewandowski!reader)

summary : in which the polish barcelona player finds out his daughter is dating his teammate

face claim : no-one exact

notes : ty for the request !! im gonna do some requests asap (theres like twenty so plsplspls be patient <3) also im gonna go on vacation soon so ill be less active.

pairings : marc guiu x fem!lewandowski!reader

BEING THE DAUGHTER of the Polish striker, Robert Lewandowski, came with its perks. Some of the benefits was the opportunity to meet your favorite players, attend exclusive events, and see important matches, such as the World Cup and UCL Finals. But managing the constant media attention and living up to the Lewandowski name were only two of the challenges that came with it. The hardest challenge of them all was keeping your relationship with the Barcelona striker, Marc Guiu, a secret.

You knew dating Marc was going to make you slightly insane. The constant hiding and sneaking around was annoying, tbh.. But if you managed to keep this a secret for over seven months, you sure weren't going to fuck it up now.

Hector quickly caught onto your little facade. All three of you were classmates, and it was clear by the looks you exchanged across the classroom, the way Marc spoke to Hector about you, and just the overall way he admired you. Hector was certain you were dating.

Him knowing would actually come in handy. It was a little easier to keep the secret when Hector was on your side. When needed, he helped cover for you by coming up with excuses in case your dad was on the edge of figuring things out.

One afternoon, while your father was out, Marc came over to your house. It was a unique chance for the two of you to have the house to yourselves, and you both wanted to make the most of it.

You were in your room, cuddling on your bed with Marc as a movie was playing on your laptop. It was relaxing, finally a moment of comfort without any worries or the anxiety of getting caught.

"This is nice," Marc murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I wish we could do this more often."

"Me too," you replied, pulling in closer to him. "But you're aware of my dad's history with my ex-boyfriends. If he found out, he would freak out."

Marc sighed as he played with the strings on your hoodie. "I know. Yet, sometimes I picture us going out on a typical date night. No concerns about your father catching us. You know maybe if he got used to our relationship, he could come along."

Playfully poking Marc with your shoulder, you mocked, "Are you using me to date my father?"

Marc gave you a gentle giggle and an amused look as his eyes met yours. "Maybe I am," he answered. "But in all honesty, I just want to go out with you—no sneaking around, just a regular 'I'll have her home by nine, sir' type date."

"Wow, real cute, Marc." Just as you were about to lean in for a kiss, you heard the front door open. Your heart stopped, as you and Marc exchanged panicked and confused looks.

"Oh fuck. He's not supposed to be back yet," you whispered urgently, scrambling off the bed. "You have to hide. Like now."

Marc quickly got up, looking around the room for a hiding spot. "WHAT?! Where should I go?!"

"Jesus Christ, Marc. I don't know just.. just get under the bed or something!" you whispered, trying to keep your voice down.

Just as your father yelled something from the living room, Marc dove under the bed. "Y/n? You home?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before opening your bedroom door. "Yeah, What's up?"

He walked down the hallway, a frown on his face. "I thought I left my other keys here. Have you seen them?"

You shook your head, trying to look casual. "Nah, I haven't seen them. Maybe you left them in the locker room after training?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. I'll call someone to check if someone found them. Are you okay? You seem... off."

"I'm good, Dad," you said quickly, hoping he couldn't hear the nervousness in your voice. "Just tired, I guess.."

He looked at you for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. Well, I'm going to head back out then. Let me know if you find the keys."

As he turned to leave, you heard a muffled cough from under the bed. Your eyes widened in horror as your father stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.

"What was that?" he asked, turning back to you.

"What do you mean" you said quickly, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "I didn't hear anything. Is your hearing alright?"

"Hey, I'm still only 35 years young. Anyways, I'll just head out, I guess. See you later, honey." He said as he walked out the front door.

As you walked down the hallway to reach your room, you exclaimed, "Marc, what the fuck was that? The one time you NEED to be quiet, you actually cough. How on earth is that possible?"

"Hey, I didn't put all that dust under your bed," he playfully said while hugging you. "Calm down, babe. He didn't even see me."

"Yeah, but he heard your silly ass. Anyways you should just go. He might come back soon."

At least three hours had passed before your dad returned, which was kind of annoying because you had the chance to finish the movie and still had two hours left to hang out without interruptions.

"Hey honey, I'm back home," your dad said as he walked into the house. You were sitting on the couch, watching Suits (a goated show btw).

Your dad's voice startled you, making you jump slightly. You quickly paused the show and turned to face him. "Hey Dad," you replied.

He looked around the living room with a curious expression. His eyes fell upon the hoodie that Marc gave to you. The hoodie that exclusively Barcelona players got. His brow furrowed slightly as he picked it up, examining it with a puzzled look.

"Whose hoodie is this?" he asked.

You swallowed nervously, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. "Oh, uh, that's Marc's," you said, mentally cursing yourself for not changing beforehand. "He gave it to me last week."

Robert's gaze shifted from the hoodie to you, his expression unreadable. "Marc's?"

"Yeah," you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. "We… we've been hanging out a lot. Last week i was cold so he gave it to me."

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge your sincerity. "Hanging out," he echoed, more a statement than a question.

You nodded again, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "Okay, yeah. So, Dad, we've been dating for.. a while now."

His eyes widened in surprise, shocked expression on his face. But he didn't look angry. Instead, he let out a slow breath and nodded.

As he stared at you for what felt like an eternity, processing the information, he finally spoke out, his voice calm yet tinged with disbelief, "You and Marc... have been dating?"

"I… I didn't know how you'd react," you admitted, feeling a pinch of guilt for keeping it from him. "And I didn't want you to worry."

Robert leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I see," he said. "And how long has this 'while' been?"

Marc cleared his throat, speaking up, "About seven months, Mr. Lewandowski."

Your dad looked at Marc with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Marc? What are you doing here?" he asked, seeing him in the living room unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry, sir. Y/n messaged me to come over, so I did," Marc spoke out, trying to explain his sudden arrival.

"Sorry for not telling you sooner, Mr. Lewandowski," he said earnestly. "We didn't mean to keep it from you."

Robert eased his expression and laughed. "I understand," he softly said in response. "While I can't say I'm not surprised, I appreciate your honesty. Also, Marc, we've known each other for some time now. Just call me as usual." Your father joked with his teammate, your boyfriend.

You felt a wave of relief when you realized he wasn't upset. To be honest, he looked more interested than angry. "So, what do you think, Dad?" You questioned him.

Robert leaned forward, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, if Marc here has managed to win your heart for seven months without my knowledge, he must be doing something right," he said, his tone teasing yet approving.

Marc and you exchanged a relieved smile as you felt the tension ease. Despite his reputation for being serious, Your dad has surprised you today by showing you compassion and comprehension.

You said, "Thank you, Dad," appreciating his understanding.

He chuckled loudly and replied. "Please just promise me that you will keep me updated. I'm happy for you both."

It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming feeling of relief. The secret was finally out.

[pedriache]

Héctor Fort who can’t help but look down at reader over everything and anything bc he knows how it makes them flush and avert their gaze

Those eyes — Héctor Fort.

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Fem!Reader

Summary: Héctor, who loves to see the familiar rosy color blossom across your cheeks. He does everything to see it, but he finds the easiest way to do so, is by looking down at you with a grin on his face.

Word count: 390+

Disclaimer/s: None, just fluff!

A/N: another draft from the summer . . .

Walks with you boyfriend was always enjoyable. You liked to sight see, and he loved to just spend time with you. The summer breeze brushed against your face as you leaned over the railing to look at the view. The city spread out below you, the building lights twinkling beneath the slowly darkening sky.

“I love this city.” You say quietly, turning to glance up at your boyfriend. A small flush passes across your cheeks as you realize he was already looking down at you. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Héctor asks, suppressing the smirk that threatened his lips. His eyes trail across your face, tracing your features he seemed to love so much. He knew how much it affected you when he did that, which only prompted him to do it more.

His attentive stare only has you growing more flustered. “Quit staring down at me! Look at the view, that is why we walked all the way here is it not?”

Héctor simply shrugs, not looking away. “I’d rather look at you.” This elicits a groan from you along with an eye roll. “What’s that for!?”

“You are such a corn ball.” You laugh, shooing him away with a dismissive hand.

The brunette trails his hand up from the small of your back to your shoulders, sending goosebumps everywhere his hand touched, eventually his arm loops around your shoulders and pulls you into his side.

Héctor uses his other hand to hook his finger under your chin, forcing your head to look back up at him. Your heart stammers in your chest as you meet your boyfriend’s eyes. “I love you.” He whispers, dipping down to hover above your lips.

A wide smile breaks out on your face. “I love you, too.” You whisper right back, standing on your tip toes to place a quick peck to his lips.

When you pull away, Héctor makes a sound of protest, his lips chasing after yours, though you wiggle out of his grasp and take a step back. “Nuh-uh! We are sight seeing!”

“In a city we’ve lived in for years! We’ve seen this view a million times!” Héctor frowns, though his eyes sparkle with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Boo-hoo. Now, look at the view.” You point to the city scapes, flashing him a teasing smile.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my posts <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[cherrynflowergarden]

demon in my head||joão félix

an; hiiii pookies how are y'all joão is literally so husband coded urg it's unfair i hate pretty people sm❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 people are so crazy??? blaming a single man for the loss??? hello the last time i checked football is a team sport so how can you blame ONE PERSON???? honestly if anything it's on the team not on a single person tbh it's not even on the team shits happen there are days were everything goes against your wish im really disappointed by ppl who are hating félix rn like poor man is just 24!! he's a human!! he's allowed to be nervous and feel overwhelmed!! he's allowed to make mistakes!! cmon man even your goat couldn't score a goal in 120 mins then how come you're shitting on félix there's so much i want to say but im too angry for that now peak stupidity lowkey feel like it's 19 nov 2023 (portugal version) (my desi ppl will understand the trauma behind this date😀💔) but atleast we didn't troll our players and won the t20 wdc before the legends' retirement so there's that hehe 🎀🌷💌 F1!READER YAY ALSO THAT MAGUI (ew) DOESN'T EXIST IN THIS AU SO YAY JOÃO ISN'T TRAUMATIZED BY THAT THING!!!!! ALSO SINGLE JOÃO ERA BEFORE HE DATES BEAUTIFUL YN ERA 😇☝️

summary; yn yln is a formula 1 driver. and pretty famous one. but sometimes she forgets that.

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

liked by maxvestrappen1, logansargeant, joaofelix79 and 1,755,962 others

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𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

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redbullracing welcomes joaofelix79 to the redbull garage ✨

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𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

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𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

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𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

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[insidekatmind]

Love languages~ Hector Fort

Request: yes!

Héctor Fort’s love languages show in every little gesture, every glance, every action he does without even realizing it. He doesn’t need grand words to express what he feels,he does it through his way of being, with the naturalness of someone who loves with his whole heart.

1. Physical Touch – The need to feel you close:

For him, physical touch is essential. He’s never intrusive, but he’s always there: a sudden hug, a hand on your back while you walk, his thumb gently brushing over yours when your fingers intertwine. When he’s happy, he holds you tight; when he’s tired, he rests his head on your shoulder with a content sigh. Even in silence, he finds ways to make you feel his presence, to remind you that you’re close;

2. Words of Affirmation – His sincere compliments:

Héctor isn’t someone who talks just for the sake of it, but when he says something, he means it. He constantly gives you spontaneous compliments, sometimes even a little awkwardly, because he truly wants you to know how much he admires you. “You look amazing today,” he says suddenly, looking at you with those honest eyes. Or, after a tough day, he reminds you how strong you are, how much he believes in you, how special you are in his eyes;

3. Acts of Service – Showing love through actions:

He doesn’t just rely on words,he acts. If he knows you’ve had a rough day, he’ll bring you your favorite snack without you even asking. If it’s cold, he hands you his hoodie without hesitation. If you need something, he’s already there, ready to help. He doesn’t need you to tell him,he notices, he understands, and he moves, because that’s how he loves: by doing everything he can to make your life better;

4. Quality Time – Time with you is sacred:

Even with his busy life, he will always make time for you. No matter how exhausted he is after a match or how many things he has to do, if you need him, he’s there. Maybe not always with grand gestures, but in the little things: a quick call just to check in, a spontaneous outing to grab ice cream, a night spent simply talking. For him, it’s not about what you do,it’s about the fact that you’re together;

5. Receiving Gifts – The little presents that speak for him:

Héctor isn’t someone who buys expensive gifts just for the sake of it, but his presents always have meaning. If he gives you something, it’s because he saw it and immediately thought of you. A bracelet that reminds him of your eye color, a shirt he knows you like, a handwritten note with just a few words but full of warmth. They’re simple details, but they show how much he cares.

Because Héctor Fort loves with intensity, with dedication, with that natural sweetness that makes him unique. And when he loves someone, he does it with everything he has.

[httpsdana]

you could do one where the reader is someone who doesn't like physical contact and héctor is very clingy so he's insecure about it.

Too Much~Hector Fort

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

It was hard for Hector not to reach out for y/n every time they were together. His fingers seemed to naturally gravitate toward hers, desperate for even the smallest touch. But she never seemed to welcome it. The way she'd subtly pull away or shift to create more space between them started to weigh on him.

At first, he thought it was just how she was, more reserved when it came to physical affection, but over time, that understanding turned into a gnawing insecurity.

Today was no different. They were both sitting on the couch, a movie playing in the background. Hector had his arm resting behind y/n, his body close enough to feel her warmth, but not close enough to touch. His fingers itched to rest against her shoulder, to stroke her hair, anything to bridge the gap between them. But he stayed still, the fear of making y/n uncomfortable freezing him in place.

