#fcb x reader

✮ Current Boyfriend - Lamine Yamal

lamine yamal x fem!reader

sy: trying the viral, ‘current boyfriend’ prank on your bf, lamine.

a/n: hope this did justice ! thanks for requesting 🫶🏼 (moodboard is shite. let’s move swiftly on..)

warnings: just spanish, i think.

per usual, your phone was causally propped up against the limestone shelf below the mirror of your masters bathroom.

purposely, you’d had it on screen-record and video for a while now, so it wouldn’t give away the fact it was recording the soon-to-be prank you were about to deliver to your boyfriend.

lamine, sure he was smart as hell when it comes to football, but common sense-wise?not so much.

lamine has just finished adjusting his golden chain around his neck. “how are you not ready yet?”

“says you who has just finished,” you playfully tease, popping the lid of your lipstick off. “i’ll only be a few seconds.”

he mumbles something incoherent, fidgeting with the blonde strands of his hair. you finish the lipstick addition, sweeping your purse.

“i’m so glad i finally get to go out with you tonight,” you smile sweetly, intertwining your hand with his. “it’s been awhile since ive went to dinner with my current boyfriend.”

lamine nods, then does a double take, his head snapping towards you, that might of just have gave himself whiplash. meanwhile, you’re still gazing at your reflection in the wall-sized mirror.

“wait what? current boyfriend?”

you continue adjusting your hair in the mirror, pretending to be oblivious about the way lamine’s once-bright expression twists into confusion.

he blinks. once. twice. thrice.

“how many do you have!?”

you turn vaguely, offering him a sideways glance. “¿qué?” (what?)

“nada,” lamine tuts, his eyes narrowing as they search your face for any persiflage. “don’t what me. current boyfriend? is there a list or something i should know about?”

you bite the inside of your cheek, merely holding back your laugh bubbling inside your throat. but you manage to stay composed. “there’s no list.”

he tilts his head slightly, suspicious. “..you said that with a little too much confidence for me to believe it.”

you roll your eyes, tapping your foot impatiently. “let’s just go to dinner. we’ll be late otherwise.”

you attempt in starting to move past him, but he casually steps in front of you with a freakishly swift pace.

“al diablo con la cena,” he remarks. “adelante, dilo otra vez.” (screw dinner. go ahead, say that again.)

you glance at him in the mirror. he’s got that lazy frown, brows slightly pulled, arms crossed now, like he’s waiting for an answer that better be a good one.

“say what, baby?”

“that thing,” he says, chin jerking up at your reflection. “about me. say it again.”

you stifle a smile. “what? that i’m glad to go out with my current boyfriend?”

“yeah, that. why’d you say it like that?” he says, tinging possessively, but more so desperately as if that actually stung him.

“look at me when i’m talking to you.”

lamine tepidly curves the angle of your jaw to face him, in which you shrug. “it’s not that deep.”

he takes a step back, eyes scanning your face and jaw slack, as if scanning for hidden answers carved into your skin. “well, it sounds deep! you planning on replacing me or something?”

you chuckle under your breath, flickering between his hazel eyes. “god, you can be so dramatic sometimes, amor. turn that frown upside down.”

you send a roguish smack to his chest, where he stays deadly still. he doesn’t let up, though.

“so i’m just your current boyfriend now?” his tone sharpens, albeit not bitter, just like he’s getting increasingly bothered. “just holding the spot till someone else comes along? someone ugly?”

you sigh. “lamine.”

he looks down to you, arms falling to his sides, and his expression somewhere between annoyed and pouty.

“just say i’m your boyfriend. drop the current.”

you raise an eyebrow. so, this is what jealousy looks like. although after almost four years of dating, jealousy wasn’t a common thing lamine liked to convey.

you can’t deny the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “are you jealous?”

his cheeks immediately blush with a shade of light crimson like a blush rebellion; the tone of his voice pitches in protest. “jealous? pfffttt. me? never.”

“you aree jealous,” you coo, prolonging the tail of your words as you poke him in the chest. “this is you. jealous. sulky face and everything.”

lamine starts with a fake cough, and both of his hands pressing comically against his inflamed cheeks. “im just saying no other man would know your coffee order like the back of their hand.”

“caramel frappuccino, with a shot of vanilla and chocolate fudge drizzle—extra cream.” he wraps his arm around your waist, deflecting his embarrassment now.

his hands hover above yours, his fingers circling your ring finger like a silent claim. “see?” he gestures, vainly to himself. “no one else would know that.”

you squint at him. “and you say you’re not dramatic, yet you’re spiraling over a sentence.”

lamine huffs, now trailing your spine with his hands. “im spiraling because the sentence made me sound temporary. im not temporary.”

