universefcb

[universefcb]

I want him for myself aaaa

[universefcb]

Heyy lovee could you write something about Pau Cubarsí spoiling reader with gifts even though she says she doesn’t like it when he spends money on her and it’s too much but he doesn’t care at all because he loves reader so much and just loves spoiling her?💋💋

ALL FOR YOU

→ Pairing: Pau Cubarsí X fem!reader

→ Warning: no.

→ Author's note: His girlfriend must be the most spoiled girl in the world, since Cubarsí is a young gentleman.

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

The apartment smelled of freshly brewed coffee and buttered toast, the kind of simple morning she loved. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with her hair tied in a messy bun, she read a text message on her phone while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. It was so peaceful—too peaceful, considering Pau had sent an "I'm coming" message with a gift emoji twenty minutes earlier.

She already suspected.

“What are you up to, Cubarsí?” she muttered to herself, wrinkling her nose.

Minutes later, the doorbell rang. She opened the door, and sure enough, there he was. Pau was grinning from ear to ear, hiding something behind his back, his hair still messy from the night before. He wore a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and that loving look that always dispelled any complaint.

“Good morning to the most beautiful girl in Catalonia,” he said, leaning in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek.

She narrowed her eyes.

“What’s hidden there?”

Pau pulled the object forward: an elegant bag with a gold ribbon and the logo of a very expensive store. She recognized it. It wasn't the first time he'd done this.

“Pau…” she began, but he was already walking into the apartment as if nothing was wrong.

"Wait, before you start, just listen. I saw this yesterday after practice. I thought of you immediately. I didn't even think twice."

She crossed her arms, her expression somewhere between indignant and surrendered.

“I've told you a thousand times that I don't like it when you spend money on me. This is too much.”

"I know. And I also know you'll argue, you'll say you didn't need it. But guess what?" He smiled again, handing her the bag. "I don't do this because you have to. I do it because I love spoiling you. Because seeing your smile when you open a gift like this is worth anything."

She let out a tired sigh, but was already reaching into the bag for the little box. Pau sat on the couch, watching with shining eyes as she unwrapped it.

“You have a problem,” he said, laughing involuntarily at the delicate silver necklace with a star-shaped pendant. “This looks like it was made for me.”

“That's what I thought. It's yours. And only yours.”

She couldn't hide her smile. She walked to the living room mirror and tried on the necklace, her fingers still slightly trembling. It felt perfect against her skin. Simple, delicate, exactly how she liked it.

Pau stood up and walked over to her, positioning himself behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his body against hers, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“See? It suits you. Just like everything beautiful in this world suits you.”

She turned her face slightly, looking at him in the reflection. His brown eyes were fixed on hers, filled with a tenderness that dismantled her insides.

“Pau…” she whispered. “I know you like this. But… you already do so much for me. Your time, your affection, your attention… you are my gift every day.”

He smiled, resting his forehead against hers.

"And you think I don't feel the same way? It's just... I don't know. Ever since I met you, I've had this absurd desire to fill you with everything good. As if I wanted to give back what you brought to my life."

She slid her hands down his chest, her heart too hot to complain anymore.

“I’m kind of at a loss as to what to give you in return, you know?”

"You already give me everything. The way you look at me when you think I'm not looking, the patience you have when I come home from training all broken, the silent support when I lose a game, the kiss before bed... It's all worth more than anything you can buy."

She turned to face him, pulling him by the collar of his shirt until their lips met in a sweet, slow, soulful kiss. It was the most sincere way to say "thank you" without words.

“You’re an exaggeration, Pau Cubarsí,” she murmured against his mouth.

“I'm in love. And I haven't even given up the rest yet.”

Her eyes widened, taking a step back.

“Is there more?!”

He laughed, returning to the sofa and pulling out a small box of craft paper, which was inside the backpack thrown on the floor.

“Relax. You’ll like this one. I promise.”

She opened it slowly, resigned. And this time, it wasn't jewelry or designer clothes. It was a handmade photo album, with pictures of the two of them in random moments: smiles, spontaneous hugs, grimaces, lazy Sundays. And between each photo, handwritten quotes from him.

