[andy-15-07]

Small Victories

Pairing: Héctor Fort x Reader

Word Count: 2399

Request open!

You come up out of sleep like a swimmer pressing toward the surface: the house quiet, the city beyond the window breathing in soft orange streetlight, and then the smallest sound, a questioning little whimper from the bassinet. It’s not a full cry. It’s a warm-up, a “hey, is anyone out there?” kind of noise.

Your hand twitches toward the covers, but Héctor is already moving. He never stumbles; he just slides, a practiced shift from the warm hollow of your shared bed, blanket lifting with a whisper, feet finding the floor. You hear his breath,steady, calm,as he crosses to the bassinet and leans down.

“Hola, campeón,” he murmurs, voice almost a laugh in how soft he makes it. “¿Qué pasa, eh? ¿Tienes hambre, Mateo? ¿Tienes sueños raros? Hi, pequeño… It’s okay, Papi’s here.”

You blink into the dark. He’s a silhouette at first, shoulders broad in the oversized tee he tugged on before bed, curls a little wild from the pillow. You can’t see his face, but you don’t need to. You know exactly what he looks like when he talks to your son: mouth gentle, eyes melted, the whole fighter’s intensity turned inward into care.

“Shh, shh,” he says, and the bassinet creaks just a little as he slides a big hand under Mateo’s back. “We don’t want to wake mami, no. Mami’s sleeping, and she’s the smartest person we know, so we let her do genius things like… dream about eight consecutive hours. ¿Vale?”

Mateo answers with a sigh that sounds like a bubble popping. Then a hiccup. Héctor grins,you can hear it.

“Un hic,” he whispers, delighted. “Another? No? Okay. Up we go, chiquitín.”

The mattress dips where he’d been lying. You turn your face into his pillow, into the smell of laundry powder and the faintest echo of stadium grass that somehow always clings to him, even on days off. You think of sitting up. You don’t. You let the warm dark hold you, because you trust him, because he has taught you that it is not selfish to rest when you are offered rest, because he makes it safe.

There’s the soft rustle of a blanket, the slip of stuffed bear limbs, the hush of a bottle plucked from the warmer you keep on the low shelf. He moves like someone who knows the map of the room by heart.

“You and me, Mateo,” he tells the baby, stepping lightly, an athlete’s balance turned into night-time grace. “Operation: Don’t Wake Mami. We got this.”

Mateo offers a more opinionated whine. Not loud. Just… persuasive. You smile into the pillow.

“Vale, vale, ya,” Héctor says, settling into the armchair next to the window. It’s the one you found secondhand and rescued together with a new cushion; it’s become their spot. “First, we sit. Second, we cuddle. Third, we have an important meeting with Señor Biberón,yes, el señor bottle. Don’t look at me like that. He’s very prestigious.”

He shifts, a soft grunt as he finds the right angle,baby tucked along his forearm, head at the crook of his elbow, tiny fingers capturing the fabric of Héctor’s shirt like it’s a lifeline. You hear the rubbery sigh of the bottle nipple and then the quietest contented noise,Mateo’s first sip.

“There you go,” he says, almost reverent. “Así, despacio. Slow and steady wins the race. Except, uh, not in football. In football you also need speed. But with milk? Champions go muy tranquilo. Sí.”

He’s mostly whispering to Mateo, but he’s talking to himself, too. That’s how nights are here,half lullaby, half pep talk, all love. He shifts the bottle, watching closely.

“Gordito, you’re a machine,” he says. “Five months old and your technique… impeccable. The hold, the seal, the focus. I’m giving this 10/10. The scouts will be impressed. But listen, there’s more to life than milk, ¿eh? There’s… uh…” He glances at the window; you can hear him gesture even if you can’t see it. “There’s buses and dogs and the smell of your mami’s coffee and the way the sun turns our living-room rug into a stadium in the morning. There’s your little bear with the one ear that’s already trying to escape. And there’s us. We’re pretty great. I am biased, but I think we’re great.”

You feel your throat get warm. He thinks you’re asleep, and it lets him talk in that open way that always undoes you.

“Mm,” Mateo answers, which is to say, he drinks and sighs and blinks very big solemn blinks like he’s taking notes. Héctor chuckles.

“You don’t remember, peque,” he says, “but when you were born, I was very nervous. Shh, don’t laugh. Papi nervous is a new species. I thought… I don’t know. That I’d mess up. That I’d be too young, too loud, too something. That I’d love you and your mami so much I’d break something inside trying to do it right.” He pauses to adjust Mateo up a little. “But then you held my finger. Just like that,sí, you’re doing it again, míralo, míralo,and I thought, okay. I can learn. I can learn anything if it means you sleep and she smiles.”

You could pretend you’re not crying a little. You don’t. You let the tear find the corner of your mouth and vanish.

“Big gulp,” he notes, gently tilting the bottle back. “We pace it, Mateo. Little breaths. This is also football. Breathe when you can.” He hums then, a tiny wandering tune that might have started life as an anthem and has turned into your family’s private song. “Bum, bum, bum,” he adds, amused with himself. “This is very technical. Don’t tell the team I do this.”

The bottle pauses as he checks the level. “You’re destroying this,” he says in mock awe. “My son, my goal machine. Okay, un descanso,little break. We burp. It’s glamorous. You ready?”

He sets the bottle down with a soft clink on the windowsill and shifts Mateo upright against his chest, palm big and warm against the small of the baby’s back. The rhythm of his patting is steady, like the metronome of a heartbeat. “Up,” he whispers. “We send the milk to the right places and the bubbles to the moon. Come on. Do it for me, mi vida.”

Mateo obliges with a sound so comically adult that Héctor stifles a laugh against his shoulder.

“¡Golazo!” he breathes, triumphant but quiet. “Yes, yes, yes. I knew you had it in you. Mami is going to be so proud when I tell her you did a perfect burp. Textbook. We can put it on your highlight reel. But for now… drink two.”

He settles back into the chair and goes again: bottle, tiny sips, tiny breaths. The window hums with late-night traffic. Somewhere, a distant siren sings itself out. In here, time has shrunk to a circle where there is only your boy, your boy’s boy, and the slow, patient music of care.

After a while, Mateo lolls a little, milk-drunk and heavy, eyes sliding like shutters. Héctor gives him a ministrations you’ve seen a thousand times but never get tired of: a swoop of thumb over the soft hairline, a kiss pressed gently to the round of his temple, another to the flat space between his brows.

“Bueno,” he murmurs. “We’re almost there. And when you sleep, I’m going to put you down like a ninja. You haven’t met ninjas yet. They’re like defenders with socks pulled over their faces.”

He glances toward the bed. You make your breathing even, but he’s not fooled; he never is.

“Hey,” he whispers, a smile in his voice. “Go back to sleep, cariño.”

You hum without opening your eyes. “Are you winning?”

“Obviously,” he replies, mock-offended. “We’re top of the table. It’s 2-0. A burp and a half bottle.”

“Coach says keep your shape,” you mumble, and he huffs a laugh.

“Yes, coach. Shh, mami’s joking,” he stage-whispers to Mateo. “She thinks she’s funny because she is.”

He checks the bottle again and tucks it away. “All right, capitán,” he says, easing Mateo onto his shoulder. “Last burp. Then we talk about ambitions. Very important at five months.”

He pats and sways; he’s all soft angles now, the edges worn gentle by repetition. “What do you want to be?” he asks their son. “A meteorologist? Because you’re very good at telling us when the storm is coming. A chef? Because you have strong opinions about milk temperature. A dancer? We already know you can wiggle. Or maybe you want to be… happy.” He kisses Mateo’s hair. “I vote happy.”

The little body on his shoulder relaxes, breath evening into those deep, trusting sighs that are the secret currency of parenthood. Héctor keeps swaying for a minute after sleep arrives, superstition and love both telling him not to rush.