“no? what makes you think that?”

“because if you ever tried replacing me, i’d have to hunt whoever he is and s—”

“okay!” hurriedly, you jump up onto your tiptoes, to kiss his cheek, effectively permitting him to shut up. “it’s a prank! i promise! don’t finish that sentence!”

“a prank?” he scrunches his nose.

you grab your phone from the shelf, and he now, hours later, recognises the red circle at the top of your screen—recording.

lamine immediately groans. “you with tiktok.”

“you’re as much of an addict as i am,” you add, giggling. “are you saying you’ve never seen this trend?”

the spaniard shakes his head, lazily letting his chin drop atop yours. a heavy exhale rakes from his bones, relief washing over him. “no, i’ve seen it. i just didn’t think you’d use me for content and almost give me heart palpitations.”

you usher a breathy laugh. “okay, i’m sorry. i’ll offer to pay for the desserts tonight—as an apology?”

“¿solo los postres?” he faux snorts, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. (just the desserts?)

here comes the pretentious eye roll again. not like hours ago he made it evident that you weren’t to pay a single cent. “bien. yo pagaré.. las bebidas también.” (fine. i’ll pay for.. the drinks too.)

“así está mejor,” he mumbles. though, realistically? he’d backtrack on his words. (that’s more like it/that’s better.)

“soo..” you peer up at him, hands smoothing down his abs. “are you finally happy now?”

“almost.”

lamine steals a kiss from your lips, satisfyingly slow and lingering like he’s trying to brand it in place; sealing his position as your permanent boyfriend.

when he pulls away, his teeth gently nab at your bottom lip, but his voice is weaker, almost smug again.

“now i’m happy.”

.||✧ pairing ; hector fort x fem! reader

.||✧ summary ; compilation of moments from her relationship with Hector.

.||✧ warnings ; [main warning] English is not my first language, there may be spelling mistakes and nonsensical parts in the translation. [physiotherapy student]

.||✧ word count ; 0.3k word.

notes ; masterlist

Guys, my mind hasn't been in the mood to write imagines lately. So my box is open for orders 😉

• You’ve always had a connection to FC Barcelona — your mom was a physio there back in the Ronaldinho days.

• So yeah, you pretty much grew up as part of the Camp Nou family.

• Inspired by your mom from a young age, you followed in her footsteps: sports physiotherapy.

• Your first gig came when your mom took a vacation — and you stepped in to cover for her.

• The first time you saw Hector was after a training session. He was sitting there, holding an ice pack to his ankle.

• “Are you new here, or did I just get post-injury amnesia?”

• “I’m new. And no, your injury didn’t mess with your memory — just your ego.”

• Ever since that day, Hector found every excuse to swing by your room.

• Even when he wasn’t injured, he started showing up — bringing coffee, awful jokes, and even worse smiles.

• You, on the other hand, could already tell what he was up to — and you weren’t exactly falling for it right away.

• Your first kiss happened on a warm summer night, at the top of Montjuïc hill. He told you he liked visiting scenic spots, and that this was one of his favorites.

• “And now you’re my favorite view, too.”

• You laughed, calling it one of the cheesiest lines you’d ever heard.

• After months of back-and-forth — mostly on your end, of course — he finally asked you out.

• At first, it was all under the radar.

• I mean, Hector was still a rising star, and you were the daughter of a pretty big name at the club.

• But how do you hide the way his eyes lit up whenever he spotted you in the stands?

• Or those sneaky moments together inside an empty Camp Nou after training?

• “My lovely, adorable future wife...”

• If he used to spoil you with random gifts before, now that you were officially together? Double that.

a/n: feeding ya’ll a small fic to initiate my tumblr return!! (i published this during school lol 😪)

wc: 1.1k

warnings: fluff, lamine being lamine, cursing, getting caught?

— today was the day, the copa del rey final.

your boyfriend of about 9-10 months, also known as, the one and only lamine yamal, has worked a bunch and played his all to make it here, and you were with him every step of this journey.

and you can still remember the events of 2 days ago when lamine decided to fully go blonde and damn, that was quite the day.

and obviously, it got pretty messy, you were even sceptical of the fact that he wanted to bleach his hair.

AND you remember those once beautiful, frizzy curls he had about 2 years ago. but where are they? they vanished.