'This was the day you made me forget about a bad game.'

'Your laugh in this photo saved me from a difficult week.'

'That hug was the best of the month.'

She closed the album slowly, sitting beside him with her eyes shining. Pau put an arm around her shoulders, slowly pulling her until her head rested on his chest.

“See? Sometimes I spend money, yes. But sometimes I just spend time. Because you deserve both.”

She smiled, playfully sulking.

“I still think you’re exaggerating.”

“Maybe. But I’m your exaggerator.”

She snuggled closer, her heart swelling.

And in the end, she realized that what spoiled her the most… wasn't the gifts. It was him. All of him.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[universefcb]

Hii can you please do a Marc BxReader where reader wears glasses (like every day) and it’s like a compilation about Marc being OBSESSED with them ? Thankss :))

OBSESSION

→ Pairing: Marc Bernal X fem!reader

→ Warning: no.

→ Author's note: I did as the person asked, with compileds, but I didn't like it very much :(

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

Nobody understood the reason.

I mean, it was just a pair of glasses. Discreet, black, slightly rounded frames—absolutely ordinary. But to Marc Bernal, those glasses were almost an extension of the girl he was madly in love with.

From the first practice session she showed up at the training center, her hair tied up messily, her sweatshirt baggy, and her glasses sliding down her nose as she tried to jot something down on her iPad, Marc knew. He knew he wasn't going to get out of there unscathed. And he didn't.

He fell in love with her before he even heard her voice. And the glasses were there. They were always there.

“Are you going to tell me you don’t even wear contact lenses when you go out?” he asked once, laughing as he watched her adjust the frames with her index finger.

“I wear glasses. I always have,” he replied, shrugging as if it were obvious. “It gives me a headache trying to wear contact lenses.”

“Good,” he muttered, almost to himself. She looked up with an arched eyebrow.

"Fortunately?"

“Yes. You look… beautiful in them.”

She laughed in disbelief. “It’s just a pair of glasses, Marc.”

"To me, it's like your trademark," he said, now more confident, stepping closer. "I like it when they droop a little and you do that thing where you push them in with your finger. And when you're concentrating, and you hold the tip of the stem in your mouth without realizing it? It's impossible not to notice."

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You… notice that?”

Marc just smiled, leaning in until his forehead almost touched hers. “I notice everything about you.”

It started there.

And it only got worse.

There were days when he'd literally take his phone out of his pocket just to take a picture of her from behind, sitting in the bleachers, her glasses perched on top of her head while she tied her hair up. Or when she'd leave them hanging from the neckline of her shirt. Or when, for some reason, she'd forget her glasses in his car and text him in a panic:

'Marc, do you have my glasses? I couldn't find them anywhere.'

'Yes. I have it. And I'm not giving it back any time soon.'

‘MARC!’

'You can't see without glasses. So you'll have to come here and get them. 🥰'

Héctor Fort was the first to notice the obsession.

“Are you going to kiss her or her glasses, Bernal?” she mocked, watching the midfielder practically mesmerized as she adjusted the frames with both hands, laughing at some joke of Lamine’s.

“Shut up,” Marc replied, but he didn’t deny it.

Pau Cubarsí, at another point, saw the most surreal scene in the locker room: Marc standing in front of the mirror, with her glasses in his hand, as if they were a relic.

“Are you okay, bro?”

“She left this at my house yesterday.”

“And you’re… sniffing her glasses?”

“They smell like her, Pau.”

Pau just made the sign of the cross and walked away.

Things reached a new level when she arrived at the training center wearing a dark blue blouse and, instead of her usual black glasses, she had clear frames.

Marc stopped in the middle of the hallway. Literally stopped.

“What is it?” she asked, confused by his expression.

“Those glasses… are they new?”

— They are. I broke the stem on the others. I took this spare until I got it fixed.

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he approached.

“You’re still beautiful, okay? But…” he lowered his voice, bringing his mouth closer to her ear. “I like black ones. The old ones. They have history.”

“You’re addicted to them, is that it?”