“I like us,” he says softly, almost to the window. “I like our messy sink and your dinosaur pajamas and mami’s list on the fridge that says ‘remember to remember.’ I like being tired like this. It means we have something worth being tired for.”

You can’t help it; you turn your head, eyes slit open. In the dim glow, you catch the outline of his face as he looks down at Mateo. He’s all tenderness. You whisper, “You’re very good at this, you know.”

He tilts his head toward you, smile small and bashful like he’s twenty and just learning how to wear praise. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you echo.

“Go to sleep,” he says, even softer, and the way he says it,an offer, not an order,makes you sigh. “I’ve got him. I’ve got both of you.”

You let the words wrap around your bones. The armchair creaks again as he rises, slow and careful. He pads to the bassinet and lowers Mateo like a prayer,pause, breathe, pause,as if the universe will hear if he moves too quickly. The baby’s face scrunches for one second,Héctor’s breath catches,and then smooths. The tiny hand unclenches.

“Eso,” he whispers. “Muy bien.”

He tucks the little blanket around Mateo, smooths it once, checks the pacifier, sets the bear with the rebellious ear within grabbing distance. He stands there an extra beat, superstition again, watching. Then he comes back to bed.

The mattress dips; the covers lift. He slides in behind you and pulls the duvet over your shoulders, tucking it like a promise. You back up into him, bumping knees and finding the groove, your spine to his chest, his arm curved around your waist.

“Report,” you murmur.

“Team performed with maturity,” he says solemnly, lips against your hair. “We handled early pressure, controlled the middle third, and executed at key moments. Star striker scored two burps and nearly added a third.”

“Man of the match?”

He pretends to think. “It’s a tight race between Mateo and Señor Biberón. But I’d give it to mami for a very strategic decision to stay horizontal.”

You snort. “I wasn’t staying horizontal. I was… trusting my teammate.”

“Mm. You were perfect,” he says, no teasing now. His hand rests on your stomach, warm and steady. “You’re always perfect.”

“Liar,” you say, but you smile.

He kisses the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, just a brush. “You okay?” he asks, soft and real, the way he always asks, even when he can see you’re fine, because he never assumes.

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “You?”

“I’m… happy,” he says, and you feel it through him, that word settling into his bones like a weight and a buoy both. “Tired. But happy. You smell like soap.”

“You smell like baby,” you say, amused. “Milk and talc and victory.”

He chuckles. “Put that on my player profile.”

You reach for his hand and weave your fingers through his. He squeezes, and your eyes sting again for no reason except everything.

“Hey,” he says, after a small silence. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… letting me be this,” he says. He always chooses words carefully when he’s telling the truth. “A boyfriend who can be a papá in the middle of the night and still be the guy who makes you laugh in the afternoon. For trusting me to learn as I go. For… you.”

You turn in his arms because you need to see him, even in the half-light. His face is open in that way it gets only in this room, at this hour. You touch his cheek. “There was never a world where you weren’t good at this,” you tell him. “You were always going to love big.”

He ducks his head like he can hide from the compliment and then kisses your forehead instead. “Sleep,” he says again, almost ritual. “We’ll trade off if he wakes at five.”

You yawn, traitorously on cue. “He won’t,” you say, liar that you are. “He’s perfect.”

“He is,” Héctor agrees solemnly. “But he is also my son, and therefore dramatic.”

You laugh into the pillow. He smiles into your hair. The apartment settles, the city whispers, the bassinet murmurs now and then with tiny baby breaths. Time stretches.

“Tell me something nice,” you mumble, already fading.

He thinks for a second, then says, “Okay. Something nice: tomorrow morning I’m going to make you toast the way you like it,too dark, which is a crime,and I’m going to bring it to you with coffee, and I’m going to tell you a story about a little boy who discovered his own hand at 3 a.m. and fell in love with it. And then we’re going to take him to the park and show him leaves. And then I’m going to do the dishes. And then I’m going to kiss you until you forget which day it is.”

“Too nice,” you whisper, smiling.

“Another nice thing,” he adds, softer still. “We’re doing it. We’re really doing it, cariño. Not perfectly. Just… together.”

Your throat aches with how much you love him. “Together,” you echo.

He draws the blanket up one more inch, like he can tuck love in, like it will stay better that way. “Buenas noches, mami,” he breathes.

“Buenas noches, papi,” you answer without opening your eyes.

You slide down into sleep anchored by his arm and the small hush of your son’s breath, and the last thing you register is Héctor’s quiet, ridiculous whisper over your shoulder, aimed at the bassinet like a secret:

“Mateo, we won. Again.”

[paucubarsisimp]

hii is it okay if you make a pau cubarsi imagine

pau cubarsi and the reader has kids

it’s just he’s good with kids

if you don’t want to it okayy

baby girl

pairing: pau cubarsí x reader

summary: in which you and pau have a little baby girl

warnings: none

the apartment was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the early morning sun slipping through the curtains.

except for one sound: the gentle, sleepy coos of a newborn.

pau was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, cradling baby mila in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world — because to him, she was.

her tiny fingers gripped one of his as he rocked her gently, whispering to her in the softest catalan, like his voice alone could protect her from anything.

you watched from the bed, curled under the blankets, heart swelling at the sight.

he looked so at peace. messy hair, under-eye circles from nights of broken sleep, but still smiling. always smiling.

“bona nit, princesa,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to mila’s forehead. “do you know how much i love you? more than every goal i’ve ever defended.”

you grinned sleepily. “she doesn’t even know what a goal is.”

mila yawned, her little face scrunching in that perfect way newborns do, and pau looked like he might cry from how cute she was.

“she has your nose,” he whispered, like it was a secret. “and your pout.”

“and your stubborn eyebrows,” you teased.

he smiled, glancing down at her again. “she’s so perfect.”

pau stood slowly, careful not to jostle her, and crossed the room to sit beside you. he passed mila into your arms with a reverence that made your chest ache — like every movement was sacred.

you curled your baby close to your chest, and pau immediately wrapped an arm around both of you, pulling you into his side.

“this is my whole world,” he said quietly. “right here.”

you turned your head slightly, resting it on his shoulder. “you’re a really good dad, pau.”

his breath caught. “you think so?”

“i know so,” you said. “you’re gentle, patient, soft with her… even when she screams at 3 a.m.”

he chuckled softly. “she’s got lungs like a camp nou crowd.”

you both laughed, careful not to wake her, and then sat in silence for a while — the kind that feels like a warm blanket around your heart.

pau kissed the top of your head. “i still can’t believe we made her.”

you looked down at mila, her tiny chest rising and falling as she slept. “she’s the best part of both of us.”

pau nodded, then laid back, pulling you with him, his hand resting on mila’s back. he couldn’t stop looking at her.

“i’m gonna love her forever,” he whispered, eyes already drooping from exhaustion. “and i’m gonna love you even longer.”

you closed your eyes, safe in his arms, your daughter breathing softly between you.

and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

because you had everything — love, peace, and a family made of quiet mornings and promises that would last a lifetime.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[obvithe-bestsoph]

hi! i hope you’re doing well!! i was wondering if you could write something about hector getting baby fever because he’s watching his girl acting like a mom with gael, or lamine’s brother!! thank you 🤍

one day...

masterlist requests word count: 1090

a/n: this one is actually so cute lol genre: fluff warnings: mentions of pregnancy and having kids obviously.

summary: while at a barbeque at raphinha and taia's, hector can't keep his eyes off you and gael.

The first time you held Gael, it was an accident.

Well, not a real accident, more like an unplanned moment during a barbecue at Raphinha and Taia’s place. You were only meant to pass him from one person to the next, a quick pit stop between hands. But Gael had other plans, gripping your shirt with sticky fingers and letting out a gurgling laugh like he had just found a new favorite toy.

From then on, the baby was obsessed with you.