ANYWAY.. back to the now. you sat alongside with lamine’s mother and keyne, also next to you. wearing his number 19 with a sense of pride.

you knew exactly how hard lamine has worked to make it to where he is now, and you were proud of him for that.

you looked down to the barca crest and gave it a kiss, you had faith in this team as a whole, they’ve been on a winning streak for weeks now and you’ll be damned if barca break it now.

and so kickoff. barca were doing well and you can admit, madrid were playing kinda good, but not as well as them.

mostly, your focus was on lamine and his bright blonde head. then, the unspeakable happened.

something had escalated and lucas vasques ended up hitting lamine somewhat in the face which made him fall.

you were pissed. so you gently covered keyne’s eyes and did a middle finger towards the madrid player.

“fuck you.” you muttered under your breath as you took your hand away from the toddler’s eyes.

god this was stressful. madrid were ahead by 2-1 and the suspense was killing you. you were so stressed to the point you started praying during halftime, to yourself of course.

but then, after a while, barca came in clutch again and finally got the upper hand. they re-locked in and scored another goal, making it tied.

although they were tied, your faith for barca never dimmed like the light it was. all they needed was one more goal, and that trophy was yours.

finally, after about 10 prayers, jules finally scored the ending goal, you were so happy to the point that you stood up from your seat and back down.

at that point, the match was over.

after a bit more playing, the final whistle had finally blown. barcelona had won the copa del rey.

cheers and shouts filled the stadium and you and sheila hugged each other tightly, keyne also, duh.

“come, let’s go down,” sheila told you and you nodded, damn you were excited to see lamine.

and you were pretty fast at that. you ran down the stairs, jumped over the railing and your eyes began to try locate lamine.

to your surprise, he was expecting you. you ran to your boyfriend and immediately jumped into his strong arms.

“oh my god, you guys won,” you cried as you continued having your arms around lamine’s neck.

“we sure did, damn i feel like i’m on top of the world right now,” lamine replied as put you down.

you looked into his eyes with near tears in yours and his eyes, “i can’t physically put into words how proud i am of you right now.”

lamine smiled. “really?”

“really.”

eventually, his mom and little brother came down too and got their fair share of attention too, but all yours was on lamine.

after the medal ceremony and stuff, you looked at your champion boyfriend with his wrong sided shirt with his double pair of shades.

suddenly, one of his teammates were blasting music and lamine took this as an opportunity to show you off to his friends.

you felt a hand grab your arm and pull you closer to them, as expected it was lamine and he looked at you with that iconic bracey smile.

“what are you planning this time?” you asked the slightly taller boy with a disapproving smile.

“this.” he replied and put a pair of shades on your eyes.

“and now? what’s this?” lamine just smiled and one of his teammates blasted one of his current favourite songs, “y que fue”.

“ahh, this is my song,” lamine said in a hype mood, then he gently grabbed your hand.

“cmon, lemme show you off?” he asked and you knew, there was no saying no to lamine so you just went for it.

now, you found the pair of you and the spaniard dancing along to the music that played on the speaker as you celebrated along with the other men and women around you.

alex does not know what she’s missing out on right now.

damn, how lucky you are to be where you are right now, you loved lamine, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

— the morning sun soon hit your eyelids as you felt them slowly begin to open.

your vision became more and more clearer and you soon realised where you were right now.

your back was up against lamine’s chest as his arm was around you, and the other on top, keeping you close to him.

your eyes began to travel around the room and what you could see was: clothes sprawled around the room, your hair in a mess, lamine and yours phone right next to you on the dresser, and lastly… all you could feel yourself wearing was lamine’s shirt.

last night felt like a fever dream, so you could barely remember anything or how you got here in the first place.

but all you can remember was that, it felt good and other things.

after looking around the room on more time, pink spread across your cheeks as you realised what had happened the night barca won.

“d-did we..” you silently muttered, not believing yourself right now.

lamine had heard you and chuckled before lifting himself up and looking down at you before giving you a kiss on your temple.

“morning,” he began to which you replied “morning, champ.”

you rolled around in the bed so you could face lamine directly to look at that pretty, champion face.

“how’d my champ sleep?” you asked as you swung an arm around him and your fingers brushed over the back of his neck.

lamine shivered but smiled. “pretty good. how’s my princess doing?”