“I’m addicted to everything you have,” he whispered, and she blushed immediately.

One night, on the couch at his house, they lay down watching a movie. She, tired, dozed off with her glasses still on. Marc, with the greatest care in the world, removed the frames and placed them on the coffee table.

But he couldn't resist. He took the glasses back and stared at them for a few seconds, touching the temples gently. Then he looked at her, sleeping with light breathing.

“You have no idea how crazy I am about you, girl,” he murmured, lightly kissing her forehead.

When she finally bought a new pair of frames—a red, more modern one—and wore them to an event, Marc stared at them for a little too long.

“Bernal, stop looking at me like that. They’re just glasses.”

“They’re not just glasses. They never were.”

He pulled her by the waist, tilting his head.

“Can I confess something?”

“Hmm?”

“I have a folder on my phone. It’s called She and the Glasses.”

Her eyes widened.

“You're kidding.”

“I’m not. There’s a selfie of you, a hidden photo, a screenshot of a video call, everything.”

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“What if I stop wearing glasses?”

“Then I’ll have one made just like your old ones, just to see you wearing them again.”

She laughed, throwing herself into his arms.

“You are so crazy.”

“Crazy about you. And your glasses too.”

The next morning, she woke up with a little box on her pillow.

Inside was a brand new pair of glasses, just like the ones she had broken months ago.

With a note attached to the rod:

“In case you lose the others, I want to make sure your trademark is always there. I love you. — M.”

And next to him, Marc was fast asleep, her old pair of glasses hanging from his shirt.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[universefcb]

REINA, PON EL HORARIO AQUÍ, POR FAVOR 🙏🏻

I don't know, I'll try to organize and do it

[universefcb]

I finished writing all my requests and my vacation isn't even halfway over. I'll make a schedule to post everything since I'm traveling 😝

[universefcb]

MARC MOTHERFUCKING BERNAL CASAS.

[universefcb]

hi could you do something with lamine? like how it is to wake up next to him or smth??💕💕

DESPERTAR CON LAMINE

→ Pairing: Lamine Yamal X fem!reader

→ Warning: fluff

→ Author's note: I took advantage of the fact that his birthday is this month, and when I received this request, I decided to do a little birthday special!!! 18 YEARS OF OUR LAMI💞

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

The room is still half-dark, the curtains drawn, but the peaceful silence is broken by a familiar, rhythmic breathing. The sheet slides a little as he shifts, pulling the body beside him with a lazy, warm arm. The whole world could be falling apart outside, but here—on that messy mattress—everything seems on pause.

The first one to wake up is him.

Her eyes still heavy, her hair disheveled, a soft smile on her lips before she even opens her eyelids fully. She turns her face slightly, and there she is: fast asleep, her cheek slightly crushed by the pillow, one hand clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the safest anchor on the planet.

He laughs softly, really softly, just with his chest.

And you think, 'I could wake up like this every day.'

But today is different. Today is July 13th. He turns 18. And for the first time, he's waking up as a man—not just as a player, a son, or a friend—but as someone who has built a safe place around himself. A place where she fits perfectly.

She gets up carefully, but doesn't go far. She walks barefoot to the kitchen, makes herself some coffee just the way she likes it, and returns with the mug in her hands.

Waking her up with kisses on her shoulder is too tempting. And he gives in.

“Hey… sleepyhead…”

She stirs, eyes still closed, but a smile appears as a reflex. He rests his forehead against hers.

“Today is my day, but it feels like God gave me the gift.”

Her heart melts. He smiles again—that sweet, slightly shy smile, all his own. He pulls her against his chest, ruffles her hair tenderly, and whispers,

“Stay with me today. All day. Just the two of us.”

She nods against his chest, saying nothing. The world can wait. Today, the day belongs to him. And she wants to live it every second—starting right there, embraced in the warm body of someone who still carries the scent of pillows and dreams.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[universefcb]

My requests are officially in after almost two months! Currently writing about everything but smut!

Requests about everyone! If I don't write about a certain player, I'll let you know!