“Are you enjoying the movie?” y/n asked, turning to look at him.

Hector forced a smile. “Yeah, it's good.” he murmured

But it wasn’t. His mind wasn’t on the movie. It was on her, on the space between them, on the tension that had been slowly building in his chest. He wondered if it was his fault, if he was too much. Was he suffocating her with his need for closeness? Was he doing something wrong?

Later, as the movie ended and y/n got up to stretch, Hector bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating. He wanted to tell her what was on his mind, but the words felt stuck, trapped behind the weight of his insecurity.

y/n noticed his quietness, but she was used to that. Hector wasn’t always vocal about his thoughts, but something about the way his shoulders slumped today felt off.

“You okay?” she asked softly, moving a bit closer to him.

His eyes flickered up to hers before he looked away, as if afraid she'd see the vulnerability in them.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” he said, his voice barely audible

That answer didn't sit right with y/n.

“You don’t seem fine.” she said

He hesitated, the conflict visible in his expression. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?” he said

Her brow furrowed confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked

“When I try to be close to you… like, physically,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like you pull away. Like maybe I’m too clingy or something.”

The hurt in his voice made hrr heart sink. She never meant to make him feel like that. “Hector, no—” she started but got interrupted by him

“I just… I don’t know. I’ve always liked being close to you, but I feel like you don’t like it. And maybe that’s just how you are, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.” he said, his voice weak and unstable

His words hung heavy in the air, and y/n realized just how deeply this had been bothering him. He was always so affectionate, always looking for little moments to be near her, and in her attempt to give him space, she hadn’t noticed the way he was shrinking into himself.

“Hector…” su said softly, sitting beside him again, closer this time. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

He didn’t look convinced, his eyes downcast as he fiddled with his fingers, a nervous habit y/n hadn’t seen in a while. “Then why do you pull away? Why don’t you… I don’t know, why don’t you want to be close to me like that?”

y/n took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s not that I don’t want to be close to you. I do. I just… I’m not used to being that way. I’ve never been the kind of person who’s comfortable with a lot of physical affection, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” she said, reassuring him

His eyes lifted slightly, as if hoping for reassurance.

“I care about you so much,” she continued. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want to be close to you. It’s not you—it’s me, and I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. I’m still learning how to be more open with that kind of affection.”

Hector remained quiet for a moment, processing her words. “So… you don’t hate it when I try to hold your hand or hug you?”

y/n shook her head. “No. I don’t hate it. I think I’ve just been too in my own head about it, worrying that I wouldn’t be good at it, or that you’d think I was awkward.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “You? Awkward? Never.”

She laughed slighty, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere between them.

“I’m serious! But I promise, I’ll try harder. I’ll try to meet you halfway, because I want to make you feel loved.” she said, her voice serious but soft

Hector’s eyes softened at her words, and for the first time that evening, he allowed himself to reach out, gently taking her hand in his. “That’s all I needed to hear.” he mumbled

y/n smiled, her fingers intertwining with his. It felt a little strange at first—being the one to hold on—but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt nice. His hand was warm, steady, and she realized how much she had been missing out on by keeping her distance.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want this,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand. “I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… I just didn’t want to push you away by being too much.”

“You’re not too much,” she said firmly, her gaze meeting his. “You’re exactly what I need. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

The vulnerability in his expression faded, replaced by something softer, warmer. He leaned in slightly, his forehead resting against hers, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t pull away. She let him close the distance, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath as he held her gently, as if afraid she might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin, the words so soft, they were almost lost in the quiet of the room.

Her heart swelled with affection, and this time, she didn’t hesitate to say it back.

“I love you too, Hector.” she murmured back

[paucubarsisimp]

juno

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

summary: in which you prank your boyfriend by doing the juno tiktok trend

warnings: suggestive stuff!

୨ৎ pedri

it was a lazy afternoon, and pedri was lounging on the couch, glued to his phone. you were scrolling through tiktok, laughing at random videos. one caught your eye—it was sabrina carpenter’s juno pose from her 2025 tour. you couldn’t help but laugh at how bold it was, and an idea instantly popped into your head.

you glanced at pedri, a playful glint in your eyes. “hey pedri, i think i’m gonna do something.”

he barely looked up from his phone, distracted. “uh-huh, sure.”

you set your phone to record, stood up, and walked to the center of the room. without hesitation, you dropped into the doggy pose—hands on the floor, back arched, head tilted, just like you had seen. it felt ridiculous, but you had to admit, it was kind of fun. you held the pose, looking at pedri to see if he noticed.

pedri’s head snapped up the moment he saw you, his eyes widening. he froze, blinking a few times as his jaw dropped. his face turned bright red as he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not prepared for this.

“madre mía…” he muttered, voice shaky. “you really did it.”

you stood up, brushing off your knees casually, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “what? i thought it would be funny,” you said with a teasing grin. “you know i can pull it off.”

pedri ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you. “yeah, but you really know how to get my attention,” he said, trying and failing to act casual. “i’ve seen you do this before, but…” he trailed off, still flustered. “this time was different.”

you leaned over the couch to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “what, you didn’t think i could do it again?” you teased, giving him a playful wink.

pedri’s face was now a deep shade of red, his eyes darting between you and the floor. “it’s not that… it’s just, i didn’t expect you to do it like that again,” he said, his voice low and a little breathless. “you know i can’t handle this.”

you slowly moved toward him, your hips swaying just enough to keep his attention. “i know,” you teased, leaning closer. “i love that i can leave you speechless.”

pedri swallowed hard, his body tensing as you leaned in even closer, your lips brushing the side of his face. “y/n, stop… you’re making it impossible to think right now,” he muttered, clearly struggling to stay composed.

without giving him a chance to process, you slid into his lap, straddling him with ease. pedri immediately froze, his hands instinctively resting on your waist, as if unsure what to do next. he looked up at you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

“what are you—” pedri’s words were cut off as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear.

“i thought you could use a distraction,” you whispered, your voice playful, but with just enough teasing to make him shiver.

pedri’s breath hitched, and his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer. “god,” he muttered, clearly trying to maintain control. “you’re killing me.”

you grinned, placing a soft kiss on his neck, just under his jaw. pedri immediately tensed, a soft groan escaping his lips. his entire body was on fire, his breath quickening as you moved your lips along his neck, placing another light kiss.

you pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his. “see? i knew you liked it.”

pedri’s face was bright red now, his lips parted as he tried to find the right words. “you… you know i can’t resist when you do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m not going to make it through the rest of the day like this.”

you smirked, brushing your hand over his chest. “good thing we’ve got some time to kill.”

pedri let out a deep sigh, still trying to regain his composure. “madre mía, you’re going to be the end of me.”

you laughed softly, leaning in for one last teasing kiss on his cheek before pulling away with a playful wink. “you’re not complaining.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ pablo gavi

it was one of those lazy afternoons when you and pablo were lounging at home. pablo was on the couch, staring at his phone, while you were scrolling through tiktok. that’s when you saw it—a video of sabrina carpenter’s juno pose from her short n' sweet tour. the idea hit you instantly.

you glanced at pablo, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “hey, pablo,” you said, already knowing what was about to happen. “watch this.”

pablo barely looked up. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, distracted by his phone.

you set your phone to record, then stood up and strutted into the middle of the room. with a teasing grin, you dropped into the missionary pose—laying flat on your back, head tilted dramatically, legs spread just enough, arching your body for effect. you held it for a moment, knowing exactly what kind of reaction it would get from him.

the second pablo noticed, his eyes shot up from his phone, his jaw dropping in shock. his phone slipped from his hands, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “joder,” he muttered, eyes wide as his face turned bright red. “you’re really doing this?”

you casually straightened up, brushing off your pants like it was nothing, but secretly enjoying how flustered he was. “what? you didn’t think I could pull it off?” you teased, strutting toward him with a smirk.

pablo was still processing what he’d just witnessed. “no way,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “you just did that… in front of me.”

you shrugged nonchalantly, acting like it was no big deal. “it’s just a pose,” you said with a playful wink. “you know I can do it.”

pablo rubbed the back of his neck, looking utterly flustered. “y/n,” he laughed nervously, “that was… something else.”

you leaned over the back of the couch, close to him, enjoying every second of his shock. “don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” you teased, your voice light but laced with mischief.

he shook his head, his hands going to his hair, trying to regain some control. “embarrassed? y/n, you’re making me lose my mind,” he stammered. “seriously, you can’t post that.”

you grinned, walking toward your phone, ready to hit the post button. “oh? you don’t want the world to see how cute you look when you’re flustered?” you teased. “thought you’d be more confident than that.”

pablo’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he jumped to his feet. “y/n,” he said urgently, his voice laced with a hint of panic. “you can’t post that. you’re all for me, remember?”

you raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “all for you, huh?” you teased, walking closer to him. “are you sure? looks like I’m causing a little chaos here.”

he looked at you with a mixture of protectiveness and affection, still clearly embarrassed. “y/n,” he repeated, taking a step toward you, “please, don’t post that.”

you stepped into his space, leaning in for a soft kiss on his cheek. “don’t worry, pablo,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m all yours.”

he smiled, but his cheeks were still burning. “you’re impossible,” he muttered, then suddenly—without warning—he swept you up into his arms.

“hey! what are you—” you squealed, startled and laughing as he effortlessly picked you up, cradling you in his arms.

“you’ve been teasing me enough,” he said, grinning mischievously. “now you’re going to be all mine in private.”

before you could even process what was happening, he was carrying you toward the bedroom. you let out another surprised squeal as he practically sprinted down the hallway, clearly having no intention of letting you escape.

“pablo! wait—what are you doing?!” you laughed, still caught off guard by his sudden burst of energy.

he grinned, his face glowing with a mixture of excitement and playful possessiveness. “you can’t post that,” he teased, as if to justify his actions, though the true reason was clear—you were his, and he wasn’t letting you go anywhere anytime soon.

you giggled, enjoying the unexpected turn of events. “you’re crazy, you know that?” you said, resting your head on his chest as he carried you to the bedroom.

“and you love it,” he replied, flashing a cheeky grin as he gently kicked the bedroom door open, still holding you close.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ ferran torres

the day had been slow — cozy and warm, the kind of afternoon where ferran was stretched out on the couch like he had nowhere else to be (because he didn’t), one hand absentmindedly scrolling his phone, the other draped behind you.

you were curled up beside him, silently giggling at your feed until one particular tiktok stopped you cold.

the juno pose - specifically the cowgirl one from her concert in houston.

you tilted your head. blinked. looked at your phone. then looked at ferran. then back to your phone.

“don’t do anything weird,” ferran mumbled without looking, clearly sensing your energy.

“me? never,” you said sweetly, already standing up.

he glanced at you, immediately suspicious. “qué vas a hacer…”

“just a little… challenge,” you replied, setting your phone against a stack of books and hitting record.

you turned back toward him, making sure he was watching, then dropped smoothly into the pose—on your knees, straddling the floor, arch in your back, hands resting lightly on your thighs, eyes soft and teasing. slow, confident, knowing exactly what kind of effect it would have.

his reaction was immediate.

“joder.” ferran blinked like he’d just seen a ghost. “¿me estás tomando el pelo?”

you tried to stay serious, but the smirk broke through. “what? you’ve literally seen me do this—”

“not in front of your phone, dios mío.” he stood up, eyes wide, running a hand through his hair. “tú no puedes subir eso. absolutely not.”

you tilted your head, teasing. “why not?”

he looked at you like you’d just suggested skydiving without a parachute. “because you’re all mine,” he said, voice low, a little too real. “and you look like that? no chance.”

“hmm.” you pretended to consider. “but the lighting was so good—”

he didn’t even let you finish.

in two steps, ferran was in front of you. you barely had time to react before his hands were on your waist, lifting you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing.

“ferran!” you squealed, laughing as he held you close, arms firm around your body.

“no more showing the world what’s mine,” he muttered, already turning down the hall.

“where are we going?!”

“somewhere far away from your phone,” he said, voice smug but still flustered, cheeks a bit pink. “somewhere i can remind you exactly why you can’t post that.”

you laughed against his shoulder, still breathless. “you’re crazy.”

“crazy for you,” he replied easily, nudging open the bedroom door.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ pau cubarsi

pau had been in his own world for most of the afternoon — stretched out across your bed, one hand tucked behind his head, hoodie riding up just enough to tease a peek of warm skin, eyes lazily glued to his phone. you were scrolling on the floor, bored out of your mind, until that tiktok came up again.

the juno pose. dramatic. a little ridiculous. and way too fun not to try.

you didn’t warn him. just propped up your phone, lowered yourself to the floor, and shifted into position — one leg stretched flat, the other raised high and straight, your back supported on your elbows, eyes half-lidded, breathing slow. you looked into the lens like you weren’t doing anything unusual at all.

pau didn’t notice at first.

but when he did—

“joder,” he muttered under his breath, his phone forgotten. his voice was soft and stunned, like he wasn’t sure whether to look away or stare harder. “what are you doing?”

you stayed there, still in the pose. “a trend.”

his brows rose, eyes trailing down your leg, then quickly darting away like he wasn’t supposed to look. “you’re gonna post that?”

“i was thinking about it,” you teased, lowering your leg slowly as you sat up.

pau just stared, jaw a little slack. “you… shouldn’t.”

you crawled onto the bed, slow and casual, like it didn’t mean anything. like his eyes weren’t locked on every little movement.