And Héctor noticed.

Now, weeks later, you're back at the same house for another get-together. The sun's out, the pool's full, music’s low in the background, and everyone’s a little sun-kissed and smiley. Most of the players are in the backyard, throwing a ball around and trash-talking each other with loud laughter. You’re not with them.

You're sitting on the patio couch with Gael balanced on your hip, bottle in one hand, wiping drool from his chin with the other. His curls are damp from a bath and his cheeks are rosy with warmth, head resting comfortably on your chest as you hum softly to him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Héctor can’t stop staring.

He’s standing just behind the sliding doors, leaning against the wall like he’s pretending to check his phone. But his eyes are locked on you. He doesn’t even like babies that much, or, at least, he never thought about them. It was always “later,” always “someday,” filed away under the same vague timeline as a mortgage or maybe a dog.

Until now.

Until he saw you.

You don’t notice him watching, too focused on gently rocking Gael and rubbing slow circles on his back. There’s this soft smile on your lips, so small and calm and real, and Héctor feels something shift in his chest.

You glance up just then and catch his eye through the glass.

He stiffens like a deer caught in headlights.

You give him a little wave with the hand that isn’t cradling Gael, then tilt your head to the side, mouthing "what?" with a confused smile.

He shrugs.

You raise your eyebrows, mouthing again, this time with a grin: "Do you want to hold him?"

Héctor’s already shaking his head before you finish the sentence. “No way,” he says under his breath, even though you can’t hear him. He points to you, then to Gael, then clasps his hands together in a dramatic perfect pair gesture.

You roll your eyes but look flattered.

Eventually, you carry Gael back inside, resting him against your shoulder.

“He fell asleep,” you whisper. “Raphinha said we could put him in the crib upstairs, but I kind of don’t want to move him.”

Héctor looks down at the tiny body curled against your chest and swallows hard.

“You’re really good with him.”

You laugh softly. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

“I mean…” he shrugs, cheeks a little pink. “I always knew you were sweet, but this is different.”

You shift your weight and gently rock Gael again. “Different how?”

“Like…” He trails off, eyes bouncing between you and the baby. “Like it’s natural. You look like his mom.”

You blink. “Is that a weird thing to say?”

“No.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Just kind of trippy, I guess.”

You give him a teasing smile. “You’re totally getting baby fever right now.”

“I am not.” He protests it instantly, too quickly to be convincing.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “You totally are.”

“Am not.”

“Oh, come on,” you whisper, grinning. “You’ve been staring at me for like twenty minutes like you’re seeing your future.”

“Maybe I am.”

The words are out before he can stop himself.

You blink. Your eyes go wide for a second, surprised at his honesty.

Héctor doesn’t look away. “I mean it.”

You look down at Gael, still peacefully asleep in your arms, then back up at Héctor with a softness in your gaze that melts him completely.

“Do you think about it?” he asks, quieter now. “Like… one day? Having a family?”

“With you?”

He nods.

You smile again, gentler this time. “Yeah. I think about it.”

He watches you swaying side to side with the baby, the warm gold of the sunset lighting up your hair, and something stirs deep in his chest. It isn’t fear or nerves. It’s peace. Hope. Something that feels a lot like home.

“I never used to,” he says quietly. “Not seriously. But seeing you with him… I don’t know. It makes me want things I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Your fingers brush gently against Gael’s back as you glance up. “You don’t have to want it right now.”

“I know. But I’m not scared of it. Not with you.”

You reach out with your free hand and take his, lacing your fingers together. His thumb rubs slow circles over your knuckles.

After a few quiet beats, you smirk. “So… you are getting baby fever.”

He groans. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“It’s already a thing.”

“I just said you’d be a good mom, that’s all.”

“And that you saw your future. And that you weren’t scared of having a family.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You’re in love with me.”

He leans in, resting his forehead lightly against yours. “Yeah. I am.”

Your smile grows, warm and glowy and smug. “Want to hold him now?”

“Nope.”

“He’s asleep.”

“That’s worse. What if I drop him?”

“You won’t.”

“You say that, but I will.”

You laugh, adjusting Gael’s blanket and kissing the top of his head. Héctor watches you again, quieter this time, like he’s trying to memorize it. You, holding a baby. You, in a moment of calm and love and gentleness. You, as someone’s future, his future.

“Okay,” he says suddenly. “I’ll hold him. But only for like thirty seconds.”

You light up. “Seriously?”

He holds out his arms, bracing himself. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But you’re already beaming, handing Gael over slowly like you’re passing off the crown jewels.

Héctor takes him carefully, gently, terrified and fascinated all at once. Gael shifts slightly but doesn’t wake, nestling into Héctor’s chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your hand rests lightly on Héctor’s arm.

He looks up at you.

You smile.

“See?” you whisper. “You’ll be good at this.”

He holds the baby like he’s holding something sacred. Maybe he is.

“Only because it’s you,” he murmurs. “Only ever with you.”

[ennkis]

DATING HECTÓR FORT ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

─ headcannons ! established relationship. 🌺 (200+ words)

💌 boyfriend!hector who would…

…buy you flowers, but keep one, so he knows when to get you new ones.

…get jealous in silence but then be passive-aggressive like “no I’m not mad. just wondering why that dude looked like he was in love with you.”

…set his lockscreen as you and then act SHOCKED when you do the same.

…kiss your temple every time he passes you, even in public. even in front of his teammates. even if you’re mad.

…remember tiny details like the exact way you take your tea or which part of the blanket you always steal.

…get too into your favorite songs, like now he knows every lyric to your playlist and sings it SO off-key.

…sleep with your stuffed animal if you're not around. (if you like stuffed animals lmfao)

…mute his phone when he’s with you cause he actually wants to be present.

…watch you draw, read, study... or whatever, for literal HOURS like you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

…fake be mad when you steal his clothes, like “that’s my favorite hoodie” but he's already taking pics of you in it for his camera roll.

…say “be safe” instead of goodbye. always. even if you’re just going to the kitchen.

…laugh every time you roast him, like full-on wheezing, head-in-his-hands like “why are you so MEAN I LOVE YOU.”

[kamochoo]

hector fort as ur young hubby❤️

HÉCTOR FORT AS HER YOUNG HUSBAND — HEADCANONS

→ Pairing: Hector Fort X fem!reader

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff, confort.

→ Author's note: I did it in the headcanons style, because an author received the same request as mine. So to avoid any intrigue or make the person who wrote it first uncomfortable, I decided to do it this way.

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

husband!héctor ღ | The day after the wedding, Héctor woke up before you just to look at the ring on his finger and think: 'fuck, she's my wife now.' A silly smile doesn't leave his face all day.

husband!héctor ღ | He calls you 'mi esposa' in any possible context, even if it's just to ask for something simple like: 'Esposa, ¿dónde está la mantequilla?' — just to repeat the title and see you laugh. He still sometimes stumbles on the 'novia… quiero decir, esposa', but always with that adorable shy smile.

husband!héctor ღ | On the day you set up your house, you both laughed a lot while putting together the furniture, you had a slight argument about where the sofa would go, but you ended up with pizza on the living room floor, amidst open boxes, saying: 'This is our mess now.

husband!héctor ღ | who bought personalized frames with your initials and a wedding photo without even telling you. When you saw them, you almost cried — and he was super proud.

husband!héctor ღ | He loves it when you walk around the house wearing his shirt with the last name 'Fort' printed on the back. He always says, "I married the most beautiful woman in the world, for sure."

husband!héctor ღ | where every morning he gives you a kiss on the forehead before going to train and says: 'I'll be home in a hurry, love.'

husband!héctor ღ | At first, he finds it a bit strange to share everything: wardrobe, blanket, time, space. But deep down he loves knowing that you are there, every day.