[universefcb]

Hii 🤍

Could you write something for Pau, where Barcelona have an end of season party for the women’s and men’s team (reader is women’s team player) and she gets papped leaving wearing someone’s suit jacket, and Pau comes out without a jacket on?

I’m not sure if that makes sense sorry 😪

(My inspo was Taylor Swift at the Grammys wearing the suit jacket over her dress)

Thank youuu 💖

ABOUT YOUR PALLET

→ Pairing: Pau Cubarsí X fem!reader

→ Warning: no.

→ Author's note: Taylor isn't one of my favorites, but I tried my best to write this in a cool way. I was obsessed with it for about three weeks😭

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

The Hotel Arts ballroom was illuminated with gold and blue lights, tables laden with snacks, and champagne flutes glistened under the spotlights. It had been an intense season for both Barça teams, and the board decided to throw a joint party to celebrate their achievements—both the men's and women's teams, all together, like one big family.

You, the women's midfielder, adjusted your red dress and took another look in the bathroom mirror. She wasn't the type to dress up much, but that night was special. Not only because of the celebration, but because, after weeks of exhausting training and traveling, she would finally see him without rushing.

Paul Cubarsí.

The youth defender who, in just a few months, had won over the fans and, unintentionally, her heart. It all started with a shy "good morning" in the hallways of the training center, then progressed to stolen coffees from the cafeteria when no one was looking, until, one rainy night after a late practice, he pressed her against her car and confessed, between wet kisses, that he couldn't stand pretending he felt nothing anymore.

From then on, there were secret meetings, encrypted messages, and handshakes disguised as greetings. No one knew.

The atmosphere at the party was light. The girls in the girls' section laughed loudly, sharing stories about their travels, while the guys in the boys' section joked about the goals they'd missed (and scored). She moved between the groups, but her eyes always wandered to the other side of the room, where Pau was chatting with Gavi and Fermín. He wore a navy blue suit, his jacket open to reveal a crisp white shirt.

She bit her lip, looking away before anyone noticed.

It was then that Aitana, her teammate, appeared alongside with a glass of champagne.

“You’re very quiet today. Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes! Just tired” she smiled, forced.

“Hmm. You’re hiding something from me.”

“No way!” She took a sip of her drink, avoiding her friend’s searching gaze.

The night wore on, but the ballroom's air conditioning seemed to be on a personal mission to freeze everyone. The girl rubbed her arms, goosebumps breaking out across her skin.

"You're freezing, aren't you?" Patri Guijarro laughed, glancing at her short dress. "Want my coat?"

“No need, I…”

That's when he saw it. The jacket.

Thrown carelessly over a chair, the navy blue fabric she would recognize even in the dark. Without much thought, she walked over and slipped it on.

It was big on her, the sleeves covering part of her hands, the faint scent of his perfume lingering in the fabric. 'I look like a child wearing her father's clothes,' she thought, but she didn't care. She was warm. And somehow, she felt embraced by him.

It was at that moment that Gavi, always the nosy one, pointed at her and shouted:

“Hey, isn’t that jacket from Pau?”

Silence.

Several heads turned. A few eyebrows raised. And she, her fingers still clinging to the fabric, felt the blood heat her face.

“Yeah… I think you’re getting confused,” she lied desperately.

But then, as if the universe were conspiring against her, Pau himself appeared in the middle of the group, in a white shirt and suspenders.

Everyone looked at him. He looked at the midfielder.

And then, without losing his composure, he shrugged and said, with a mischievous smile:

“Yeah, I was hot.”

Laughter. Someone yelled "Suspect!", but the loud music and alcohol quickly distracted everyone. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Aitana, however, did not seem convinced.

“That’s really strange,” he whispered, winking at Marina.

“Stop making things up,” she replied, giving her friend a light elbow.

Later, as the party began to wind down, she escaped to the outdoor balcony, where the fresh air helped calm her nerves. Her jacket was still on her, and she had no intention of returning it any time soon.

“So this is how you’re going to leave me? Cold and without my clothes?”

His voice came from behind, low and amused. You turned and saw Pau leaning against the door, his green eyes glowing in the darkness.

“You survive,” she replied, trying to remain serious, but the smile escaped.