“you’ve seen me do that before,” you said, settling into his lap without hesitation, arms loose around his neck. “so what’s the big deal?”

he swallowed hard, his hands finding your hips without thinking. “i’ve seen it, yeah… but never in daylight.”

you laughed softly, brushing your lips over his jaw. “you liked it, though.”

his breath hitched as you kissed just below his ear. “still do.”

you smiled against his skin. “so what if i post it?”

pau’s voice dropped, low and a little breathless. “then i’m locking your phone and hiding it somewhere you’ll never find it.”

“mm, dramatic,” you hummed, pressing your chest to his, your fingers lightly tugging at the collar of his hoodie. “you’d really go that far?”

his grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned in so his lips brushed your ear.

“you don’t want to know how far i’d go,” he whispered.

you shivered — not from the chill, but from the way his voice felt against your skin.

you kissed him slow, lips lingering just a little too long, and felt him melt under you — warm and needy and flustered in the best way.

his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer like he didn’t want any space left between you.

“you’re trouble,” he whispered against your mouth.

you smiled, pulling him back into another kiss, deeper this time.

“you like it.”

pau didn’t say anything.

he just kissed you again — slower, firmer — and let his hoodie fall to the floor.

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୨ৎ hector fort

the soft sunlight filtered through the room as you scrolled through tiktok, laughing at the latest trends. you came across the juno pose—the one where you lie back with your legs up in the air. it was too good to pass up, especially with héctor lounging on the bed nearby. you'd done the pose with him before, but today you felt like teasing him a little.

you set your phone up, dropped back onto the floor, and lifted your legs straight up into the air, locking your knees and arching your back slightly. you kept your arms behind you for support, staring into the camera as if you were modeling.

héctor glanced up from his phone, noticing you immediately. his eyes widened when he saw what you were doing.

“wait… really?” he asked, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his voice.

you didn’t break the pose, keeping your face neutral. “what? just a trend. nothing to see here.”

héctor raised an eyebrow and shook his head, pushing himself off the bed. “i’ve seen you do this before, but never like this.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips. “it’s just for fun, héctor. don’t act like you’re not used to it.”

he moved closer, still looking at you with a playful smile. “used to it? i don’t know… you’ve definitely got me curious this time, princesa.”

you smirked, holding the pose. “what, don’t think you can handle it?”

“oh, i can handle it,” he replied with a teasing grin, bending down just enough that his lips brushed your ear. “but you’re definitely making it harder than it needs to be.”

you raised your head slightly to look at him. “what, are you jealous now?”

héctor chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing. “jealous? no. just… surprised. you’ve done this pose with me before, but never like this. you’re trying to mess with me, aren’t you?”

you bit your lip and held his gaze, your legs still locked up in the air. “maybe. maybe i’m trying to see how much you can handle.”

he shook his head with a small laugh. “you really know how to test my patience, don’t you?”

without another word, héctor moved swiftly, pulling you off the floor and into his arms. your body was now in his grasp as he lifted you gently onto the bed, your back landing softly on the sheets with him hovering over you.

his face was so close to yours, and the warmth from his body radiated against yours. his hands moved to your waist, guiding your hips slightly, and he smirked down at you. “alright, princesa, i think you’ve had your fun.”

you blinked up at him, catching your breath from the teasing. “what do you mean?”

he leaned down a little more, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “i think it’s time for me to take control now.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, trying to wriggle away, but before you could, he gently pulled you closer, making you squeal in surprise. he smiled, clearly enjoying the way he’d caught you off guard.

“next time, princesa,” he said, his voice full of affection, “don’t make it so easy for me to get distracted.”

you smiled up at him, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. “maybe next time,” you whispered, resting your head on his chest, as he kissed your forehead and pulled you into his arms.

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୨ৎ alejandro balde

it was another lazy afternoon as you sat on the couch, scrolling through tiktok. your finger paused on the ballet dancer juno pose — the one where you balance on one leg, the other bent in the air, holding a graceful, yet playful position. you had done this pose with alejandro countless times before, but today, you felt like having a little fun.

without hesitation, you set your phone up to record. with a sly grin on your face, you got into position. one leg straight in the air, the other bent, your posture elegant yet playful. you held it with ease, a soft smile dancing on your lips as you stared into the camera, your leg up just like you had so many times before.

alejandro, who had been lounging nearby, looked up from his phone when he noticed the sudden stillness in the room. he raised an eyebrow, his gaze falling on you. “no way, you’re doing that again?” he asked, half-laughing, half-shocked. “you know you’ve got me wrapped around your finger every time you do this.”

you didn’t break the pose, keeping it steady and graceful. “what? i’m just practicing,” you teased, though the playful glint in your eyes was hard to miss.

alejandro shook his head, clearly distracted, but trying to hide his amusement. “you’ve done this with me so many times, but every time, you find a way to make it… different,” he said, his voice a mix of admiration and laughter.

“maybe i’m just getting better,” you replied, holding the position even longer as you tilted your head at him.

he chuckled softly, stepping closer. “mi reina, you’re always making me lose focus with this.” he paused, his eyes scanning you with that familiar warmth. “how is it that you make something so simple look like it’s something out of a dance show?”

you smirked, finally lowering your leg. “maybe it’s because you’ve seen it done so many times, but you still can’t get enough of it.”

alejandro leaned down, his voice soft and playful. “you know that’s true,” he whispered, his fingers gently brushing against your side. “but i can’t help it, mi vida, you always know how to make my heart race.”

with that, he gently pulled you back onto the couch, his hands steady and strong as he slid you into his lap, holding you close. “you’re not going to distract me this easily,” he muttered, his voice still warm with affection.

you grinned up at him, feeling a soft blush creep up your neck. “oh, i think i’m doing a pretty good job.”

alejandro smiled, his lips curling up into a mischievous grin. “you think so, huh?” he leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead before dropping a kiss on your nose. “mi reina, you’re impossible.”

but the teasing didn’t last long. as he held you close, his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. it was sweet, but it held an undeniable warmth — one that made your heart flutter as he pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“next time, mi vida, try to let me breathe for a second,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection.

you giggled, wrapping your arms around him. “maybe next time, i’ll just do it again,” you teased, your voice full of playful mischief as you snuggled into his embrace.

alejandro chuckled softly, holding you tighter. “mi reina, you’re going to be the end of me.”

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୨ৎ lamine yamal

you weren’t planning to start trouble — not really. but the juno trend was trending, and the pose — yeah, that one — was all over your for you page. the one where sabrina got on her knees, leaned forward just a little too low, her back arched just right, with a mic in hand and a look that could kill.

you had no mic, but you did have an idea. and a boyfriend who was way too easy to fluster.

lamine was laid out on the bed, socks mismatched, hoodie pushed halfway up his arms as he scrolled aimlessly on his phone. completely unaware. perfect.

you set your phone down and dropped to your knees in the middle of the room. hips tilted back, you lowered yourself down into the pose — back arched, head tilted slightly, eyes fixed on the camera with a soft smirk. you stayed there, letting the audio play, knowing the exact moment his attention would snap.

“nah…” lamine’s voice from the bed, slow and drawn out. “you’re not doing what i think you’re doing.”

you didn’t answer. just turned your head slightly to give him a lazy, innocent look.

his phone hit the mattress. “preciosa… that’s illegal.”

you bit back a laugh. “you’ve seen me do it before, guapo.”

“yeah, with me, in private,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he sat up, blinking at you like you’d just stolen all the air out of the room. “you tryna kill me in broad daylight?”

you raised a brow, still holding the pose. “what, don’t like it?”

“i love it,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “that’s the problem.”

he crossed the room in a few strides and gently tugged you up by the waist, still flustered but smirking now, eyes warm. “you really just gonna pull out that pose without warning?”

“spontaneity keeps things fun,” you teased.

“nah,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then trailing one dangerously close to your jaw. “you’re dangerous.”

“but cute?” you asked, just a little breathless.

“too cute,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against yours. “preciosa, don’t ever post that. that’s for me.”

you smiled, cheeks heating up as he pulled you even closer. “okay,” you murmured. “only for you, guapo.”

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୨ৎ marc bernal

you weren’t trying to get marc's attention… well, maybe a little.

marc was lounging on the couch, lazily watching a match, half paying attention. you were pretending to scroll through your phone, but really, you were just waiting for the perfect moment to get his reaction.

you spotted the juno tight squeeze pose again — the one that’s ridiculously dramatic and a little playful. it seemed like the right time.

you slipped off the couch casually, positioning yourself on the rug in front of the phone you’d set up. knees pressed tightly together, back arched just right, arms extended in front like you were holding onto something, glancing back over your shoulder like it was no big deal.

marc noticed right away. “what… what are you doing, cariño?” his voice had that confused-but-curious tone as he sat up, eyes wide.

you kept the pose, not budging. “nothing.”

marc blinked, looking almost frantic as he pushed himself up from the couch. “nothing? cariño, you can’t just… do that. that’s not nothing.”

you smirked, holding the position, feeling his gaze burning into you. “it’s a trend.”

“it’s too much,” he muttered under his breath. “you really just gonna do that in front of me like that?”

“you’ve seen me do it before, haven’t you?” you teased, giving him a playful glance.

“yeah, in private!” he shot back, voice almost cracking with how flustered he was. “and even then, it was dangerous. this? this is… I’m not gonna survive.”

you turned your head to look at him, an innocent smirk on your lips. “so i shouldn’t post it?”

he ran a hand through his hair, giving you a look like you’d just set off a bomb. “post it and you’ll break me. collapse me. i’ll just… fall over, cariño.”

you giggled, finally sitting up, looking up at him as he stepped closer, moving like he was trying to regain some composure.

“you’re really playing with fire, huh?” he murmured softly, his hands coming to your waist, pulling you up gently.

“only for you, guapo,” you said, leaning in closer to him, your voice low and teasing.

he chuckled, leaning down and brushing his lips against your forehead. “I should’ve known,” he whispered, his voice warm. “but seriously, cariño, warn me next time. you’re not making it easy for me.”

you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. “why would i do that? it’s fun watching you try to stay cool.”

“well, next time, i’ll be the one holding the camera, and you’ll be the one getting flustered,” he said, kissing your forehead once more, a soft smile on his face.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

[clara-a7]

BARCA BOYS || 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙢

彡CONTAINS ; pedri, pablo gavi, hector fort, pau cubarsi

彡SUMMARY ; you comfort them after their Champions League semi-final defeat

彡WARNINGS ; hurt, comfort, fluff

彡WORDS ; 950

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS.

彡AUTHOR'S NOTE ; yeah... this defeat hit way too hard, so I coped the only way I know how, with some comfort fic.

⤷Pedri

The stadium lights still burned overhead when the final whistle blew, but to Pedri, everything felt dim.

Barça were out. One match away from the Champions League final, and it had slipped through their fingers.

He stayed on the pitch long after the others had disappeared down the tunnel hands on his hips, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the ground like it might offer him answers he couldn’t find in himself.

Almost an hour passed before you found him outside the locker room, still in his kit. His curls were damp with sweat, his shoulders tense, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say a word when he saw you.

Just walked forward slowly, and took his hand lightly in yours.

He didn’t say anything, just pulled you into his arms and held on like he needed you to breathe.

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of a heart that had given everything.

“I’m still proud of you,” you whispered.

He didn’t reply, but the way he buried his face in your hair told you he’d heard you and that it mattered more than he could say.

⤷Pablo Gavi

You found him outside, near the empty media zone, where the floodlights had begun to dim. The crowd was long gone, but the echo of the match still lingered in the air. He stood there alone, arms crossed, gaze fixed on a patch of concrete like it held the answers he didn’t have.

He heard your footsteps before you even said anything, but he didn’t turn around.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You stopped beside him, not touching, just close enough that he could feel your presence if he wanted it. “I know that’s not true,” you said gently.

He stayed quiet, jaw clenched, eyes still on the ground. “I hate this,” he muttered. “Getting this far, and then... nothing.”

You could see the tension in his posture the way his shoulders were drawn tight, the way he kept shifting like he was trying to walk off frustration he couldn’t shake.

“You gave it everything,” you said quietly. “You always do.”

He finally glanced over at you, his expression unreadable but softer now. “Doesn’t feel like it was enough.”

“Maybe not tonight,” you replied. “But that doesn’t change who you are. Or how proud I am of you.”

He didn’t reach for you, but when you gently slid your hand into his, he didn’t pull away. His fingers curled around yours, a quiet acceptance of comfort.

“Can we just go?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, giving his hand a light squeeze. “Of course,” you murmured.

⤷Hector Fort

You found him outside the stadium, tucked away in a quiet corner of the staff parking lot far from the noise, the interviews, the heavy silence of the locker room. His jacket was half-zipped, his hair damp from the shower, and his phone hung loosely in his hand, unread messages lighting up the screen.

He didn’t notice you at first, too deep in his own thoughts. Only when you called his name softly did he turn around.

His eyes met yours, and for a second, he looked like he might say something. But the words didn’t come.

So you stepped closer, your hand brushing lightly against his sleeve.

“Hector,” you said softly.

“I know,” he muttered. “I messed up. I should’ve done better.”

You shook your head and stepped closer, your shoulder brushing his. “You don’t have to start with that.”

He stayed quiet for a second, the noise of the city far in the background. Then he sighed. “It just sucks. We were so close.”

You reached out and let your hand rest gently on his arm. “It’s okay to feel like that. Shows how much you care.”

He looked at you then, really looked, like he wanted to believe you but wasn’t sure he could. “Didn’t really want you to see me like this.”

You gave him a small smile. “Yeah? Well, I’m still proud of you.”

He didn’t say much after that, but he let you take his hand. Held on a little tighter than he usually would, like maybe it helped just having you there.

⤷Pau Cubarsi

The replay wouldn’t stop playing in his head.