husband!héctor ღ | You create a tradition: Sunday is breakfast day together without cell phones. Just the two of you, pancakes, and sleepy smiles.

husband!héctor ღ | He looks at you washing your face before bed, laughing in an oversized t-shirt, and thinks, "She's my family now." He gets emotional and hugs you out of nowhere.

husband!héctor ღ | When you receive a letter in the name of 'Mrs. Fort', he freaks out inside. And when someone calls you “the Fort couple”, he responds with that stupid pride of someone who loves someone very much.

husband!héctor ღ | Sleeping cuddled up is still a bit messy (he moves around a lot, you steal the blanket), but he says he prefers it a thousand times over sleeping alone.

husband!héctor ღ | Leaves little notes around the house like 'good luck today, my beautiful wife' or 'dinner at 8pm? just the two of us. love you.'

husband!héctor ღ | Whenever he arrives from a tiring game or training session, he goes straight to look for you, kisses you and says: “Now I'm home.”

husband!héctor ღ | He insists on carrying the heavy bags at the market, saying: “My wife doesn’t touch weights, only flowers and cuddles.” And yes, he always buys flowers too.

husband!héctor ღ | He started learning your favorite recipes in secret, just to surprise you one day with a complete dinner saying: “Today you don't touch the kitchen, just sit down and let me take care of you.”

husband!héctor ღ | He loves planning little weekend trips just for the two of them. He always makes sure to reserve a place with a beautiful view, saying: “Nothing is more beautiful than you, but let's try to compete.”

husband!héctor ღ | Who sends you a random message in the middle of the day saying: “I thought of you just now. And before too. And probably in the next five minutes again.”

husband!héctor ღ | He is amazed every time you show up at an event with him, all dressed up, holding his hand — he can't stop looking at you and whispering “mi esposa... mi reina... mi todo.” (my wife... my queen... my everything)

husband!héctor ღ | Who always ends his prayers with something like: “...and may I never forget to make my wife happy every day.”

husband!héctor ღ | He includes you in absolutely all of his future plans. He no longer says “if one day”, he says “when we”, because for him, now everything is about the two of you.

husband!héctor ღ | Even with his busy life, he never stops reminding you how lucky he was to marry you: in messages, touches, or just in that look that says it all.

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

[lilacprincess7]

“WAP”

summary: in which you and Hector celebrate Barca winning the supercopa and his first goal for the team

a/n: @meganesanchez i hope you like it!! 🫶

warnings: smut, 18+, minors do not interact, oral (m receiving), p in v (wrap it before you tap it), unprotected sex, top!reader x bottom!Hector

They won!! The were champions and your lover had scored on the final!! 6-0 against Real Madrid and you could see how Hector glowed because of the result. You would be sure to give him a second prize that night.

You were already wearing a matching set of underwear just for him, thinking ahead, being confident that his team would win and that you two would celebrate after. The point is that you wanted instead of having him please you, as it mostly happened, to please him. It wasn’t something completely new as a concept since he trusted you and gave often control to you, maybe not for the whole ordeal but part of it.

You could definitely top for the night, wanting to make your boyfriend feel on a physical level too just how much he meant to you and just how deep you felt and fell for him.

Two hours or so later, after you had dinner with the team and the rest of the family members attending, the two of you retreated to your room.

As soon as you closed the door of the bedroom with him in front of you, you turned him around and pinned him against it. Your arms were around his neck, massaging his collarbone and his shoulders.

You started kissing his chin, slowly, provocatively, not really giving him anything. “Baby…” he said in a hoarse, raspy voice. “Shh hermoso, tonight it’s all about you, mi campeon, let me please you…” you trailed off calmly

“Hmm please..” he replied, looking down in your eyes, needing to feel them fixed on him and him only. He wasn't an attention seeker, for your's though he would do anything. And right now, that you were so focused on him he felt whole.

You met his gaze just as intensely while also conveying how much you wanted to make him feel good. You gave him a peck on the cheek and made a trail of kisses towards his lips. You kissed his lips slow but passionate. As you deepened the kiss, you bit his bottom lip asking him for access and he accepted immediately. You even pushed him further against the door and he went willingly, his already closed eyes rolling in the back of his head from the pleasure he was feeling. You continued kissing him while touching his whole body with your hands and tore his shirt away from his body.

You trailed down his shoulders, went to his arms, grazed his waist, touched his hips. He couldn’t get enough. He was constantly groaning because of your touches, it made him restless. You kissed down his neck, leaving hickeys everywhere. You left red and darkening spots on him, marking him as yours. That got him even more hot and bothered.

“Amorr, please…” his voice deep with need

“Si guapo” you replied queitly, getting down on your knees. You teased a bit. Opening his belt slowly, your fingers touching his abs. After that you took the zipper between your teeth and opened it in the same fashion. With that view in front of him, Hector moaned.

You lowered his pants and had him step out of them. Then you started giving attention to his thighs. Grabbing them, kissing them, leaving red hues and teeth marks behind. With the foreplay over with, you lowered his boxers.

His dick was immediately against his abs. Your boy had a full hard on just because of your kisses and hickeys. His v-line making you feral. You didn’t want to tease anymore. Taking the tip in your mouth, you looked up at him.

He had one hand keeping your hair away from your face and the other against the door behind him, trying to hold himself up while you continued. His eyes were closed, his mouth half open, lips red and puffy from you kissing him so much. He looked so ruined and you loved it, you loved him. You adored him. He was yours and you were his.

You licked the underside of his cock, feeling his vein, his skin getting hotter. Swirling your tongue, you already felt some precum in your mouth. You circled your hands around his waist and pushed him more towards you, taking him in your mouth almost completely.

You sucked at the part you could take like it was a lollipop with the best taste to ever exist. Every once in a while, you rolled your tongue against the slit of the tip. Every time you did that, you stole a moan from his lips and you got him even closer.

It didn't take long for Hector to reach the edge. He came down your throat with a cry and almost collapsed on his knees from the pleasure.

You continued trailing kisses on his body while rising to your height. With soft touches you guided him towards the bed and had him sat against the headboard. He couldn't keep his hands to himself anymore. With slender and experienced fingers, he helped you get undressed.

After all your clothes were left on the floor, he couldn't help but stare. You were so attracive, so beautiful. In his eyes, you were everything he could ever wish for and he felt grateful for having you as his girlfriend. In the back of his mind he always had thoughts of upgrading that title.

You caged his hips with the inside of your knees. Hovering over him, you peppered kisses on his face, behind his ear, above his defined collarbone. Your hands were trailing his v-line and as a result his hips were rolling against your hand. You could see that your lover was painfully hard again.

"Please, hermosa don't teasee... I need you..." he told you, vulnerability and emotion rolling off his tongue as he spoke.

"Hmm I'm here baby. 'M gonna take good care of you" you responded before kissing him slowly on the lips. This kiss wasn't hurried or passionate. It conveyed your feelings for him, both your physical and non-physical need for him, how your heart ached for him and him only.

He was your one and only. Your once in a lifetime, the love of your life. The Romeo to your Juliet, the Orpheus to your Eurydice with a happy ending instead. He was your world and you were his.

You took him inside you slowly, the slide easy with how wet you were and how much precum he was licking with having you on top of him. You grasped his dick in your hand and let just the tip enter you. Both of you moaned in sync and then he chased your lips for a kiss.

You started grinding your hips against your lover's. His cock finally sat as a whole inside you. It was a miracle that you could actually take his entire dick inside you with how big he was. The kiss had turned into a touch of lips and heavy breathing, none of you able to concentrate more on it.

He met your every grind with a thrust of his own. His palms were placed on your waist and from time to time traveled down your ass and gave it a squeeze. He always loved tracing his hands all over your body, feeling your smooth skin against his own made him feel not only butterflies dancing inside him but also his protective and possessive side coming out.