He approached, slowly, as if afraid someone would see them.

“I like you wearing my things,” he admitted, his fingers tugging lightly at the collar of his jacket.

“Is it yours? I didn’t see a name written on it.”

Pau laughed softly, and then, in one swift movement, pulled her into a hidden corner behind a column.

“Careful!” she whispered, but he was already closing the distance between them.

“Relax, nobody comes here.”

And then he kissed her.

It was the kind of kiss that made a woman forget where they were, who they were, why they needed to hide. His hands found her face, and she grabbed onto his suspenders, pulling him closer.

When they separated, they were both breathless.

“Should we really keep hiding this?” Pau asked, suddenly serious. “Even though we know the internet…”

She thought about the team, the media, the fuss that would ensue if they found out. But she also thought about the way he looked at her, as if she were the most important goal of his career.

“For now, yes,” she replied, but closed her hand on his shirt collar and pulled him in for another quick kiss. “But I’m taking the jacket home.”

Pau laughed, resting his forehead against hers.

“Fair enough. But one day we’ll be able to celebrate a title together without hiding.”

She believed him. After all, it was Pau Cubarsí—he never missed a pass.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinott @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[universefcb]

☆Rival hearts, Jealous mouths

▪︎PAIRING: Héctor Fort x Reader

▪︎WORD COUNT: 2.4k words

▪︎TROPE: enemies to almost-lovers [Real Madrid x Barcelona tension]

▪︎WARNINGS: jealousy-fueled kiss

▪︎REQUESTED: no.

▪︎A/N: man I am a madridista but I'm obsessed with this guy🙏🏼🙏🏼

All images are from Pinterest

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The hall was packed.

Screens everywhere. Jerseys in every direction. Chants bouncing off the ceiling like thunder. You hadn’t even planned to be here—this random fan zone in Barcelona, of all places—but your cousin insisted. Said it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience to watch El Clásico surrounded by "real football fans."

She forgot one thing:

You were a Madridista.

And this was enemy territory.

You stood alone near the back wall, arms folded across your Real Madrid jersey, ignoring the stares. A single drop of white in a sea of red and blue. You weren't scared. You were proud.

Then he saw you.

Not intentionally—just scanning the crowd, half-watching the pregame show—but something about you stopped him.

At first, it was the contrast: you, so obviously out of place. Confident in your white, refusing to shrink.

Then it became something else.

You.

He didn’t recognize you. Not right away. You weren’t someone famous. You were just… you.

But for Héctor Fort, that was enough to turn his head. Enough to make him pause mid-sentence. Enough to make him forget the group of friends beside him yelling about tactics and kickoff.

He watched you like you were the only person in the room.

___________________________________

Eventually, you noticed.

He was hard to miss—tall, sharp-featured, with a gaze that could cut through a crowd like a blade. There was a quiet confidence in the way he stood, like the world bent just slightly around him.

Typical Barça fan, you thought.

Too pretty to be real. Too smug to be humble.

Then someone called his name.

“Fort! You paying attention or what?”

You blinked.

Héctor Fort?

Well. That explained a lot.

The crisp Barça tee. The subtle space people gave him. The way every move he made pulled focus.

He was him.

And now? He was walking toward you.

___________________________________

"You're bold," he said when he stopped in front of you, eyes sweeping over your jersey.

You didn’t flinch. “Why? Because I showed up looking better than everyone in this room?”

That caught him off guard. He laughed—a real one this time.

“I was gonna say because you're wearing that,” he said, nodding to your shirt. “But… sure.”

You raised a brow. “Let me guess, you only like girls who wear blaugrana?”

He smiled. “I like girls who know what they’re doing.”

“And I know this is the year we destroy you.”

His smile dropped just a little.

So did his guard.

And just like that, the match hadn’t even started, but the game between you two had.

___________________________________

First half: tense.

Possession flipping like a coin, tackles flying, the crowd gasping in sync. You and Héctor ended up closer as fans shifted, jostling for space. He didn’t say anything—but you felt his eyes on you every time Madrid touched the ball.