He saw it coming the Inter player cutting inside, surging toward the box. Pau sprinted to intercept, heart pounding. He lunged, desperate to stop what felt inevitable. His studs clipped the attacker’s boot. Just enough.

The whistle pierced the air.

Penalty.

The guilt hit before the ball even struck the net.

Long after the final whistle, Pau stood in the tunnel, back pressed to the cold concrete, arms crossed tight over his chest. His head was tipped up, like he was trying to blink away the tears before they fell.

You approached quietly. He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t move away either.

“I cost us the game,” he said, voice low, flat. “One second too late. One stupid decision.”

You didn’t deny it. You just reached for his hand, your thumb brushing slow circles over his knuckles.

“No, Pau. You did what any defender would’ve done.”

“It wasn’t enough,” he whispered. This time, his voice cracked.

You stepped closer, guiding his gaze to yours. “One mistake doesn’t erase everything you’ve done. One moment doesn’t define you.”

His jaw tensed. He wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite yet.

“You didn’t lose this alone,” you added gently. “And you don’t have to carry it alone either.”

His fingers curled tighter around yours. He didn’t speak just leaned into your touch, his body sagging under the weight he finally let someone else hold.

“Can you just… stay?”

You pulled him into your arms. “Of course.”

✿彡did you enjoy this? comments, likes, and reblogs are immensely appreciatedミ✿

© clara-a7 - all rights reserved.

[tgrs10]

Claimed| HECTOR FORT³² [001]

MASTERLIST (N/A)

⤑ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩| 1,987

⤑ 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮| Hector and you were over, or supposed to be. But one jealous night at the club proves he never really let go. (REQ)

⤑ 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | SMUT 18+!!, Rough Sex, Unprotected, Slight Angst, jealous sex.

You and Hector had history, like real history. Not just some months-long fling or a situationship gone stale. You’d both grown up together, part of the same tight-knit friend group that had seen every version of you both. You’d been together for years, years first as friends, then as more. Everyone in the group had known you as a unit, a given, a forever-thing, until you suddenly weren’t.

When you broke up, it hadn’t been explosive. No screaming or slamming doors. It was quiet and slow and painful in the way long relationships sometimes are, the kind where you’re not even sure when the beginning of the end started, but only that it did. And even though the relationship ended, the friend group didn’t. You didn’t split off, didn’t drift. That meant seeing Hector at every hangout, every birthday dinner, every movie night. And now tonight, at the club.

It was supposed to be a group thing. Just everyone letting loose for once, with no drama, no awkwardness. You told yourself it wouldn’t be weird. You even dressed up like you meant it, tried to feel like someone new in the mirror. But the second you walked into the pulsing neon haze of the club and saw Hector standing by the bar with the other guys, hands in his pockets, that same unreadable expression on his face, your stomach turned traitor.

You didn’t speak. Just walked past him, the way strained exes do when too much has been said and not enough at all. And maybe that’s why you ended up talking to someone else. He was harmless, really. Just some guy from the crowd who asked you what you were drinking and said something stupid but sweet enough to make you laugh.

You weren’t trying to flirt. You weren’t looking for anything. You were just tired of missing something you weren’t allowed to want anymore. Tired of the ache that bloomed in your chest every time you caught Hector looking at you like he didn’t know whether to pull you back or walk away for good.

You felt him before you saw him, almost like the shift in the air when a storm rolls in. One second, you were half-smiling at something a guy you'd just met was saying, nodding politely, a solo cup cradled in your fingers more out of habit than interest. The music thumped through your ribs, too loud for real conversation, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t really listening anyway.

You were too aware of the weight of your own loneliness, trying to convince yourself you were okay, that you were fine, that coming here hadn’t been a mistake.

The moment your new acquaintance leaned in, closer than necessary, his hand brushing your hip in that casual way that said he thought he could, the storm hit. Hector. His presence slammed into your senses before he even touched you, the kind of gravity you never stopped orbiting no matter how hard you tried.

One look at his face, jaw tight, eyes dark and locked onto yours with a heat that burned hotter than the club lights, and you knew. You knew he wasn’t just watching. Suddenly, he was right there, cutting through the space between you like it didn’t exist, reaching out and wrapping his fingers around your wrist, not hard, but with a certainty that made your breath catch.

The other guy blinked, confused, backing off like instinct told him this wasn’t his fight. “Come with me,” Hector said, voice low enough to make your heart stumble, rough in the way that told you he was barely holding it together. Not a plea. Not a suggestion. Almost a command, wrapped in heartbreak and heat.

His grip on your wrist wasn’t bruising, but it was firm enough to make your pulse stutter. He hadn’t said anything else, just led you through the thumping bass and flashing lights until you were tucked away in a hallway near the back of the club, somewhere between the staff entrance and the bathrooms, where the music was muffled but your heartbeat wasn’t. His eyes were burning. Yours were too.

“What the hell are you doing, Hector?” you snapped, yanking your hand from his like it burned. “You don’t get to do that. We’re not together anymore, remember?” He didn’t speak back, not at first. Just stood there, jaw tight with something he wasn’t saying. “You think I don’t remember?” he said, low. “Then act like it,” you shot back, voice sharp. “You don’t get to pull me away like I’m still yours when you were the one who let me go.” This time, he flinched, subtle, just a flicker in his eyes, but you saw it, and God, you hated that it still hit you that hard. “You were out there,” he said, voice rough, “touching some random guy like he could give you anything real, like he could give you something-”

“Oh, and now you suddenly get to decide what’s real?” you snapped, the scoff leaving your throat sharper than you meant, your hands trembling with rage you didn’t want him to see. “You don’t talk to me. You don’t call. You show up with the guys and act like we’re just two people who happen to orbit the same damn group, and the second I so much as talk to someone else, you lose your mind like I’ve betrayed you.” He didn’t hesitate. “Because it is a betrayal,” he growled, stepping in like he couldn’t stand the distance between you. “It is to me.” Your mouth opened, to fire back, to say something cruel, something final, but you didn’t get the chance. Because Hector was on you. Mouth crashing into yours, hard and hungry and devastating, like kissing you was the only thing keeping him alive. 

His hands were in your hair before you could even think, pulling you closer, his mouth hot and bruising against yours, and you hated how quickly you melted into it, how familiar it felt, how easy it was to fall. And then, like he couldn’t wait, like the time apart had built into something sharp and hungry, he pulled back just long enough to breathe, to look at you, his voice low and wrecked. “Come with me,” he said again, and this time it wasn’t a request, It was a demand.

You didn’t ask where. Didn’t need to. His hand found yours like it never forgot the way your fingers used to fit, and you followed without hesitation, heart thudding in your chest harder than the bass vibrating through the floor. The club was dark, flashing with reds and violets, bodies pressed together in a blur of sweat and sound, but the two of you moved through it like nothing else existed, like the gravity between you was stronger than the noise, than the past, than the people who might’ve seen. You felt the burn of his stare even as he led you, the possessiveness in the grip he had on your wrist, guiding you toward the back where the single-stall restrooms were tucked into the corner, barely lit, barely noticed.

The second the door clicked shut, Hector was on you like a storm, mouth crashing into yours, hands rough and desperate, like he’d been dying to touch you and couldn’t hold back anymore. He slammed you back against the door, one hand curling in your hair, the other already sliding up your waist, slipping under your top to palm bare skin. The chill of the metal behind you contrasted with the fire of him in front of you, and it made your head spin. He kissed you like he hated the space between you. Like he was trying to erase every second he hadn’t had you in his arms, in his bed, on his cock.

Your breath caught when his hand slid higher, fingers brushing the underside of your bra, thumb teasing the swell of your breast like he already knew exactly what would make you fall apart. Because he did. Hector had always known your body like it was a song he’d memorized, every note, every rhythm. “You think I could just stand there?” he rasped against your mouth, dragging your top off over your head, eyes devouring the way your bra hugged your chest. “Watching you talk to some random?” You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like that. Not when his hands were back on your skin, rough and reverent all at once.

“You don’t get to say that,” you gasped, even as you yanked his shirt up, needing it off, needing him closer. “You broke up with me.” “I fucked up,” he snapped, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside. “But I never stopped wanting you.” And then he kissed you again, slower now, deeper. His tongue slid into your mouth like he was trying to reclaim it, like he was trying to brand you all over again. When he broke the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck, biting softly at your pulse, your knees buckled.

He caught you easily, lifting you like you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding down against the hard length straining against his jeans, and fuck, the groan he let out sent heat shooting through you. “You feel that?” he murmured, grinding up into you. “That’s what you do to me. No one else, only you.” His hands shoved your panties aside, rough fingers sliding between your folds, finding how wet you already were. You gasped, head falling back, body aching.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured against your throat, voice rough and almost disbelieving, like the heat he felt between your thighs was driving him insane. His fingers pressed harder, teasing, testing, and you gasped, hips twitching toward his hand like your body had a mind of its own. “Just from this?” he asked, low and wrecked. “Just from me pulling you in, touching you like this?” “Yes,” you breathed, shameless, your voice breaking on the word. “I’ve wanted you. I still, fuck, Hector, I need it.” The confession spilled out raw and desperate, your need for him clinging to every syllable.

He groaned like he was in pain, like hearing that undid something inside him. One hand fumbled with his belt, and then he was freeing his cock, already hard, flushed, leaking at the tip. When he rubbed the thick head against your pussy, just enough to tease, your hips bucked into him, chasing the pressure. He thrust into you in one deep, brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt with a groan so filthy it made your stomach flip. You cried out, nails digging into his back, your pussy clenching around his cock, almost missing this feeling “Fuck,” he hissed, gripping your hips, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel like fucking heaven. Tight as ever. Still mine.”

He started to move, hard, fast, relentless. Each thrust slammed you against the door, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the small space, mixing with your moans and his curses. He was fucking you like he meant it, like he needed you to feel it, to remember exactly who you belonged to. Your pussy clenched around him, and he felt it, grinned through gritted teeth as he drove into you harder, faster.

“I’m gonna cum,” he bit out, hips stuttering. “Cum with me. Let me feel you.” And you did, shattering around him, pussy squeezing his cock as you came hard, gasping his name. He followed with a deep, wrecked groan, spilling inside you, holding you to him like if he let go, the whole world would fall apart. For a long moment, the only sound was your breathing,heavy, uneven, desperate against each other. And then his lips brushed your ear. “This wasn’t a one-time thing.” You didn’t answer, because you’d be lying if you said no.

[itzsyds]

Hector fort x gf reader Barcelona just won copa del rey and reader goes in the pitch after to celebrate with Hector her boyfriend and they hold the trophy together and wears his medal for some photos and they are being called the cutest couple in Barcelona

Hector Fort x Reader

More Than Just a Win🏆

—

Guys this is fictional okay. Let’s pretend he actually played just to make the story more like UMPHHHH & to also fit the plot🤣🫡

Thanks Queen for the request! Hope this was as you hoped x

—

—

FLUFF- Barcelona just won the Copa del Rey, and as the celebrations explode across the pitch, Reader rushes to find Hector- they both share a moment that steals hearts across Spain. As she wears his medal and they lift the trophy together, their love story becomes just as celebrated as the club’s victory.

—

The final whistle echoed like a cannon blast across the Estadio Olímpico de Sevilla, followed by a storm of noise— screaming, chanting, clapping, fireworks, and an overwhelming wave of joy that surged from the stands to the sky.

Barcelona had done it once again. Beating Real in a 3-2 victory.

The Copa del Rey was theirs.

—

On the pitch, Hector dropped to his knees, his fists clenched, head tilted back as he let out a roar of pure adrenaline. The match had been brutal ninety minutes of relentless running, two last-ditch tackles, and a nail-biting extra time. But it had all been worth it. Every bruise, every drop of sweat.

He got up, dazed with happiness, and looked around at his teammates sprinting across the grass, arms raised, hugging, shouting, some dropping to the ground in disbelief. And for a moment, it felt like everything he’d worked for was culminating in this electric, unforgettable moment.

But then, he thought of her…

His heart twisted in his chest— not from fatigue, but from need. She had to be here. He needed to see her smile more than he needed the medal.

More than the trophy. She was his win.

At the edge of the pitch, Reader was already rushing past the security barriers. Her media pass swung wildly around her neck as she weaved through photographers and team staff. Her heart was racing— not just from the excitement of the win, but from him.

She had watched him play with everything he had. She’d seen the tackles, the assists, the fire in his eyes when the match grew tense. And now she just needed to get to him.

“Hector!” she called, her voice slightly lost in the noise.

He turned.

And there she was.

Time slowed. All the noise blurred into the background. His face broke into the biggest grin she’d ever seen, and then he was sprinting toward her.

When they collided in the middle of the pitch, it wasn’t a dainty hug— it was full-force, emotional, messy, and perfect. He lifted her off the ground and spun her around once, her arms flying around his neck, her laugh ringing out like a melody against the chaotic symphony of celebration.

“You were incredible,” she said breathlessly.

“You’re here,” he replied, burying his face into her shoulder. “God, I was looking for you.”

They held onto each other like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, not hours. And even as the trophy presentation began, neither wanted to let go.

But Pedri and Gavi weren’t having it.

“Fort! Bring her! It’s trophy time!” Pedri shouted, laughing as he gestured toward the giant Copa del Rey.

Hector reached for her hand and led her into the heart of the team’s circle. She hesitated, overwhelmed by the sea of cameras and cheers— but he pulled her closer.

“No way you’re missing this,” he said.

When the trophy was passed into Hector’s hands, he didn’t lift it right away.

Instead, he turned to her, locking eyes with the girl who had stood beside him through injuries, training camp mood swings, and lonely away matches.

“Come here,” he said softly, his voice just for her despite the chaos.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and, together, they raised the massive silver cup. The crowd went wild. Flashbulbs lit up their faces. In that moment, she wasn’t just the girlfriend of a footballer— she was his other half. His support system. His pride.

Then came the medal.

Hector received it with a boyish grin from the staff, the ribbon slightly tangled in the excitement. He looped it around his neck, looked at it for a second, then turned to her.

“Hold still,” he said.

She blinked in surprise as he carefully removed it and slipped it over her head instead.

“Hector— no,” she laughed, flustered.

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “You earned this as much as I did.”

The cameras clicked like crazy. Fans in the stands were pointing, smiling, even chanting.

“Beso, beso, beso!” some of them started to shout playfully.

Hector leaned in with a smirk. “They want a kiss.”

Reader laughed. “Do they always get what they want?”

“With me? Yes.”

And he kissed her— gently, with one hand still on the trophy, the other holding her cheek. Not too long. Not too dramatic. Just enough to show the world that in this sea of glory, she was his greatest win.

By the time the celebrations moved into the locker room, social media had already exploded.

#BarçaLoveStory

#FortyAndHisQueen

“Hector Fort and his girlfriend lift the trophy together—cutest couple in Barcelona?”

“Not just a win for the club—a win for romance.”

The press couldn’t get enough. But neither of them cared about the coverage. Not really.

Later that night, wrapped in one of Hector’s hoodies, still wearing his medal,

Reader sat beside him on the team bus. His head rested on her shoulder, the trophy sitting in the aisle between them.

Exhausted, content, and full of quiet joy.

“You know,” he said, barely above a whisper, “I’ve dreamt of this day since I was a kid.”

She looked down at him, brushing her fingers through his hair. “And did it feel like you thought it would?”

He turned his face toward her and smiled.

“Better. Because I got to share it with you.”

And for both of them, it wasn’t just about the cup. Or the glory. Or the headlines.

It was about love, pride, and the moment they’d never forget— going through it all together…

—

Guys thanks for the new baller requests. I fr needed a fresh person to write about as it feels like the same😆 it’s just a me thing cause I need a rotation of players I think for inspiration.

It’s nothing on Cala & Ethan. Dw I love my boys fr fr😌❤️‍🩹 x

[n0vazsq]

In love | Hector Fort x Reader

pairing . . . hector fort x barca!femeni!reader

summary . . . When you make eye contact with Hector during one of the practices, you never expected that he'd compliment you

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 2.1k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . so uh i blinked and suddenly there were 2k words?? also ignore how it goes from formal ahh shakespeare english to normal midway <33 hope you like it!!

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @ann6ella ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

part 1 | part 2

. . . You were not one to demand attention.

Quiet and observant, you had spent the first few weeks at FC Barcelona Femení training with a single goal in mind; playing well and blending into the team. It was, after all, your dream opportunity, and you were determined not to squander it.

The others welcomed you kindly enough, encouraging you to open up, but you simply had not yet found your footing amongst the vibrant personalities surrounding you.

It did not help that the men’s team often occupied the adjacent field or sat observing from the sidelines. While your teammates would wave or occasionally chat with the men in passing, you remained distant.

It was not due to shyness, but rather a choice to remain professional. You did not want to appear unserious in a place you had worked so hard to reach.

Still, the presence of the FC Barcelona men’s team was not something one could easily ignore. Hector, in particular, seemed to be an everlasting presence in the area. He was among the younger members of the squad, but there was no mistaking his calm, collected demeanor both on and off the pitch.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed him during those moments of shared closeness. Yet, much like the others, you treated him as an observer and little more.

That particular day of training started off as unremarkable as the others. The sun beat down over the pitches, and your teammates laughed and chatted as you stretched in preparation for the drills.

Your focus remained steady, blocking out the sounds of the men’s team as they arrived to observe. Hector was among them, naturally, along with his teammates who took their seats along the sidelines.

You might have paid them no mind had it not been for the social media team.

"Could we borrow you for a moment?" one of the FC Barcelona media staff called your name, motioning you over.

You hesitated before complying, jogging toward them and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You had avoided the spotlight so far, preferring to build your reputation quietly.

Still, there was no refusing a request that was for a part of your job. The social media staff smiled warmly when you approached.

"We’re doing a quick trend for the socials," one of them explained. "It’s nothing too demanding. Are you okay with that?"

You found yourself relaxing in their presence. "Yeah, that is perfectly fine."

As they prepared their equipment, you exchanged a few quiet jokes with the staff, earning surprised laughter that quickly turned infectious.

Though you were not one to show this side of yourself often, there was something about being in front of a camera in a controlled environment that brought it out.

You participated in their short clip; some trend that needed an enthusiastic and almost dramatic entrance.

It was the first time you allowed yourself to be seen laughing openly, your composure softening as you ran toward the camera with a wide smile.

You had not realized that the men’s team had a perfect view of the entire interaction.

Hector watched, his attention unwavering. The same player who had been so reserved for weeks was now smiling without clear happiness, her voice clear as she joked with the media staff.

He sat up straighter on the bench, exchanging glances with a few of his teammates who were already grinning knowingly.

"So she can speak," Lamine teased quietly, elbowing Hector.

"She’s just quiet." Hector replied defensively, though his gaze remained fixed on you. As you jogged back toward your teammates, you turned your head slightly. For a brief moment, your eyes met his.

Your breath caught in your throat. His expression was unreadable, though his stare was so direct that you felt heat rise to your cheeks. You quickly looked away, pretending to focus on rejoining the team. Hector smirked faintly as he watched you go.

"I think you scared her," Pau said, laughing.

Hector merely shook his head, though he could not deny the amusement he felt. There was something about you that intrigued him, not just the sudden glimpse of your laughter but the fact that you carried yourself so differently from the others.

The training session continued shortly after, with the focus shifting to some practice matches. You pushed any lingering embarrassment out of your mind, focusing instead on the drills.

Playing well had always been your safe zone. It did not matter who was watching or what they were thinking; on the pitch, you were simply you.

As the session progressed, you found yourself fully immersed in the game. The ball came to you cleanly, and your instincts took over. You made precise passes, quick decisions, and strategic runs that left even your teammates impressed.

Unbeknownst to you, Hector and his teammates remained glued to the sidelines, their casual commentary growing louder each time you touched the ball.

"Did you see that?" Marc exclaimed as you cut through two defenders effortlessly before delivering a clean pass to your teammate.

"She’s brilliant," Pedri added.

Hector said nothing, though his gaze remained fixed on you. Every movement you made seemed deliberate, yet natural. You played with a level of skill and composure that he found genuinely impressive.

When you scored a goal near the end of the match, a powerful strike that sent the ball soaring into the top corner, the men erupted on the sidelines.

"Hector, this is your moment!" Gavi shouted, earning a chorus of laughter. Hector shot them a warning look, though the corners of his mouth betrayed a small smile. His teammates, however, were relentless.

"You’ve been watching her this whole time," Pau teased. "Are you going to compliment her or just stare?"

"Mind your own business," Hector replied evenly, though he could feel his face heat ever so slightly. It was true, though. He had been watching you, and he could not deny the admiration he felt for how you carried yourself on the field.

As the match ended and the players left to cool down, you finally allowed yourself to breathe. The session had gone well, and you could feel the satisfaction that came from knowing you had done your best.

You took a seat on the grass, reaching for your water bottle when a shadow fell over you. Looking up, you blinked in surprise to see Hector standing there, his expression as composed as ever.

"You played really well today," he said simply, his voice steady.

You were momentarily caught off guard. Though you had been aware of the men’s team watching from the sidelines, you had not expected any direct interaction, especially not from him.

"Thank you," you replied, managing to keep your tone polite despite the warmth you felt rising to your face. "I appreciate that."

Hector tilted his head slightly, studying you as though he were searching for something unsaid. "Your approach to the game is impressive. I have observed you over the past few weeks, I've never seen such strategy."

You blinked at his unexpected honesty. "I try to focus on improving where I can," you admitted quietly. "There is still much I hope to learn."

He nodded slowly. "That mindset will pay you well." For a moment, there was silence between you, though it was not uncomfortable. Finally, Hector allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips. "You should smile more often. It suits you."

The comment caught you off guard entirely, and you felt your cheeks flush. Before you could form a response, Hector gave you a polite nod before walking away to rejoin his teammates, who were, of course, watching the entire interaction with great interest.

"Oh, he’s definitely in love," Lamine remarked loudly, earning laughter from all around.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head at their behaviour, though you could not stop the small smile that crept onto your face.

From that day onward, something subtle shifted. You were still reserved, but Hector seemed to make a point of acknowledging you when their team was nearby.

Whether it was a simple nod of greeting, a brief conversation, or a lingering glance during training, it did not go unnoticed, by you or by his teammates, who took every opportunity to tease him for it.

As for you, it became harder to deny the quiet flutter in your chest every time your eyes met his. The once distant player from the sidelines was now someone who occupied your thoughts more often than you cared to admit. And though you were still focused on proving

A few days later, as you started gathering your things after another training session, you couldn’t ignore the subtle feeling of being watched. Sure enough, Hector was standing a little way off with the rest of the men’s team, their voices muffled by the distance.

From time to time, one of his teammates nudged him, whispering something that clearly earned a few laughs.

You rolled your eyes to yourself, amused but curious. You were just about to sling your bag over your shoulder when you noticed Hector heading in your direction. Again.

The rest of his team hollered softly behind him, their teasing unmistakable even from across the field. "Just go!" Marc called. Hector waved him off with an exasperated hand, but there was a faint pink tint to his ears as he approached you.

"You again," you teased lightly as he stopped a few steps away. "Should I start charging you for the compliments?"

Hector let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ll consider it, though I might run out of money quickly at this rate."

You blinked, caught slightly off guard by his response, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. "Flattery will only get you so far, Hector."

"I’ll take my chances," he replied with a grin, his confidence returning now that he’d earned a smile from you. There was a pause, short but heavy enough to hint at something more, before he cleared his throat. "Look, the guys are unbearable when they’re like this, so I might as well ask. Would it be completely out of line if I asked for your number?"

Your eyebrows raised in mock disbelief. "Are they watching right now?"

He sighed, glancing over his shoulder. "Very obviously."

And sure enough, when you looked past him, a few of the guys were pretending to 'stretch,' hands over their mouths as if that would hide their poorly contained laughter.

"You might want to tell them they’re not as subtle as they think." you said, shaking your head in amusement.

"I’m well aware," Hector muttered before returning his focus to you. "So… what do you say? Maybe if I text you, they’ll leave me alone. Consider it an act of mercy."

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. "I’m not sure I believe that’s the only reason you’re asking."

"Maybe it’s not," he admitted, his voice dropping just a little. "You’re full of surprises. I’m just trying to keep up."

For a moment, you felt your face heat up at the unexpected sincerity of his words. Finally, you sighed with exaggerated reluctance. "Fine. Give me your phone."

Hector’s smile was victorious as he quickly handed it over. You typed in your number and passed it back, shaking your head as you did. "You owe me now, Hector. Don’t let your friends think this was their idea."

"Trust me, I won’t," he said with a quiet laugh, already saving your contact. "But I can’t promise they won’t still claim credit."

"You’re surrounded by instigators," you teased, starting to walk toward the locker rooms.

"I know," he called after you, his grin lingering. "But they’re right about one thing, I’m glad I came over."

You glanced back at him, shaking your head but unable to stop smiling. "Goodbye, Héctor."

"See you soon," he replied, stepping back toward his team, where they were already waiting to pounce on him.

Back with his teammates, Hector was greeted with playful shoves and whistles. "She gave you her number, didn’t she?" Marc asked smugly.

"Yeah, and she didn’t even charge him for it," Lamine added, earning a round of laughter.

Hector ignored them, though the faint smirk on his face gave him away. "You all really need new hobbies," he muttered, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Admit it, you’re blushing," Pau teased, leaning in close.

"Sure," Hector replied sarcastically, but even he couldn’t fight the grin threatening to spread. As his friends continued their banter, his mind kept drifting back to you; your teasing smile, your quiet confidence, and the way you’d handed him his phone like you already knew he’d text.

And as far as Hector was concerned, he absolutely would.

[joaosnovia]

Hiiiii I’ve been waiting sooo long to request from u I looooove ur writing <33

So hear me out luv a Hector Fort long fic (please make it long 8k+) where he’s a popular student and reader is like an unpopular middle class student and she’s kinda bullied for that but Hector starts dating her cuz he loves her but all his friends and people in school start calling her a gold digger and Hector keeps defending her so one day he gifts her a necklace like an expensive one right but she needs money cuz her mom needs meds and her fam aren’t doing well but somehow the popular girl in school that has a crush on Hector finds out and tells him so he thinks reader is actually with him for the money so he fights with her and break up and then later he finds out that she suffered and he regret it when he found her working 2 part time and became always absent in school and got sent to principal cuz she sleeps in class cuz she’s tired from working and make the endings fluffy but please make it angsty like I wanna cry I wanna bawl my lil eyes and heart out (I’m a sucker for angst I litt read sad books all the time)

If you are able to write this I thank u in advance darling <33

Have a great weekend and stay healthy and safe 💙

❦ - unpopular.

summary:: the req.

warnings:: angst but yk that.

writers note:: this took way too long to write but tbf this got requested ages ago and i’d write like once a week but it’s lowkey fun! also there’s a baby ref in this

w/c:: 9k

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli @nngkay

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

montserrat academy smelled like money.

not literally, but in that subtle way: clean, polished hallways that echoed too much, perfume lingering in the air even after people had left, crisp uniforms that never seemed to wrinkle, shoes that didn’t scuff, phones without a single crack.

you didn’t belong there. not really.

you’d gotten in on merit, a scholarship, long nights of studying, beating the odds kind of story. your mom cried when you got the acceptance email. your little brother made a paper crown and called you ‘genius queen’ for a week.

but being in didn’t mean being part of.

you sat alone a lot. not because you were a loner, but because lunch tables filled up fast with people who didn’t look twice at you. your clothes weren’t trendy, your shoes were always the same beat-up pair of sneakers, and your accent still carried bits of the neighborhood you came from.

and the others… they noticed.

they didn’t push you or laugh in your face or throw your books across the floor like in those dramatic high school movies. no, it was quieter than that.

it was looking through you when you spoke in class. it was changing the subject when you joined the conversation. it was the way camila once complimented your thrifted bag, and everyone laughed like she’d told a joke.

you weren’t hated. just forgotten. misplaced. tolerated.

but you didn’t come to be liked.

you came to escape.

from the thin walls of your apartment, where you could hear your mom coughing through the night. from the grocery lists that had more crossed-out items than bought ones. from the part-time job you worked after school and on weekends, where your uniform smelled like espresso and burnt toast.

you told yourself that montserrat academy was a ladder.

get good grades. get out. get a future.

so you kept your head down. kept your notebooks full. tuned out the whispers.

until him.

héctor fort didn’t exist in your world. not really. he was the kind of student who was the school. son of someone important. name whispered like legacy. always surrounded. always laughing. not in a loud, obnoxious way, but in that warm, boy next door in a netflix teen show kind of way.

he played football, well. people wore his number on hoodies, not because they were on the team, but because he was the team. he was in all the sports day photos. he was in the group project that won nationals. he was even in the school tour pamphlet they handed to new families.

and he was everywhere.

in the mornings, leaning against his locker. during lunch, surrounded by people who hung on his every word. after class, headphones around his neck, bouncing a ball against his knee like he couldn’t sit still.

you noticed him because everyone did.

he noticed you, and that was the part you didn’t understand.

it started in october.

you were sitting behind the library, your favorite spot, shaded, quiet, full of soft rustling trees and the hum of faraway conversations you didn’t have to join. you liked being alone there. liked how the sun hit your notebook just right, how your soup thermos kept your hands warm.

you were rereading a chapter for literature class when footsteps crunched the leaves.

you didn’t look up right away. people didn’t usually come back here. but then you heard it, the unmistakable, too calm voice:

‘hey.’

you looked up.

héctor.

you blinked, then instinctively checked behind you, half-expecting him to be talking to someone else.

but there was no one.

just you.

‘is this spot taken?’ he asked, nodding toward the patch of grass near you.

you blinked again. ‘uh… no. it’s not.’

he sat. like it was normal. like it was nothing.

you waited for the joke. for someone to pop out with a camera. you waited to wake up.

but he didn’t say anything else. just pulled out a book, your book, actually. same edition, same dog-eared corner you had in yours. and opened it to where the next chapter started.

silence settled.

you told yourself not to read into it. maybe it was a coincidence. maybe he just liked the quiet too.

the next day, he was there again.

and the next.

by friday, he nodded at you like it was a routine. you didn’t even question it anymore. just shifted your bag to give him space and went back to your reading.

you still didn’t talk much. sometimes he’d point out a line in the book and mumble something about it being clever. sometimes you’d make a quiet joke and he’d laugh softly, like he was trying not to make it a big deal.

it wasn’t flirtation. not yet.

it was something else. something slower. something quieter.

and you didn’t understand it. didn’t know why he was choosing this spot when he had all the tables in the courtyard waiting for him. why he started borrowing your highlighters and returning them with smiley faces drawn on the caps. why he lingered a little longer after the bell rang.

but you didn’t ask.

because it felt… safe. and safe wasn’t something you had very often.

one wednesday, he showed up with two drinks.

‘one’s for you,’ he said, handing you a plastic cup with condensation beading down the sides.

you took it cautiously. ‘what is it?’

‘iced cinnamon oat latte,’ he said. ‘the guy at your café said it’s your usual.’

you stared at him.

he just shrugged, a little too casual. ‘i went there this morning. wanted to see if the pastries were as good as you always say.’

you blinked.

‘you went out of your way just to—’

‘they’re mid, by the way,’ he interrupted, sipping his own drink. ‘but this? this is good.’

you smiled, small and stunned.

and he smiled back, like he’d been waiting to see it.

you didn’t know what this was yet.

it wasn’t a relationship. wasn’t friendship, even, not quite.

but it was something. something soft. something beginning.

and even if you didn’t trust it yet… you were starting to hope.

you didn’t plan on him becoming part of your routine.

he just did.

it was subtle at first. like sunlight stretching across your bedroom floor, there before you really noticed, warm before you could name it. héctor started showing up behind the library before you even got there. sometimes with coffee. sometimes with an apple he’d take one bite out of, then forget to finish. always with that calm sort of presence. that ease you envied.

you learned little things.

he bit the inside of his cheek when he was thinking. he had messy handwriting and made his t’s too tall. he hated when people wasted food. he played with his necklace when he was bored. he smiled with one side of his mouth first, like the other had to catch up.

and he asked questions.

soft, curious ones.

‘what do you wanna do after this?’

you looked up from your book.

‘after school, i mean,’ he added. ‘like… life. what’s the plan?’

you shrugged. ‘go to uni. get a job. something stable. maybe sleep more than four hours a night.’

he laughed gently, but his eyes softened.

‘you don’t wanna dream big?’

you looked down. fiddled with the corner of your page.

‘i think surviving is dreaming big,’ you murmured.

he didn’t say anything right away. just nodded, slow, like he got it.

your classmates started noticing before you did.

you could feel the shift. the way people’s eyes followed you when you passed. the way conversations dropped to whispers when you walked into a room. it was subtle, at first. but it grew.

you weren’t invisible anymore. and it didn’t feel like a compliment.

camila started looking at you like you were a stray cat tracking dirt across her marble floors.

‘you and fort,’ she said one day in the hallway, voice sticky sweet, ‘are you, like… a thing?’

you blinked. ‘we’re friends.’

she laughed like that was the funniest thing in the world.

‘right. just checking.’

you didn’t tell héctor. you didn’t want him to feel like he had to defend you. not when things were still… undefined. you didn’t know what he called you when you weren’t around.

but then he asked.

‘do people ever give you shit?’ he said one afternoon, tossing a leaf in the air and catching it.

you paused. ‘what?’

‘about us hanging out.’

you looked at him, quiet.

he sighed. ‘it’s just, someone said something earlier and it pissed me off. they don’t know you. they don’t get it.’

‘get what?’

he blinked. caught your gaze. then shrugged.

‘you’re cool,’ he said simply. ‘you’re real. i like being around you.’

your heart did something weird and fluttery. you hated how easily he made you want to believe him.

‘well,’ you said, trying to keep your voice level, ‘i’m not really used to people liking me for… anything, so. that’s new.’

he looked at you for a second longer than he needed to.

‘they’re idiots if they don’t.’

your shifts at the café got longer. your manager asked you to cover weekends, and you said yes because your mom’s meds weren’t getting cheaper, and you didn’t know how to say no to survival.

you were tired all the time. your eyes stung during lectures. your back hurt from being on your feet too long.

and one friday, héctor showed up at closing.

you didn’t even look up at first, you were too busy restocking sugar packets.

‘hey, stranger.’

your head jerked toward the voice.

him. in sweats. hair damp from practice. a little out of breath like he’d rushed.

‘what are you doing here?’ you asked, blinking.

‘thought you might need company.’

you blinked again. ‘i… i have to mop.’

he grinned. ‘i’m great with mops.’

he wasn’t. he nearly slipped. twice. but he stayed. made you laugh. and when you locked up at the end of the night, he walked you to the bus stop, hands in his hoodie pockets, shoulders brushing yours.

‘thanks,’ you said softly.

he looked at you.

‘for what?’

‘showing up.’

he didn’t answer.

just nudged your hand with his, like he was asking a question without saying anything.

you let your pinky hook around his.

not quite holding hands. not quite nothing, either.

the next week, he brought you a sandwich during break.

‘you didn’t eat at lunch,’ he said, not even looking up from his phone.

you blinked. ‘how’d you—?’

‘you had your sad soup face,’ he shrugged. ‘figured you were tired of leftovers.’

you stared at the sandwich. it had your favorite cheese. the kind you only got when it was on sale.

‘you didn’t have to—’

‘i know,’ he said, finally glancing at you. ‘but i wanted to.’

and that… that was the beginning of the end.

because wanting you?

that was dangerous.

and you were starting to want him back.

by the time december rolled around, everything felt different.

you still woke up early. still packed your brother’s lunch. still worked weekends, still walked to school half-asleep with a thermos in your hands and a hoodie pulled over your ears.

but something in your chest had shifted.

it was the way you checked your phone before anything else, looking for a good morning text with a dumb emoji that never matched the mood. it was the way you stopped bringing soup because héctor always showed up with something better. it was the way his hoodie lived in your backpack now, just in case you needed it.

it was the way he’d learned to say your name like it was something soft.

and the way you stopped flinching when he did.

it was slow, so slow. every step of whatever this was. like he was giving you space to run, even though you didn’t want to anymore.

you hadn’t called it love yet.

not out loud.

but sometimes, when he leaned his head on your shoulder behind the library, when he handed you a drink with your name spelled right and a heart beside it, when he tied your shoe without saying a word and then stood up like it was nothing, you thought, maybe.

maybe.

the first time he asked you to come over, you panicked a little.

‘just a few of us,’ he said, fiddling with the ring on his finger. ‘nothing fancy. we’re watching the barça match. i’ll save you a spot on the couch.’

you hesitated.

you knew what his friends thought of you. knew the names they didn’t say to your face. knew you weren’t the kind of girl they invited to anything.

but you showed up anyway.

your jeans were the only pair you owned without a hole. your hair was in its neatest braid. you brought a bag of chips that cost more than they should have, but you didn’t want to come empty handed.

his house was everything you expected, clean, modern, a little too big for a family of three. his mom smiled politely, offered you juice. his friends barely looked at you.

except camila.

she smiled with teeth. leaned too close to héctor. made comments that danced on the edge of insults, just sharp enough to sting.

but héctor didn’t let you drift.

he kept his knee pressed against yours. he explained the game when you looked confused. he handed you a blanket when it got cold, and when the match ended and his friends were getting ready to leave, he pulled you aside.

‘you okay?’ he asked.

you nodded. too quickly.

he watched you.

‘you don’t have to pretend around me,’ he said, voice low. ‘i notice things too.’

you bit your lip.

‘i’m fine,’ you said. ‘they just… think you could do better.’

his brows pinched, jaw tightening.

‘no,’ he said. ‘they don’t get you. big difference.’

you looked up at him.

he stepped closer.

‘you’re the best part of my day,’ he whispered. ‘they can choke on their opinions.’

you laughed. you couldn’t help it. it burst out, messy and real.

and he looked so pleased with himself.

christmas break was colder than usual.

you worked doubles. your mom’s medicine ran out and insurance wouldn’t cover the new one. the heating in your apartment went out for three days, and you slept in the same bed as your brother, layered in sweatshirts.

you didn’t tell héctor. he was spending the holidays in menorca with his cousins, sending you photos of the beach and dumb santa filters on his face.

you didn’t want to ruin that with your problems.

he texted you the night before new year’s.

hey. can i see you tomorrow? like… actually see you?

you said yes, of course.

he showed up at your building at noon, wearing that navy jacket you liked, a bag in one hand and a little grin tugging at his mouth.

you met him outside, hair still damp from your rushed shower, shoes half-tied.

‘i brought snacks,’ he said. ‘and something else.’

you raised a brow.

he held up a small velvet box.

your stomach dipped.

‘don’t freak out,’ he said quickly. ‘it’s not, like, a thing. i just saw it and thought of you. that’s all.’

you opened it slowly.

inside was a necklace, gold, delicate, a tiny star on a fine chain. barely there, but still beautiful. something that caught the light just right.

‘héctor…’

‘you don’t have to wear it,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘i just… you look up at the sky so much, and it made me think of you. that’s dumb, right?’

you shook your head.

‘no. it’s not dumb.’

he reached out, slow.

‘can i…?’

you nodded.

he fastened it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. you held your breath.

and when he stepped back to look at you, his eyes softened.

‘perfect,’ he said.

you didn’t cry. not then.

but something shifted inside you. something quiet and seismic.

you wore the necklace every day after that.

under your uniform, tucked into your sweater at work. even to sleep. you touched it when you were anxious. let your fingers find the tiny star when you missed him.

you felt… seen.

loved, maybe.

but nothing good stays untouched for long.

camila noticed the necklace two days after school started again.

‘cute,’ she said, twisting her lip. ‘real gold?’

you didn’t answer.

she smirked.

‘must be nice, having a boyfriend with a black card. you’re really playing the long game, huh?’

you froze.

‘what’s that supposed to mean?’

she shrugged. ‘just saying. not everyone gets a promotion from barista to princess without putting in work.’

you walked away before your hands could shake.

you didn’t tell héctor.

again.

but you should’ve.

because you were about to need him more than ever.

the first time he said it, i love you, it wasn’t planned.

no candles, no build-up, no carefully picked moment.

it was raining. you were curled up on his bed, wearing his hoodie, socks mismatched. you were both tired, he had practice all morning, you had two shifts back to back, and your eyes kept fluttering shut during the movie playing in the background.

he turned toward you, head on his arm, eyes soft.

you didn’t even notice right away. not until he said it again, this time quieter. slower. more certain.

‘i love you.’

your breath caught.

he didn’t rush to fill the silence. he didn’t take it back or explain it away. just watched you with that look. the one that made you feel like the world wasn’t spinning so fast. like maybe you could stop running and rest for a minute.

you didn’t say it back right away.

you blinked, heart thudding in your chest, and whispered, ‘why?’

he smiled, small, real, almost sad.

‘because you still show up, even when everything tries to tell you not to.’

your throat burned. your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie. your eyes stung.

and when you finally said it, i love you too, his shoulders dropped like he’d been holding that breath for weeks.

he didn’t kiss you. not right away.

he just pulled you closer. held you like you were something breakable and sacred at the same time.

like he knew you hadn’t been held like that in a long time.

after that, things got easier.

he called you more. waited outside the café when your shifts ran late. sent you dumb tiktoks and notes in your locker. sometimes he showed up at your place with dinner, stuff your mom liked, stuff your brother would actually eat.

he never made it a big deal.

never made you feel small about needing help.

never made it feel like charity.

just said, you’d do the same for me.

you fell for him a little more every time he said stuff like that.

he called you star girl sometimes. said the necklace made you look like you were born under something magic.

you rolled your eyes at him, but you never took it off.

not even once.

one night, after your shift, you both sat in his car in the parking lot. your feet were killing you, your voice was hoarse, and your eyes burned from staying open too long.

he reached over, took your hand.

‘come away with me this summer,’ he said.

you blinked. ‘what?’

‘somewhere quiet. no pressure. no uniforms. just you and me and maybe the sea.’

you laughed. ‘and how would we afford that?’

‘i’ll figure it out.’

‘you say that like it’s easy.’

he looked at you, serious now. steady.

‘i say it like i want you there. and when i want something, i make it happen.’

you looked away.

no one had ever made room for you like that before. not in plans. not in futures.

you squeezed his hand.

‘okay,’ you whispered. ‘just you and me and the sea.’

he smiled, wide. like you’d given him the world.

you started dreaming again.

tiny dreams.

less tired. more time. a quiet apartment with bookshelves. a degree with your name on it. dinner that wasn’t just toast or soup. a boy with brown eyes and soft hands waiting at the end of every day.

you let yourself believe you could have that.

you let yourself feel safe.

loved.

wanted.

just long enough for it to really hurt when it was taken away.

you noticed the change before it happened.

it started in the eyes. the way he looked at you.

less soft. less sure. less warm.

just for a moment, maybe two. but you felt it. deep, right between your ribs.

you brushed it off at first.

maybe he was tired. school, training, everything piling up. you told yourself you were being paranoid. that old voice in your head, the one that used to whisper they don’t stay, was lying again.

but then the texts got shorter. the calls went unanswered. the lunch spot behind the library sat cold and empty for three days in a row.

and then… the whispering started again.

it was different this time. sharper. louder. less subtle.

someone knew.

you caught it in the hallway.

‘heard she sold the necklace.’

‘seriously? damn. i knew she was in it for the money.’

‘poor thing’s gotta pay rent somehow, i guess.’

your blood ran cold.

you didn’t say anything. didn’t ask. didn’t confront.

you waited for him to bring it up.

but he didn’t.

not until the fourth night you waited for him after your shift, in the freezing cold, with your fingers numb and your chest tight and your backpack too heavy.

his car pulled up late.

he didn’t smile when he saw you.

you slid into the seat, heart already racing. he didn’t kiss your cheek. he didn’t say hey, star girl.

he just drove. quiet. stiff. hands clenched on the wheel.

you didn’t ask until you were two turns away from your apartment.

‘did something happen?’

he didn’t answer right away.

just exhaled. sharp. through his nose.

and then—

‘i heard you pawned it.’

your heart dropped.

‘what?’

‘the necklace.’

your voice cracked. ‘what are you talking about?’

‘camila said—’

‘camila?’ you cut in. ‘you’re listening to camila?’

his jaw tightened. ‘she showed me. a friend of hers works at the shop downtown. said you came in last week.’

your mouth went dry.

you opened it. closed it. opened it again.

because it was true. you had gone. but not to sell it. not to pawn it. you wanted to ask if they could hold it. just in case. if things got worse.

you didn’t do it. you couldn’t.

you still wore it. every day. tucked under your uniform. over your heart.

‘i didn’t sell it,’ you whispered.

he didn’t look at you.

‘you really think i’m using you?’ your voice trembled.

‘i don’t know what to think right now.’

‘you think i’m a gold digger?’

he winced at the word, but didn’t deny it.

you blinked, tears building fast, throat closing.

‘i helped pay for my mom’s medication last week,’ you said, voice barely a breath. ‘we ran out. the insurance wouldn’t cover the new one. she was in pain, héctor. i didn’t tell you because i didn’t wanna make you feel like you had to fix it. because i know you’re not a bank. you’re a person. the person i—’

your voice cracked.

‘—i loved.’

his face crumpled for half a second. but he turned away. again.

‘you should’ve told me,’ he said quietly.

you laughed, a bitter, wet sound.

‘and you should’ve believed me.’

silence.

you looked out the window. hand pressed flat over your chest, where the necklace sat, cold against your skin.

‘pull over,’ you whispered.

‘what?’

‘pull over.’

he did.

you stepped out. shut the door before he could say anything else. started walking.

and he let you go.

you didn’t cry when you got home.

you didn’t cry when your mom asked if you were okay, or when your brother offered you the last piece of bread from dinner.

you cried when you got to your room. when you closed the door. when you sat on your floor, in the dark, and finally unclasped the necklace and held it in your hand.

it glowed a little in the streetlight from your window.

a gift. a promise. a lie?

you didn’t know anymore.

you stopped answering his texts.

you couldn’t look at him in the halls. didn’t go behind the library. didn’t walk past his locker.

he tried. once.

‘can we talk?’

you shook your head. didn’t trust your voice.

he nodded. stepped back.

but he looked wrecked.

and you hated that part of you still wanted to run to him. still wanted him to take it back. to say he was sorry. to say i believe you.

but he didn’t.

not yet.

so you stayed quiet.

and tired.

and alone.

the first night he didn’t come to find you, you couldn’t breathe.

he didn’t text you. didn’t leave a voicemail. didn’t even try to look for you after school. you spent the whole night trying to tell yourself it wasn’t personal. maybe he needed time. maybe he was too ashamed. maybe he just didn’t know what to say.

but the silence echoed. louder than any apology. louder than anything he could’ve said.

you tried to distract yourself. books, homework, scrolling through your phone as if it could ease the ache gnawing at your chest. but nothing worked. nothing could fill the space he left behind.

you found yourself wishing you’d never said it. wishing you could take back those words, the ones that shatteredeverything. wishing that maybe, just maybe, if you had just stayed quiet, everything would’ve been okay.

but you couldn’t go back.

and in the silence, it became real. this wasn’t a misunderstanding. this wasn’t just a fight. this was something bigger. something that felt too heavy to carry.

the pain, his pain, stuck to your ribs. suffocated you. not from the words he said, but from the words he didn’t say.

he never even tried to fix it.

the next day, he didn’t try to find you. he didn’t come to your locker, didn’t sit beside you in class. he walked past you in the hallway, his gaze drifting somewhere else, anywhere but toward you.

it stung. the cold indifference. the way he looked like you weren’t even worth a glance anymore. like you were just another girl he used to care about.

he didn't apologize. he didn’t even see you.

he just, walked away.

and you hated yourself for still feeling something.

you tried to keep your distance. tried to push him out of your thoughts. out of your heart. but no matter how many times you told yourself you were better off, you couldn’t shake the image of his eyes. the way they softened when they looked at you. the way he’d whispered “i love you” like he’d meant it.

but that was before.

now, all you had were the remnants of the promises he’d made.

the necklace. the plans. the quiet moments. the love you thought you had.

and it hurt. oh god, it hurt more than you thought anything could.

you kept walking. kept working. kept pretending that it was okay, that you were okay. but every step felt like a betrayal of the love you had given him. the love you’d believed in.

that night, after another shift, you barely made it home before your mom noticed.

‘you look terrible,’ she said. ‘how’s your day?’

you didn’t answer right away. just slid off your jacket and put it on the chair. sat down at the kitchen table.

‘work’s fine,’ you said, your voice shaking despite the effort to sound normal. ‘it’s fine.’

but she wasn’t fooled.

she sat across from you, her eyes narrowing. ‘you know you can talk to me, right?’

you nodded. but the words were stuck in your throat. the words that needed to come out wouldn’t.

because they weren’t just about a fight.

it was about everything.

you stayed quiet. stared down at the table, where the unfinished bowl of soup from earlier sat cold.

‘does he love you, honey?’ she asked, her voice soft, gentle. like she already knew.

the question hit you like a punch to the gut. does he?

you thought you knew the answer.

you thought he did.

but now? it felt like that love had been a fragile illusion.

‘i don’t know,’ you whispered, voice breaking. ‘i really thought he did, mom. i really did.’

the next day, he still didn’t talk to you.

but she did.

camila. the girl who had spread the rumors. the one who’d whispered about you being a gold digger. the one who had poisoned his mind with lies.

she smiled at you like nothing had happened. like she hadn’t been the one to rip the love you had apart with her venomous words.

‘hey,’ she said sweetly, leaning against the lockers like she owned the space. ‘still hanging around him? thought you’d know by now. boys like him don’t stay with girls like you. they never do.’

you didn’t respond. couldn’t.

your stomach twisted, but you didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

you could feel her eyes on you as you walked away, but you didn’t turn around. you didn’t let her win.

by the time the final bell rang, the weight of the day crushed down on you. the world felt like it was closing in. your chest ached with every breath, your heart heavy, suffocating in the grief you couldn’t shake.

when you got to your locker to grab your things, you found something unexpected.

a small envelope, tucked into the corner of your books.

your hands shook as you opened it. and there, inside, was a note.

it wasn’t from him.

it wasn’t even signed.

just words, scrawled quickly. desperate.

he's sorry. he doesn’t know what to do. he needs you.

you stared at it. your vision blurred, and the sting in your chest deepened.

he needs you. but where was he? where was his apology? where was the man who promised to never leave?

he hadn’t even fought for you.

and the truth cut deeper than anything else.

he was still the same. still too afraid to face the mess he’d made. too scared to fix what was broken between you.

he had let you walk away. had let her win. let her voice drown out his love for you.

you couldn’t stay anymore.

not for him. not for this.

you folded the note carefully and shoved it into your bag. you walked out of the school, the weight of everything pressing on your chest, and didn’t look back.

that night, after another endless shift, you found him waiting for you. he was standing at the end of the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets. eyes wide, searching.

you didn’t stop.

you couldn’t.

and when you walked past him, you heard his voice crack.

‘i love you.’

you didn’t turn around. didn’t say anything. didn’t stop walking.

because love wasn’t enough anymore.

he didn’t sleep that night. couldn’t.

his phone was on his desk, buzzing with texts from friends, but he didn’t care. nothing mattered except the silence between you two. that’s all he could hear now. nothing but the deafening silence, thick with everything he hadn’t said, everything he should’ve said.

he thought about all the moments he could’ve fixed it. all the times he could’ve walked up to you and held you, apologized, and told you the truth. but no. he let his pride get in the way. let his insecurities shape his decisions. and now he was paying for it.

he sat up in his bed, staring at the wall, replaying the fight. hearing your voice break when you said, “you think I’m a gold digger?” like a knife to his chest. he couldn’t shake it.

he thought about all the things you must’ve gone through. about your mom needing medicine. about the struggles you were fighting on your own. and he had been too selfish to see it. too blind to see that you weren’t asking for anything from him except love.

the doorbell rang early in the morning, dragging him from his thoughts. he wasn’t surprised when he saw his mom standing there, her arms crossed, her face full of concern.

‘you look like shit,’ she said bluntly, walking in without waiting for an invitation. ‘what happened?’

‘i fucked up,’ he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. ‘big time.’

‘what’d you do?’ she asked, her voice softer now.

he shook his head, not sure he could explain it. not sure he could tell her that he’d messed up the best thing in his life, that he’d pushed away the only person who had ever really cared about him, really cared.

‘i hurt her,’ he said simply. ‘i hurt the one person who was real with me. and now she’s gone.’

his mom sighed and sat down beside him. ‘i don’t know what you want me to say, Hector. but you can’t change it unless you show her you care. unless you prove that you’re willing to fight for her. words are cheap, son. you’ve got to show her you mean it.’

he swallowed thickly. ‘but what if she doesn’t want to fight for me anymore? what if she’s just... done with me?’

‘then you’ll live with that,’ she said, looking him dead in the eye. ‘but you’ve got to at least try. she’s not a game you can just walk away from. she’s a person. and you’ve got to show her that you see her as that. if you love her, you’ll fight for her, no matter what.’

he nodded, but the weight of the reality set in. could he fix this? or had he already ruined everything beyond repair?

the next day at school was just as empty as the night before. he walked through the halls, trying to act like everything was fine. but every glance, every whisper, reminded him of the mess he’d made. his friends were quieter around him, his old group of popular kids acting like nothing had happened. but he knew better. they weren’t the ones he was fighting for.

he wasn’t even sure they cared about him anymore.

and then he saw you.

you weren’t looking at him. you never looked at him anymore.

you were with your friends, sitting by the lockers, talking quietly, like you didn’t even notice him across the hallway. and he couldn’t help but watch. watch how you smiled at them. how easy it seemed for you to laugh with them, like the last few weeks hadn’t existed. like you hadn’t been in love with him.

but he knew. He knew the truth, and it ate him alive.

his phone buzzed in his pocket. a text from his best friend: ‘yo, you good?’

he didn’t answer.

he couldn’t.

he knew if he answered, it’d be a lie. because he wasn’t good. he wasn’t even close to good.

he was broken. and it was all his fault.

you had to leave early that day. your mom had called, telling you she couldn’t pick up her prescription, and the pharmacy wouldn’t hold it any longer.

you didn’t want to be there. didn’t want to be anywhere near that school, near him. near the empty spaces where his words used to live.

the walk home was long. longer than it usually felt. with each step, you felt the weight of everything. everything that had happened, everything that was falling apart, and everything you had tried so hard to hold together.

and as you walked, you realized something: you missed him. you missed him so fucking much.

you hated yourself for it. because he hadn’t fought for you. he hadn’t cared enough to look for you. to hold you and make it right.

and yet, you were still here, still aching for him, still wondering if things could go back to the way they were before everything fell apart.

the whole situation made you sick. it made you feel small and foolish.

you needed to take a breath. you needed to move on. but every time you told yourself that, you could still feel him. feel his presence, his touch, his words, lingering like a ghost you couldn’t shake.

he didn’t wait long after you left.

he caught up with you on your way home. when you saw him in the distance, you stopped in your tracks, trying to pretend you didn’t feel the same pang in your chest as he got closer.

he was panting, out of breath, his eyes wild like he’d been searching for you for hours.

‘please... talk to me,’ he begged. ‘i can’t just let you walk away from me. not like this.’

you swallowed hard, eyes burning. ‘you already did. you walked away first.’

his hand reached for yours, but you pulled back, too hurt to let him in.

‘i didn’t mean it,’ he said, voice raw, desperate. ‘please. i’m so fucking sorry. you have no idea how much i regret listening to them. to camila... to everyone. i’ve been an idiot. i was scared, okay? i didn’t think someone like you would ever love someone like me. i thought—’

‘you thought what?’ you interrupted, voice trembling. ‘that i was just after your money? that i was just another girl who wanted a piece of your life?’

he winced at the accusation, guilt washing over his face.

‘i’m sorry. i didn’t think. i should’ve trusted you. but i was just so scared that i wasn’t good enough for you. i was scared of losing everything, and i let that fear take over. i let it make me do things i’m not proud of.’

you stood there, feeling like you were holding onto something that was slipping through your fingers.

‘you shouldn’t have been scared,’ you whispered. ‘you should’ve trusted me.’

he nodded, tears gathering in his eyes. ‘i know. i was stupid. but please... please don’t walk away from me. i love you. and i can’t lose you.’

for the first time in days, you met his eyes, and for the first time in days, you felt the faintest trace of something, maybe hope. maybe, just maybe, he still meant it.

but for now, it wasn’t enough.

he didn’t text you after that night.

you didn’t text him either.

and the world stayed still for a while.

it wasn’t silence the way it had been before, cold and final. this was different. quieter, softer. like the space between two people holding their breath, unsure if they’re falling apart or falling back together.

you were tired. tired in a way that sleep couldn’t fix. tired of hoping, of second-guessing, of giving and not knowing what you’d get back.

you still showed up to school. you still worked both jobs. still helped your mom with everything she needed. still carried the weight of a life no one at school ever saw.

and he noticed.

he saw the way your uniform wrinkled more now, like you didn’t have time to care. he saw the dark circles under your eyes. saw the way you zoned out in class, like your body was there but your mind wasn’t. he saw all of it. and it killed him.

because he knew that pain. knew he had a part in it.

and even worse, he knew you wouldn’t let him help anymore.

it was a week after he’d found you on that street when you saw each other again. not just passing glances or accidental run ins. this time, it was real.

you were sitting in the back of the library, curled into a hoodie three sizes too big, your head in your arms, notebook half-filled with messy equations and tired handwriting.

you didn’t hear him approach.

‘you’re gonna burn out,’ he said quietly.

you looked up, blinking slowly. ‘already have.’

he sat down across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world. no drama. no begging. just silence and the low hum of pages turning around you.

‘i’m not here to fix anything,’ he said after a beat. ‘i know i don’t have the right. but i just wanted to sit with you. if you’ll let me.’

you didn’t answer right away.

you should’ve said no. told him to leave. told him that he lost his chance.

but the truth was, you missed him. and you were tired of pretending that you didn’t.

so you shrugged.

‘it’s a free country.’

and he smiled. just barely. just enough to let hope breathe again.

you didn’t talk much that afternoon. he watched you scribble notes. you watched him flip through a textbook he wasn’t really reading. every so often, your knees would bump under the table, and neither of you pulled away.

it was stupid how natural it still felt. how easy it was to fall back into rhythm, even with all the cracks between you.

but neither of you brought up the fight.

not yet.

it was too soon. the wound was still fresh. and you both knew that healing would take more than one soft moment in the library.

still... it was a start.

later that week, he found you in the cafeteria, sitting alone, a half eaten sandwich beside your notebook. your head was resting against your hand, eyes barely open.

he didn’t say anything. just slid into the seat beside you and offered his water bottle.

you took it without a word, too tired to argue, too drained to push him away again.

‘you’re not sleeping,’ he said gently.

you gave him a look. ‘gee, wonder why.’

he looked down, ashamed. ‘i deserve that.’

‘you deserve worse,’ you muttered, but your voice lacked the venom it once had.

he nodded. ‘i know.’

a pause.

and then, softly, too soft:

‘i don’t expect you to forgive me. not yet. maybe not ever. but i just want to show up. for you. however you’ll let me.’

you stared at him for a long moment. longer than you meant to.

‘you can sit,’ you said finally, nodding at the chair across from you. ‘but that’s all. don’t expect anything more.’

he nodded. and he stayed.

and just like that, he became part of your orbit again.

not your boyfriend. not your enemy. just… there.

he started walking you to your classes, just a few steps behind, never pushing. he offered you his jacket when it rained. he kept his distance when you needed space. and sometimes, he didn’t say anything at all.

but he was there.

and that meant something.

not everything. not yet. but something.

because you were still healing.

and healing doesn’t happen in grand gestures or perfect apologies.

sometimes, it’s just someone showing up. again and again. until the silence doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

he knew he had no right to ask for more.

he was lucky you even let him sit beside you. lucky you didn’t spit his name like poison anymore. lucky you didn’t flinch when his hand brushed yours by accident.

he was still tiptoeing around your pain. still watching you fold into yourself every time the world got too loud. still noticing the little things, how you wore the same three hoodies on rotation, how you never touched the food in the cafeteria anymore, how your phone always had a message draft open but never sent.

you were hanging on by threads. and he hated that he used to be one of them, and then chose to cut himself loose.

so he didn’t push. he didn’t beg. he stayed in the quiet with you.

and he noticed things again. like how you never showed up to first period anymore. how you’d started asking to borrow pens because you kept forgetting your own. how your eyes glazed over in the middle of conversations, like your brain just... shut off sometimes.

he asked around, lowkey. your teachers were frustrated. your friends were worried. the front office said you’d been absent a lot.

he didn’t ask why. he already knew.

he figured it out when he passed by the corner store one night, walking home after practice, and saw you inside, half asleep behind the counter, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, eyes barely open. it was past ten.

his heart sank.

he stood there outside the glass door for a while, just watching you ring up a woman’s groceries, nodding politely, smiling weakly. it wasn’t your real smile. it was your i don’t have the energy to exist smile. and he felt like shit for knowing it.

when he finally came in, the bell above the door jingled, and you didn’t even look up.

‘i’m clocking out soon,’ you mumbled, automatically, voice tired and soft.

‘not here to shop,’ he said gently.

your head jerked up like you’d been shocked. and your eyes met his. and you just blinked, like your brain was short-circuiting.

‘why are you here,’ you asked, voice flat.

‘i was walking home,’ he said. ‘and saw you.’

you didn’t answer. just turned back to the register, scanned a pack of gum for a teenager with headphones in.

‘do you always work this late?’ he asked quietly.

you didn’t look at him. didn’t need to.

‘someone has to pay the bills.’

he nodded slowly, like the guilt in his stomach hadn’t just quadrupled.

‘i didn’t know.’

‘you didn’t ask,’ you said simply.

and that hurt worse than if you’d yelled.

when your shift ended, you didn’t expect him to still be there. but he was, leaning against the wall near the exit, arms crossed, eyes soft.

‘you really don’t have to do this,’ you muttered, walking past him.

‘i know,’ he said, falling into step beside you. ‘but i want to.’

you sighed, too tired to argue. and so the two of you walked in silence. your backpack looked heavier than usual. maybe it was. maybe you were just too drained to hide it anymore.

he offered to carry it halfway through.

you said no.

but when your steps started to slow and you winced mid stride, he reached over and took it anyway.

you didn’t stop him.

the walk to your building was quiet, but not uncomfortable. just slow. heavy. like everything between you was still being rebuilt, brick by broken brick.

he paused at your doorstep, holding the bag out to you.

‘i meant it, you know,’ he said.

you looked up.

‘meant what.’

‘when i said i’d show up. no matter what.’

your fingers brushed his when you took the bag back. you didn’t pull away this time.

‘okay,’ you whispered.

just that.

but for him, it was enough to keep going.

because maybe this wasn’t the end. maybe you were still letting him in. inch by inch. breath by breath.

and if there was still space for him, no matter how small, he was gonna stay.

every time.

until you believed he meant it. until you believed you were worth it.

and maybe, just maybe, you’d let him love you again. this time without fear. without conditions. just love.

quiet, steady, and real.

you didn’t mean to fall asleep at school again.

you tried. really. but your eyes had started burning halfway through third period, and your head had gotten heavy, and the warmth of the classroom mixed with the low buzz of the teacher’s voice just… pulled you under. you didn’t even feel it happen.

you woke up to the principal’s voice.

he was standing over you, your name tight in his mouth, like he’d said it more than once. your classmates were staring. the room was too quiet. your face was warm with embarrassment, but your limbs were heavier than shame.

you mumbled an apology and tried to blink yourself back to life, but your head still felt like it was filled with fog. your teacher looked guilty. the principal looked frustrated. and you just felt small.

he asked you to come with him.

you didn’t say anything. you just stood.

you sat across from him in his office, hands in your lap, hoodie sleeves tugged down past your knuckles. you’d been here before. when your absences started stacking. when your grades slipped. when someone reported that you were always nodding off, always running late, always “not quite here.”

he didn’t yell. he wasn’t cruel. he just sighed.

‘this isn’t sustainable,’ he said gently. ‘you’re clearly overwhelmed. your teachers are worried. you’ve changed, and not in the way we like seeing.’

you nodded slowly, unable to argue. because it was true.

‘is everything okay at home?’ he asked.

you hesitated, then nodded again. even though the truth was, not really. but what could he do? what could anyone do?

‘i’m just tired,’ you whispered. ‘that’s all.’

his frown deepened.

you left with a warning and a pass to go lie down in the nurse’s office. you didn’t go. you just sat on the steps outside the building, elbows on your knees, forehead resting on your arms.

you didn’t cry.

not because it didn’t hurt.

but because you didn’t even have the energy to.

hector found you like that.

he was supposed to be at practice. he left early. said he had a stomach ache. he didn’t. he just had a feeling. a gut-wrenching, aching sort of feeling that he needed to find you.

he spotted you from across the quad, folded up into yourself, hair falling forward, body still.

his chest cracked open.

he crossed the space between you like it was instinct. like his legs moved before his brain could catch up.

he sat beside you without asking.

you didn’t look up.

‘i heard,’ he said softly. ‘what happened.’

your voice was barely there. ‘did the whole school?’

‘doesn’t matter.’

you exhaled shakily, but didn’t speak.

‘you wanna talk about it?’

you shook your head.

so he didn’t push.

you sat like that for a while, him beside you, you folded in two, the sky slowly shifting above.

then, out of nowhere, you whispered, ‘i’m trying.’

he turned to you.

‘i know.’

‘i’m trying so hard, hector. and i just… i’m so tired of trying. and still getting nowhere.’

his throat tightened. ‘i see you. i see all of it.’

‘no you don’t,’ you said, finally looking at him, eyes rimmed red. ‘no one does. they all think i’m lazy, or ungrateful, or not trying hard enough. but i’m doing everything. i’m keeping my mom alive, and i’m paying rent, and i’m working every shift they give me, and i’m still failing everything and—’

your voice cracked.

‘—and i don’t know what else to do.’

he didn’t hesitate. he pulled you into him, arms wrapping around you like he’d wanted to since the first moment he messed up.

and you didn’t fight it.

you just sank into him, into the warmth of him, into the steady heartbeat under his hoodie. and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself fall.

‘i’m so sorry,’ he whispered into your hair. ‘for every second you had to feel alone.’

you didn’t say anything.

but your fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve like you didn’t want to let go.

he didn’t leave your side after that.

not for a second.

he helped you with your homework that night. sat beside you on the floor of your living room while your mom rested in the next room. he watched you write your essays, helped quiz you for math, brought you coffee even though you told him not to.

he didn’t care.

he was there.

he texted you in the morning to make sure you woke up. met you outside your first class with breakfast in a paper bag. walked you to work after school. waited outside until your shift ended.

you kept telling him you didn’t need saving.

he kept telling you he wasn’t trying to save you. he just wanted to love you right this time.

and little by little, piece by piece, you started to believe him.

because love doesn’t always come in grand gestures or perfect words.

sometimes it shows up late, with shaking hands and tired hearts.

sometimes it’s soft and quiet and steady.

sometimes, it’s him, carrying your backpack without asking, walking you home in the rain, whispering that he’s proud of you when you finish your homework even though your eyes won’t stay open.

sometimes, love is just showing up.

and this time, he was here to stay.