“good.”

sheila was unaware of what happened between the two teens and was not prepared for what she was about to see.

not expecting anything, his mom opened the door, (shit. we forgot to lock the door.) “lamine, you forgot your hoodie in the ca-“ the older woman began but soon paused the moment she saw what was going on.

you and lamine instantly sprang up as you used the blanked to cover your chest as both your faces were covered with blush.

lamine scratched the back on his neck as he nervously laughed, “uhh so.. here’s the thing, mama..”

summary : in which fans notice a familiar footballer in the likes of their favorite "super (humble) rich kid"

face claim : wolfiecindy (+ lissie mackintosh)

notes : frank ocean come back !!!!!!!!! might make this a series... this idea came to me in a dream so it might be a lil dumb. gave them a family name and made the dads face claim toto wolff (lmfao) bcs its easier so js ignore that !!! translated spanish is questionable..

pairings : marc guiu x fem!famous!reader

y/n ramsay, the only daughter of peter ramsay, a man considered to be one of the most influential men in the world, the owner of mercedes. not just the formula one team, the whole ass car brand. he is considered a self-made multi billionaire and single dad of two. as a daughter of a man with such high status, it came with exposure. y/n had her own little fandom, girls and boys who admired her beauty, lifestyle and enjoyed her personality. the girl was beloved by many, even celebrities found her videos and instagram posts entertaining. she had a natural charm that drew people in, and amongst those people there was a certain footballer, a certain teammate of her brother known as the one and only, marc guiu.

I have a hector fort fic request (hehe) so reader is a hirono lover and she has a hirono that she just brings like everywhere, and she takes care of it like it's her child and always takes picture of it and stuff like that.

And the other barca players teases hector that she loves her hirono more than him and he gets sulky but in the end he just buys her more bc he loves her like that<3

(I actually made this request before to other writers but they weren’t able to do it 🙁)

hiiii, tysm for requesting, lmk if you liked it and what i could fix if anything!! <3

more than me?

pairing: hector fort x fem!reader wc: 0.855k warnings: none! it's just fluffy

it was an unusually sunny day in barcelona, and the fc barcelona training ground was buzzing with energy. the players were preparing for their next match, going through drills and exercises, their laughter and banter filling the air. among them was hector, focused as ever, trying to keep his mind on the game. however, his thoughts kept drifting to one person: his girlfriend.

she wasn’t at the training ground today, but your presence was felt. she had a peculiar way of making yourself known even when she wasn’t around, mostly through her adorable obsession with a hirono figurine she recently got, pancake. ever since she had gotten it, pancake was everywhere with her. she treated it like a child, caring for it tenderly, taking pictures of it in different settings and posting them on her instagram account.

the team had quickly picked up on your attachment to the hirono, and soon enough, teasing hector about it became their favorite pastime.

“oi, hector,” ferran called out, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “is she bringing the figurine to the match this weekend? or are you finally getting some attention?”

the team erupted in laughter, and hector couldn’t help but smile, though a tinge of amusement tugged at the edges of his mouth. it wasn’t that he minded your love for the hirono. in fact, he found it endearing. but the constant teasing from his teammates was starting to get a little silly.

“maybe she’ll swap you for a life-sized hirono,” ansu added, smirking as he jogged past.

“alright, alright,” hector finally spoke up, trying to brush off the teasing. “you guys are just jealous you don’t have someone who loves you as much as she loves her hirono.”

this only fueled more laughter, and hector shook his head, returning to his drills, though the jokes lingered in his mind with a lighthearted chuckle.

later that evening, hector found himself scrolling through his phone, watching the latest stories she had posted. there it was again—pancake, posed next to a cup of coffee, captioned with a cute little note about how it was enjoying its day. the comments were filled with people gushing over how adorable the post was, and hector couldn’t help but feel a playful pang of jealousy.

y/n was home when he arrived, lounging on the couch with your pancake nestled in your arms. as soon as you saw hector, you lit up, setting the figure down to greet him with a hug and a kiss.

“how was training?” she asked, your eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“good,” hector replied, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “the usual. lots of drills, lots of teasing about you and your baby.”

she chuckled, pulling back slightly to look at him. “oh no, what did they say this time?”

“just the same old stuff,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “that you love pancake more than me.”

her laughter filled the room, and hector couldn’t help but grin, even if his earlier amusement was still there. “they’re just jealous,” she teased, echoing his words from earlier. “you know i love them both. but its is just so cute, i can’t help it!”

hector raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “both?”

she nodded, reaching over to pick up the hirono and holding it up between them two. “of course! but you're my favorite.”

“uh-huh,” he replied, his voice dripping with playful skepticism.

“oh, come on,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again. “you’re my number one. pancake just… has a special place in my heart. it’s like a hobby!”

“a very intense hobby,” hector teased back, finally feeling some of his playful jealousy melt away. “but, i get it. it makes you happy, and that’s what matters.”

the next time y/n posted a picture of pancake, it wasn’t alone. hector had joined in on the fun, holding up his new brand new hirono keychain beside hers. the caption read: “hector finally gets it! #hironofamily”

the comments flooded in, fans gushing over how adorable the post was and how lucky you both were to have each other. even the barça players couldn’t resist chiming in, this time teasing hector about how he’d finally been converted.

“looks like hector’s on the hirono team now,” ferran commented, followed by a string of laughing emojis.

“took him long enough!” ansu added.

hector grinned as he read the comments, his heart swelling with happiness. as she cuddled up next to him that evening, pancake and jazz, that’s how he named his own, plush between you, hector knew that he didn’t need to be jealous. your love for collecting was just another part of who you were, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“so,” you whispered, looking up at him with a smile. “do you love the figurines now too?”

hector laughed, leaning down to kiss you softly. “maybe a little. but i love you more.”

“good answer,” you teased, nuzzling into his chest.

Alexia putellas x williamson reader!!

It was late afternoon, probably around 5 p.m., and the sun was setting. It was October, the fall season. The air smelled like leaves, almost like pumpkin. I was so focused on people walking down from the rooftop that I didn't notice someone joining me.

I didn't have to turn to see who it was since I knew who it was right away. Just by her hair, her height, and the vibes she radiates. I couldn't be wrong, I knew it was her. Memorising those small details about her makes me hate her because I can't seem to get over her.

She moved closer to me, leaving a small distance between us. She took out a cigarette, lit it, and went on about her business while I was at a loss for what to do beside her. I don't think starting a conversation with her would help either, so I just stood quietly, admiring the view and watching the sun set as the wind blew through my hair.

There's something about that comfortable silence. We didn't have to say anything to one other or anything like that. Or, if we did talk. We didn't have to worry about running out of topics or being awkward since simply being with her in silence is plenty; her presence is enough. Being together felt like home; it made us feel complete.

Leaning over the rail, I turned my head to check on her, and she was as lovely as ever. She was always beautiful. She was the first person who caught my attention when I moved to Barcelona. I've kept an eye on her ever since.

She continued smoking and admiring the view, while I got lost staring at her. She sighed and smiled, "You know I can see you staring, right?" she asked, turning to face me.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I just chuckled and shrugged it off.

She turned to face me, tossed her cigarette in the trash can, and moved closer to me.

"Why did you stop smoking?" I asked as she approached me.

"I don't want you to smell like smoke, plus i don't think you like it when people smoke near you" she went on to say

"That's very thoughtful of you, ale," I comment, laughing at her.

She was taken aback for a moment because she had never heard me call her by her nickname. It was my first time addressing her as such. I usually refer to her as "alexia" or "cap"

She paused for a bit before clearing her throat, "Is your sister okay?"

she said, seeming nervous

She seems to have gathered up enough courage to ask that question. Leah and Alexia weren't on the best of terms, so hearing her ask this makes my heart melt.

"She'll be fine; I'll be back home once the breaks come," I reassured her.

"I know she was against you going to Barcelona," she said as she drew closer to me than she had ever been.

"Um, yeah. She was," I answered nervously, hoping to keep it hidden because she was closer than ever right now.

"I'm pretty sure you know why she didn't want you to come here, right?" she asked, with a slight smirk on her face. She was clearly having a good time.

"Of course," I answer, trying to cover up my nervousness. Having her so near to me makes my knees shaky, like jello. Her stares make my knees wobble.

"She didn't want me coming here because she'll be alone, and we've never been separated this long, it'll be new to her, to me as well," I reply, looking wherever I can to avoid facing her because I know it'll be a dead end for me if I do.

"Come on, that's not all of it, isn't it?" she nudged me

"I'm not blind, I know the main reason why williamson doesn't want you to come here is because of me" she said with that annoying smirk on her face that I desperately wanted to erase

I just nodded and tucked my lips because she got it right

"What does she say about me? I bet she told you I was bad influence" she said and laughed

“You should surely take your older sister's advice, don't you think?"

"Like the good girl you are," she said, smirking.

We fell silent and let the breeze wash over us.

She drew nearer as I walked toward the doorway, placing both of her arms on either side of the rail to enclose me.

"Do you think I'm a bad influence? Do you agree with your sister?"

I look at her and see her eyes piercing at me, green with a tint of brown, she looked breathtaking. I felt like I could drown in her eyes.

"I don't think you are," I responded, swallowing hard.

"I'm your sister's rival, and yet you still stick with me?"

"I don't think you'd like it if I ignored you, though," I muttered, glancing down because just looking at her makes me want to pass out.

She tilted her head in such a way that it gave me butterflies. Lord, when will this end?

"Why so?" she inquired, completely teasing me.

"Would you like me to ignore you for the entire season, ale?" I said back.

She pouted at me, seeming to think about what she was about to say.

"Hmm, no. It would make me sad," she teased, smiling.

"Sad, why?" I inquired, still smiling.

"Because if I were to ignore you, that would make your sister feel relieved that I'm not circling you. I want her to be mad at me and for her to feel annoyed because it makes me happy." She grinned and moved closer to me.

"You're really messed up in the head, ale," I joke, pushing more against the rail because if I don't, you know what would happen.

"I want her to be annoyed, I want her to be angry at me, I want her to feel all the emotions," she said as she locked her gaze on mine. Her eyes seemed to want to express more, as if there was more to what she said.

"Which is why i won't be leaving you"

She whispered and stared at me for what seemed like hours. She was just staring at me, as if she was trying to memorise my face. I felt very vulnerable.

"Is that the only reason you don't want me to ignore you?" I asked, leaning closer to accept her challenge.

"Do you think there's something more?" she replied, edging closer to me until our faces were almost touching.

"I know there is"

I'm so sorry for leaving u w a cliffhanger 😭😭 i promise you there is a part 2! THERE WILL BE A PART 2 👹👹

It's time for everyone's favorite: WIPS POLL

Your winners last time out...

1st Kiss Cam- Dennis Hauger

2nd My Support System (or Person)- Kimi Antonelli

3rd I Can Take Care of Myself- Ryan Blaney (almost done)

As usual, I'll tag all the people it could be, but you won't know who until the story is out haha

summary ; You’re the new physical therapist, determined not to fall for the charms of a spoiled athlete. But when an injury sidelines one of the players and you’re assigned to his recovery, the daily sessions, heated arguments, and stolen glances start wearing down your resolve. Then, on the night of a victory, he pulls you into the empty locker room and asks if you hate him. Well… guess not, because all that time together sparked an intimacy that was never supposed to happen.

starring ; hector fort x physiotherapist reader

warnings ; ¹English is not my first language. So the translation may be a bit nonsensical in some parts. (translator)

word count ; 3.1 words

notes; kind of cliché, but in my defense, I love writing stories like this.

MAIN MASTERLIST

THE STARRY BARCELONA night matched the glow of the fans - it was incredible how they had enough voice to sing through all ninety minutes. The game was tied two-two, just one goal away from Barcelona taking the championship lead.

The opposing attack found an opening on the flank. Hector managed to intercept the play, but the opposing striker pressed and regained possession.

If only it had been just any ordinary ball recovery. The game was fierce and hungry, the opposing attack thirsty. The tackle was brutal, sending Hector crashing down instantly as he clutched his knee.

The referee blew the whistle and teammates rushed to Hector. He groaned in pain as they tried lifting him so the game could continue. Pedri shot a look and gesture to the coach suggesting this looked worse than they'd thought.

Your first meeting with Hector had happened two days earlier at the training facility. And let's just say it might have been... tense.

You were reviewing the players' old files - you know, that paperwork of keeping everything updated - when Hector walked into the room.

— So you're Carlos's replacement? — he said.

— Not a replacement. I'm the club's new physical therapist. — you replied.

He let out a short laugh. — You like challenges? Because working with me will be one.

— If you act like a professional player, we won't have problems, Fort.

He gave you one last look before leaving and slamming the door hard. Ego - that was your first impression of Hector Fort.

But now he lay on the grass, writhing in pain. And above all, you had to keep professional separate from personal.

The diagnosis wasn't good. Torn ligament. Minimum six weeks out.

When you entered the physio room next day, he was already there, sitting on the treatment table with his knee immobilized, face unreadable.

— So... — he began as soon as he saw you. — Guess we'll be seeing each other more than intended.

You sighed deeply, put on your gloves and approached to examine the injury site.

— You always this serious?

— When dealing with irresponsible people, maybe.

— I wasn't irresponsible, it was a normal play. — he defended.

— Not talking about the play. — He looked curious.— Played hungover?

— I didn't even drink at the party.

— So it's true you went to a party the night before the game? — You stopped to stare. — Not sure why I'm surprised.

— You said it so certainly I thought you'd seen me there. — He gave another mocking laugh. — Been watching me... (your name)? — He made some effort to read your name stitched on your clothes.

— I watch everyone, it's my job to know what you're doing that affects performance.

— Or maybe you were enjoying the party and I just didn't see you. — he teased.

— Enough about this!

You discarded the gloves you'd put on and went to your desk.

— What's wrong? — he asked watching you write excessively on the file.

— Nothing serious, but... — you sighed deeply. — Don't want to inflate your ego, player. But I'll need you to take off your shorts.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. — Didn't even buy me a drink and already want me undressed.

— Hector. — You fixed him with an impatient look. — Either cooperate, or I'll put you in a rigid brace.

Maybe he thought you'd give him an opening for his joke, just maybe. So he sighed irritated and pulled down his shorts. — Happy?

You ignored the comment and continued your work. — Just checking swelling, don't misunderstand.

Days became weeks, and you could see Hector wasn't what you'd thought. Remember your first impression was ego? You discarded it - not 100%, but most of it.

Hector was easy to talk to when in good mood. You'd discovered and memorized things about each other. For example, you learned he loved pasta and got nervous in front of cameras, whether recording for Barcelona's channel or interviews.

He discovered you loved gold jewelry, hence bought you a pricey gold necklace. You questioned his gesture but he said it was thanks for caring about his recovery. He'd also memorized your coffee time - 9:30 AM with sugar just right. Once he tried making it for you but got the sugar wrong, and kept trying since.

— Got it right today? — he asked as you set the cup down.

— No. But almost. Maybe someday.

— Think I got it long ago, you just won't admit.

— Always so provocative. — You teased. His gaze lingered. — Something on my face?

— I recognize that necklace.

— Oh, the one you gave me? — you said simply.

— Of course I remember, first time seeing you wear it here. — he smiled.

— Because it's first time wearing it to work. — You feigned indifference and kept typing.

— To work? So you've worn it other times outside?

— Wasn't I supposed to?

— Not that. Just thought you'd tossed it in your closet.

Through these small details, you noticed his attentiveness. Like when he saw you arguing with a staff member and wordlessly stood by you, arms crossed. Of course the guy found it strange and backed off.

And the looks.

God, the looks.

When your hands worked his muscles and you felt his body tense - not from pain, but something else. When he'd go quiet, watching you with intensity that twisted your stomach.

But you wouldn't fall for his game.

— Know gum isn't healthy. — he said taking the gum from your desk.

— Then go without mobility exercises too, know that?

He chuckled. — I know! But I worry about you, can't have my favorite therapist getting diabetes. — He started chewing.

— Favorite therapist? Sure Hector, we're done today.

He laughed while grabbing his phone from some corner. — Till tomorrow, favorite therapist.

Days passed with near-comfortable predictability. Each session, Hector seemed to open up more - not just his injured knee, but with words, glances, small gestures. You noticed he talked less about football and more about mundane things: favorite foods, dream trips, his parents' dog.

— Notice how people here say " vale " for everything? — he commented one day as you adjusted the resistance band on his leg.

— Part of Catalan charm. — you replied. — Now keep posture, your hip's tilting.

— Always so bossy. — he teased. — Bet you're like this at home too.

— Only with those who deserve it.

He laughed again, but his gaze lingered on your face too long. You quickly focused on his thigh muscles responding to the exercise.

— Feeling pain? — you asked, forcing professionalism.

— Only in my heart. — he murmured with a crooked smile.

— Hector... — you closed your eyes briefly. — Focus.

Some afternoons, he started staying after sessions. Sometimes with two coffee mugs. Others, just sitting while you organized reports.

— You always stay this late? — he once asked, more curious than teasing.

— Someone's got to keep you whole for next game. — you replied without looking up.

He stayed quiet, but you felt his gaze again - like he was mapping your face.

— Know I don't do this with everyone. — he said suddenly.

— Do what? — you asked distractedly.

— This. Bringing coffee, talking so much... noticing if someone's tired.

— Hector, getting sentimental? — You raised a brow, hiding the warmth in your cheeks.

— Maybe. Or maybe my therapist deserves some care too.

You didn't reply, focusing on your screen. But your heart raced anyway.

His improvement was clear - stronger knee muscles, less swelling, smoother movements. Yet oddly, Hector never seemed eager to be discharged.

He'd joke about missing these sessions. You'd tease back asking if he'd miss the pain. He even marked the café near training center you frequented every Friday for their classic chocolate cake. He'd wave like he'd been expecting you.

Small things, almost insignificant, but building tension hard to ignore.

Like when your hand accidentally brushed his abs adjusting bandages. Your eyes would meet again. He'd say nothing, but the smile at his lips spoke volumes.

Or when you, unconsciously, started wearing his gold necklace more often. And Hector always noticed.

— Like how it looks on you. — he'd say quietly, almost intimately.

— Keep this up, I'll think you enjoy testing my patience. — you'd reply, feigning disinterest.

But you'd started wondering: who was really testing whom?

You wanted to believe this was temporary, that Hector was just someone you coexisted with at the facility - nothing beyond. But then it hit you, hit when you accidentally crashed your car on the road. That weekend you'd visited friends living far away, with no way back.

The tow truck had taken your car, you'd done all necessary procedures. But you? How would you return?

You started thinking who to call... your mom was traveling with your sister, no chance. Then Hector's name came to mind. You dialed and he answered quickly.

— (Your name) what's the honor? — he said upon answering.

— Hector, I crashed my car. Help me.

— You hurt? At hospital? — concern clear in his voice. — Tell me where.

— Don't want to bother, but I can't get home, I'm kinda far.

— Ah... I don't have a car, but...

— Sorry to bother Hector, bye. — you cut him off thinking he couldn't come.

— No! No! — he said before you hung up. — But my dad does.

— Your dad knows?

— No, and he doesn't need to. — he laughed. — Send location, I'm coming.

— Okay. Waiting, Hector.

This was pivotal. If you'd been close before, now it intensified. Hector spent the whole night thinking how you'd reached out to him. Especially knowing you'd called him first after your mom. Next day, he brought the usual coffee to see if he'd gotten the sugar right, plus chocolate cake.

— Not Friday, Hector. — you took the slice.

— Would you refuse cake I brought just for you?

— Cheap shot! — you said smelling the chocolate. — Want some?

— It's all yours.

Hector sat across, watching as you took a bite. — Hey, got frosting.

He leaned in, thumb brushing your lip corner.

— Thanks! — you thanked but quickly looked away.

— You always like this? Or just cold with me? — he asked.

— Maybe I like seeing you try to resist. — you said. — You're no saint either, Fort.

— Oh come on. — he leaned back. — Know I've dreamed about you? And worse, even in dreams you don't make it easy.

— Try harder, maybe in your dreams I'll give in. — he grinned.

— Problem is, you are the dream.

— Hector...

Hector recovered. The weeks - months even - flew by. You couldn't deny missing the player.

Missing the coffees. How he always got the sugar wrong yet appeared every morning with a cup, just to chat while you updated reports. How he'd sit nearby, on his phone like the facility was his comfort zone.

Especially the teasing. Those little barbs disguised as jokes making you roll eyes yet hide smiles. Strange how these memories now returned vivid, like imprinted: his voice saying your name, his gaze full of something you refused to decipher.

You caught yourself thinking of him more than you'd admit. If he remembered the necklace. If he still had coffee at 9:30 out of habit. If he missed you too.

And it hadn't even been two weeks since his return. Your thoughts were interrupted by knocking.

— Hector? — A smile surfaced seeing him at your door.

— Brought coffee. — he smiled sheepishly. — Know it's past 9:30, but didn't forget.

— Didn't have to, Hector.

Liar.

— Of course I did. So favorite therapist, how's life without me?

— Most peaceful ever.

— Who said you like peace? — he stared.

— Where'd that come from?

— You've been moping around. Didn't you notice your smile yesterday when I waved at you from the field?

— Polite smile.

— Sure. — he scoffed. — I don't get it.

— Get what?

— I can't play, but can't stay here with you either. How's that work?

Truth was, he couldn't play yet. But physio sessions were over - now just training adjustments. If not, they'd reconsider more physio.

— Already explained, physio sessions are limited.

He sighed tiredly. — You'll be at the stadium tomorrow?

— Definitely Hector.

Next night, post Barcelona's important victory - you entered to grab your bag and found the place empty.

Almost empty.

Because he was there.

And before you could react, Hector grabbed you, your back hitting the wall, his warm body pressing against yours.

— Say you hate me. — He whispered, voice rough, lips centimeters from yours. — Because I can't stop thinking about you. Because I can't stop thinking about you?

Your heart raced. You should push him away. Should curse him.

But when he finally closed the distance, you discovered...

The locker room was silent, just distant victory celebrations echoing. Harsh lights cast cold tones on white tiles, but the air between you burned.

Hector didn't hesitate.

He gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back like claiming you.

His kiss wasn't gentle. It was collision of pent-up frustration and desire. You tried resisting, hands against his chest, but he just laughed against your lips.

— Lie. — He breathed before recapturing your mouth.

And it was true.

Your body betrayed you before your mind, hands fisting his hair to pull him closer. He groaned, satisfied, and you felt his smirk before his tongue slid against yours - slow, deliberate, like memorizing your taste.

The wall was cold. His touch burned. When you broke apart breathless, foreheads touching, his gaze locked onto yours.

— And yet I'm still at peace. — you breathed shakily.

He smiled - that smile you'd sworn to resist.

— You lie as badly as you kiss well, therapist.

Then he pinned you against the lockers, and this time, you didn't resist.

© FEINZLECLERC ²⁰²⁵ — translation prohibited without my permission

— inbox open. taglist coming soon.