It was quiet between you, but not silent. Not really.

There was tension in the air. The kind that made your pulse jump every time he leaned slightly closer. The kind that made you forget who you were supposed to be rooting against.

Until the 86th minute.

Jude Bellingham.

Volley. Top corner.

GOAL.

You didn’t scream. Not like the others around you had when Barça’s chances came and went.

You just smiled.

Full. Proud. Unapologetic.

And Héctor saw it.

Saw you shine.

Saw the pride in your eyes. The glow in your face.

And his chest twisted.

It wasn’t the loss. Not really.

It was you. Glowing with joy. And he wasn’t the reason.

___________________________________

The final whistle blew.

Madrid won.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Around you, the room sank into silence—dull, bitter silence.

Except him.

He was still standing there, rigid. Face unreadable.

You turned to him slowly, heart still racing, pulse tingling with the high of victory.

But his expression stopped you.

“Happy now?” he said, voice low and sharp.

You frowned. “Is that a serious question?”

“You won,” he said. “Congrats.”

You blinked. “Why do you sound mad?”

He stepped forward. “Because I watched you all night. Watched you in that damn jersey. Watched you celebrate like they were yours. Like we were nothing.”

You stared at him. “They are mine.”

He flinched.

You took a breath, trying to stay calm, but your voice came out tight.

“It’s more than football,” you said. “You feel it too.”

His jaw tensed. “Yeah. I do.”

You kept going. “Then don’t act like this is just about the game. You’re not mad we lost. You’re mad because you saw me love something that wasn’t you.”

Silence.

And then—

He kissed you.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was jealous.

Messy.

Possessive.

It was a confession wrapped in heat and heartbreak.

You gasped against his lips, but you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back like you were trying to prove a point. Like maybe, somewhere in the mess of rivalry and tension, you felt it too.

When he pulled back, his forehead dropped gently against yours.

His breath shook. “We lost.”

You whispered, “You did.”

He didn’t look at you. “I lost you.”

Your throat tightened.

“You never had me,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, eyes finally meeting yours. “But I wanted to.”

You stayed still.

Both of you frozen in something that wasn’t hate, wasn’t love, but was just as intense.

Then he stepped away.

And the air turned cold.

___________________________________

You met again six days later.

Quiet café in Girona. Neutral ground. No jerseys. No tension.

Just you and him, across a table, trying to pretend that kiss hadn’t burned holes in your memory.

“I overreacted,” he said, stirring his coffee.

“You kissed me,” you said.

“You didn’t stop me.”

Your lips curled. “You kissed me because you were jealous.”

He nodded. “And you kissed me because you won.”

You didn’t answer.

The silence was louder than any stadium.

Then, slowly, he looked up.

“Can I be honest?”

You nodded.

“I don’t want this to be the end.”

You tilted your head. “Of what?”

“Whatever this is. Even if you wear that jersey every time I see you.”

You smirked. “I will.”

He smiled, slow and warm. “Good.”

___________________________________

[universefcb]

Please make more Hector fanfics, it's what's keeping me alive😭

[universefcb]

Heyy girl, take all the time you need, I hope you get better soon. Wishing only the best for you ❤️

tysm😭

VYou don't know how happy I am to receive these messages, I love you!

[universefcb]

Dww girl, we all feel exhausted about writing at some point!! Take as much time as you need whenever you feel like it, sending much love💞💞

tysm, Princess 🤍

[universefcb]

i'm sorry about that, girl. i hope you get well soon! ❤️

TYSM, my princess! I'll get better soon to bring you more stories!

[universefcb]

Feeling lonely part 2

Collab project with @universefcb, ‘cause I couldn’t take the sad ending and was going to cry about it, so here we are

part 1

summary: in which Hector shows up at your front door and not only reclaims his position in your life but also claims another spot

warnings: quite angsty, it has a happy ending obviously

He noticed. He noticed your absence. He noticed you leaving. He noticed you distance yourself. He thought you just needed a break. One of those you took every once in a while to relax, to recharge your social battery. When he understood that he and Lucia were the only people that you were avoiding something inside him snapped. He was losing you and he felt his heart breaking because of it.

That’s how he found himself in front of your door, his hand raised ready to knock, trying to find the courage to do so. You had heard steps climbing the stairs though. So before he managed to knock you opened the door.

The first thing you noticed was his furrowed eyebrows. Like he was already questioning you about everything. Yet he hadn't even spoken. Due to the distance, you hadn't heard his voice for a whole month. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to talk, to ask for your permission to come inside so the two of you could talk.

"Can I-can I come in?"

"Sure" you replied quietly as you opened the door wider for him to pass through, it was surely going to be a difficult afternoon.

And it was. From the moment the two of you sat down to the moment you stopped with the conversetion you were both so tense that anyone could use a knife to cut it.

"I know that you are moving away from me. I know that. Don't even deny it, I'm sure of it. I just can't understand the reason... What did I do? How did I lose whatever we had?" he asked genuinely.

"Her. You chose her. Every single time. Always. I asked you out for coffee and you asked her to come with. I asked you to go out for a drink, she had to come with. I told you about a new movie I wanted to see with you at the cinema and she had to come with. All the time."

"I-I..." he stumbled, not knowing what to say

"Save it Hector. It's not worth it. To you, I'm not worth it either..." you continued, not knowing that you hit a nerve of his.

He stood up like lightning had struck him where he was previously sat. He fixed you with a gaze that seemed to convey all his anger, his hurt, his sadness. You didn't understand if you were seeing quite right. Why would he ever feel like this?

"Are you serious right now? Please tell me you aren't fucking serious! You can't be!" he said, raising his voice slightly in frustration.

"What do you mean I can't be serious?? I am Hector! That's the reason I took myself out of the equation." you replied as you got up too.

"Oh my fucking god, you have to be kidding me! This literally is such a shit reason!"

"Oh I didn't know reasons for distancing myself from you and your soon-to-be girlfriend had to pass through a test to be valid!"

"Lucia? Lucia is the soon-to-be girlfriend? Are you mental Y/n?"

"Why would I be mental, hm? You are with her all the fucking time, you ask that she comes with us every place we go and you always got your way until I decided to get the hint and leave you two be."

"Real clever. Down right genius!" he replied, clearly pissed off

"Why are you being so mean?"

"I'm not mean! You just went with something that you felt was right without never fucking asking me!"

"What do you even mean?"

"I don't like her! Fucking hell! I WANT YOU!! YOU! Y/N it's always been you, why can't you see it???" he asked, desperate, voice getting deep and hoarse, tears threatening to spill from both of your eyes.

"How in the world could you like me? You always chose her over me!"

"I never chose her! I asked her to come with because I knew that if we were left alone I would do something stupid and ask you out. And ruin it all! You know, like I'm doing right now!"

"I-I" you paused, his words leaving you speechless. Finally, you managed to get yourself together and continued talking.

"Kiss me" you said quietly.

He didn't hesitate. Not even for a second. With gentle and careful hands, he grasped your waist easily. He leaned and caught your lips. Your own hands caressed his cheekbones and jawline.

It wasn't passionate or fiery. It wasn't hot. It was gentle and loving even if he felt like a man starved of your affection.

That night he didn't just reclaim his previous role as your closest and childhood best friend. He also became your lover. Finally, after years of crushing on him and liking him from afar, he was yours and you were his.

[universefcb]

Explain the reasons for my disappearance: I'm mentally exhausted. I'm sorry.

[universefcb]

Hiii can you do Hector Fort x reader?

Where Reader tells Hector that she wants to get a tattoo and he should pick a tattoo for her 😽

TATTOO MY NAME WITH INVISIBLE INK

→ Pairing: Hector Fort X fem!reader

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff.

→ Author's note: I didn't really understand this request, but I did my best to do it.

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

Sunday was slow, almost in slow motion. The living room curtains danced with the warm wind that came in from the balcony, the sound of the city echoed in the distance, as if the world outside was in snooze mode. She was lying on the couch, her legs thrown over his, while Héctor scrolled through his cell phone feed without paying attention to anything. The television was on, but it was just background noise. The world seemed to pause when they were together like that.

