IN WHERE: désiré falls in love with the new physical therapist
THIS ONE SHOT IS: fem!reader x désiré doué
SHORT FANFIC: part three ... coming soon (fifteen chapters) part one
note: i don't speak english, only spanish n a little portuguese. any errors are the translator's fault.
PSG Campus, Poissy — 19:45 PM
The PSG boys had just finished training, and you were already in your workspace, starting to organize the massage tables, towels, and oils.
Outside, the sky was gray, and a light drizzle soaked the field. Inside, the warm air contrasted with the outside weather, fogging up the windows. One by one, the players started to enter the room, some with wet hair, laughing amongst themselves, commenting on training, and tossing towels.
From your position, you saw Hakimi spotting you among the other physiotherapists and walking in your direction. It wasn’t unusual—he was often one of the first to get attended to. He was pretty chill, liked jokes, and seemed to enjoy your hands on his back.
“Hey, hey, I’m going first today, okay?”, he said with a grin, already rolling his shoulders as he prepared to lie on the table.
But before he got even a meter away from you, someone brushed past him and gently bumped his shoulder. It wasn’t aggressive, just enough to make Hakimi take a step to the side.
“Relax”, Désiré muttered calmly, positioning himself right in front of you as he pretended to stretch his arms.
Hakimi looked at him, confused, then let out a chuckle. “What’s up, Dés? In a rush today?”
“No. I just thought maybe you could let someone else take a turn”, he replied, not even looking at him.
“Aha… I get it now”, Hakimi said, amused, raising his eyebrows before lifting his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you have it this time—but only because I like you.”
He turned around and went to another table, but not before shooting Désiré a knowing smile. Désiré, on the other hand, was already in front of you, pulling off his shirt.
“Hi”, he said simply, smiling like he hadn’t just sabotaged his teammate’s turn.
“Hi”, you replied, forcing a smile as you crouched down to open the small metal drawer beside the table. You knew exactly where the oil bottles were, but your hands fumbled like you had forgotten how to use them.
The sound of glass bottles clinking was louder than expected. A couple of bottles slipped through your fingers and clattered noisily.
“Take your time. I’m not in a hurry”, Désiré murmured from the table.
You finally managed to pull one of the bottles out without breaking anything and placed it carefully on the small side table. By then, he had already laid down, face turned to one side, watching you.
You uncapped the bottle and poured some oil into your palm, rubbing your hands together to warm it up before touching him. A few drops spilled onto the floor, but you ignored it.
You stepped forward and let a few drops fall onto his back. The liquid slid down his skin, glistening under the room’s lights.
Touching him was like trying to steady yourself on unstable ground. His muscles were tight and firm from training, and the warmth of his skin under your fingers made you swallow hard.
Your hands slid slowly over his shoulder blades, tracing long, smooth lines down his back. At first, you avoided applying too much pressure, but you noticed how he exhaled deeply, his breathing gradually becoming more relaxed.
“Your hands are cold”, he mumbled, eyes still closed.
“I know… I’m sorry”, you whispered.
“No worries”, he replied. “I’m guessing you’ll warm me up in a bit.”
Your brain went on alert for a second until you heard him chuckle, realizing he’d said it without any hidden meaning… probably.
You just laughed while your hands kept moving, now applying more pressure, tracing lines along his back and working each tense spot with circular movements. He let you work without complaint.
You were so focused on what you were doing, on not messing up, that you forgot about the small drops of oil you had spilled earlier when your hands had been shaking. You stepped sideways to change position—and your right foot slipped instantly, like stepping on ice.
“Ah!”, you gasped, your balance vanishing in less than a second.
You didn’t even have time to process what was happening before his arms moved quickly, catching you mid-air, just before you could crash onto the table.
One arm wrapped around your waist, the other stopping your fall from the side.
“Are you okay?”, he asked, not moving.
Your hands were resting on the table, halfway between giving a massage and having a full-on accident. Heat rushed from your neck to your cheeks, and you only managed to nod as he slowly lowered his arms, helping you regain your balance.
“Yeah… yeah, just slipped a bit”, you said.
His hands left your body quickly, and Désiré settled back onto the table, resting his head on the pillow again.
You returned to your original position, pulled a small amount of oil between your fingers, rubbed it between your palms to warm it up again, and placed them back on Désiré’s back—more firmly now.
Your movements resumed rhythm, smooth and measured, tracing lines down his spine, moving slowly.
“Is the pressure okay?”, you asked softly.
“Yeah…”, he replied without much thought.
After a while, you stepped back a little, wiping your hands with a cloth while watching him.
“I need you to turn around”, you murmured, tossing the cloth into a small bin beneath the table.
He nodded and flipped over quickly, lying on his back on the table. His eyes met yours for a moment, and you looked away immediately, focusing on finding the peppermint oil.
“Where?”, he asked, noticing you hesitating with the bottle.
“Chest, neck, a bit of shoulders and legs”, you said quickly, trying to sound like you had it all under control.
Désiré nodded and closed his eyes calmly.
You poured a few drops into your palms and started with his shoulders. His skin was warm from being face-down, and your fingers moved easily over his collarbones.
He didn’t move. Or speak. He just let you do your job, with an expression of such relaxation it almost looked like he was asleep again. But you knew he wasn’t.