It didn't take long for either of you to reach the edge. Your release mixing with one another's. You fell on top of him, hugging him tight. He run his fingers through your hair, occasioanly kissing the crown of your head. Ater a bit, you got up to run the two of you a bath. You left the tap to fill the bathtub with warm water while you got a towel to clean yourself and your boyfriend.

You guided him to the bathtub and returned after changing the sheets quickly, knowing the two of you were going to have a slow morning tomorrow.

You had the love of your life in your arms. He was so calm, lying down on top of you, so peaceful.

"Amor, can you help me with my hair? I'm too comfortable to move.." he trailed off, only one eye open looking at you pleadingly.

"Si hermoso, just sleep if you want hm.. I'll wake you up when the water gets too cold so we can get to bed" you replied quietly. Hector didn't hear you though, he was already fast asleep, nestled in your arms like he belong there. And the truth is he did...

a/n: thoughts?

[bernalswifeyy]

hector fort as your young hubby ❤️💙

𝓈𝓊𝓃-𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓈

summary: honeymoon with hector

pairings: hector fort x reader

warnings: fluff, honeymoon, young!marriage

a/n: sorry it took so long to write but i've been busy! love y'all

The late afternoon sun spilled over the horizon, golden and honey-thick, drenching the shores of the Amalfi Coast in a warm, amber glow. The sea shimmered, quietly breathing against the sand, a rhythm as slow and soothing as the one Hector’s hand traced along your spine while you both lay tangled in white linen sheets on the balcony chaise.

Your bare legs were draped over his lap, your head cradled against his shoulder as his fingers lazily drew little circles on your thigh. The scent of salt and citrus filled the air — lemons from the grove just below, the ocean stretching endlessly beyond.

“You're quiet,” he murmured, voice a tender hum that brushed against your skin. “Happy quiet, or sleepy quiet?”

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. His face was golden from the sun, tousled dark hair still damp from the quick dip you'd taken in the sea earlier. There was a softness in his eyes, the kind that made your chest ache in the sweetest way.

“Just… soaking it in,” you said softly. “You. This. Us.”

A slow smile curled his lips. He leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple, then another just beneath your ear — places that still made you shiver no matter how many times he touched you there.

“You’re my favorite view,” he whispered, warm breath ghosting along your jaw.

You laughed quietly. “That’s unfair. We’re literally overlooking the Mediterranean right now.”

Hector tilted his head thoughtfully, brushing your hair back from your face. “Still true.”

The moment stretched, tender and unhurried. There was no need to rush anything — not tonight, not on this trip, not ever again. For the first time, everything felt completely yours. The vows, the name you now shared, the ring on your finger — but more than anything, the way he looked at you like the entire world had narrowed down to this one, perfect moment.

He tugged you gently closer until you were straddling him, knees sinking into the plush cushions, your hands on either side of his face. You kissed him slow, the way you had that night under the string lights at the reception, when the world faded and only the two of you remained, dancing barefoot and drunk on love.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine,” he said against your lips.

You cupped his jaw, heart thudding. “You’ve always been mine. Even before we said it out loud.”

His hands slid up your back, warm and grounding. “I’m going to spend the rest of our lives proving it.”

You touched foreheads, breath mingling. The cicadas sang somewhere in the grove, the sea murmured its lullaby, and Hector whispered your name like a promise.

And in that soft, golden light, wrapped in each other, you believed him. Completely.

[paucubarsisimp]

HEYEYYEYE can you do hector fort x reader or someone else if you want, where reader has period and they are in car coming back from somwhere and then he pull away and say hell be right back, and then when he is back he gave reader flowers and sweets and in home he is really caring and all. ILYY

(sorry i dont speak english💔💔)

wrapped in love

pairing: hector fort x reader

summary: hector taking care of you on your period

warnings: periods

the sky was the color of faded lilacs as he drove you home, the car quiet except for the soft humming of the engine and the occasional sigh that escaped your lips when the cramps twisted inside you again.

you were curled up in the passenger seat, legs pulled close to your chest beneath his oversized hoodie — the one that smelled like clean laundry and faint cologne and something else that was just… him.

he glanced over, eyes flickering from the road to you, and his fingers gently reached across the console, brushing your knee like he was checking if you were still real.

“hurting?” he asked, voice low and warm like the kind of tea that soothes everything.

you didn’t answer right away. just pressed your forehead to the cool window and gave a small nod. “just a little.”

he didn’t say anything back, but you saw the way his brows pulled together. you knew that look. it was the same one he gave during tough matches — focused, worried, like he was already making a plan.

a few minutes later, without warning, he pulled off the road.

you blinked, lifting your head. “bebé? where are we going?”

he didn’t answer, just gave you the gentlest smile and leaned in, brushing a kiss against your temple. “i’ll be right back. stay warm, okay?”

and with that, he was gone — disappearing into a small shop that glowed softly from the inside.

you watched him through the window, head tilted, your heart already melting even before you knew why.

he came back ten minutes later, wind-tousled and glowing with that quiet pride he got when he thought he’d done something right — and in his hands were a bouquet of pink and white flowers, wrapped in brown paper, and a paper bag tucked beneath his arm.

“these are for you,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat and handing you the flowers first. “and i got you those sweets you like. the chocolate ones with the soft middle. and painkillers. and tea bags, too. the chamomile kind.”

you just stared at him, arms full of flowers and heart full of love, unsure if you were about to cry from cramps or from how soft he was being.

“you didn’t have to,” you whispered.

“i know,” he said, eyes never leaving yours. “but i wanted to.”

the rest of the drive home felt lighter. your head leaned against his shoulder when the car stopped at red lights, and his hand stayed in yours the whole time, his thumb stroking the back of it like a silent lullaby.

when you got inside, he gently helped you out of your shoes, took your bag, and led you to the couch like you were something precious — like he was afraid the pain might get worse if he didn’t handle you with care.

“lie down, princesa” he said, already fluffing the pillows and grabbing the softest blanket. “i’ll be right back, okay? promise i’m not disappearing again.”

he came back with a hot water bottle wrapped in a towel, your favorite mug filled with warm tea, and the chocolate placed carefully on a little napkin.

you didn’t even need to ask.

“this is too much,” you whispered, tears prickling your eyes.

“no, baby,” he said, kneeling in front of you so you could see just how much he meant it. “this is exactly what you deserve.”

so you laid back against the pillows, the warm bottle easing the ache in your belly, and he curled in beside you, wrapping his arms around you like a promise — like he would hold the pain if he could.

his hands moved slowly, stroking your hair, rubbing soft circles against your back, murmuring little nothings like “you’re so strong” and “i’m right here, always” and “i love you even more when you’re like this, because you’re letting me take care of you.”

and somewhere in between the warmth of the tea, the chocolate melting on your tongue, and the steady rhythm of his heart against your cheek — you felt okay again.

not perfect. not painless.

but safe. soft. loved in a way that made all the ache worth it.

he kissed the top of your head once more before whispering, “next time, i’ll build you a little blanket fort, too. and a playlist. and i’ll learn how to make that soup you love.”

you laughed, sleepy and full of something that felt like home.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m yours,” he corrected, pulling you closer. “that’s all.”

and in that quiet evening glow, wrapped in his arms and surrounded by soft things, it didn’t matter that your body ached.

because your heart was full.

and he was there.

and that was more than enough.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted, @landoslutmeout lmk if you want to be added!

[loggedoutfrver-deactivated20250]

hii! 🤍

could you write anything about the barcelona boys? maybe texts about reader getting lost in the middle of nowhere?? or reader scared about a job interview??

thank you! 🫶

ofccc! Sorry for taking so long to get to your request! 🤍

This is texts with the barca boys when reader gets lost!

This includes: Pedri Gonzalez, Pablo Gavi, Hector Fort, Pau Cubarsi, Marc Bernal, Férmin Lopez,Ferran Torres, and Pablo Torre. Please lmk in reqs or comments if you would like any other footballers.

Hope you enjoy! 🤍

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

[justageekk]

IN WHERE : having sex with the fc barcelona boys.

THIS ONE SHOT IS : fem!reader x fc barcelona boys

INCLUDES : hector fort, fermin lopez, pedri gonzales, ferran torres, alejandro balde, pau cubarsi

note: i don't speak english, only spanish n a little portuguese. any errors are the translator's fault.

w: smut.

request open!

HECTOR FORT:

Hector is pretty easygoing when it comes to sex, well, it depends on the day. If he's tired but also horny, he can go slow and deep while pulling your hair from behind.

But if he comes home angry, it's a different story; he prefers to go fast and rough, making your bodies collide, echoing in your room.

Hector is also a fan of fucking with Anuel's music playing in the background, especially. Hector gets turned on, and if you fuck with Anuel's "Or Nah," ugh, you won't be able to walk tomorrow.

FERMIN LOPEZ:

Fermin does it however you ask: fast, slow, hard, soft, however you want and whenever you want, but his favorite is fucking before and after games.

Before games, it's like good luck; after games, it depends on how the team did. If things go badly, he gets even and fucks you hard. If they win, he does it quickly and with kisses.

PEDRI GONZALES:

Pedri is a madman when it comes to sex. Anywhere, anytime, but with you and only with you.

Tongue, fingers, he knows how to use everything at his disposal.

Pedri likes rough sex, pulling your hair, telling you what to do, controlling your orgasm, or simply anything that involves him dominating you.

FERRAN TORRES:

Ferran is a serious man when it comes to sex. He seeks to take you to the limit, until you even forget your name. He likes a good, hard fuck.

Nothing better than watching your wife squirm for you while you fuck her. He loves it, especially if you moan his name, begging for more of him.

Like Fermin: he fucks you before the games for his good luck. It's a quickie, and after the game, you can continue.

ALEJANDRO BALDE:

Alejandro is playful. He likes to talk during sex and laugh at you. He also controls your orgasm or just lets you want it and that's it.

Could say he likes it when you beg him or tell him how good he feels. He's satisfied with that and loves the little voice you make while you tell him.

PAU CUBARSI:

Cuba is a sweet guy. He likes to kiss you while you're doing it and occasionally laugh at the sounds of pleasure you make.

Pau likes flattery. Fuck him while telling him he's a handsome guy, and he'll do it with even more desire and talent. If you like, you can pull his hair or bite his shoulder; it turns him on because he knows he's doing it right.

If you ask him, he can be rough, but he has a hard time treating you badly or talking dirty to you. He can't; he's too embarrassed.

❝ justageekk, 2025 ❞

[paucubarsisimp]

hiiiii!!! I really liked the babygirl one you did with Pau Cubarsi!!

Could you please make the same one with Hector or one in which the reader and Hector are announcing to his mother that they're going to name their daughter after her and it's a really wholesome and sweet moment between the family??

sunlight and pastries

pairing: héctor fort x reader

summary: in which you tell héctor's mum that you're going to name your baby girl after her

warnings: none!

it was a slow sunday morning in barcelona, the kind where the sun slipped lazily through the curtains and the air smelled like warm toast and fresh coffee. you were curled up on the couch, your head resting against héctor’s shoulder, one hand on your belly, where the tiniest flutter of movement had just made both of you smile like kids again.

"she kicked again," you whispered, eyes wide with wonder.

héctor looked down at you, his eyes full of that quiet love that made you melt every time. “she knows we’re talking about her,” he said softly, placing his hand over yours. "she wants to be part of the conversation."

you both giggled, wrapped up in the bubble of your little growing world, when the front door creaked open.

“hola?” cristina’s voice floated in from the hallway.

“we’re in here, mamá!” héctor called out.

cristina stepped into the living room, holding a paper bag full of fresh pastries. her eyes immediately lit up when she saw you both. “i brought your favorites,” she said, setting them down on the coffee table and leaning in to kiss you on the cheek.

“thank you,” you smiled, squeezing her hand. “you’re always spoiling us.”

“well,” she said with a grin, settling into the armchair across from you, “you’re growing my granddaughter. i think that earns you a few croissants.”

you and héctor exchanged a look. this was the moment.

he cleared his throat, his fingers intertwining with yours. “mamá… we’ve been thinking a lot about baby names.”

cristina perked up, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “oh? have you finally decided?”

you nodded, your heart beating a little faster. “we have. we wanted something meaningful. something beautiful.”

héctor squeezed your hand a little tighter. “we’re going to name her cristina.”

for a second, the room was completely still.

cristina blinked. “what?”

“we want to name her after you,” you said gently. “because you’ve been such a light in both our lives. strong, loving, kind. we hope she’ll grow up to have even half the heart you do.”

her eyes filled instantly, tears slipping down her cheeks as she brought a hand to her mouth.

“ay dios mío…” she breathed out. then she stood up and came toward you both, her arms wrapping around the two of you in the warmest embrace.

“that’s the most beautiful gift anyone’s ever given me,” she whispered. “thank you. thank you.”

you felt your own eyes sting as héctor pulled you both closer. there, in the quiet warmth of the living room, the three of you held onto each other. and just beneath your hand, little cristina kicked again—like she knew her name was being spoken with so much love.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[holupicons]

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Héctor and the reader have been dating for a little over two years. They have always dreamed of starting a family, and now they are living that moment — the arrival of their first child: Martín (or a name of your choice). The story takes place over a 24-hour period: their first day at home with the baby, after being discharged from the hospital.The house is too quiet… until the baby cries for the first time at 3am.

the first night.

masterlist requests word count: 865

a/n: i like the name martín for the baby because that's gavi's second name, and him and hector have been getting closer recently 🙃 genre: fluff. warnings: none.

summary: it's your first night home as a family of three after the birth of your first son, martín.

The house feels too quiet. Not in a peaceful way… more like the air is holding it’s breath. You walked in just a fe hours ago, baby in arm, hospital bags in tow, hearts full of something you still can’t describe. Not quite nerves. Not quite fear. Definitely not doubt. Something heavier. Something real.

Your son is asleep in the bassinet next to the bed. Martín.

You said his name together so many times in the months leading up to these past few days. Tried it out in different tones and volumes, whispered it during late-night cuddles when your bump was still round and firm and always moving with a little foot poking around. It almost feels a little strange hearing the name now, attached to an actual little person who hiccups in his sleep and scrunches his nose when the room gets too cold. 

You sit on the couch, as comfortably as you can right know, watching Héctor fumble with the baby monitor. His hair’s messy and unstyled, his hoodiestained with something you don’t want to ask about, and his brow is furrowed with the kind of concentration usually reserved for match analysis after gameday. You’re kind of obsessed with him like this. 

“Are you sure it’s on?” you ask, leaning over to peek at the blinking green light. 

He shrugs and raise an eyebrow at the small, white piece of plastic. “I mean… I think? It beeped when I plugged it in. That counts, right?”

You giggle, your body still aching and sore, but still somehow lighter than ever. 

“Worst case, we’re, like, a few metres away. We’ll hear him.”

“Yeah, unless he inherited your sneaky baby genes,” he says, settling in beside you. “You were quiet when you cried as a baby, remember? Your mamá said that.”

“Which means Martín’s going to be a screamer. Karma or whatever.”

He chuckles, but then his eyes drift to the bassinet. The silence wraps around you again. 

It’s not a bad silence. It’s just… different. 

You didn’t expect the house to feel unfamiliar, but it does. The furniture’s the same. The walls still hold your framed polaroids from your teenage years spent together. The kitchen still smells like the half-finished coffee Héctor left on the counter before the hospital run. But everything feels new, like the whole place is holding its breath too, waiting to see what kind of parents you’ll be. 

You fall asleep like that, cradled against Héctor’s chest, his hand resting on your knee, both of you too exhausted to move to the bed. 

And then, at exactly 3:08 AM, Martín cries.

It’s not a loud wail, more like a confused, almost offended squawk, like he’s just realised that he’s out in the real world now and he’s not thrilled about it. 

You bolt upright at the smae time, tripping over each other to get off the couch. Héctor’s heartbeat quickens. “Was that-”

“Yep,” you reply, already halfway to the nursery. 

Martín’s face is scrunched up, red and furious, fists flailing almost violently. You scoop him up gently, swaying side to side without even thinking about it.

Héctor’s right behind you, hand on the small of your back, still rubbing his eyes. “Nappy?” 

You check. “Still clean.”

“Hungry?”

You nod. “Probably. Can you-”

“I’ll warm the bottle.”

You hear him padding off toward the kitchen, muttering to himself as he tries to remember how many seconds it’s supposed to go in the warmer. You press your lips to Martín’s forehead, whispering nonsense, kissing his temple. He calms a little, but his eyes stay wide open, blinking up at you like he’s still making up his mind about all this.

When Héctor returns, bottle in hand, you sit carefully in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, the only light coming from the night lamp shaped like a little astronaut. Martín takes the bottle with a determined kind of greed, sucking like the world’s about to end and this is his last meal.

“Hala,” Héctor breathes, grinning. “Dude’s got an appetite.”

You laugh softly, head resting against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He shifts so you’re leaning into him more comfortably. “¿Estás bien?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just tired. Happy. Scared. All the emotions, really.”

He thumb brushes your cheek. “Same. But… you’re doing amazing. Really. I can hardly believe he’s actually… here.”

You both watch as Martín’s lashes start to flutter, his breathing slowing, the bottle slipping from between his little lips. 

It’s quiet. 

But this time, it doesn’t feel strange, like before. It feels earned. 

You sit there a while longer, the three of you together, warmth, exhaustion and brand-new love floating in the room. You can feel the world shifting around you, tilting on a new axis, one where 3 AM cries are normal, and your sleep comes in two-hour snippets, and the quiet is no longer a void but instead a soft place to land.

Eventually, you whisper softly to Héctor, “Should we try to sleep again?”

Héctor nods, eyes glassy but glowing. “Only if I get to hold both of you this time.”

So you let him. And the house doesn’t feel so weird and quiet anymore.

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Hi pookie 👀

Hear me out, Hector and reader getting caught making out in his backseat by a police officer cuz their lights maybe were on or something like the embarrassment and the obvious puffy lips and blushes like yk what I mean pookie?

Byee 💕

papá's couch.

masterlist requests word count: 1.1k

a/n: sorry that i changed the request, but instead of police I made it his parents lol. genre: fluff/suggestive. warnings: they're making out, but nothing graphic.

summary: thinking there's no one else in the house, you and hector decide to have some fun on his parent's couch... only to get caught.

You're not supposed to be here.

Well, okay, you are supposed to be here. You’ve been officially invited to the Fort household for dinner and a movie, which sounds cute and innocent enough. You even brought dessert, like a proper guest. Héctor’s mamá smiled and kissed your cheek in greeting, and his papá gave you a nod from the kitchen, beer in hand and an apron tied loosely over his Barça hoodie.

Everything was chill. Cozy.

But then dinner ended. His mamá took a call from a friend, his papá went out to walk the dog, and suddenly, you and Héctor were left alone in the living room. Dim lights. Warm blankets. A romcom you barely paid attention to.

It started with you teasing him. Something about how he got teary-eyed during the last movie you watched together. He denied it, obviously. Called you dramatic. Said he was just “hydrated.” Which, honestly, made zero sense but had you laughing anyway.

Then he kissed you to shut you up.

And you let him.

And then you didn’t want him to stop.

Now his hands are on your waist, your legs tangled with his on the couch, and your brain’s moving in molasses because all you can focus on is the way he’s kissing you like he’s starving. Héctor always kisses like that. All in, no hesitation, like he needs you to feel every part of him that wants you.

Your fingers are tangled in the back of his curls, your chest rising fast against his hoodie, and your mouth is probably swollen, but you couldn’t care less. His hand slides under the hem of your shirt, and your breath catches, but not in a scared way. Just in a ‘god, that feels good’ kind of way.

You shift slightly under him, arms around his neck, and mumble against his mouth,

“Héctor…”

“Mhm?” he says, not even pretending to pull away.

“Your papá’s gonna be back soon.”

“Don’t care.” He kisses you again.

You let him. Again.

But, like, of course, that’s when the door opens.

Of course, that’s when the sound of jingling keys and sneakers on tile cuts through your very hot, very not PG moment.

You freeze. Héctor’s mouth is still barely brushing yours. His hands are suspiciously still under your shirt.

And then you hear it, 

His papá’s voice, all casual and oblivious:

“Hola! The dog pooped twice, which feels unnecessary but-”

He steps into the living room.

And stops dead.

Time screeches to a halt.

You and Héctor jerk apart like teenagers in a coming-of-age movie. Which, to be fair, is basically what this feels like. You scramble to sit up, yanking your shirt down and trying not to look like someone who was just minutes away from completely losing her mind on her boyfriend’s couch.

Héctor just kind of blinks. Red-faced. Breathing way too fast.

His papá stares. Then blinks. Then narrows his eyes.

Nobody says anything.

You feel your whole body turn into one giant blush. Your lips tingle in a very ‘I’ve-been-kissed-with-a-lot-of-intention’ kind of way. You can feel them, puffy, warm, stupidly obvious.

You glance at Héctor, and yep. He’s just as wrecked. Hair messy, mouth flushed, pupils still dark like he hasn't emotionally processed the fact that his father just walked in.

“Oh,” his papá says slowly. “Cool.”

Héctor clears his throat. “Hi.”

His papá raises a brow. “Hi.”

The air is thick with ‘oh my god, please let a sinkhole open beneath me’.

You shift awkwardly, trying not to touch Héctor, even though your thigh is still very much pressed against his.

His papá walks a few steps in, eyes darting from Héctor to you and back again. “I thought we agreed, no funny business in the common areas.”

“We weren’t,” Héctor starts, then visibly gives up. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “Yeah. Lo siento.”

You open your mouth to say something. Apologize? Laugh? Evaporate? Even you’re unsure.

But his papá just chuckles. “Next time, maybe wait ‘til you’re actually alone. Just a thought.”

You want to die.

And then, like the universe hasn’t already punished you enough, Héctor’s mamá walks in from the hallway, phone still in hand.

“What’s going on?”

His papá looks at her, deadpan. “Your son was trying to repopulate the Earth.”

You swear your soul leaves your body.

“Héctor!” she gasps.

“Mamá!” he groans, dragging his hands down his face. “Seriously?”

You whisper, “Can I go home now?” into his shoulder.

He whispers back, “You’re never going to look either of them in the eye again, are you?”

You shake your head.

His mamá, mercifully, tries to smooth it over. “They’re teenagers, love. It happens.”

“Yes, but not on the couch I nap on,” his papá mutters.

Héctor rolls his eyes.

It’s quiet again. But not in a good way. In the ‘so tense you could slice it with a butter knife way’.

Finally, his papá claps his hands together and announces, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see anything. You two can watch your movie. Just…” he looks directly at Héctor, “keep it G-rated, yeah?”

Héctor nods. “Yes, sir.”

“And maybe ice your face or something. You look like you lost a fight with a vacuum.”

You bury your face in your hands and wish for death.

When both parents retreat, his papá back to the kitchen and his mamá to the upstairs hallway, you and Héctor sit there in stunned silence.

He finally leans over, nudging your shoulder. “So…”

You side-eye him. “So…”

He smiles. A little too smug for someone who just got humiliated in front of his father. “That was hot, right?”

You hit him with a pillow. “Shut up.”

He laughs, ducking and grabbing your wrist before you can swing again. He tugs you closer, pulling you into his side, and you roll your eyes even though you don’t fight him on it.

“You’re the worst,” you mumble.

“Maybe.” He kisses your temple, softer this time. “Still worth it.”

You sigh into his hoodie, heart still racing from the adrenaline. “I’m literally never coming over again.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Not after that.”

“My parents like you.” He grins. “A little too much, apparently.”

You glare up at him. “If your papá makes another joke about us ‘repopulating the Earth,’ I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you won’t.”

You groan. “Why are you so confident?”

“Because you’re still cuddled up with me after getting caught red-handed. That’s real love, cariño.”

You hate how right he is.

You also kind of love it.

[pedripics]

[guiuscrpts-deactivated20250630]

AFTER THE WIN | héctor fort

summary: after an intense match, héctor fort returns to a quiet apartment, only to find you waiting on the bed in his barça shirt.

genre: spicey, but not smut.

The apartment was quiet except for the soft sound of the shower running. He’d just come back from the match — hair damp with sweat, skin still buzzing with adrenaline. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing one of his Barça training shirts, the hem brushing high on my thighs.

When the water stopped, I didn’t move. I waited, heart beating faster with every second.

Then he appeared — towel low on his hips, droplets still trailing down his chest. His eyes locked on me. Dark. Focused. Hungry.

“You’re wearing that on purpose,” he said, voice low, almost a growl.

“Maybe.”

He was across the room in seconds.

He didn’t even wait — his mouth found mine like he’d been craving it all night, hands slipping under the shirt, fingers tracing the bare skin of my waist. The kiss was hot, urgent, messy. His body pressed me back onto the bed, his weight sinking over mine, every part of him so warm, so real.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you during the match,” he whispered into my neck. “You, in my bed. You, making those little sounds that drive me mad.”

His words made my breath hitch, my skin catch fire.

He tugged the shirt over my head slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving mine. “This,” he said, “is my favorite view after a win.”

I gasped as his lips traveled lower — teasing, exploring, leaving heat in their wake. His hands knew me like no one else did, like he’d memorized every inch of me and wanted to prove it all over again.

“Héctor,” I breathed.

“Say it again,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“Héctor,” I moaned, pulling him closer, nails dragging lightly across his back.

We didn’t rush. Not tonight. Every movement was slow, drawn-out, intoxicating. He made love to me like it was a promise — like the match didn’t matter, the noise didn’t matter — only this, only us.

And long after our bodies tangled and the city fell asleep around us, he held me close, whispering things in Spanish only lovers say when it’s dark — when they mean every single word.

[itzsyds]

Hector fort x reader babysitting hectors little niece and she keeps calling reader aunty and obviously calls Hector uncle and they just find it so so cute as she loves reader so much and they take her to the zoo or something

Hector Fort x Reader

Uncle, Aunty, and the Zoo Crew🫡

—

Guys obvs Hector is an only child but for the plot please can we just pretend he has a niece😆 it’s a good request so just had to clarify!

He’s also the sweetest with his interactions with little kids that I’ve seen!🥹

—

—

FLUFF- When Hector’s sister asks the two of you to babysit his three-year-old niece for the day, you’re more than happy to help.

—

You didn’t expect to spend your Saturday surrounded by giraffes, glitter stickers, and fruit snacks— but if you were being honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hector had texted you the night before, a picture of a very sleepy toddler in pink pajamas, sprawled across his chest.

“My sister needs a sitter tomorrow. You in?”

Your reply was immediate:

“Absolutely. Can we take her to the zoo???”

And that’s how you found yourself sitting in the front seat of Hector’s car the next morning, sipping a lukewarm latte, while a tiny whirlwind of a toddler named Ava sat in the back humming a made-up song, legs swinging in her car seat and curls bouncing with every bump in the road.

“She’s obsessed with animals right now,” Hector said, glancing at you with a fond smile. “Last week she told her entire nursery class she was gonna be a giraffe when she grows up.”

“I fully support that dream,” you replied, peeking into the backseat. “Right, Ava? Giraffes are the best.”

She grinned, revealing a gap from a recently lost baby tooth. “I’m gonna be the tallest giraffe ever, Aunty!”

You blinked.

Hector choked on his coffee and coughed into his sleeve.

You turned in your seat. “What did you call me?”

“Aunty!” she said cheerfully, kicking her feet. “You’re Uncle Hector’s girl, so you’re my aunty!”

You and Hector made brief, wide-eyed eye contact.

Then he grinned.

“You heard her,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Aunty it is.”

You squeezed his fingers, your heart doing a little flip.

—

The zoo was a hit from the moment you walked in. Ava clutched both your hands— one of yours, one of Hector’s— and practically skipped through the entrance.

She demanded a map (which she couldn’t read), and you spent the first fifteen minutes pretending she was in charge of navigating.

“Next, we go to the lions!” she declared proudly, pointing at the flamingo exhibit.

Hector leaned in. “You’re in for it. She’s got the confidence of a CEO and the attention span of a goldfish.”

You laughed, nudging him. “Wonder where she gets it from.”

Ava's tiny hand tugged your arm. “Aunty, do lions eat chicken nuggets?”

“Only dino-shaped ones,” you said with a straight face.

She gasped, like you’d just revealed a state secret. “I KNEW IT.”

—

After the lions (and flamingos, and penguins, and a brief tantrum because a squirrel stole part of her biscuit), you three took a break near the zoo café.

Ava was on Hector’s lap, happily munching on a mini cupcake and recounting the meerkat exhibit like she’d personally raised them from birth.

You wiped some icing off her cheek with a napkin, and she leaned into your touch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hector watched the two of you with soft eyes, his hand running idly over her back. “You’re good with her,” he said quietly.

“She makes it easy,” you replied, glancing at Ava, who was now using your leg as a napkin. “Okay, sometimes easy.”

He chuckled. “Still. It’s kind of… crazy. Seeing you with her like this. Feels right.”

Your heart fluttered again— not just from the compliment, but the way he said it.

Soft. Honest.

You looked at him. “She’s got your smile, you know.”

“She’s got your attitude,” he teased. “A little menace.”

Ava perked up. “I’m a sweet menace!”

You both laughed, and Hector kissed her cheek. “You’re our favorite menace, baby girl.”

—

The last stop was the petting zoo.

Ava made you both follow her from pen to pen like she was the animal whisperer, talking to goats like old friends and giving a sheep an unprompted hug. She even insisted on introducing each animal to “Aunty” and “Uncle”— loudly, proudly, and repeatedly.

“This is Aunty. She’s really good at braiding my hair!”

“This is Uncle Hector. He’s my best friend but sometimes he says bad words when he plays FIFA.”

You and Hector exchanged a glance at that one.

“Traitor,” he muttered under his breath.

You giggled at Ava’s brutal honesty.

—

By the time you got back to Hector’s place, Ava was half-asleep in your arms, her head resting on your shoulder as she mumbled sleepy nonsense about monkeys and strawberry ice cream.

You carried her to the couch and gently set her down. She stirred a little but didn’t wake, curling into the throw pillow like a cat.

Hector came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“She loves you,” he murmured. “She’s only ever called one other person “aunty,” and that’s my mum.”

You turned slightly to face him. “That means a lot.”

He nodded. “So does this.”

Then he kissed you— slow and soft, like you had all the time in the world.

When he pulled back, you both looked over at the sleeping girl on the couch.

“I’m not saying I’m ready for kids right now,” he said, brushing your hair behind your ear, “but… one day? I wouldn’t hate this.”

You smiled.

“Me either.”

—

Can’t lie guys, I’ve been having the best time with these requests & writing them! It’s been super cool also learning about these players as I’ve done my research😭❤️‍🩹 x