“I’m thinking about getting a tattoo,” she said suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence of the afternoon.

Héctor looked away from his cell phone and looked at her face with a surprised expression.

“You? Seriously?”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips.

“I’ve thought about it several times, but I always give up because I can’t choose anything. And then a crazy idea came to me…”

“Here it comes,” he said, chuckling softly, playing with her fingers.

“I wanted you to pick out the tattoo. Like... everything. The design, the meaning. It would be yours, you know?”

For a few seconds, Héctor didn't respond. He just stared at her as if he was trying to understand if that was a provocation or a serious proposal.

“Are you telling me that you want to mark something on your skin that I will choose, without knowing what it is?”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.

“I want it to be something of yours in me. And I trust you.”

Héctor swallowed hard, surprised by the weight of it. It wasn't just a tattoo. It was a commitment. It was a mark she would choose to carry forever, simply because it came from him.

“I take this more seriously than you think,” he said, gently running his fingers over her face. “If it’s going to be mine, it’s going to be real. Are you ready?”

She smiled, her gaze calm.

“I was born prepared for you.”

Three days later, he showed up at her apartment with an envelope in his hands and his heart pounding as if it were going to jump out of his throat. She was sitting on the living room rug with a glass of wine, barefoot, and her eyes lit up when she saw him.

“So? Have you decided?”

Héctor approached and sat down next to her. He handed her the envelope without saying a word.

She opened it carefully, and inside was the drawing: a delicate olive branch, thin, as if drawn by hand with a pen. Around the branch was a Latin phrase: "Fortitudo in amore."

She read it quietly, trying to translate it mentally.

“It means strength in love,” he explained before she could ask. “That’s what I see in you. A beautiful, light strength. You love as if loving were simple. And that makes me want to be a better person.”

She looked at the drawing more closely, her eyes beginning to shine.

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s you,” he replied, leaning his forehead against hers. “I thought I’d put it just below the rib cage, on the left side. Near the heart.”

“I loved the place,” she said. “But what does it mean to you?”

Hector took a deep breath.

“That wherever you go, you will take a piece of me with you. And that what we have is strong enough to stay engraved. Even if life changes, even if everything passes... this remains.”

On the afternoon of the tattoo, she was tense, but she tried to hide it. Héctor didn't leave her side for a second. Sitting in a chair next to her, he held her hand firmly while the tattoo artist prepared the materials.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice low, just so she could hear.

She nodded, but never let go of his hand.

As the line began, she bit her lip, trying not to move.

“Look at me,” Héctor said, and when she turned her face, he smiled. “You are brave. And you are even more beautiful now.”

Hours later, at home, she was lying face down on the bed, with the bandage on her skin and a look of happy exhaustion. Héctor appeared with a glass of water and lay down next to her, observing every detail of her body as if he had never seen it before.

“Doesn’t it hurt anymore?” he asked, lightly touching the edge of the bandage.

“It’s burning a little… but I would do it all over again just to see your face when I showed you that I loved you.”

He smiled and moved closer. He ran his fingers around the spot, not touching it directly, and kissed the skin beside it, with an almost reverent calm.

“You have no idea what this means to me,” he murmured against her skin. “Seeing something of mine marked on you like this... it feels like I belong to you even more.”

She turned her face and looked at him with a soft smile.

“As if I didn’t already belong?”

“Now it’s official. Signed on the skin.”

He pulled her in carefully, respecting the sensitive area, and wrapped his arms around her. They both stood there, in silence, wrapped in a feeling that was hard to describe. It wasn't just love—it was presence, security, truth. As if, in that moment, the world had become too small to contain everything they felt.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, his eyes already closing.

"He can."

“I'm thinking about getting a tattoo too.”

“Really?” She turned her head, surprised.

“Uh-huh. A symbol of ours alone. But the place… will be hidden. Only you will see it.”

She chuckled softly, her body fitting better into his.

“Then choose carefully, Fort. Because if it is mine alone, I will keep it as the greatest treasure.”

“It is,” he replied. “It is yours alone.”

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