The tip of one finger accidentally pressed harder against the base of his throat as you changed direction, gliding your hands over his shoulders. His throat tightened, and he swallowed sharply. But he didn’t open his eyes or complain.
You didn’t say anything either—not even a “sorry.” You just kept going, pretending nothing happened.
Once you finished with his chest and shoulders, you stepped back, your hands still shiny with oil. You took a breath and spoke.
“I’m going to move to your legs… is that okay?”
“No”, he replied, shaking his head.
“Okay,” you murmured, grabbing the bottle again and pouring some more oil into your hands.
You could see the tension in his quads, and it made you clench your jaw. You crouched down beside the table, your hands starting to work their way down from the sides, pressing firmly.
Désiré let out a quiet sigh, clearly relieved by the pressure on his tight muscles.
“Everything okay?”, you asked, with a small smile. Your hands didn’t stop but eased up a little, moving more carefully over the already tense fibers.
“Yeah”, he replied quickly, then let out another sigh that sounded more like a whimper.
Your gaze dropped to the area you were working on, and you bit your lip softly. Sometimes players didn’t speak up out of pride or fear of seeming weak, but you didn’t want that.
“I need you to tell me if it hurts”, you insisted, more serious now, though your smile didn’t fully fade.
Your fingers stopped completely, gently pressing over the area you’d been treating. You looked up toward his face, but he wasn’t looking at you.
“How much is ‘a little’?”, you asked, tilting your head, raising an eyebrow.
“Tolerably little”, he murmured finally, and this time he opened one eye to look at you.
“It’ll go away soon”, you said softly to reassure him. “It’s just built-up tension. Nothing serious.”
He nodded, head resting on the table, eyes still on you.
You didn’t know what to say. You just nodded, doing your best not to pause your hands, which now moved slower and with less pressure.
The warm oil glistened on his skin. Every muscle under your fingers seemed to loosen, one by one. His eyelids shut again, and for a few minutes, silence took over. Only the sound of other players getting attended to, the showers, some stray voices from the locker room, and his breathing.
After a while, you noticed his body had relaxed completely. His shoulders weren’t tense anymore, his legs stretched out on the table barely moved under your touch. He was about to fall asleep… again.
You decided that was enough.
You stepped back, wiping your hands with a towel and giving him a couple of light taps on the arm.
“We’re done”, you said. “Time to hit the showers… oil boy.”
He opened one eye, amused. He didn’t move right away but smiled.
“Maybe”, you said, shrugging as you began putting away the oils and tidying up for the next player.
“Well, I like it. I earned it, didn’t I?”
He let out a soft laugh and slowly sat up, stretching his arms behind him, his torso shining under the light.
“Thanks”, Désiré said, stepping off the table and waving before heading off to the showers.
You waved back with a small smile.
Your shift was over. After working on Désiré, you moved on to Dembélé, who joked about whether you had any energy left. Then it was Kvaratskhelia’s turn, who came in with some minor back discomfort. You finished with Barcola, who only asked for a short leg massage.
The room was starting to empty. The showers were running, steam slightly fogged the mirrors, and you focused on cleaning your workstation, organizing the oil bottles and folding the extra towels.
You sighed as you put on your jacket and slung your backpack over one shoulder, ready to catch the bus and head home. What you didn’t expect was to turn around and find Désiré standing there, already changed, hair still damp.
“Are you leaving already?”, he asked.
“There’s nothing else to do”, you said with a tired smile.
He looked at you for a few seconds, then straightened up. “Want me to give you a ride? It’s starting to rain harder.”
You hesitated. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me. Plus, my car’s right there.”
“Well… if you insist and you’re being that kind.”
And he did. He didn’t say anything else, just opened the hallway door with a small tilt of his head. And you, without thinking much, followed him out to the parking lot.
Désiré’s car was clean, with a faint lavender scent. You got into the passenger seat, grateful for the warmth that enveloped you when he turned on the heater.
“Does your back hurt?”, he asked as he got into his seat.
You frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you made a weird face when you put your backpack on. Like something bothered you.”
You laughed, a little embarrassed. “Are you evaluating me now?”
“A little, yeah.” He smiled. “It’s not fair that you take care of everyone and no one looks after you.”
“Thanks… I’m fine. Just tired.”
He nodded, and for a few moments, only the sound of rain tapping on the windshield could be heard.
You glanced sideways at him. “Do you always pay that much attention?”
“When something interests me, yeah.”
You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked forward again and nodded. The car kept moving toward the main exit.
“Turn right at the next corner… then five more blocks”, you said softly.
He nodded silently, one hand on the wheel and the other resting near the gearshift. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to arrive.
“So you live pretty close.”
“Yeah. I moved recently, it’s convenient for the team schedule.” You shrugged.
He chuckled quietly. “Smart move. Still… I wouldn’t mind if you lived farther away.”
“No?”, you asked, letting out a small nervous laugh.
Désiré turned his head slightly toward you, though his eyes remained on the road. “I like driving at night. And… the company’s not bad.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to contain a smile that came out anyway.
“It’s here, on the corner”, you pointed.
The car stopped smoothly in front of the building. You both sat in silence for a few seconds, the engine still running.
“Thanks for the ride”, you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt.
Your fingers brushed the door handle, but you didn’t open it right away.
“Goodnight”, he replied. And just as you were about to step out, he added in a lower voice: