#fcbarcelona fanfic

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (3/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Also, I don't know much about Eritrean culture besides Google...so this might be a tad wrong. Gif by @hopefulromantic1

Senait's mother had outdone herself with the spread – injera perfectly laid out, zigni and shiro steaming in their bowls, the rich scent of berbere and traditional Eritrean coffee filling the air. But the real feast, apparently, was Senait's love life.

"Dr. Tekle's son just finished his residency," her mother said, carefully casual as she spooned more zigni onto Senait's plate. "He's moving back to New York next month."

"Mama..."

"He's very handsome. Good Eritrean family."

Her father nodded in agreement, the gesture familiar from years of backing up her mother's matchmaking attempts. "His parents are from Asmara, like us."

Her phone buzzed on the table. Jules' name lit up the screen, accompanied by a photo of Maurice. She flipped the phone over, but not before her mother caught the smile she couldn't quite suppress.

"Who is that making you smile like that?"

"No one."

"Lies." Her mother's eyes sparkled as she began preparing for the coffee ceremony, the familiar ritual a backdrop to her interrogation. "Tell me about this no one."

Senait pushed food around her plate. How could she explain Jules? The professional footballer who had a pet rooster, who drank chamomile tea and watched Batman, who somehow managed to be both dominant and gentle in a way that terrified her.

"He's just... someone I met through Zuri."

"Zuri?" Her mother perked up. "The one married to the footballer?"

"Engaged," Senait corrected automatically. "And yes."

Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Jules: Maurice misses you. Judging my dinner choices don't hit like yours.

"You're smiling again," her mother observed.

"I'm not—" Senait's protest was cut short by her work phone ringing. Her boss's name flashed on the screen.

"On a Sunday?" her father frowned.

"Sorry, I have to take this." Senait escaped to the hallway, already feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.

Twenty minutes later, she returned to find her parents having a silent conversation with their eyes – one perfected after twenty-six years of marriage.

"Senait," her mother said softly. "You don't look happy."

"I'm fine."

"You look tired. Stressed." Her mother reached across the table, taking her hand. "This job..."

"Pays the bills," Senait finished firmly. But even she could hear how hollow the words sounded.

Her personal phone buzzed again. Jules had sent a video this time – Maurice strutting around his enclosure while classical music played in the background.

His music taste shifted a bit. He prefers Bach over Beethoven now, Jules texted. I blame you.

Despite herself, Senait felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. This was Jules' way – gentle persistence, humor mixed with genuine care. Never pushing too hard, but never quite letting go either.

"There's that smile again," her mother said. "Tell me about him."

So Senait did. Not everything – not about the heated nights or the way he could command her with just his voice. But about Maurice, about his tea ritual, about how he noticed when she was stressed and never made her feel weak for it.

"He sounds... different," her mother said carefully. "From Tymir."

The name still caused a twinge, but a duller one now. "He is."

"Then why do you look scared?"

Senait stared at her half-eaten dinner. "Because what if he's not? What if I'm just... seeing what I want to see again?"

Her father cleared his throat. "Or what if you're letting fear of the past rob you of something good?"

Before Senait could respond, her work phone buzzed again. Three emails marked urgent, all requiring immediate attention.

"I have to—"

"Go," her mother sighed. "But Senait? Sometimes the biggest risk is not taking one at all."

Back in her apartment later that night, Senait found herself surrounded by work files but thinking about Jules. About his offer to help her with the calligraphy business. About how he'd noticed her true passion for it even before she'd really admitted it to herself.

Her Etsy notifications pinged – another order for custom wedding invitations. She'd been getting more lately, word of mouth spreading about her work. But it wasn't enough to live on, not in New York.

But it could be, a small voice whispered. With the right support, the right planning...

Her phone lit up with another text from Jules: Stop working. It's midnight there.

S: How do you know I'm working? J: Because I know you.

Four simple words that shouldn't have made her heart race. But they did, because they were true. Jules did know her – had taken the time to learn her, to see past her walls.

And she'd been pushing him away.

I'm scared, she typed, then deleted it. I miss you, she typed, then deleted that too.

Finally: Maurice has terrible taste in music. Bach over Beethoven? Don't blame me for this switch-up.

Jules' response was immediate: He gets it from his godfather.

S: Aurélien?

J: Oui. Terrible taste, that one.

Senait found herself smiling, even as her work phone buzzed with another "urgent" email. The contrast was stark – the anxiety that immediately rose with work notifications versus the warmth that Jules' messages brought.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind: "Sometimes the biggest risk is not taking one at all."

Opening her laptop, Senait pulled up her calligraphy portfolio. Really looked at it – the wedding invitations, the custom journals, the manifestation cards that had started as a hobby but gained a following.

Then she opened her work email, filled with demands and deadlines and soul-crushing projects.

"Let me help you start up," Jules had said.

Her phone buzzed again: You're thinking too loud, chérie.

How can you possibly know that?

Because I know you, he repeated. And I know you're probably sitting there surrounded by work, thinking about all the reasons why you can't change anything.

Senait stared at his message, feeling exposed. Stop being right all the time.

Stop being scared all the time.

The words hit her like a physical blow. Because he was right – she was scared. Scared of change, scared of dependence, scared of letting someone see her fully and decide she wasn't worth the effort.

Like Tymir had.

But Jules wasn't Tymir. Jules noticed things, cared about details, supported without suffocating. Jules had a ridiculous rooster that liked classical music and a tea ritual that would make British grandmothers proud.

Jules was... Jules.

I'm not ready, she typed finally.

J: For what? S: To quit my job. To take risks. To... J: To let someone in?

She swallowed hard. Yes.

There was a long pause before his response: Good thing I'm patient then.

And that was Jules in a nutshell – understanding her fears without letting them become walls, supporting without pushing, being solid without being suffocating.

I do miss Maurice, she admitted finally.

J: Just Maurice? S: And his terrible taste in music. J: And?

Senait took a deep breath. And his annoyingly persistent owner.

J: See? Was that so hard? S: Shut up. J: Make me.

Heat pooled in her belly at his words, remembering exactly how she'd shut him up before. In his kitchen, in his shower, against his—

Her work phone buzzed again, breaking the moment. But this time, instead of immediate anxiety, Senait felt something else: resolve.

Maybe she wasn't ready to quit her job. Maybe she wasn't ready to let Jules help her build something new. Maybe she wasn't ready for a lot of things.

But she was ready to stop pushing away something good just because she was scared it might turn bad.

I have next weekend free, she typed before she could talk herself out of it.

Booking your flight now, came his immediate response.

And for once, Senait didn't argue. Didn't push back. Just let herself feel the anticipation, the warmth, the possibility.

Because maybe her mother was right. Maybe the biggest risk wasn't in letting someone in.

Maybe it was in keeping them out.

_______________________________________________

LaGuardia's familiar chaos felt different this time. Senait wheeled her carry-on through security, phone pressed to her ear as Zuri's excitement bubbled through the speaker.

"You're really going to do it?" Zuri asked for the third time. "Like, actually quit?"

"I'm thinking about it," Senait corrected, finding her gate. "Which is crazy enough."

"Not crazy. Overdue." Zuri's voice took on that influencer tone she used when discussing manifestation. "Your current job is literally killing your soul."

Senait couldn't argue. Working at Precision PR wasn't terrible – the mid-sized firm handled decent clients, and her junior account executive position kept her afloat in New York, even if just barely. But fifty-hour weeks managing entitled clients' social media crises while making just enough to afford her small Bushwick apartment and once-in-a-while luxuries wasn't exactly living the dream.

Big ups for my side job and savings though.

"The new intern's been helpful at least," Senait said, settling into a seat. "Pretty sure Kelly would sacrifice her firstborn for a full-time offer."

"Good. Let her handle the bullshit while you plan your exit strategy." There was a pause. "You know, I could promote your calligraphy—"

"Zuri, no."

"My platform's growing! Ever since the media found out I'm dating Aurélien—"

"I appreciate it," Senait cut in. "Really. And if you want to refer actual clients my way, amazing. But I need to do this myself."

"Fine, fine." Zuri's smile was audible. "So… two extra days with Jules, huh?"

Senait was glad her friend couldn't see her cheeks flush. "I had the PTO saved up."

"Mhmm. Nothing to do with missing him?"

"I miss Maurice."

"Girl, please. You're literally flying to Barcelona for dick."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Tell Jules I say hi! And that if he hurts you, I'll have Aurélien break his legs!"

Senait ended the call, shaking her head but smiling. Her phone immediately lit up with a text from Jules: Boarded yet?

S: Still at my gate. Flight's on time though. J: Good. Maurice is preparing a welcome concert. S: You're ridiculous. J: You like it.

And she did, that was the problem. She liked everything about him – his playfulness, his quiet strength, the way he commanded without controlling. Even his absolutely absurd relationship with that rooster.

The flight passed in a blur of work emails (mostly Kelly asking clarifying questions about projects) and half-hearted attempts at napping. By the time they landed in Barcelona, Senait's body was confused about what time it was, but her heart knew exactly where it was going.

Jules waited by baggage claim, looking effortlessly sexy in a pair of shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and Adidas Sambas. The sight of him – tall, dreads pulled back, quiet confidence radiating – made something in her chest tighten.

"Chérie," he murmured, pulling her into his arms. She melted against him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

"Hi," she managed, suddenly shy despite everything they'd shared.

His hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. "Tired?"

"A little."

"Good thing I have a very good shower."

The drive to his house was comfortable, Jules' hand resting on her thigh as he caught her up on Maurice's latest musical preferences ("He's now developed a thing for jazz") and team gossip. Senait found herself relaxing, the constant tension she carried in New York easing just from his presence.

"You're quieter than usual," he observed, pulling into his driveway.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Senait watched him carry her bag inside, appreciating the view. "Life. Work. Changes."

Jules set her bag down, turning to study her face. "Good changes?"

"Scary ones."

He stepped closer, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Tell me."

So she did. About Kelly's eager assistance providing unexpected breathing room, about her Etsy sales increasing, about possibilities she'd never let herself consider before.

Jules listened, his hands working the tension from her shoulders as she talked. When she finished, he kissed her temple.

"Shower first," he decided. "Then we talk more."

The shower was exactly what she needed – hot water sluicing away travel grime, Jules' hands gentle as he washed her hair. For once, there was nothing sexual about it. Just care, just comfort.

"I missed this," she admitted quietly, letting him work conditioner through her curls.

"Just this?"

"Maybe other things too."

His chuckle rumbled through his chest. "We'll get to those other things. But tonight, you rest."

"Jules—"

"Not a discussion, chérie." His voice carried that tone that brooked no argument. "You're exhausted, stressed, and probably haven't eaten properly in days."

She wanted to protest, but he wasn't wrong. "Since when are you the voice of reason?"

"Since you needed one." He rinsed her hair carefully. "I have food warming. Then sleep."

"So bossy," she murmured, but there was no heat in it.

"You love it."

And maybe she did. How he took care of her without making her feel weak. How he commanded without constraining. How he just… knew what she needed.

After the shower, Jules wrapped her in what had to be the softest towel she'd ever felt. "Better?"

Senait nodded, letting him guide her to his bedroom where he'd laid out one of his t-shirts for her to sleep in.

"Food first," he insisted when she eyed the bed longingly. "Then sleep."

They ate on his balcony, the Barcelona night warm around them. Jules told her about training, about everything and nothing. His voice washed over her, soothing in its familiarity.

"I missed you," he said suddenly, seriously. "Not just the sex. Just… you. Here. Being yourself."

Something in Senait's chest cracked open at his words. At their simple honesty, their quiet certainty.

"I missed you too," she whispered, the admission feeling like surrender and victory all at once.

Jules smiled, the expression soft in a way few people ever got to see. "I know." He stood, pulling her up with him. "Come on. Bed."

As they settled under his ridiculously high-thread-count sheets, Senait found herself curling into him automatically. His arms came around her, solid and sure.

"Sleep," he murmured into her hair. "We have time."

It was at that moment she realized this wasn't just a fling anymore, wasn't just physical attraction and witty banter.

This was becoming something real. Something with potential for both great joy and devastating hurt.

But as Jules' breathing evened out beside her, as the distant sound of Barcelona nightlife mixed with the occasional comment from Maurice, Senait found she wasn't as scared now.

Because Jules was right – they had time. Time to figure this out, time to face those scary changes together, time to see where this could go.

And for the first time in a long time, Senait was ready to take that time. To see what happens when she stop running and start building instead.

Even if what she was building involved a French footballer with a musically inclined rooster.

Especially if it involved that.

_______________________________________________

Jules couldn't stop smiling, even during Flick's intense training drills. The past few days with Senait had been perfect – watching her explore his favorite spots in Barcelona, her genuine excitement over the vintage Hermès scarf she'd found at his go-to shop, the way she'd curl into him during their Netflix marathons.

And the sex... well, that was getting better too, if that was even possible. Something had shifted since her arrival this time. She was more open, more present, less guarded about showing how much she wanted him.

"¡Julio!" Lamine called, sending a cross his way. Jules controlled it perfectly, muscle memory taking over despite his wandering thoughts.

Between training sessions, he grabbed his water bottle and checked his phone. Senait had finally posted about Barcelona – a carousel of photos that made his heart do something stupid in his chest. The first was of her in that vintage shop, wrapped in various scarves, laughing at the camera. Then shots of various cafes, architecture, and finally – Jules grinned – Maurice in all his glory, mid-strut with the caption: "Met a very sophisticated gentleman."

He liked the post immediately, scrolling through the comments. The usual suspects were there – Zuri with a string of heart emojis, some of Senait's work friends, her cousin...

Then a comment made him pause: "Still looking good, Sen 🔥"

The username caught his eye: tymir__gants

Something in Jules' gut tightened. He clicked on the profile, finding himself looking at what had to be Senait's ex. Recent photos showed him with a baby, some pickup basketball shots at local courts, gym selfies.

Jules scrolled, a sick curiosity driving him deeper into the profile. Then he found it – buried at the bottom, probably forgotten to delete: Senait and Tymir together, her looking younger, softer somehow. The caption read: "My smart girl 📚❤️"

"Pedazo de mierda," Jules muttered, taking in Tymir's perfectly curated feed. The man had a whole new family, had hurt Senait in ways that still affected her, yet had the audacity to comment on her photos?

"¿Estás bien?" Pedri asked, passing by with his own water bottle. (“You good?”)

"Sí." Jules locked his phone, shoving it back in his bag. He wasn't mad at Senait – she'd probably delete the comment as soon as she saw it. But the nerve of this guy...

The rest of training was intense, but Jules' mind kept drifting back to that profile. The more he thought about it, the more things clicked into place – Senait's careful distance, her fear of getting too attached, the way she'd tense sometimes when he was too openly affectionate.

"Jules! Focus!" Flick called out as Jules misplaced a pass.

He shook his head, forcing himself back into the moment. The Sevilla match was crucial, and he needed his head in the game. But during water breaks, he found himself thinking about Senait's face when she'd mentioned seeing Tymir at Whole Foods, how small her voice had gotten.

My smart girl. The caption echoed in his head. Like she was some possession, some trophy to be claimed and discarded.

"You're thinking too loud," Lewandowski commented during their cool-down stretches. "Girl problems?"

Jules managed a small smile. "Not exactly."

But maybe it was. Because Senait was at his house right now, probably working on her laptop, wearing one of his shirts like she belonged there. And some piece of shit from her past thought he had the right to comment on her photos like he hadn't broken her trust in the worst way.

"Heard she's coming to the Sevilla match," Lewandowski added in, always up for some gossip. "First time watching you play, right?"

"Yeah." The thought warmed him despite his irritation. Senait had been adamant about not being a "football girlfriend" but had casually mentioned wanting to see him play. Progress.

After training, he showered and changed, but then Jules found himself scrolling through Tymir's profile again in his car. The guy played pickup basketball now, probably still dining out on his almost-went-pro story. His recent photos showed him at parks, at clubs, with his baby mama – living his life like he hadn't nearly destroyed someone else's.

His phone buzzed with a text from Senait: Your rooster is judging my lunch choices again.

Jules smiled despite himself. What are you eating?

S: Leftover pizza. J: No wonder he's judging.

There was a pause, then: Come home and feed me better then.

Home. She'd said it so casually, probably didn't even realize. But it made something warm unfurl in Jules' chest, temporarily displacing his anger about Tymir.

J: On my way, chérie.

As he drove, Jules thought about how different Senait was with him now – still sassy, still independent, but softer around the edges. More willing to let him take care of her, to lean into the comfort he offered.

His phone buzzed at a red light. A notification that Senait had deleted a comment on her post.

Good girl, he thought, satisfaction curling through him. She didn't need him to fight her battles. She was handling it herself, just as he'd known she would.

Still... the audacity of that man. To cheat on her repeatedly, get another woman pregnant, and then have the nerve to comment on her photos years later like he had any right to her attention.

Jules pulled into his driveway, cutting the engine. Through the car window, he could see Senait on his balcony, laptop open, Maurice strutting nearby. She had one of his hoodies on despite the Barcelona heat, her hair pulled back into a low bun.

This was what Tymir had thrown away. This brilliant, beautiful woman who could match Jules wit for wit, who challenged him even as she melted for him, who was slowly learning to trust him with her walls down.

His loss, Jules thought, heading inside and then upstairs to his room. My gain.

"Your rooster is a menace," Senait called as he approached. "He knocked over my water trying to get to my pizza crust."

"He was saving you from yourself." Jules bent to kiss her, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with his hoodie. "Pizza for lunch? Really?"

"I was working! And it was there."

"Clearly I need to come home for lunch more often."

She rolled her eyes but didn't protest when he pulled her up from her chair. "I have deadlines."

"You have ten minutes while I make you real food." His hands slid under the hoodie, finding warm skin. "Then maybe I'll let you get back to work."

"So bossy," she murmured, but she was already melting into him.

"You love it."

She didn't deny it, just hummed noncommittally. Progress.

As Jules went downstairs to prepare a proper lunch, he watched Senait return to her work at the counter. She belonged here, he realized.

And really, that was the best revenge on Tymir's audacity – Senait, happy and thriving, choosing her own path.

Choosing someone who saw her value, who wouldn't take her for granted.

Choosing him.

He smiled, plating their food. Let Tymir keep his Instagram comments and pickup games. Jules had the real prize – Senait, in his hoodie, on his balcony, building a strange friendship with his judgmental rooster.

And he wasn't letting go.

Sunday morning found Senait setting up her away messages with unusual determination. "Out of office until Wednesday - limited access to email," she typed, finger hovering over the send button before adding, "For urgent matters, please contact Kelly."

For once, she meant it. No sneaking peeks at work emails, no "quick responses" that turned into hours of crisis management. This was her time – to watch Jules play, to explore Barcelona, to figure out what this thing between them was becoming.

You're getting so fuckin' soft, Sen, her inner voice warned. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe she needed soft, needed balance, needed to stop treating her life like one endless PR emergency.

The Luís Companys Olympic Stadium loomed before her, Camp Nou's temporary replacement humming with pre-match energy. Jules had arranged everything – her ticket, instructions on where to meet after, and a security escort who spoke perfect English.

"First football match?" the escort, Maria, asked as they navigated the crowds.

"That obvious?"

Maria smiled. "You have that look. Don't worry - just follow the crowd's energy. They'll let you know when to cheer."

Her seat offered a perfect view of the pitch. Senait tried to absorb the atmosphere – the chants she couldn't quite understand, the sea of Barcelona colors, the electric anticipation in the air. This was Jules' world, she realized. So different from her Manhattan conference rooms and endless Zoom calls.

The match itself was… well, she mostly followed along. She recognized Jules instantly – his graceful movement distinct even from her elevated position. She found herself holding her breath when he had the ball, cheering with the crowd when Barcelona scored.

By the time they won 5-1, Senait's voice was hoarse from yelling. She followed Maria's lead to the designated waiting area, noticing immediately the small crowd of women already gathered there.

"Player chasers," Maria explained quietly. "Every club has them."

Senait watched the women, all perfectly made up, designer bags on display. They wore Barcelona jerseys like fashion statements, giggling and posing for social media.

This is why Jules keeps us quiet, she thought. Not because he was ashamed, but because he was protecting whatever this was between them from becoming public consumption.

When Jules emerged, freshly showered and changed, several phones raised to capture him. But he moved past the waiting fans and groupies with practiced ease, finding Senait with unerring accuracy.

"Ready?" he asked simply, hand finding its usual spot on her lower back.

They slipped out a back entrance, the night air cool on Senait's flushed cheeks. In his car, Jules finally relaxed fully.

"Hungry?" he asked, pulling into traffic. "I know a place."

The place turned out to be a hole-in-the-wall serving the best street food Senait had ever tasted. They sat at a tiny table, Jules explaining plays she'd missed while she tried not to moan over her patatas bravas.

"El Clásico's next Saturday," he mentioned casually. "In Madrid. You should come."

Senait paused mid-bite. "I leave Tuesday."

"You could extend your stay."

"Jules…"

"The project can wait."

She shook her head. "It really can't. And I've already used so much PTO—"

"When's the last time you took a real break?" His voice was gentle but firm. "Not working through vacation, not checking emails between meetings. Just… lived?"

The question hit harder than she expected. When had she last truly disconnected? Even this trip, she'd planned to work through it until something in her finally rebelled.

"I'll think about it," she offered finally.

Jules seemed to accept this, turning the conversation to lighter topics. But his question lingered in her mind as they drove back to his house, as they climbed the stairs to his bedroom, as he pressed her against his door.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmured against her neck.

"Your fault. Making me question my life choices."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Good. Someone should."

Then his mouth found hers, and thinking became secondary to feeling. To the way he walked them backward toward his bed, to how his hands always knew exactly where to touch.

Home, some traitorous part of her mind whispered as they fell onto his ridiculously comfortable mattress. This feels like home.

But instead of panicking at the thought, Senait just pulled him closer, let herself sink into the sensation of his weight above her, his hands in her hair, his mouth trailing fire down her throat.

Maybe she would go to Madrid. Maybe she wouldn't.

But for now, she was here. Present. Living.

And that felt like progress.

_______________________________________________

Wednesday morning hit differently when you landed at LaGuardia at 2 AM. Senait stifled another yawn, staring at her laptop screen as the words blurred together. Her body was still on Barcelona time, still remembering Jules' goodbye kiss at the airport.

Her phone buzzed: Did you get any sleep?

Define sleep, she typed back to Jules.

That's a no. Take care of yourself, chérie.

Before she could respond, Kelly appeared at her cubicle, looking nervous. "Greg wants everyone in the conference room. Like, now."

Senait suppressed a groan. Greg Schultz, VP of Account Management and certified dickhead, was the last person she wanted to deal with on three hours of sleep.

The conference room was already half full when she arrived. She caught Maya's eye, her coworker subtly rolling her eyes. They'd spent enough happy hours commiserating about Greg's various microaggressions – like the time he'd told Maya her braids weren't "professional enough" for client meetings, or how he always seemed to question Senait's strategy decisions more harshly than her white colleagues'.

"Good morning, team!" Greg's fake enthusiasm filled the room. At forty-five, he embodied every corporate cliché – from his Brooks Brothers suits to his "work hard, play harder" mentality. "Big news about the Thompson account."

Senait's heart sank. Thompson meant overtime, meant endless revisions, meant—

"All hands on deck for this one," Greg continued, confirming her fears. "We're talking late nights, weekends, whatever it takes to make this launch perfect."

There goes Madrid, Senait thought, barely registering the rest of Greg's speech about dedication and career growth.

"Everyone but Senait can go," Greg announced as the meeting wrapped up. "Need a word."

Kelly shot her a sympathetic look as she filed out with the others. Senait stayed seated, already knowing where this was going.

"Senait," Greg settled into the chair across from her. "You're one of our best. But all this time off recently? Not a good look."

"One was a medical emergency," she started, careful to not mention how seeing Tymir had triggered an anxiety spiral that left her barely functional.

Greg waved his hand dismissively. "We all have personal stuff. But you want to make senior account executive? You better learn to sleep when you're dead."

Senait blinked, processing the casual disregard for her health.

"Look," he continued, "there's potential for promotion here. Small raise, bigger projects. But you need to get your head in the game. Drop everything else. The work needs you. Understand?"

She nodded automatically, mind already spinning.

"Good. That's all."

Senait left on autopilot, pausing only to tell a shocked Kelly, "Taking lunch."

"It's 11 AM!"

But Senait was already gone, her tote bag clutched like a lifeline as she headed for the elevator.

Three years. She'd given Precision PR three years of overtime, of cancelled plans, of rarely ever taking time off, of stress headaches and anxiety attacks. And for what? To be told her health didn't matter? That she should be grateful for the possibility of a "small raise"?

Her phone pinged – new Etsy notifications. Three orders:

Custom wedding signage and place cards: $2,500 (deposit paid)

Birthday signage and place cards: $1,600 (deposit paid)

Baby shower personalized 'welcome' signage: $500

Then, like the universe was trying to tell her something, an email from Raima Barcelona: "Re: Calligraphy Instructor Position - 32€/hour, Part-Time."

Senait looked up at the lobby ceiling. "Are you fucking with me?"

But maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe this was permission.

She had savings – she'd always been careful with money, living well below her means even in New York. Her parents had made it clear their home was always open if things got tough. Zuri would help promote her work (though Senait would need to swallow her pride to accept). And Jules…

Jules, who'd offered support without pressure. Who saw her potential even when she doubted herself. Who'd probably book her a flight back to Barcelona right now if she asked.

"Fuck this job," she declared to no one in particular, heading to her favorite deli.

One Reuben sandwich and large coffee later, Senait sat at her desk, fingers hovering over her keyboard. The resignation letter was simple, professional:

"Dear Greg,

Please accept this letter as formal notification of my immediate resignation from my position as Junior Account Executive at Precision PR.

Thank you for the opportunities for growth over the past three years.

Best regards, Senait Kiros"

Her cursor hovered over "Send." Three years of stability, of knowing exactly what each day would bring, of comfortable misery – all balanced on one click.

But as she sat there, Senait noticed something: the constant tension in her shoulders, the one that had briefly disappeared in Barcelona, was already back. Not even 24 hours in New York and her body was already bracing for impact.

She hit send.

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur – clearing her personal items (fortunately few) from her desk, backing up relevant files, heading to HR with her laptop and badge.

"But… why?" the HR rep, Susan, stammered. "Was there an incident?"

Senait thought about Greg's dismissal of her health. About three years of racial undermining. About putting her job above everything else.

"It's just time," she said simply, turning in her company property. "Time for something new." And better….healthier. Time to live my life on my terms.

As she walked out of Precision PR's glass doors for the last time, Senait felt something she hadn't expected: peace.

Her phone buzzed – Jules again: Did you eat yet?

Senait smiled, stepping into the New York sunshine.

S: Actually, yes. And I have news.

J: Tell me.

She took a deep breath, typing: I just quit my job.

The three dots appeared immediately, then: Finally. When are you coming back to Barcelona?

Senait laughed out loud, startling a passing businessman. I JUST QUIT. Like, five minutes ago.

J: Perfect timing. El Clásico is Saturday. S: Jules… J: Book the flight, chérie. Maurice misses you. S: Just Maurice? J: And his very persistent owner.

Standing there on the sidewalk, free from Greg's toxicity and corporate expectations, Senait felt lighter than she had in years. Was she scared? Absolutely. But for once, the fear felt like excitement rather than dread.

Her phone buzzed again: I'll take care of you.

Three years ago, those words would have sent her running. Now, they felt like permission to fly.

Booking the flight now, she typed. But I'm paying for it myself.

J: Whatever you say, chérie. Just come back.

To Barcelona. To Jules. To a life she was finally brave enough to choose.

See you tomorrow, she sent, already pulling up flight options.

Sometimes the biggest risk was not taking one at all. But sometimes, Senait was learning, the biggest risk paid the biggest rewards.

And she was ready to collect.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Jealousy Jealousy

Requested: yes

Prompt: Pablo is jealous

Warnings: none

It had been over a year since Y/N and Pablo welcomed their baby boy, Mateo, into the world. Their home was filled with baby giggles, toys scattered across the floor, and the soft coos of a toddler who had become more and more attached to his mother. Mateo was, without a doubt, a mama’s boy. The bond between Y/N and Mateo was unmistakable; he followed her around like a little shadow, arms always reaching out to be held whenever she tried to slip away for even a moment. It had been endearing at first, watching how close they were. But lately, Pablo was starting to feel the weight of it.

As Y/N walked into the living room, carrying Mateo on her hip, Pablo lounged on the couch, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed his son clinging to her yet again. His brow furrowed in mild frustration. "Isn’t he tired of hanging off you all day?" Pablo muttered, crossing his arms as he shifted to face them. Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Mateo’s face. "What’s wrong?" she teased, glancing over at Pablo with a grin. "Are you jealous of your baby, Pablo?" Pablo huffed, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. "No, of course not." But the way he avoided her gaze told a different story.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh a little as she made her way over to the couch, sitting down beside him. Mateo, ever the clingy little boy, squirmed in her arms to settle more comfortably, resting his head on her shoulder. He had been fussy all day, needing constant attention from her, and it was beginning to wear on Pablo’s patience. "Come on, Pablo-" She said, affectionately running her fingers through his hair. "It’s cute, isn’t it? How much he loves his mamá?"

Pablo’s lips twitched as he glanced down at Mateo’s sleepy face before turning back to her. "Yeah, it’s cute." He admitted reluctantly, his voice tinged with frustration. "But it’s just... I barely get any time with you anymore. He’s always in the middle. Whenever we try to do anything, it’s like we’re never alone." Y/N’s teasing smile softened as she looked at him, seeing the weariness behind his words. She understood where he was coming from. Between caring for a one-year-old and balancing everything else, finding time for just the two of them had been a challenge. Mateo, as sweet as he was, had become a little too attached, making it hard to have any real moments of privacy.

"Okay, okay." She said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I get it. You miss me." She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "But you do know how ridiculous it sounds, right? Being jealous of your own son?" Pablo groaned, tilting his head back against the couch, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "I’m not jealous of him." He protested weakly, though the slight pout on his lips gave him away. Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "You so are. It’s adorable, Pablito."

"Don’t patronize me." He grumbled, though there was no real bite in his tone. Shifting Mateo slightly so he was resting more comfortably on her lap, Y/N gently stroked his back as he started to drift off to sleep. The sight of his tiny, peaceful face made her heart swell. "You know what?" She whispered, turning her attention back to Pablo. "Once he’s asleep, maybe we can have some alone time. I’ll put him in his crib, and we can just have some....alone time. Sound good?" Pablo’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, his lips curving into a genuine smile for the first time in days. "Really?"

"Really." She confirmed with a reassuring nod, placing her hand on his arm. "I’m sure we can figure out a way to balance things. Mateo’s just in that clingy phase, but it won’t last forever." Pablo sighed, some of the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked at her. "I know. It’s just... I miss you. The way things were before he was born." Y/N’s expression softened at his words. "I miss that too." She admitted. "But look at him." She said, nodding toward their sleeping son. "He’s worth it though, right?" A small, fond smile tugged at Pablo’s lips as he looked down at Mateo, his heart swelling with pride and love. "Yeah, he is."

Y/N leaned closer, resting her forehead against Pablo’s, her voice soft and full of affection. "We’ll figure this out together. We always do." Pablo let out a deep breath, his hand gently intertwining with hers. "As long as I get some time with you, I’ll be fine. Even if it means sharing you with him." She smiled, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips, savoring the rare moment of closeness without any interruptions. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. As Mateo dozed peacefully in Y/N’s arms and Pablo held her close, they both knew they were navigating the new rhythms of parenthood together, one step at a time. And in that moment, everything felt just right.

[baldeslut]

Pool Sex

Alejandro Balde

Alejandro’s random party that he hosted just finished as he kept staring at you. His eyes were glued onto your body with your navy blue bikini on. You sat in the pool as half of you body was submerged under the chilling water. You threw your head back as you saw a tall figure standing there.

“Ah! Baby don’t scare me like that” you chuckled

“Mm..baby then don’t make me so hard huh? I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you this whole day with you wearing that”

You blushed as Alejandro said that. He got into the pool as he hugged you, slowly tilting your head so he can give you kisses. You could feel his hard dick brushing against your abdomen as you let out strangled moans.

“fuck Ale, your so hard”

Your right hand traced from his abs to the hem of his boxers. You look at him as he gives you a nod of approval. With his hands, he picks you up by the arms to place you on the edge of the pool. As your legs roam around in the water, he gets up onto the steps of the pool and stands there.

"Continue baby" He demands.

His dick throbs as you slowly pull his shorts down, teasing him. Precum leaks at the tip of his cock as it springs up. You look up to him to see that he is biting his lip already. What a needy man. You spit onto your hand to lubricate his dick. Saliva drips down your mouth as spit on his dick one last time as you continue to pump faster and faster.

"Fuck, amor just suck me already"

He was getting needier by the second. A hand was placed at the back of your head when suddenly he shoved your face into his cock, causing you to gag. Your tongue swirls all around his base and a few seconds later he's balls deep inside your mouth. His high pitched whimpers was enough to motivate you that you were doing well. He suddenly starts to twitch in your mouth as tears form in your eyes

"ah im getting closer baby, your doing so well"

You take one last gag as you slowly get back to his tip, licking around the hole. His tip looked an agonizing red as you continued to suck and lick on his dick.

Soon enough he was moaning your name as he spewed out thick ropes of cum inside your mouth and down your throat. The warm sticky liquid coated your whole mouth as you swallowed every single drop of it, being generous. Alejandro lifted up your chin and opened your mouth with his fingers to see if there was no remaining cum left inside you mouth.

"Good girl"

That was enough to send you into an overdrive, as the puddle in your bikini formed wetter (well you were wet from the pool anyways but yk what i mean)

"Get on your back" Alejandro demanded as he clenched his jaw. You got onto your back as he spread open your legs revealing the thin blue fabric that covered your pussy. In one swift motion, your panties were off as a string of you wetness leaked out. Alejandro smirked

"well well, your all wet. because of me"

He chuckled as the chill of the air hit your bare pussy. You were already shifting your hips as you wanted him inside you already but his hands gripped on your hips, holding you down.

"Fuck Alejandro, j-"

He interrupted you

"Sh sh sh, now i'm in charge of you now okay?"

"Use your words baby" he demanded once again

"Ok baby" You nodded as he gave you a smile

He held your thighs tight as he spit on your pussy, his warm saliva mixing with your juices as he begins to eat you out. His tongue swipes down from your clit to your folds as he soon then sticks his tongue into your hole. It felt like absolute glory, your walls clench onto his tongue as your fingers intertwined his his hair. His tongue pumps in and out of your core slowly creating speed as you bite your lip trying to hold in your moans but you end up failing miserably,

'Ohh fuck baby, right there. mm yes fuck"

You can feel a smirk growing on his lips as he hums into your pussy sending vibrations throughout your whole body. A sensational feeling washes throughout you as his tongue brushes deep in your g-spot causing you to moan out load.

"fuck alejandro im so close"

He pulls away from you hole as he then licks on your clit, causing your orgasm. Your juices coated his lips as they were swollen. The fluids dripping off his chin as he wipes it away

"Baby you taste too good, but you know I'm not done with you yet'

You know just what he was thinking. He leans in for a passionate kiss before he starts to leave wet kissed all over your chest. His hand reaches for your back as he unties your bikini, revealing your huge breasts. Alejandro smiled at the sight as he sucks on your nipples leaving a slight whimper on your lips

"oh i love to taste you amor"

those words made you wetter at the spot as he soon starts to align his dick to my hole. he rubs his tip against my wet fold as he unexpectedly starts to ram into me. He didn't even let me adjust to the size. The pain was unbearably pleasuring as you moaned out his name at every thrust he took. He bit his lip as you walls clenched on his dick. He slowly leans in to whisper to me

"Fuck your so tight baby, I could never have another pussy like yours" he says as he groans in my ear

"mm well baby im a virgin, surprise" you chuckled as a moan followed after

"hah oh so am I" he thrusted faster as i widened my eyes. He was so experienced to be a virgin but i guess hes just a horny little 19 year old.

he angles himself higher as he hits my sweet spot. every thrust was like a new feeling. my eyes rolled back as my fingers dug into the skin of his hips. he grunted at my actions as he grabbed mine and started ramming into me.

"a-ah baby im gonna cum, im gonna cum" you moaned

"fuck, im going to too ok, just wait

The knot in your stomach tightened as his cock twitched inside of you. You looked up at him as his big brown eyes glistened from the illuminating pool light.

"baby you can cum now" he says

We both moan in unison as my pussy begins to clench hard on his dick. As he pulls out he pumps his cock a few times to release all over my stomach and my tits. He lied on top of me before giving me a long sloppy kiss as he topped it off with an "I love you so much"

He carried you into the bathtub where both of you guys cleaned up.

"Baby, I need to clean the pool for tomorrow go sleep now. Ill be in bed with you as soon as im done"

"Let me help you Ale"

"No, do you want me to get hard again and fuck you like i just did?"

"Doesn't sound like a problem to me"

you winked at him as he sighed to clean up the pool.

A/N This is my first time writing on tumblr i hope u guys like it hehehe. Also i realized like halfway through the writing that i was constantly changing the povs between 1st and 2nd person so sorry for that lol. anywasy i hoped u enjoy it, and request for some more :)

[nemiepaezgavira]

Loving Your Everything

Chapter 5

"She slipped on water", Gavi said dismissively.

"You can't expect me to believe that, be serious", Pedri pushed, a certain edge in his voice. Gavi noticed it.

"Why're you so pressed about it?", He asked.

Pedri walked to the bed, standing in front of me. "Bro, 16 cameras just captured your kiss, aren't you concerned about your reputation? You know how they can literally tear you to pieces right?". He looked at me, "And you? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?". "Why should she have to say anything?", Gavi intervened, "We kissed, a few people saw it. And so what? I'm not a kid, Pedri, I have the right to have a personal life. Outside of football".

Pedri sighed in exasperation, a vein popping out on his forehead, displaying his irritation. "It really was accidental. See, the water's still there", I explained, pointing at the spilled water. "He'd fallen off the bed, and well, seeing as how I'd hit him before, it was my fault, I was just trying to help him". My words seemed to be taking some effect, because Pedri's vein soon disappeared. "It's not like I'd want to kiss her anyway", Gavi mumbled. My head snapped back to him. His arrogant expression made me want to choke him for a minute.

"Don't mind him", Pedri said, rubbing my back. I shrugged. These things usually didn't affect me anyway. "I should get going, I need to get some coffee".

"I can come with you", Pedri offered. He was literally the sweet guy I'd ever met.

"Why?", Gavi questioned, narrowing his eyes. "Do you guys have something going on? My God, is that why you were so mad about that kiss, isn't that right Pedri?".

"You need to shut up before I knock you into a coma, I swear to God, don't push my buttons", Pedri replied, irritation dripping from his tone. "I need to get some things too", He explained, turning to me. I nodded, walking to the door.

"Hello? I'm a patient?! Isn't it your job to ask me what I want?", Gavi yelled. Pedri rolled his eyes. "Yes, my dear sick patient, what would you like from the vending machine?".

"A coke with respect would be well appreciated"

"Yeah whatever", Pedri smiled, before shutting the door behind him.

I smiled internally. Their brotherhood wasn't just for the cameras on field. "You two seem close", I remarked. "Kind of..yeah...I mean, with the way he is, in the pitch, I mean, he needs someone to chaperone him", Pedri laughed, "But yes, we are close".

 I nodded

"So, tell me about yourself, we didn't have the time for that earlier", He said, pressing the elevator button down to the ground floor. "Well... there's not much to know about me", I replied, as the elevator began moving. "Family..?", He persisted.

"I don't like to talk about them", I answered, my tone telling him to shut up.

"Sorry"

The rest of the elevator ride grew awkward after that, with him talking about random things at time to try and diffuse the situation. It seemed like an eternity before the doors finally opened and we stepped out, walking to the cafeteria. Quickly buying the things we needed, we began to walk out.

"Pedri?! Is that Pedri?!! Those people really didn't lie!!"

Pedri froze. I looked ahead. A group of girls were squealing and pointing at a random guy who had his back turned on them. "We need to run".

And so we ran.

I followed him like Mary's lamb, not seeing where we were heading, as the surroundings blurred, with me trying to follow him right. I couldn't keep up with my footballer companion and that was the day I realized how unfit I was. By the time we stopped, I was wheezing. When my head finally stopped spinning, I looked around. We were in a parking lot. "I think we should get going, this place isn't safe for tonight", He said taking out his phone. "Wh-ere?", I gasped. "You'll see".

An Uber arrived a few minutes later. "Hotel?", The driver asked, obviously knowing Pedri. "What? We can't just-"

'But we can, and we need to. After those pictures go viral, I assure you, you will get attacked by groupies, so unless you're planning to get your face scratched by a group of angry obsessive girs, I suggest you come with me". "But Gavi...?". Pedri's face fell. "And I've got my friend too, William will wonder about my whereabouts", I added. "Text your friend, I'll explain the situation to Gavi, he'll understand. In fact, you know what? Sit inside, I'll call him, okay?".

I agreed, getting into the car.

"It's not easy dating a famous lad, is it?", The driver chuckled.

 "What?"

" Don't be shy, I understand it all", He continued, "But he's a good guy, never seen him with a girl before".

"I think you've misunderstood", I replied.

"Don't think I'm dumb, girl, I've been driving people since taxis were introduced, I've seen all types of people and I know what they're doing and feeling, even if they try to hide it, I do".

"Well, you've got it wrong about me"

"About you, not him"

Before I could ask him what he meant by that, Pedri returned. "Let's get going", He said, putting on a mask.

"Is everything okay", I asked.

He was breathing heavy, like he was angry and his mask made it harder for me to make out what he was thinking of. "Pedri, you're sweating, are you okay?".

He nodded.

I could see the driver eyeing us in the rear view mirror

[sports-on-sundays]

i actually meant what’s your favorite fanfic/ one shot/blurb that other writers have wrote 😅

but if you want to answer the other two i’m glad to read them too ☺️

Oh gosh, I'm so sorry mate- I must sound so arrogant.

Well, here are my top three favorite footy blurbs that I've read recently. Funnily enough, even though I spend lots of time writing super long imagines and stuff, I honestly don't have much patience for reading long fics, so that's clear in my three favorites-

Game night || Héctor Fort by @23spanishgirl

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - My Golden Boy by @the-offside-rule

I'm here~Pablo Gavi by @illusionsdelusions101

As for my three football favorites of the ones I have written they would probably be

found us out / Fermín López

stupid with love / Marc Guiu

surprises in Barcelona / Pedri González

Anyway, thanks for asking, and I hope I don't seem like an arrogant ass now!

-belle

[ohthosedetails-blog]

Fall - A Tello Fanfic Chapter 1

Hey guys I have tried to right my own fanfic. It's about Tello and a girl called Selena. Here are the first chapter, but remember its my first fanfic ever so tell me what you think... BTW it's inspired by Justin Biebers song Fall. Selenas pow I just landed in Barcelona. Yes that Barcelona, the huge amazing city. I took my backs and prepared myself to live in this heat for the rest of my life. When I had taken my backs my eyes searched for my brother Alexis and my cousin Thiago. I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Selena Sanchez and my brothers are Alexis Sanchez and Thiago Alcantara. Yes that Alexis Sanchez and Thiago Alcantara who play for Fc Barcelona. The reason why me and Alex don't have the same name as Thi is a long story. They live together in a huge villa and I am joining them now. When I found Alex and Thi they gave me a bear hug. I thought that I would breaks under their arms cuz I'm so skinny. I wore black skinny jeans, a dark blue top and a red blazer. When my brothers looked at my clothes, they both said " aaaahhhh already in Blaugrana clothes". I just looked at them and laughed. At the car my mouth dropped. Alex's car was breath taking. I didn't knew a lot about cars but Alex's car was the newest at the market. "Thats what you get when you're a Barca player" they both said at the same time. "Then I want to become a Barca player" I said still amazed. "Don't worry, I got you a car" Thi said and I threw myself in his arms. I have always been a bit spoiled cuz I'm the youngest sibling, and I love it. When we arrived at my new house I was more amazed now than when I saw the car. Especially when they showed me my room. It was huge and very modern. I had my own walk-in clothset and my own huge bathroom. On my disk there was a MacBook, an iPad and a brand new iPhone 5. I could finally change my old blackberry. When we have had lunch. Alex told me that some of their teammates were coming over later to a BBQ. I didn't mind at all cuz the players were coming over with their girlfriend and then I could maybe get some new friends. Julia who is Thi's girlfriend took me out shopping and I really liked her. She was just like my bestfriend and that was nice since I didn't have had a BFF since I was 15 And that's 5 years ago. At the dinner: They players came when the times passed. And we all sat at the table. They have been very kind to me and I hope we can form good friendships. The door rang and I got up to get it. When I opened it my eyes got caught by some beautiful brown-greenish eyes. I didn't even looked at his face. His eyes were enough. I didn't even know for how long we had been standing there. Maybe a little while, cuz a girl started to make some noises. I cut of the connection and let them come inside. When we reached to the garden Thi stand up and told me that the guy who came in was his bestfriend Cristian Tello and the girl was his girlfriend. I don't even know why the word 'girlfriend' got me a bit sad. Why should I get upset, when I didn't even knew his name. All I could think of was his eyes... For the rest of the night I just talked to the others and exchanged numbers with the whole team and their girlfriends and wives. Antonella and Anna seemed very kind but this Lorena girl didn't seem that way. Every time Cristian looked at me and I smiled back she would begin kissing him and stuff like that. How weird right? After a little while Alex and Thi both wanted attention. When they got it they both gave me a key. I thought that it was a car key and it was. When I saw the car my mouth dropped big time. They have bought me an all new black Range Rover!! How cool is that? I thanked them a lot and when everyone left I headed for my comfy bed. When I closed my eyes I couldn't stop thinking of that eye session me and Cris had. Why was I like that? Cristians pow: "Lorena, why were you acting like that in front of Selena?" I nearly yelled. "Who Selena?" She said as she couldn't care less. "It's Thi's and Alex's little sister!" I actually yelled this time. "Can't you see it?" "What?" I asked confused "She hitting on you, can't you see it?" She said a bit jealous. "No she didn't and I don't want to talk about it" I said tired. I had to get some rest cuz I had an early training session tomorrow. Next morning: Sels pow: "Sel hurry if you want to come with, I don't want to wait anymore" I could hear Alex yell "I'm coming I just had to get ready" I sad a bit annoyed. "Girls" both Thiago and Alexis said. "Boys" I said laughing. In the car Thiago asked me if I had to score someone because if my outfit. I told him that I didn't even looked like a girl trying to score cuz I only wore some skinny turquoise jeans and a black top with some heels. He said that no one had ever wore heels on camp Nou so that was why but I just laughed a bit. At the training field I could see how hard my brothers worked and that just made me even more proud. At the break I began to look in a magazine that was about gifts for men cuz I really wanted to give my brothers a gift. I didn't even noticed that someone sat beside me. "What are you looking in?" A beautifully male voice said. I could recognize the voice and I immediately looked up. All I saw was Cristians perfect face. I couldn't even manage to talk... When I opened up my mouth and told him I was looking for gifts for my brothers he told me that I was a good sister and that made me glad. We talked and had a normal conversation, he was actually easy to talk to. Cristian invited me out later to go and find gifts for my brothers and I couldn't wait. What was it with him. He had a girlfriend but why was he all "fall-in-love-with-me"? Was he a player? No that couldn't be possible. But why did I feel this feeling every time I looked him in the eyes? All I could think of after the practice was finished was my friend-date with Cristian...

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (4/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: Gif by @doinggreat

Not having a return flight felt both terrifying and exhilarating. Senait lay in Jules' bed, watching shadows play across the ceiling as sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her phone hadn't buzzed with work emergencies for the first time in three years. No crisis meetings, no client demands, no Greg's passive-aggressive emails.

Just... freedom.

Scary, overwhelming freedom.

Jules had insisted she take the day to rest, popping in between his training sessions to check on her. Each time he'd find a different way to make her smile – bringing her favorite snacks, curling around her for quick naps, even convincing Maurice to perform an impromptu concert.

"You're hovering," she'd accused during one such visit.

"I'm caring," he'd corrected, pressing a kiss to her temple before heading back to training.

Now, as evening slowly approached, Senait could smell something amazing wafting from the kitchen. She found Jules at the stove, looking so sexy in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Sit," he commanded, nodding toward the counter. "I have something for you."

"Jules..."

But he was already pulling out a carefully wrapped package. Inside, Senait found a collection of high-end calligraphy supplies – inks, nibs, and papers she'd only dreamed of working with.

"I did some research," Jules said, watching her face. "These are the good ones, right?"

Senait ran her fingers over the supplies, emotion catching in her throat. "They're perfect. But Jules, I can't—"

"Let me help," he interrupted softly. "Not because you need it, but because I want to. Because I believe in you."

She kissed him then, trying to pour all her gratitude and confusion and hope into it. Jules responded immediately, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

"So," he murmured against her lips, "when are you going to make an honest man out of me?"

Senait froze. "What?"

Jules pulled back slightly, studying her face. "We've known each other for almost two months. Things are moving fast – which I'm not complaining about – but maybe it's time to make it official."

"I... I just quit my job," Senait stammered. "And now you want..."

"A commitment? Yes." His hands stayed on her waist, grounding her even as panic fluttered in her chest. "Why does that scare you so much?"

"Because!" She pulled away, needing space to think. "Everything's changing so fast. I need... I need to figure things out first."

"Like what?"

"Like therapy," she admitted quietly. "Like dealing with these walls I've built. Like not fucking this up because I'm too scared to let anyone in."

"You're so fucking stubborn," Jules said, but there was fondness mixed with his frustration. "You think I don't see your walls? Your fears? I'm still here, Senait."

"I know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And I want... I want to try. With you. But I need to do this right. I need to work on myself first."

Jules was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Go to therapy. Work on yourself." He stepped closer, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I'll be here. But don't use it as an excuse to keep running."

Senait leaned into his touch. "I'm trying not to."

"I know, chérie." He kissed her forehead. "Now eat before the food gets cold."

_______________________________________________

Madrid held different memories for Senait now – her first visit for Zuri's engagement party months ago felt like another lifetime compared to being here for El Clásico. The energy around the match was electric, filling every corner of the city.

She met Zuri in the hotel lobby, where her friend was waiting with a woman Senait instantly recognized from social media – Lila Hamilton.

"Finally!" Zuri exclaimed, hugging Senait. "You guys didn’t get the chance to meet at the engagent party but Lila, this is my best friend, Senait. Sen, meet Lila – Lewis' sister and Jude's better half."

Lila's smile was warm, her British accent elegant as she said, "Heard so much about you. Zuri says you're the one who finally tamed Jules?"

"I wouldn't say tamed," Senait laughed. "More like... reached a mutual understanding."

"With Jules?" Lila raised an eyebrow. "That's practically the same thing."

The three women clicked immediately. Senait found herself drawn to Lila's dry humor and genuine warmth. It was clear why she and Zuri had become such close friends – they shared the same straightforward approach to life.

"So you're actually supporting Barcelona?" Lila asked as they made their way to the Bernabéu, noting Senait's scarf. "Brave, considering you're walking in with two Madrid supporters."

"Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are," Senait admitted. "But apparently I have... priorities."

"Jules being one of them?" Zuri teased.

"Jules being the only one," Lila corrected with a knowing smile.

The Santiago Bernabéu was a different beast than the Olympic Stadium. Senait felt the electricity in the air, the tension between the two sets of fans palpable even as she followed Zuri and Lila to their seats.

"Ready for your first Clásico?" Lila asked, adjusting her Real Madrid scarf.

Senait fingered her own scarf – one of Jules' that she'd stolen despite her protests about not being a "football girlfriend." But here she was, heart racing every time she caught sight of him warming up on the pitch.

The match itself was intense. Senait found herself on her feet more often than not, shouting things she barely understood but feeling them deeply. When Jules made a particularly brilliant play, she screamed his name without thinking, earning knowing smirks from both Zuri and Lila.

Barcelona's dominance was clear from the start. Each goal felt like a physical rush, the away section erupting in celebration. Senait watched Jules' confident movements, the way he controlled the midfield, and felt a surge of pride she wasn't quite ready to examine.

By the time the final whistle blew at 0-4, Senait's voice was hoarse from shouting. She linked arms with Zuri and Lila as they made their way down the stadium steps, the Barcelona fans' victory chants echoing around them.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Zuri teased, nudging her. "You really are Jules' number one fan now, huh?"

Senait rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "Don't get used to it. It's a one-time thing," she quipped, though she couldn't help glancing toward the tunnel where the players would emerge.

The wait seemed endless. Senait watched as Aurélien appeared first, his disappointment evident despite his dignified bearing. Zuri immediately went to him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. Then Jude, his frustration clear as Lila quietly led him away.

And then Jules – still radiating that quiet confidence she'd come to associate with him, his eyes finding her immediately in the crowd. Heat pooled in her belly at the look he gave her, pride and possession and promise all mixed together.

"Enjoyed the show?" he asked, pulling her close despite her token protest about his sweaty state.

"You were adequate," she deadpanned, but her smile gave her away.

Back at the hotel room later, a celebration took a more private turn. Jules had her pressed against the door almost before it closed, his hands possessive on her hips.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw you in my scarf," he growled against her neck.

"Is that why you let me steal it?" Senait gasped as his teeth found a sensitive spot. "Part of your master plan?"

"Everything's part of my master plan, chérie."

And maybe it was. Maybe this had all been inevitable from the moment she'd met his eyes at Zuri's engagement party. Maybe all her running had just been delaying the inevitable.

Later, curled into his side, pleasantly sore and completely satisfied, Senait traced patterns on his chest. "I made an appointment," she said quietly.

Jules' hand paused in her hair. "For therapy?"

She nodded. "Found someone who specializes in relationship trauma. She's got great reviews."

"I'm proud of you." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "When?"

"Next week. Virtual session." She propped herself up to look at him. "Is that okay? Me staying in Barcelona but..."

"Working on yourself?" He smiled. "More than okay. Though I warn you – Maurice might try to join your sessions. He's very interested in psychology."

Senait laughed, the sound free and genuine. "Your rooster is a menace."

"Our rooster."

She tensed slightly at that, but not in fear. More in... anticipation. Because 'our' didn't sound as scary as it used to.

"One step at a time," Jules murmured, clearly reading her reaction. "No pressure. Just... possibility."

Senait settled back against him, letting his heartbeat steady her. "I like possibilities."

"Good." His hand resumed its gentle stroking of her hair. "Because I have quite a few in mind."

As she drifted off to sleep, Senait thought about how different this felt from every other relationship she'd had. How Jules pushed without pressuring, supported without suffocating. How he saw her walls but didn't try to break them down – just waited patiently for her to build doors instead.

Maybe that's what real love was supposed to feel like. Not the desperate clinging she'd had with Tymir, not the constant fear of not being enough. But this – this steady warmth, this gentle strength, this quiet certainty that whatever came next, they'd face it together.

One step at a time.

Two weeks after El Clásico, Senait sat cross-legged in Jules' home office, laptop balanced on her knees, finalizing another custom wedding signage order. Maurice strutted past the window, the speakers nearby playing what she swore was Vivaldi.

"Your taste in music is getting crazy, my guy," she called out to the rooster, who merely preened in response.

Her Etsy notifications kept pinging – the surge in orders since quitting her job felt almost cosmic. The universe's way of saying "about time" perhaps. She'd spent the morning researching web designers, knowing her business needed a proper site. Her makeshift Instagram business account already had a decent following, helped by Zuri's subtle promotions to her now-massive audience.

The call with her parents had been full of "I told you so" energy, but the loving kind. "See what happens when you finally listen to your mother?" her mom had teased. They were happy to see her actually living her life instead of just surviving it, even if that life currently involved a French footballer and living with him on a different continent.

The therapy sessions were helping too. Dr. Obazi had a way of making Senait see patterns she'd been blind to. "You're not afraid of success," she'd said in their first session. "You're afraid of deserving it."

That had hit home hard.

So had finally blocking Tymir on everything. She'd hesitated over the button for a moment, years of history making her finger pause. Then she'd remembered his comment on her photo, his casual assumption that he still had the right to her attention.

Click. Done.

"Better late than never," she'd muttered, and felt lighter immediately.

The past weekend in Paris had been surreal. Jules' friend Axel had thrown an elaborate Halloween party, and she'd found herself swept into Jules' inner circle. His Dracula costume had been simple but effective – all black with a dramatic cape and subtle fangs. She'd matched him as his bride, in a flowing white dress with intricate lace details, dark makeup, and artfully messy curls.

"We have the most predictable costumes," she'd teased.

"Sexy," he'd corrected, eyes darkening as he took in her outfit.

Meeting his friends had been surprisingly easy. Axel, with his easy charm and quick wit. Wilhelm, quieter but sharp as a tack. Hugo and Manuel, who treated her like they'd known her forever.

"So you're the one who's got Jules actually answering his phone," Hugo had teased.

"Someone has to keep him in line," she'd shot back, earning appreciative laughs.

The party had been a blur of expensive champagne and elaborate costumes. Jules had kept her close all night, his hands growing increasingly possessive as the alcohol flowed. What happened back in their hotel room... Senait felt heat rise to her cheeks just thinking about it. Jules, it turned out, was even more commanding when drunk, and she'd been more than happy to submit to his... demands.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from the memory: The guys want to come over to watch game footage. That okay?

S: As riveting as that sounds... J: You can work in the office. Just want you near.

Simple. Direct. So Jules.

S: Fine. But I'm not watching football. J: You watched every minute of El Clásico. S: That was different. J: Because you're my biggest fan?

Senait smiled, remembering Zuri's teasing about the same thing. I'm hanging up now.

J: This is a text. S: Goodbye, Jules. J: See you in a bit, chérie.

A notification pinged – another order. A massive corporate client wanting custom place cards for their holiday party. The kind of order that could fund a proper website, maybe even a small studio space.

She was settling into a routine she'd never planned but couldn't imagine living without. Mornings with Maurice's concerts, days split between calligraphy work and exploring the city, evenings with Jules that usually ended tangled in his sheets.

Barcelona was beginning to feel like home. Her favorite café knew her order. The local art supply store kept her preferred inks in stock. Even Maurice had accepted her as part of his audience.

More than that, she was happy. Actually, genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that came from choosing yourself, from letting people in, from building something real.

She glanced around Jules' office – now unofficially hers too during work hours. Her calligraphy supplies had their own drawer, her laptop had a permanent spot on the desk, and she'd even added some plants to the space. Small changes that spoke of bigger ones.

The sound of the front door opening announced Jules' return. Soon the house would be full of his teammates, their animated conversations filling the space as they analyzed game footage. She'd pretend to be completely focused on work, but would probably end up watching anyway, just like she always did.

This was her life now. Not the one she'd planned, not the safe corporate path she'd thought she needed to follow. Instead, she had a growing business, a weekly therapy appointment, and a man who knew exactly when to push and when to be patient.

Jules appeared in the doorway of the office, fresh from training with slightly damp dreads. Just looking at him made something warm unfurl in Senait's chest – a feeling she was slowly learning not to fight.

"Hi," he said simply, crossing to where she sat.

"Hi yourself." She tilted her head up for his kiss, meaning to keep it brief. But Jules had other ideas, deepening the kiss until she was breathless.

"The guys will be here soon," she murmured against his lips.

"Mm. Ten minutes." His hand slid into her hair. "More than enough time."

"To do what exactly?"

His smirk was wicked. "To properly greet you."

Before she could respond, he'd pulled her up from her chair, pressing her against the desk. His hands found her hips, lifting her to sit on the edge.

"Jules—"

"Let me just..." He stepped between her legs.

Jules’ lips traced a line down her neck, making Senait shiver as he teased the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt dress, pushing it higher up her thighs until he had a full view of the lace panties she’d chosen that morning. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words turned to a sigh as his hands gripped her waist tighter.

"Just a quick one," he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down her spine. His eyes were dark with desire, and Senait found herself nodding, anticipation already pooling within her.

Jules stepped back just long enough to fish something out of his pants pocket. Senait couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up when she saw it: a condom.

"You planned this," she accused, her laughter fading into a gasp as he slipped his hands under her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of the desk.

"Always prepared," he murmured with a grin, dropping both his pants and boxers to lay around his ankles and then ripping open the foil packet. As he sheathed himself, his gaze stayed locked on hers, filled with heat and mischief. Senait's pulse quickened, her body already humming in anticipation.

With a firm tug, he pulled her panties to the side, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her. He didn’t waste a moment, pressing into her slowly, making her toes curl. Senait clutched at his shoulders, the edge of the desk digging into the back of her thighs as Jules began to move, setting a fast, relentless pace.

"Fuck," she whispered, her breath coming in short, needy gasps. Jules had her pinned in place, one hand splayed across her lower back to keep her steady, the other gripping her thigh. The slight roughness of his fingertips, the way he filled her so perfectly, had her clenching around him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

He leaned forward, his mouth brushing her ear. "You feel so fucking good, chérie," he groaned, the strain in his voice making her core tighten. The office was filled with the sounds of their rushed, desperate joining—the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the creak of the desk beneath them, and the breathless, incoherent sounds that slipped from Senait’s lips.

Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss, desperate to muffle her own cries as the pressure built inside her. Jules responded eagerly, swallowing her moans, his rhythm never faltering. The intensity of it all—the risk of being caught, the wild passion in his eyes, the feeling of him claiming her—had her teetering on the edge faster than she expected.

"I’m close," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of her heartbeat. Jules’ grip on her tightened, his hips snapping forward harder, his own breathing ragged.

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with urgency. Senait’s body obeyed, pleasure exploding through her, making her shudder and cling to him as her climax washed over her. Jules followed soon after, his groan deep and satisfied as he buried himself in her one last time.

For a moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily. But the moment of bliss was broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing, echoing through the home.

"Shit," Senait whispered, her eyes wide. Jules pulled out of her with a grin, discarding the condom and adjusting his clothes swiftly.

"Go clean up," he said, smacking her ass as she wobbled off the desk, her legs still shaky. The playful sting of his hand made her yelp, and she shot him a glare over her shoulder.

"Asshole," she muttered, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. He just laughed, his expression smug and satisfied.

"Better hurry," he teased. "Don’t want the guys to see you looking all… well, like that."

Senait rolled her eyes, gathering herself and making her way out of the office and down the hallway. But the flush on her cheeks and the way her legs trembled with every step were undeniable reminders of what had just happened, and she couldn't stop the grin that spread across her lips.

In the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror – hair mussed, lips swollen, that unmistakable post-sex glow. The sound of voices grew louder – boisterous laughter as the guys settled in the living room.

After making herself presentable, Senait padded back to the office, settling in with her laptop. She tried to focus on her work, but found herself listening to Jules' voice among them, authoritative and sure as he discussed strategy.

This was her life now. And somehow, impossibly, it fit perfectly.

Sometimes Jules still couldn't believe how naturally Senait had integrated into his life. Watching her work in his home office, Maurice strutting past the window like a personal guard, felt right in a way he hadn't expected when this started.

Her therapy sessions were making a difference – he could see it in how she carried herself, how she was slowly letting her walls down. They weren't official yet, but he could wait. She was worth waiting for, worth giving time to heal and grow at her own pace.

"Ready?" she called from the office. They had errands to run – art supplies for her growing calligraphy business, orders to ship at the post office. Her Etsy shop was thriving, custom orders piling up faster than she could handle them.

The art supply store was their first stop. Jules watched as she carefully selected papers, inks, specialty pens. Her face lit up discussing different techniques with the shop owner, passionate in a way that made his chest warm. This was the Senait he loved seeing – confident, in her element, fully herself.

The post office queue wrapped around the building, but Jules didn't mind. Senait's arms were full of carefully wrapped packages – elaborate wedding signage, custom birthday installations, pieces that showcased her unique style. She'd worked late into the night finishing them, and watching her now, checking tracking numbers and insurance details, he felt overwhelmingly proud.

"Tu novia tiene mucho talento," the postal worker commented, admiring one of the visible designs. ("Your girlfriend's quite talented.”)

Jules didn't correct her assumption. Instead, he helped Senait balance the packages, stealing glances at her focused expression, the way she bit her lip while calculating shipping costs.

The sneaker store was where they slipped up. A small group of teenagers recognized him, eyes widening as they nudged each other. Jules tensed slightly – he was careful about public appearances, especially with Senait. His PR team had helped keep their relationship private, away from the football gossip machine.

"¿Te importaría una foto?" one boy asked nervously.

Jules glanced at Senait, who had already stepped back, understanding without words. He took a few quick pictures, signed some shoes, then they made their exit.

"Sorry about that," he said once they were in the car.

"Don't be. It's part of who you are."

Later, floating in his pool on one of his loungers, the Barcelona sun warm on their skin, Jules thought about Aurélien's text. His friend had been through hell with Zuri lately – family drama, media scrutiny, the works. The suggestion of a group trip to Megève had come with a note about needing peace, about wanting to share that peace with the people who'd supported them.

"Aurélien's planning a trip," Jules said, watching Senait's reaction carefully. "Megève in December. Him and Zuri, Jude and Lila. Thought we could join."

She turned in his arms, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Small steps, but progress nonetheless. Jules pressed a kiss to her temple, content just to have her here, in his pool, in his life. Two months ago, she might have balked at the idea of a couples' holiday. Now she was planning it with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maurice's indignant crow from his enclosure made them both laugh. The rooster had taken to protesting when they used the pool, as if offended by their water activities.

"Your bird is jealous," Senait said, shifting to watch Maurice's dramatic display.

"Our bird," Jules corrected automatically, and smiled when he heard her hum noncommittally.

They stayed in the pool until the sun started to set, talking about everything and nothing. Her latest orders – a massive wedding installation that had her excited about the creative possibilities. His upcoming matches, training schedules, team dynamics.

It felt domestic in the best way. Like they'd been doing this forever, would keep doing it for years to come. Jules found himself imagining more moments like this – Senait in his space, planning futures together, Maurice providing the soundtrack to their life.

After showering and ordering dinner, they settled on his couch. Senait was sketching design ideas while Jules watched match footage, her feet in his lap, Maurice performing his evening concert in the background.

Even if she wasn't ready to name it yet, even if she still needed time to heal and trust and grow – Jules knew what this was. Knew that all the waiting, all the patience, all the careful steps forward would be worth it.

Looking at her now, completely absorbed in her sketches, wearing one of his t-shirts like it belonged to her, Jules felt something settle in his chest. A certainty that hadn't been there before.

This was it. She was it. Everything else was just details they'd figure out together.

THE END….epilogue coming soon…..

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (1/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @2serenity0 @saturnville @planetmimi @muglermami @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @elyseesarchive

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Gif by @doinggreat

Senait arrived at the engagement party with a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been a month since she'd last seen Zuri, and the thought of catching up brought a genuine smile to her face. As she stepped into La Quinta de Jarama, the boho-chic venue adorned with traditional Bamileke décor, warm tones of earthy reds, yellows, and browns enveloped her, showcasing Zuri's style perfectly.

If Pinterest threw up an engagement party, this would be it, Senait thought.

Before she could fully take in the scene, Zuri spotted her and rushed over, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"Senait!" Zuri's voice was filled with joy, making Senait feel lighter.

"Girl, look at you," Senait teased, pulling back to assess Zuri's radiant outfit. "Fiancé life looks good on you."

Zuri laughed, her happiness infectious. "You're one to talk. Madrid clearly agrees with you."

"It really does," Senait said, smirking as she ran a hand through her curls. "But seriously, it's been too long. I almost forgot what your face looked like."

Zuri rolled her eyes playfully. "Trust me, it's been a whirlwind."

"And now, you're engaged to some guy," Senait teased, glancing around the room. "Where is he?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you," Zuri said, leading the way.

It didn't take long to spot him. Aurélien stood out, not just because of his height and broad shoulders, but because of the calm authority he carried. His traditional Bamileke attire made him look like royalty, the intricate patterns complementing his deep brown skin. There was an ease to the way he held himself, as if he was used to commanding attention without asking for it. His smile when he saw Zuri approach was genuine, and it softened his otherwise sharp features.

"Guys, this is my best friend, Senait," Zuri said, beaming. "Senait, this is Aurélien and his friend Jules."

Senait's gaze shifted to Jules, taking in his athletic build and easy posture. There was an unmistakable grace to his movements, even when standing still. His warm brown eyes held a hint of amusement, and when he spoke, his French accent added a layer of intrigue to his words.

"Enchanté," Jules said, his voice a low, pleasant rumble. There was an undeniable charisma about him, a quiet confidence that caught Senait's attention.

Senait, quickly regaining her composure, turned to Aurélien. "So you're the one who's stolen my Zuri away," she said, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Guilty as charged," Aurélien replied, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his face under her scrutiny.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of drums filled the air. A group of traditional Bamileke dancers emerged, their colorful costumes a blur of motion as they moved to the rhythmic beat.

Zuri and Aurélien walked through the crowd behind the dancers, their eyes sparkling with excitement. An elder approached them, wrapping their wrists together with some decorative rope—a symbolic gesture that sent a ripple of joy through the onlookers.

Senait stood back, watching the scene unfold, when she felt Jules beside her. His presence was solid, grounding. "So, what do you think of the party?" he said, his accented voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

She offered him a sidelong glance, intrigued despite herself. "It's vibrant," she replied, her gaze still fixed on Zuri and Aurélien. "Definitely fits Zuri's style."

"And what about you?" Jules asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Is this your style?"

"Please," Senait shot back, her sass evident. "But I'll give credit where it's due. This party is pretty nice."

As the ceremony concluded, the music shifted to a blend of traditional Bamileke rhythms and contemporary beats. Couples began to fill the dance floor, Zuri and Aurélien at the center, laughing as they danced.

Jules turned to Senait, his posture relaxed but purposeful. "Dance with me," he said. It wasn't a question, but neither was it a demand. It was a statement, confident and unhurried.

Senait hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. For a moment, she considered declining, but something—perhaps the magic of the night, or the quiet intensity radiating from Jules—made her reconsider.

"Alright," she said, surprising herself. "But don't expect me to be impressed by any fancy footwork."

A ghost of a smile played on Jules' lips as he guided her to the dance floor, his hand a gentle presence on her lower back. As they began to move to the music, Senait found herself appreciating his natural grace and the way he led without being overbearing.

"You know," she said, unable to resist, "I usually require at least dinner before I dance with a guy I've just met."

Jules chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Then consider this an appetizer," he replied, his accent wrapping around the words in a way that Senait found unexpectedly charming.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, curious now. "An appetizer?" she repeated, her brow lifting slightly in mock skepticism. “I usually have a say in what’s on the menu."

Jules smirked, his fingers brushing a little lower on her back, just enough to make her aware of it. “I’ll take suggestions, then.”

His voice was smooth, unhurried. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he let the moment stretch without feeling the need to fill it with more words, that made Senait feel… at ease. In control, but not entirely. It was an interesting push and pull, and she found herself leaning into it more than she thought she would.

As the song continued, she let her eyes wander over him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the hint of stubble on his chin, and the quiet intensity in his eyes. There was something about him—something that was drawing her in without her fully realizing it. He wasn’t overbearing, wasn’t rushing, but the attraction was there, simmering just under the surface.

He caught her looking and smirked, just enough to let her know he noticed, but not enough to make it awkward. “I get the feeling you don’t do this often.”

“I don’t,” she admitted, tilting her head as if considering him. “But you’re making it hard to resist.”

He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Good. I’m not here to rush you. Just enjoying the moment.”

There it was again—his calm, unhurried confidence, the way he made it feel like this was just a natural flow. She could sense his attraction to her in the small, unspoken cues: the way his fingers subtly tightened around her waist, the way he mirrored her movements without overshadowing them. He was giving her room to play, and the more she danced with him, the more she liked the way he let her set the pace.

And, if she was being honest, the longer they stayed pressed together like this, the more her thoughts began to shift. She hadn’t come to the party thinking about anyone—least of all hooking up with someone. But Jules was… intriguing. Sexy, in a quiet way. His energy was just different, and that difference was starting to get to her.

Her mind flickered briefly to the idea of what it would be like later, when the music stopped and the space between them closed. She wasn’t against it—the casual hookup, the fun of it. She just hadn’t planned on it tonight. Yet, with the way his body moved so seamlessly with hers, it was hard not to imagine how good it could feel to let herself indulge in him.

Jules seemed to pick up on the shift in her thoughts, but, true to form, he didn’t push. He kept the same steady, self-assured energy, his eyes never leaving hers. His presence was like a quiet challenge, letting her know he was here if she wanted, but he wouldn’t be the one to say it first.

Senait bit her lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle in between them. She didn’t need to say anything.

As the music shifted to an upbeat Afrobeats track, the atmosphere transformed. The infectious rhythm filled the air, drawing people in, and Senait felt herself responding to the beat instinctively. She turned to Jules, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

Without thinking, she pressed her body against him, swaying her hips in time with the music in a slow whine. Jules’s eyes widened slightly, a spark igniting in his gaze as he adjusted to her new boldness. His hands found her waist again, but this time, he let her lead, mirroring her movements, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for this.

“You’ve got some moves,” he said, his voice low, laced with amusement as he followed her rhythm.

“Maybe you just bring it out of me,” she teased, glancing back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the hunger in his eyes.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied, his smirk growing. There was something about the way he watched her—intently, with a hint of challenge—as if daring her to take it even further.

The heat between them intensified as she moved, her body brushing against him, a grind that sent shivers through her. She could feel the tension in his grip, the way he held her close but left just enough space for her to take charge. It was intoxicating, the freedom to explore without pressure.

Senait turned slightly, catching his gaze again, and the world around them seemed to fade away. “So, what’s next?” she asked, her voice playful, as if they were in on a secret.

Jules leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his breath warm and inviting. “That depends on you. I’m just here for the ride.”

With that, she tilted her head back, feeling emboldened. The air around them pulsed with energy, and for a fleeting moment, the possibilities stretched out before her. She could indulge in the thrill of this connection, let herself be swept away in the music and the heat between them.

“Then let’s see how far this ride goes,” she replied, her words a silent promise as she led him off the dance floor.

Senait took his hand, threading them both through the crowd as a pulse of adrenaline buzzed through her veins. The party around them felt like a blur—glamorous guests, laughter, the warm hum of celebration—but she only had eyes for Jules. They slipped into a quiet hallway near the restrooms, and before she could talk herself out of it, she tugged him into the nearest one, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her back hit the door, and she exhaled, half laughing at her own recklessness, half consumed by the anticipation simmering between them. “This is crazy,” she whispered, her voice hushed but thrilled. “Hooking up at my best friend’s engagement party with a stranger.”

Jules’s hands found her waist, and his lips curved into that lazy, self-assured smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against her skin. “But you’re still here.”

Before she could come up with a witty response, he kissed her, and the world seemed to tilt. His mouth was warm, hungry, and she melted into him, every inch of her body attuned to the way he pressed against her. She reached up, fingers tangling in his locs as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer.

God, it had been so long since she felt like this—desired, wanted. Her ex had a way of making her feel small, crushing her confidence piece by piece with infidelity and careless words. But here, now, with Jules… she felt different. Powerful. Desired. It was a high she didn’t want to come down from.

Jules’s hands roamed over her hips, slipping under the hem of her dress. His touch was firm but reverent, making her shiver as he pushed the fabric higher. When his fingers brushed over her panties, he groaned into her mouth when he felt the dampness there. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with want. “You’re so wet.”

Her heart stuttered, and she arched into him, wanting more, needing more. His fingers teased her, making her gasp as he explored the heat between her legs. She could feel herself losing control, her head spinning from his touch, but he pulled back slightly, just enough to leave her breathless.

His forehead rested against hers, and he exhaled a shaky laugh. “We should probably save this for later,” he said, though the regret in his voice told her just how badly he wanted to keep going. “Before I forget we’re still at a party.”

Senait’s lips curled into a smirk, but her cheeks were flushed, and her body was still buzzing with electricity. “You’re right,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath. “But you owe me.”

His thumb brushed across her lower lip, his gaze heated. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

They straightened themselves out, laughter spilling between them as they tried to look less disheveled before heading back out. The noise of the party hit them again, and Senait immediately grabbed a drink from a passing caterer’s tray, downing two shots of tequila in quick succession to steady herself. A flicker of doubt threatened to creep in, but she swallowed it down, reminding herself she deserved this—a night of fun, of feeling wanted.

She glanced over at Jules, who had joined Aurélien and Zuri as they opened engagement gifts. Zuri was radiant, glowing with happiness, and Senait felt a twinge of guilt for sneaking away during such a special moment. But then she reminded herself: Zuri would understand. Maybe even laugh about it later.

Jules caught her gaze, his eyes warm and inviting, and she felt her pulse quicken again. Gathering her courage, she walked over, reaching for his hand. But just as she was about to pull him onto the dance floor, an announcement rang out, signaling the start of the farewell ceremony.

Jules leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Ready to get out of here?” he murmured, the question sending a thrill straight through her.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

With one last look at her friend, she followed Jules out, the promise of whatever came next leaving her feeling more alive than she had in ages.

Senait and Jules slipped into the back of the Uber, and the car pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurring as anticipation curled between them. The silence crackled, thick with the energy of what they had started back at the party, but they didn’t need words. Jules kept her hand in his, his thumb brushing circles over her knuckles, and every stroke sent little sparks along her skin.

By the time they arrived at his hotel, the tension had built to an unbearable crescendo. He led her through the lobby, the cool air of the space doing nothing to soothe the heat pulsing through her. His suite door barely clicked shut before he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall.

“Where were we?” Jules murmured, his voice husky, eyes dark and wanting.

Before she could answer, his lips claimed hers, and she melted. His fingers slid beneath the fabric of her dress, tugging it up and over her head in one smooth motion. He stepped back, drinking her in, and she felt the weight of his gaze, how mesmerized he was by her body. It seemed crazy—insane—that someone like him could look at her that way, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

“Damn,” he whispered, reverence thick in his voice. His hands found her breasts, caressing the soft curves before sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him to help her ease out of her thong.

A shiver ran through her, and she reached for his shirt, eager to even the playing field, but he caught her wrists, playfully swatting her hands away. “Nah,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You don’t get to do all that shit here. I’m the boss tonight.”

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal surging through her, and she felt herself getting wetter, if that was even possible. He guided her to the bed, laying her down gently, and she surrendered to the way he looked at her—like he was savoring every inch.

He took his time, kissing a path down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower, until he was between her thighs. Her breath caught as his tongue found her clit, teasing and circling with expert precision. Her back arched, a moan slipping from her lips as he sucked, licked, and explored, driving her wild with pleasure. Every touch was a new kind of bliss, his name tumbling from her mouth as she lost herself in the rhythm he set.

When she was on the edge, trembling with need, Jules pulled back, leaving her gasping, and quickly undressed. He reached for his suitcase, rummaging for a condom. Tearing the packet open, he rolled it on, his gaze never leaving hers. Senait smiled appreciatively at his thick length and the muscled planes of his athletic body.

He went back to the bed and hovered over her, his voice dropping into that low, sexy timbre. “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded, her body aching for him.

With one swift, smooth motion, he entered her, filling her completely. She clung to him, overwhelmed by the sensation, and he began to move, rocking into her with a perfect, relentless rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Tu te sens si bien. So perfect.”

Her nails scraped down his back, and he groaned, the sound sending shivers across her skin. “Keep talking,” she managed to say, her own voice breathless.

“Je veux que tu ressentes tout ça,” he continued, his accent wrapping around her like a caress. “Every bit of it.”

He kept his pace steady, his hips rolling into hers as he guided her through every wave of pleasure, whispering words that made her body sing. Senait lost herself in the moment, in him.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each thrust sending Senait closer to the edge. She clung to him, savoring every second, the intensity building until it finally shattered. She cried out his name as her orgasm took over, and he followed shortly after, his deep groan vibrating through her.

The room fell quiet except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Jules gently pulled away and disposed of the condom before sliding back into bed beside her.

“Damn,” Senait muttered, a lazy grin spreading across her face. “That was… something else.” The best dick I had in awhile….

Jules chuckled. “Yeah, it was.” His fingers lazily traced patterns along her arm, and for a few minutes, they lay in a comfortable, post-bliss silence. Then, he broke it, his voice curious. “So, tell me about yourself. What’s your story, Senait?”

She tilted her head to look up at him, amused. “My story? That’s a loaded question for after sex.”

He laughed, and the sound was so genuine it made her smile. “Fair point. Maybe just the basics, then? Where you’re from, what you do.”

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow. “Alright. I’m from New York, but my parents are from Eritrea."

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Habesha girl, huh?"

Senait couldn’t help but laugh, a warm sound that filled the room. "Yeah," she nodded, her curls bouncing slightly. "You know about Eritrea?"

"A bit,” he admitted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Enough to know Habesha girls are known to be trouble."

She laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Oh, is that what you heard?"

"Mm-hmm," he teased, catching one of her hands and bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “But I think I like a bit of trouble."

She felt her heart do a small flip, a flutter that caught her off guard. But she masked it with a smirk. "Well, you don’t seem so innocent yourself, Jules."

He chuckled, his gaze holding hers, and for a second, the playful exchange melted into something deeper. It made her chest tighten, but she didn’t hate the feeling.

"What about you?" she asked, shifting to face him more.

"I was born in France but my dad is from Benin,” he replied, his tone softening. “And my mom made sure I knew my roots."

She smiled, the kind of smile that reached her eyes. "That’s beautiful."

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, swapping stories about family traditions, favorite childhood meals, and dreams of places they still wanted to see. He shared little quirks about himself—like how he had a weird obsession with trying out different hot sauces—and she couldn’t help but giggle.

"Hot sauce? Really?" she teased, her laughter melting the last bit of tension between them.

"Hey," he said with mock seriousness. "Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it."

After another round, they eventually decided to call it a night and sleep claimed them both before either one could object.

_____________________________________________

Senait squinted at her phone screen, the bright light offensive to her barely-awake eyes. 10:47 AM. Shit.

She carefully extracted herself from Jules' warm embrace, pausing as he stirred slightly before settling back into deep sleep. Sunlight streamed through his suite’s window, catching the defined planes of his back. Senait allowed herself a moment of appreciation – both for the view and for the memories of the night before.

All that from some hip movements and good conversation, she thought, amused at herself as she searched for her clothes.

She found her dress first, then her thong, silently congratulating herself on her decision to wear the simple black one instead of anything complicated. Her heels could stay where they'd landed last night – she wasn't about to risk clicking across his floor at this hour. The clutch, thankfully, was right by the door.

One last glance at Jules' sleeping form, and she slipped out, ordering an Uber as she made her way down in the elevator. The morning air hit her skin, fresh and crisp, a stark contrast to the heat of last night's memories.

Back at her hotel, Senait stepped into a scalding shower, watching as water sluiced away the evidence of the night before. Jules' cologne had lingered on her skin, and part of her was reluctant to wash it away. Now you're really being ridiculous, she chided herself.

Another Uber, another ride across Madrid. As she approached Aurélien's impressive front gates – definitely a footballer's house – she pressed the intercom button.

"YOU BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING!" Zuri's voice crackled through the speaker, followed by the immediate buzz of the gate opening.

Senait walked up the path, taking in the manicured gardens and modern architecture. Before she could even reach the door, Zuri burst out, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You disappeared!" Zuri exclaimed, pulling her inside. "One minute you're dancing with Jules, looking like something out of a music video, and the next – poof!"

Senait couldn't help but laugh at her friend's enthusiasm. "Sorry about that. Your engagement party was lovely, by the way."

"Oh, don't even try to change the subject," Zuri said, steering them toward the kitchen. "Coffee first, then details. All of them."

As Zuri busied herself with the coffee maker, Senait settled onto one of the sleek barstools, grinning at her friend's obvious curiosity. The morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

"So," Zuri said, sliding a steaming mug across the counter. "Jules, huh?"

"Jules," Senait confirmed, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. "Let's just say... those football skills translate well to other activities."

Zuri's eyes widened with delight. "I knew it! The way you two were moving together... I had to do a double-take!"

"Says the woman who was basically giving Aurélien a lap dance by the end of the night."

"Hey, he's my fiancé, I'm allowed!" Zuri protested, laughing. "But seriously, I've never seen you like that with anyone. Jules must be something special."

Senait took a long sip of her coffee, considering. "He's... interesting," she admitted. "But don't go planning another engagement party just yet."

As Zuri leaned forward, eager for more details, Senait settled in for what promised to be a thorough interrogation. At least the coffee was good.

"You can't just ghost people like that, Sen," Zuri was saying, her voice taking on that familiar lecturing tone. "Especially not good guys like Jules."

Senait shrugged, taking another long sip of her coffee. "I'm focused on myself right now. Not looking to complicate things."

"That's such a cop-out and you know it—"

The sound of the front door opening cut off Zuri's impending sermon. Aurélien's voice echoed through the house, followed by footsteps and – Senait's stomach did an unexpected flip – a familiar French-accented laugh.

Of course, Senait thought, maintaining her composure even as her pulse quickened. Of course he'd be with Aurélien.

Jules appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Aurélien, looking unfairly good in track pants and a fitted t-shirt. His hair was damp from a shower, and in his hands were her abandoned Louboutins.

"I found this, Cinderella," Jules teased, his eyes dancing with amusement as he held up the heels.

Senait rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "How original," she drawled, sliding off the barstool to retrieve her shoes. "I'm sure you've been waiting all morning to use that line."

"Actually, I had a few others prepared," Jules replied, not releasing the shoes immediately when she reached for them. Their fingers brushed, and Senait tried to ignore the tiny spark of electricity that shot through her at the contact. "But I thought I'd save those for when you're not running away."

From the corner of her eye, Senait could see Zuri and Aurélien exchanging looks. Aurélien had moved to lean against the counter, his arm around Zuri's waist, both of them watching the exchange like it was their favorite TV show.

"Bold of you to assume I'm running," Senait said, finally securing her heels. "Maybe I just had better things to do."

Jules stepped closer, just enough to make her have to tilt her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "Better than breakfast?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I know a place that makes excellent crêpes."

"Does that line usually work?"

"You tell me."

Senait was acutely aware of their audience, could practically feel Zuri vibrating with anticipation across the kitchen. But something in Jules' steady gaze made it hard to look away, hard to maintain her usual wall of detachment.

"I don't normally do breakfast," she said finally, but her voice lacked its usual firmness.

"Lunch then," Jules countered smoothly. "Or dinner. I'm not picky about meal times."

A snort of laughter from Zuri's direction broke the moment. Senait glanced over to see her friend hastily trying to compose her face into something neutral, while Aurélien didn't even bother hiding his grin.

"Don't mind us," Aurélien said, raising his hands when Senait shot him a look. "We're just here for the show."

"Glad we could entertain," Senait deadpanned, but she could feel warmth creeping up her neck. This wasn't how her morning-after escapes usually went.

Jules hadn't moved away, his presence a warm, solid thing behind her. "So?" he prompted. "What's it going to be? Because I can keep going. I have all day, and Aurélien just restocked his coffee."

"You're persistent," Senait observed, turning back to face him.

"You're worth persisting for."

Zuri made a sound that could only be described as a squeal, quickly muffled against Aurélien's shoulder. Senait ignored her, focusing instead on the earnest look in Jules' eyes, the slight vulnerability beneath his confident exterior.

This could be dangerous, she thought. But for the first time in a long time, the danger felt more thrilling than threatening.

"Fine," she said finally. "Dinner. But I'm choosing the place."

The smile that spread across Jules' face made something warm unfurl in her chest. "Deal."

"Oh my God, this is better than Netflix," Zuri whispered loudly to Aurélien, who chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Senait picked up her coffee cup again, hiding her own smile behind it. Maybe mornings after weren't so bad after all.

Monday morning found Jules stretched out on his hotel bed in Clairefontaine, absently scrolling through his phone while his teammates' voices echoed from the hallway. His thumb hovered over Senait's contact for what felt like the hundredth time.

The weekend's memories kept playing through his mind: the way she moved against him at the engagement party, her quick wit, that laugh that seemed to catch him by surprise. And then... nothing. Radio silence. Again.

Aurélien had been sent back to his hotel in Paris with a foot sprain, leaving Jules alone with his thoughts. Maybe he should cut his losses. Women usually made it clear they were interested in him – perks of being a professional footballer – but Senait? She was different. Challenging. Made him work for it.

And maybe that's exactly why you can't stop thinking about her, he mused, remembering their verbal sparring, the way she'd match him comment for comment, never backing down.

Jules smiled despite himself. He'd always preferred the chase, and Senait definitely wasn't making it easy. His mind wandered to possibilities – maybe he could get her to Paris, or even Barcelona. The thought of showing her around, seeing that sharp wit directed at his favorite places...

Fuck it, he thought, hitting the call button before he could talk himself out of it.

One ring. Two. Three. He was about to hang up when—

"Hello?" Senait's voice came through, sounding both surprised and slightly amused.

"So she does answer her phone," Jules teased, settling back against his pillows. "How's New York treating you?"

A soft sigh. "It's there. I'm tired. Really not feeling work tomorrow."

"Public relations, right?" He couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice.

"I see Zuri's been running her mouth," Senait scoffed.

"Ease up on my sister-in-law. She's just being a good friend, looking out for you."

"She's trying to play matchmaker."

"And what if she is?" Jules challenged, his voice dropping lower.

"Listen," Senait started, and he could practically see her straightening up, preparing for battle. "You seem like a good guy, Jules. But I'm not looking for a relationship right now. And even if I was, the distance? Come on. You're in France, I'm in New York, then you're in Barcelona—"

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Jules interrupted, smirking. "We can be friends. Friends who occasionally fuck."

Senait's laugh burst through the phone, genuine and surprised. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse," he said, then added more seriously, "But I hear your warnings. I just don't give a shit."

"Jules—"

"How soon can you see me?"

A pause. "It'll be a while."

"Don't you work remote sometimes?" he pressed, remembering another tidbit from Zuri.

Senait's sigh was heavy with resignation. "Fridays and Mondays."

"Perfect. I'm going to wire you some money. Book a flight."

"No—"

"That wasn't a question, chérie. That was a demand."

Before she could protest further, Jules ended the call, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He immediately opened his banking app, then sent her a quick text with the transfer details.

His phone buzzed almost immediately:

You're fucking crazy.

Jules' smile widened as he typed back:

Crazy about that ass. Book the flight. 😜

Putting his phone down, he laced his fingers behind his head, feeling more energized than he had all day. Senait could protest all she wanted, but he'd seen the way she looked at him, felt how she responded to his touch. She might be running, but Jules was more than ready for a chase.

And he had a feeling the prize would be worth every step.

________________________________________

Senait slouched deeper into the couch, balancing her laptop on her knees as she clicked through another IT training module. The Parisian afternoon light filtered through the curtains, a constant reminder that she'd actually done it – actually let Jules fly her out to Paris.

This wasn't part of the plan, she thought, absently picking at the remains of her breakfast croissant. The past week had been a constant back-and-forth in her mind, her finger hovering over the "book flight" button more times than she cared to admit.

This was supposed to be her time. Finding herself, exploring her interests, having fun without complications. But then again...

You can have fun with a fine-ass footballer who wants to fly you out and dick you down, her inner voice reasoned. That's technically self-care.

She hadn't told Zuri about any of this. Her best friend had enough on her plate with Aurélien's sprained foot and her father being... well, being Ernest. Senait had never liked that man, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

At least the red-eye flight timing had worked in her favor. These self-guided trainings meant she could take it easy, and by 2 PM, she'd finally finished the last module. After polishing off her leftover breakfast, exhaustion hit her like a wave. She stretched out on the couch, telling herself she'd just rest her eyes for a moment.

What happened to be hours later, the sound of a keycard in the door jolted her awake. Before she could fully orient herself, Jules was already entering, still in his national team tracksuit with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You could've at least knocked," Senait said, voice raspy with sleep as she sat up.

Jules clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he dropped the bag near the bed. "Is that how you greet me?" His accent was thicker tonight, his voice carrying that commanding tone that made something flutter in her stomach.

Finally focusing properly, Senait took him in – he looked tired, a bit frustrated, but somehow still unfairly attractive. "Rough match?"

"Lost to Italy. 3-1," he said. "Not our best showing."

"I saw some highlights," she lied, having accidentally slept through the entire thing.

Jules shot her a knowing look. "The drool on your chin says otherwise."

Senait quickly wiped at her face, making him laugh. "Have you eaten?" he asked as he sat down on the other side of the couch, already reaching for the room service menu.

"Not hungry."

"You're going to eat now. I don't want you fainting later."

Before Senait could protest, he was on the suite’s phone, ordering in rapid French. She caught bits and pieces, enough to know he was ordering way too much food.

"Come here," he said after hanging up, patting the space next to him.

Senait shook her head. "I'm fine where I am."

"Senait." His voice dropped lower, taking on that tone that seemed to bypass her brain and go straight to her clit. "Come here."

Damn him, she thought, even as she found herself moving toward him. Jules wasted no time pulling her against his chest, arranging her exactly how he wanted her.

"I don't do cuddling," she protested weakly.

"You do now," he replied simply, his hand stroking slowly up and down her arm. "Relax."

Gradually, despite herself, Senait felt her body melting into his warmth. They talked about nothing and everything – his frustration with the match, her work, the best cafes in Paris. She found herself enjoying his company more than she wanted to admit.

He's annoying, she thought, even as she nestled closer. So bossy and sure of himself. But remembering their night together after the engagement party, how he'd taken control with such easy confidence, how he seemed to know exactly what she needed... maybe bossy wasn't such a bad thing.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Jules murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

"Just thinking about how annoying you are," Senait replied honestly, making him laugh.

"And yet here you are, in Paris, in my arms."

"Don't get too cocky."

"Too late for that, chérie." His voice held that dominant edge that made her pulse quicken. "I already know exactly what I want, and I usually get it."

Senait turned her head to look at him. Yeah, Jules definitely knew what he wanted. And God help her, she was starting to think she might want it too.

"You weren't like this at the engagement party," she observed, studying his profile. "All dominant and bossy."

Jules' laugh was low and rich. "Had to reel you in first, didn't I? Don't worry, chérie, you'll get used to it."

"Bold of you to assume I'll stick around long enough to—"

A knock at the door cut her off. Jules untangled himself from her, the loss of his warmth immediate and, annoyingly, noticeable. He answered the door with that easy confidence of his, greeting the waiter in French and gesturing him inside.

The waiter wheeled in a cart, lifting silver covers to reveal what was possibly the most luxurious version of comfort food Senait had ever seen – perfectly constructed burgers, golden fries, steaming French onion soup, and what looked like a sinfully rich chocolate dessert.

After tipping the waiter and closing the door, Jules arranged her plate in front of her with a flourish. "Want ketchup?"

"No, I'm good."

Jules pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror. "You're just going to rawdog the fries? No sauce at all?"

"Did you really just say 'rawdog'?" Senait laughed, picking up a fry. "And yes, I am. Die mad about it."

"Uncultured," he teased, settling back beside her with his own plate.

They fell into easy conversation as they ate, Jules telling her more about the match ("That ref was clearly wearing an Italy jersey under his uniform") and Senait filling him in on the office drama she was missing ("My coworker definitely scheduled these trainings just so she could take over my project").

Then, casual as anything, Jules said, "When we're done eating, I want you naked on the bed."

Senait choked on her Coke, barely avoiding spraying it across the room. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me." He took another bite of his burger, the picture of nonchalance.

Senait blinked slowly, opened her mouth, closed it again. She stared at him, but Jules just continued eating, acting like he hadn't just short-circuited her brain with his words.

The audacity of this man, she thought, even as heat pooled in her belly. She forced herself to focus on her food, very aware of the growing tension in the room.

They finished their food in charged silence, Senait taking her sweet time with the last few fries, Jules watching her with growing annoyance. When she finally set down her napkin, Jules fixed her with a look, his brow furrowed.

"Senait..."

"Yes?" She blinked at him innocently, as if she hadn't spent the last ten minutes deliberately ignoring his earlier command.

His eyes darkened. "You're testing me."

"I'm just enjoying my dinner," she said primly, examining her nails. The defiance was instinctive – she'd never been good at taking orders, even ones that made her pulse race.

Jules leaned forward, his voice dropping to that tone that seemed to vibrate through her. "I'm not in the mood for games tonight. The match has me frustrated enough." His accent thickened as he continued, "I told you where I want you. Don't make me say it again."

Senait remained in her seat, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't about to give up control that easily, even if part of her was dying to comply.

"Un." His voice was dangerously soft.

She crossed her legs.

"Deux."

Her heartbeat quickened, but she held her ground.

"Tr—"

"Fine," Senait huffed, standing up. As she walked toward the bed, she heard him mutter under his breath in French, something about fucking the sass right out of her.

Senait sauntered over to the bed, her hips swaying defiantly. She took her time undressing, piece by piece, her eyes never leaving Jules. Each discarded article was an unspoken taunt, a silent reminder that she wasn’t one to simply submit. Finally, she lay back on the sheets, her skin warm under the soft glow of the room’s ambient lighting.

Jules, still perched on the couch, watched her with barely restrained patience, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He rose slowly, crossing the distance between them, and pulled off his sneakers with methodical precision, followed by his tracksuit and then his underwear. Even though she’d seen his body before, it never failed to stir something deep in her.

He approached the bed, climbing onto it with a confident grace, settling between her legs. His large hands pushed her thighs apart, spreading her wide so he could take in every inch of her exposed pussy. His gaze was heavy, almost reverent, and he reached out to touch her, fingers trailing along her wet folds.

A low chuckle escaped him. "You’re always so fucking wet for me."

Senait’s breath hitched as he spit onto her pussy, the added slickness making her shiver in anticipation. And then his mouth was on her, lips and tongue working her in ways that sent sparks of pleasure racing up her spine. He sucked at her clit, teasing and tugging with his teeth before soothing with long, lazy licks. His fingers slid inside her, curling in just the right way that had her arching off the bed, a strangled moan slipping from her lips.

He added another finger, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her head spin. Each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his hand, was deliberate and skilled. Senait felt herself unraveling under his touch, fully understanding how addictive this man could be. He was so good at this, at drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling and gasping, her nails digging into the sheets.

Jules eventually kissed his way up her body, pausing to circle her nipple with his tongue, sucking lightly before continuing upward. When he finally reached her mouth, he kissed her sloppily, taking complete control. His lips claimed hers with a hunger that left her breathless, and she knew her mouth would be swollen later. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he devoured her, leaving no space between their bodies.

Pulling back just slightly, Jules slid off the bed to grab a condom from his tracksuit. Senait’s heart raced as she watched him, every movement of his toned body another tease. He rolled the condom on with practiced ease, standing at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes locked on hers.

With one firm tug, he pulled her toward him by her ankles. Her body slid across the sheets effortlessly, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his mouth hot and demanding. Then he lined himself up, pressing into her in one fluid motion, filling her completely.

Senait moaned, the feeling of him inside her overwhelming. He set a punishing pace, his thrusts deep and relentless, each one making her cry out. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, her breathless moans, and his low groans of pleasure.

"Look at you," Jules said, his voice husky, full of heat. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for this."

His dirty talk had her shuddering, her body tightening around him. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he kept driving into her, never breaking his rhythm. The power in his movements, the way he controlled her so effortlessly, had her surrendering completely, her mind foggy with pleasure.

Her small frame was no challenge to his much larger one, and all she could do was hold on, gasping and moaning as he held her tight. Her nails scraped down his back, and he hissed, the sound only spurring him on.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice a mix of English and the occasional French phrase, his words rough and dirty. "So tight, so perfect."

Senait’s world narrowed to the feeling of him, the heat and pressure and the way he filled her up. Every thrust pushed her closer to the edge, her mind a haze of desire. She was lost to him, and she never wanted to be found.

Jules’s grip tightened on Senait’s ass as he thrust into her with a controlled intensity, his body pressed so firmly against hers that she could feel every ridge of his muscles. The friction between them was overwhelming, pushing her closer and closer to the brink. Her moans grew louder, her hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor herself.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made her toes curl.

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "Yeah? You gonna come for me, bébé." The way he spoke, his deep voice dripping with authority, sent a shiver down her spine. His words were a command, not a question, and she could only nod, too breathless to respond.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck, his accent thick and his breath warm. "Let me feel you."

The combination of his thrusts, the heat of his skin, and the praise sent her spiraling. Senait’s body arched, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her cries echoed through the room, and Jules groaned, feeling her clench around him. He slowed his pace, drawing out her pleasure, his own body straining as he held himself back.

When she finally came down from her high, her limbs felt boneless, her body buzzing with satisfaction. Jules kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her curves, grounding them both. But he wasn’t done yet. His thrusts picked up speed again, his grip on her ass firm as he chased his own release.

"Fuck," he bit out, his voice tight with pleasure. With a final thrust, he came, his body shuddering as he carefully pressed her down onto the bed. They stayed tangled together, their breaths coming in ragged pants, skin slick with sweat.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the quiet rustle of the sheets. Jules pulled out gently, disposing of the condom and then collapsing beside her. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

Senait’s head rested on his chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over his skin. The silence between them was warm, filled with the afterglow of what had just happened.

"You’re something else, you know that?" he said, his voice low and still laced with a hint of his earlier desire. "So hardheaded."

She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against him. "So I’ve been told."

The Barcelona sun streamed through Jules' windows, painting his living room in warm afternoon light. His phone buzzed with a text from Senait, breaking her latest bout of radio silence:

How's it going?

A smile tugged at his lips. Three days of nothing, and now she pops up like she hadn't disappeared again. Typical Senait.

Jules settled deeper into his couch, memories of Paris flooding back. That weekend had been... intense. After she'd finally given in to his commands that first night, it was like a dam had broken. They'd barely left the hotel room, ordering room service between rounds of what he could only describe as the best sex of his life. He'd had her every way but loose – against the wall, on the balcony (thankfully hidden from view), in the massive shower, bent over the—

His phone buzzed again: Earth to Jules

He smirked, typing back: Just thinking about Paris 😈 💦

S: Stop that

J: Why? I particularly enjoyed that thing you did with your—

S: JULES!!!!

He could practically hear her exasperated tone, picture the way she'd roll her eyes even as a smile played at her lips. That was the thing about Senait – she tried so hard to maintain her walls, but he'd seen behind them. Seen the way she melted under his touch, the way she'd curl into him after, despite her "no cuddling" rule.

The pattern had established itself pretty quickly after Paris. She'd ghost him for a few days, then pop up with a text or call like nothing had happened. At first, it had frustrated him – he wasn't used to women playing hard to get, especially not after sleeping with him. But Senait wasn't playing anything. This was just who she was: fiercely independent, resistant to attachment, and absolutely terrified of letting anyone too close.

Their late-night FaceTime calls had become his favorite, though. She'd be in her NYC apartment, usually in some oversized t-shirt, hair piled messily on top of her head. No makeup, no pretense. Just Senait, raw and real.

"I don't even know if PR is what I want to do," she'd confessed during one such call, about a week after Paris. "It's my first job out of university, and everyone acts like I should be grateful just to have my foot in the door, but..."

"But?" he'd prompted, watching her fidget with her sleeve.

"But sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Like I'm doing what's expected instead of what I want."

"And what do you want?"

She'd gone quiet then, chewing her bottom lip. "That's the problem. I don't know."

Jules had listened as she talked about her frustrations – the office politics, the endless meetings about meetings, the feeling of being stuck in a role she'd fallen into rather than chosen. He'd offered advice when asked, but mostly he just let her vent.

These were the moments that got to him the most. Not the sex (though that was incredible), not the witty banter (though he lived for it), but these quiet moments of vulnerability. When Senait would let her guard down just enough to show him the uncertainties beneath her confident exterior.

His phone lit up with another text:

Work is kicking my ass this week

Come to Barcelona, he typed back without hesitation. Take a break 👀

There was a long pause before her response:

S: Jules...

J: I'm serious. You can work remote, no?

S: It's not that simple

J: I'll make it simple. Let me take care of everything

Another pause. He could almost see her internal debate playing out.

S: I can't just drop everything and run to Barcelona

J: Why not?

When she didn't respond immediately, he called her. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Because normal people don't just jet off to different countries on a whim," she said by way of greeting.

"Since when are you normal?" He stretched out on his couch, grinning at her scoff. "Besides, you did it for Paris."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It just was."

Jules hummed, unconvinced. "Sounds like excuses to me. You're scared."

"I am not—"

"You are," he interrupted smoothly. "You're scared because Paris was good. Really good. And now you're worried about what it means that you want to do it again."

The silence that followed told him he'd hit the mark.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he continued, his voice softening. "Come to Barcelona. Work from here for a long weekend. Let me show you the city. No pressure, no expectations."

"Just a friend showing me around?" Her tone was skeptical.

"A friend who happens to enjoy fucking you senseless, yes."

Her surprised laugh warmed something in his chest. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?"

Senait sighed, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Let me check my calendar."

"Check it now."

"So bossy."

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she corrected, but he could hear her typing. After a moment: "I might be able to swing next week. My team has another training thing, and I could do it remote..."

"Perfect. I'll send you flight details."

"I haven't said yes yet!"

"But you will." He let his voice drop lower, the way he knew affected her. "Because you can't stop thinking about Paris either."

Her sharp intake of breath confirmed it. "You're very sure of yourself."

"With good reason." He glanced at the time – he had training soon. "Think about it. But not too long. Barcelona's lovely this time of year."

After they hung up, Jules found himself scrolling through his photos, stopping on one he'd snapped in Paris without Senait noticing. She was standing on the hotel balcony, early morning light casting a glow around her, coffee cup in hand as she looked out over the city. Her guard had been down.

That's how he liked her best – real, unfiltered, not running from whatever this thing between them was becoming.

His phone buzzed one more time:

Send me the flight details. But I'm not promising anything.

Jules grinned. She could play hard to get all she wanted, but they both knew she'd end up in Barcelona. And this time, he planned to keep her around a bit longer.

TO BE CONTINUED…..

[emjayewrites]

Sakura Dreams 🌸 🇯🇵 🗼Jules Kounde (1/6)

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be a guys trip to Japan after a disappointing ending to Euros, however, fate had another thing in mind.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!blackOC (Ayo Pratt) (faceclaim joie.ade)

WARNINGS: cursing, poor google translations, football b.s & drama, flirty!jules, eventual smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @cocobutterqwueen @peyiswriting @that-90s-girllll @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0

A/N: Jules is in Japan, so of course I had to make a short series about it. Also, if you're a Jules girl, please let me know and I'll tag you in more chapters.

Read Part 2

The humid air of Tokyo hit Jules like a wall as he stepped off the plane, his muscles aching from the 13-hour flight. Narita International Airport buzzed with activity, a cacophony of announcements in Japanese and English filling the air. Jules popped a cherry dum dum in his mouth, the sweet flavor a small comfort as he trudged alongside his friends Wilhelm, AK, and his half-brother Nicholas towards baggage claim, navigating through the sea of travelers.

"Yo, ce décalage horaire n'est pas une blague (Yo, this jet lag is no joke)," Nicholas grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"C’est vrai (Facts)," Wilhelm agreed, stifling a yawn.

As they collected their luggage and made their way to the hotel shuttle, Jules couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement beneath the exhaustion. This trip was meant to be a distraction, a way to shake off the disappointment of the Euros and clear his head before the upcoming season with FC Barcelona.

The thought of training camp loomed in the back of his mind. Jules silently prayed for an injury-free season, where he could continue to prove himself and silence the doubters. But for now, he pushed those worries aside. It was time to live in the moment.

The shuttle wound its way through Tokyo's neon-lit streets, skyscrapers towering above them. Jules pressed his forehead against the cool window, watching as businessmen in crisp suits hurried past izakayas and pachinko parlors. The city was a mesmerizing blend of tradition and modernity, and Jules found himself eager to explore.

"Tu penses qu'on aura le temps de visiter les temples? (Do you think we'll have time to visit the temples?)," AK asked, his eyes wide as he took in the city.

"Bien sûr (Of course)," Jules replied. "Nous avons deux semaines (We have two weeks)."

Their hotel, a gleaming high-rise in the trendy Shibuya district, loomed before them. The lobby was a vision of minimalist luxury, all sleek lines and soft lighting. As they approached the check-in counter, dragging their suitcases behind them, Jules's attention was immediately captured by a group of women ahead of them in line.

"Merde (Fuck)," he muttered under his breath, the dum dum stick moving to the corner of his mouth.

There were four of them, all stunning in their own right. But one, in particular, caught his eye. She was fine as hell, with curves that reminded him of Pam Grier in her prime, and her skin was a deep, rich cocoa. Jules's eyes traveled up to her full, pouty lips, currently curved in laughter at something her friend had said. She wore her natural hair in two perfect puffs, giving her this effortless 90s vibe that he found irresistible.

Once the girls finished checking in, Jules couldn't help but notice the others as well. One rocked long braids that cascaded down her back, another sported a short curly style with faded sides that highlighted her cheekbones, and the third had a blonde weave that caught the light as she moved.

"Ce sont tous fraîches (They're all baddies)," AK whispered, nudging Jules.

Jules nodded, his eyes still fixed on the girl with the puffs. There was something about her, an energy that drew him in. As the group of women headed towards the elevators, she turned, and their eyes met. She flashed him a bright smile that made his heart skip a beat, just as the elevator doors closed.

"Jules!" Wilhelm's voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Hein? Quoi? (Huh? What?)"

Wilhelm rolled his eyes. "Ton passeport, mec. La réceptionniste en a besoin (Your passport, man. The receptionist needs it)."

"Ah, oui, bien sûr (Oh, yeah, of course)." Jules fumbled for his passport, his mind still on the mystery girl's smile.

They checked in, and Jules couldn't shake the feeling that this trip might turn out to be more interesting than he'd anticipated.

"On est à quel étage? (What floor are we on?)" Wilhelm asked as they headed to the elevators.

"Le quinzième (Fifteenth)," Nicholas replied, studying the key cards.

As the elevator doors closed, Jules found himself hoping he'd run into the girl with the puffs again. Tokyo was a big city, but stranger things had happened. With a grin, he chewed on the dum dum in his mouth. This vacation was already looking up.

Ayo stepped into the luxurious suite, her eyes widening as she took in the panoramic view of Tokyo's skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The city sprawled before them, a mesmerizing tapestry of lights against the darkening sky.

"Damn, this is bougie as hell!" Nikki exclaimed, her long braids swinging as she spun around the spacious living area.

Gigi ran her hand through her blonde weave as she glanced at the sleek furniture. "One Management really hooked us up."

"They better have," Nikki chimed in. "Our girl's about to take over the modeling world."

Ayo smiled modestly, still processing the whirlwind of the past few months. She had recently signed with One Management, a top-tier agency with offices across Europe, Asia, and the US. This trip to Tokyo was a gift from her friends and newest management team, a last hurrah before she moved from New York to London to further her blossoming career.

Symone, sporting a chic short hairstyle with faded sides, squeezed her shoulder. "After that Savage X Fenty show? Girl, the world is your oyster."

Ayo's recent success modeling for Rihanna's lingerie line had catapulted her into a new echelon of the fashion world. It was surreal, exciting, and more than a little terrifying.

"This trip is exactly what I needed before the big move," Ayo said, gratitude welling up in her chest as she looked at her friends. "Thank you guys, seriously."

Symone then made a beeline for the mini-bar. "Girls, we need to celebrate! Shots?"

Ayo chuckled, shaking her head. "Sy, it's barely 6 PM, and we're exhausted from the flight."

"Come on, just one!" Symone pleaded, already pulling out a bottle of Johnny Walker.

Gigi yawned dramatically. "Count me out. I need a nap before dinner."

"Same here," Nikki agreed. "What's the plan for food anyway?"

They quickly decided to eat at the hotel restaurant for their first night, too tired to venture out into the city just yet.

As Gigi and Nikki retreated to their rooms, Ayo found herself drawn back to the window. Her mind wandered to the cute guy with dreads she'd spotted in the lobby. There was something about him…

"Earth to Ayo!" Symone's voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Shot time, bitch!"

Ayo laughed, accepting the glass. "That's my girl," Symone grinned, sticking out her tongue.

They clinked glasses and downed the whiskey, the burn a welcome distraction from Ayo's jet lag. As they settled onto the plush couch, Symone's eyes welled up unexpectedly.

"Who would've thought four girls from Jersey would end up in Tokyo?" she mused, her voice thick with emotion.

Ayo nudged her playfully. "You say that every trip, SySy."

"Because it's true!" Symone insisted, pouring another round. "I'm just… I'm gonna miss you, you know?"

"Oh, SySy," Ayo crooned, wrapping her friend in a tight hug. "I'm gonna miss you too."

Symone sniffled, trying to lighten the mood. "You just had to go to boring-ass London, huh? Old 'God save the King' ass…"

Ayo rolled her eyes affectionately, well-versed in Symone's habit of using humor to deflect her true feelings. They chatted for a while longer, reminiscing about their journey from New Jersey to this moment.

Eventually, Symone yawned. "Alright, I need a power nap before dinner. Don't let me sleep too long!"

As Symone disappeared into her room, Ayo's phone buzzed. She sighed heavily when she saw the name: Jamaal. Her ex, who never seemed to get the hint. Without reading it, she deleted the text.

"Leave the past in the past," she murmured, taking one last shot. It was time to focus on her future – London, One Management, and all the possibilities that lay ahead.

With that thought, Ayo made her way to her bedroom. She barely registered the decor before collapsing face-first onto the plush bed, letting the exhaustion of travel and the warmth of whiskey lull her into a much-needed nap.

A couple of hours later, the girls emerged from their rooms, dressed for dinner at the hotel's restaurant. Ayo wore a sleek black slip dress that hugged her curves, paired with strappy heels. Symone rocked a vibrant yellow pantsuit that complemented her short, faded hairstyle. Gigi opted for a flowy floral maxi dress, her blonde weave styled in loose waves. Nikki chose a chic off-shoulder jumpsuit, her braids swept into an elegant updo.

As they approached the restaurant, they paused to admire its exterior. The design seamlessly blended modern aesthetics with traditional Japanese elements, creating an inviting atmosphere.

"We need a group selfie!" Symone declared excitedly.

Being the tallest, Ayo extended her arm to take the photos. They huddled together, striking poses and laughing. After a few attempts, they scrutinized the results, each finding something to critique.

"Let's try one more," Gigi suggested.

As Ayo prepared to take another shot, a slightly deep voice with a heavy accent called out, "Would you like me to take the photo instead?"

The girls turned towards the voice, and Ayo's breath caught in her throat. It was the guy from the lobby earlier. He was even more striking up close. His dreads were neatly styled, and he wore a Versace button-down with a few buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest and a gold Cuban link chain. His feet were adorned with stylish huaraches. The scent of his cologne wafted over, a intoxicating mix of citrus and wood.

"Damn, he fine as fuck," Symone muttered, not quite under her breath.

The corners of his mouth quirked up, clearly having heard Symone's not-so-discreet comment.

"Sure," Ayo said softly, handing him her phone.

He instructed the girls on how to pose, squatting down to capture different angles. Ayo couldn't help but notice his friends behind him - all different shades of brown, with fresh haircuts and equally stylish outfits.

After taking several photos, he handed the phone back to Ayo with a smile. The girls crowded around, nodding in approval at the results.

"Are they good?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Ayo replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

He nodded and rejoined his friends, heading into the restaurant.

"Ooh! He was feeling you," Gigi drawled, fanning herself. "That is a man, Savannah!"

The others laughed in agreement.

"Girl, you neva lied!" Symone concurred. "He a sexy little croissant, huh?" she teased in a fake French accent.

Ayo shook her head, laughing despite herself.

"And he had them eyes for you, Ayo," Nikki added.

"What? No, he didn't," Ayo protested.

"Yes, he did," her friends chorused as they entered the restaurant.

They spotted the guys waiting on a bench as Ayo approached the maître d' to check in.

"Good evening, how many in your party?" the maître d' asked politely.

"Four, please," Ayo replied.

The maître d' checked the reservation list and frowned slightly. "I'm afraid there's a bit of a wait. We have a group of four ahead of you, and it will be about an hour and a half before we can seat you."

Ayo's eyes widened in shock. "An hour and a half?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly.

She turned back to her friends, who were waiting expectantly.

"Girls, we've got a problem," Ayo said, rejoining the group. "They're saying it's going to be a 90-minute wait."

"What?" Symone exclaimed. "Are you serious?"

Gigi groaned. "I'm starving already. I can't wait that long."

Nikki shook her head in disbelief. "There's got to be another option, right?"

One of the guys from the other group - dark-skinned with a faded low cut caesar and also sporting a French accent - approached them. "Would you like to get a table together?" he offered.

"Sure!" Symone replied, perhaps too eagerly.

The guy then went over to the maître d'. "Excuse me, do you have a table for eight available?"

The maître d' checked his list and nodded. "Yes, we do. Would you like to be seated now?"

"Oui," he replied with a smile.

The maître d' gathered menus and gestured for the group to follow. "Right this way, please."

As they walked, one of the guys – the one with dreads who had taken their photo – motioned to the girls. "After you, madames," he said with a slight bow and a charming smile.

The girls exchanged excited glances as they followed the maître d', with the guys trailing behind.

"Here we are," the maître d' announced, stopping at a large, circular table. "Your server will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal."

As they settled into their seats, Ayo found herself next to the dreaded Adonis. Her heart skipped a beat as she caught another whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

"I hope you don't mind us crashing your dinner," he said softly, his accent making the words sound like music.

Ayo smiled, trying to keep her composure. "Not at all. Thanks for the save."

As the rest of the group got comfortable, Ayo silently prayed that her friends – especially Symone – wouldn't embarrass her too much during dinner. But judging by the mischievous glint in Symone's eye from across the table, Ayo knew she was in for an interesting evening.

The group settled in, perusing their menus in comfortable silence. After a few moments, the guy with the faded low cut caesar, spoke up.

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves properly. I'm AK," he said with a warm smile.

The tawny-toned guy with the tapered 'fro nodded. "Wilhelm."

"Nicholas," added the dark-skinned guy with the lowcut fade.

"And I'm Jules," said the cutie with the dreads next to Ayo.

The girls followed suit, each introducing themselves in turn.

As they finished, a waiter approached. "Good evening. May I take your drink order?"

Symone piped up immediately. "We'll have sake for the table, please!"

Half the girls groaned in unison. Nikki shot Symone a look. "Girl, are you trying to get us all fucked up?"

Symone pointed to herself innocently, while Gigi gave her a knowing look. The guys chuckled, exchanging comments in French.

Nikki glanced at each of them. "Hey, hey, none of that oui oui stuff, alright? English only."

Nicholas put up his hands in mock defense. "Damn, baby girl, we don't want no smoke."

Nikki gave him a flirtatious smile in response, and Ayo stared at Gigi in a silent plea to watch her cousin. Nikki was known for being a bit... frisky. If Symone was the loudmouth of the group, Nikki was the self-proclaimed "hoe" - and they meant that with all due respect.

The waiter continued taking orders. Jules requested a rum and coke, his accent making Ayo shiver slightly. She ordered a vodka, lime, and soda water.

Ayo felt Jules' arm rest at the back of her seat, his fingers lightly touching the exposed skin of her neck. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

"Y-yeah, sure," she managed to reply.

As they waited for their drinks, the conversation flowed. The guys asked what brought the girls to Tokyo, and they explained Ayo's modeling career and celebrating her recent signing to a new management agency.

"Savage X Fenty? That's impressive," Wilhelm said. "Did you meet Rihanna?"

Ayo nodded. "Yeah, I met the whole fam, including A$AP Rocky and their two little ones. The kids are adorable, and Rihanna's really nice."

Nikki chimed in, "Rihanna even follows Ayo on Insta."

The guys' eyebrows raised in admiration.

Symone turned the question back on them. "What about you guys? What brings you to Tokyo?"

The men exchanged glances before AK answered, "It's a guys' trip before work makes us all busy again." They seemed reluctant to elaborate, and the girls didn't push further.

The waiter returned with their drinks, including a large bottle of sake. With practiced precision, he began the traditional sake pouring ceremony. He held the tokkuri (sake bottle) with both hands, turning it slightly as he poured into each person's ochoko (small sake cup). The liquid flowed smoothly, filling each cup precisely to the brim without spilling a drop.

As the waiter finished pouring, he took their food orders. They chose a mix of family-style dishes to share and individual entrees. Ayo ordered the miso-glazed black cod, while Jules opted for the wagyu beef teppanyaki. The table also agreed on an assortment of sushi rolls, tempura, and a large bowl of ramen to share.

Jules' arm tightened around the back of Ayo's seat, and he leaned closer to her. Symone caught Ayo's eye from across the table, mouthing "Get it!" with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. Ayo immediately shook her head, inwardly reminding herself that the last thing she needed was to end up with a guy on this trip. That was more Nikki's style, and besides, even though they were sharing a meal, these guys were still strangers.

The waiter approached their table once more, arms laden with steaming dishes. "Pardon me, your meals are ready."

He began setting down the plates, announcing each dish as he placed them on the table. "Miso-glazed black cod for the lady, wagyu beef teppanyaki for the gentleman. And here are your shared dishes: assorted sushi rolls, tempura, and a large bowl of ramen."

The group's eyes widened at the sight and aroma of the food. "This looks amazing," Ayo breathed, picking up her chopsticks.

They began to dig in and the conversation turned to their plans for the next couple of weeks.

Nicholas swallowed a bite of sushi before speaking. "So, what's on your itinerary while you're here?"

Symone counted off on her fingers. "Well, we're doing Tokyo for a few days, then Kyoto, and finishing up in Osaka."

"No way," Nicholas replied, his eyebrows raised. "That's pretty much exactly what we're doing too."

Gigi's eyes lit up. "We should totally link up again! Since we're headed to the same places and all."

Wilhelm nodded enthusiastically, pausing from his tempura. "That's not a bad idea at all. What do you guys think?"

"I'm down," AK chimed in. "It'd be cool to explore with some new friends."

Jules smiled, his eyes lingering on Ayo. "Sounds good to me. I'd like to get to know you all a bit better." As he spoke, his tongue darted out to lick his top lip seductively.

Ayo felt her cheeks warm, and she quickly took a sip of her drink to hide her reaction. "Yeah, that could be fun," she managed to say, trying to keep her voice steady.

Suddenly, a buzz in Ayo's lap made her jump slightly. She glanced down at her phone to see a text in their group chat from Symone: "BIIIIIITTTTTTTCCCCCCCCHHHHHH!"

Another message quickly followed from Nikki: "Jules wants to eat you up like a creme brulee. Give that nigga a bite, sis! 😉"

Ayo shook her head, choosing not to reply to the thread. Her mind was racing. She knew she shouldn't do anything with Jules, but the way he occasionally caressed her skin, his intense stares, and those full lips he kept licking were seriously testing her resolve. She reminded herself that the least of her worries should be surrounding men; she needed to focus on her move to London and securing her bag.

As they continued eating, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and casual flirtation. Jules and Ayo found themselves engrossed in their own private conversation.

"So, London, huh?" Jules murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "That's quite a change from New York."

Ayo nodded, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine. "Yeah, it's a big move. But it's an amazing opportunity for my career."

"I'm sure you'll take London by storm," he said, his fingers tracing light patterns on her shoulder. "They won't know what hit them."

Ayo laughed softly, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "We'll see about that. What about you? What do you do?"

Jules hesitated for a moment before answering. "I'm in sports."

"Oh?" Ayo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind?"

A small smile played on his lips. "Football."

Ayo's eyes widened slightly. She might not follow European football closely, but even she knew that was a big deal. "Wow, that's impressive."

There was still a bit of mystery beyond his answer, but Ayo still found herself increasingly drawn to Jules. His charm was undeniable, and the way he looked at her made her feel like the only person in the room, but a small voice in the back of her mind kept reminding her of her goals, her impending move, and the complications that could arise from a vacation fling. However, she couldn't help but wonder what might happen if she allowed herself to give in to the temptation sitting right next to her. Jesus knows that it's been too long since she was physical with a man, and her rose toy needed a break.

Fuck me.

This was going to be a long ass two weeks.

After dinner, Jules settled the bill and the group hailed a taxi to head to a nearby club. This wasn't just any taxi—it was one of those karaoke taxis, complete with neon lights and a vibrant interior. The seats were plush, covered in shiny, colorful fabric that reflected the pulsating lights. Microphones hung from the ceiling, ready for an impromptu performance, and small screens displayed lyrics. Jules and Ayo squeezed into the very back seat, their bodies pressed close in the tight space.

Gigi and Symone began belting out Muni Long's "Made for Me," their off-key voices filling the cab.

"Twin… where have you been? Nobody loves me like you do…"

Nikki groaned, "I didn't come to Tokyo for this sad shit. Driver, can you play something else?"

The driver responded in broken English, "You like Megan Thee Stallion?"

A chorus of enthusiastic "Hell yes!" and "Yeah!" erupted from the girls. The driver grinned and switched the music, blasting Megan Thee Stallion's latest hits. Symone and Gigi immediately started twerking, teasing the guys to turn up. The guys laughed, hyping them up and taking their phones out to record the antics. Jules shook his head in mock disappointment, but his eyes were full of amusement.

When they finally made it to the club, AK tipped the driver generously before Jules covered their entrance fee. Inside, pulsing lights and thumping bass greeted them. They secured a small booth, and a server quickly approached to take their drink orders. Jules ordered a round for the table.

Jules found himself having a great time, but his attention kept drifting to Ayo. He loved the way her name felt on his tongue, and he couldn't help but admire how stunning she looked. The flirting at dinner had left him wanting more, her scent and their brief touches lingering in his mind.

Taking a big swig of his drink, Jules leaned closer to Ayo. "Are you having fun?" he asked.

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I am."

"You seem like the quieter one in your group. Am I right?"Ayo nodded again, and Jules chuckled. "Same here with my friends. Don't worry, I'll do the talking for both of us."

Ayo giggled at that, and Jules felt a warmth spread through his chest at the sound. He winked at her, enjoying their growing connection and the easy rapport between them.

The music shifted from the heavy bass of a hip-hop song to the smooth, infectious rhythm of Afrobeats. Jules inclined his head towards the semi-filled dance floor. "Do you want to dance with me?"

"Huh?" Ayo said, surprised.

"Dance? With me?" Jules repeated.

Ayo hesitated. "No."

"Please?" he pleaded, giving her a puppy dog look. "Here, take a shot to take the edge off," he said, pouring her a shot.

Ayo accepted the shot tentatively, then shrugged and downed it quickly. She grimaced as the alcohol burned its way down, and Jules chuckled lightly. "C'mon, ma belle," he coaxed, leading her to the dance floor.

"C'est parti, Jules! (Here we go, Jules!)" Nicholas commented, patting Jules on the back as he led Ayo to the middle of the dance floor. Jules gestured with his finger for her to turn around. Ayo did as instructed, feeling Jules's front flush against her back, his hips moving into a slow wine, tempting her to do the same with her hips.

"Fuck," he murmured in her ear, his whiskey-scented breath teasing her and making her arousal grow. "You're so sexy, Ayo."

Ayo smiled as his hands on her waist tightened and his hips ground harder against her, allowing her to feel his hardened dick at the crack of her ass. Jules inwardly hissed at the friction, taking a deep inhale of her scent as they moved to the beat.

He was hard beyond measure, his length straining against the confines and his pant's zipper and all he yearned for was to be buried to the hilt inside of her. After tonight, Jules knew it would be hard not to want her. He affirmed to himself that a little vacation fling was exactly what he needed before the season started.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Love Lies

Requested: yes

Prompts: 32) "Keep the jersey on."

                   43) "I'm in the better position to be giving a tantrum right now."

Warnings: smut, 18+, cheating (???), angst, kinda sad at the end

The final whistle blew and up stood Ana, clapping meloncholically along with the other fans in the Parc Montjuiic. Y/n stood up too to clap along. "What a game." Ana said, disappointed. "But Pablo is going to be so happy because of his assist." Y/n rolled her eyes as Ana mentioned her boyfriend again. Pablo Gavi was known to most as the young and upcoming talent in Barcelona, but Y/n knew him as her ex-roommates annoying boyfriend that would stop at nothing to annoy her. "Yeah, he will be so happy." Y/n said sarcastically. "Oh come on. Don't be like that. We still need to get you a date with Pedri or one of the other guys." Ana smiled, slinging her arms around her friend. "If they're anything like your golden boy, I don't want them."

Ana and Y/n stood awaiting Pablo and in the meantime rated different players for Y/n to date. Unfortunately for Ana none of the players peaked Y/n's interest, and thankfully for Y/n, Ana's boyfriend had finally showed up. "Hi babe!" Y/n looked at Pablo, more like a glare. "I'm so sorry about the game." Ana offered a soft smile to her boyfriend. "Yeah. It happens." He replied. "Y/n." She arched a brow. "Gavira." He chuckled. "I thought you said we weren't allowed to be like this anymore?" Pablo asked Ana. "I- You're not. Y/n what the hell?" Y/n rolled her eye set again. "Yeah, roll your eyes further. You might find a brain in that skull of yours." Y/n gasped. "Okay! Stop! This is no way to treat your guest, babe!" Both Pablo and Y/n looked at Ana confused. Guest? "Come back to ours!" Y/n looked back to Pablo, rolling his eyes at the sheer idea of her coming back for a few drinks. "I don't think that's a good idea-"

"Oh come on! Please?" Y/n looked into her friends eyes. She couldn't say no. "Only for a little while." Y/n replied quietly. Ana squealed and hugged her friend tightly. "My two favourite people having drinks with me. My lucky day." Ana chuckled. The trio got into the car and headed home. It was how their hangouts usually went; Pablo and Ana talking the whole time whilst Y/n sat in the back on her phone, practically forgotten about. Y/n was walking around the house aimlessly as Pablo and Ana did....couple things. She felt uncomfortable and the sooner she could get home, the better. Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts.

When you're coming up, could you bring me some perfume from the en suite plz???

Y/n looked at the text a bit confused, but wanting to be a good friend, she agreed. Y/n walked upstairs to meet the couple but make a quick stop at their bedroom. She stopped as she spotted Pablo rummaging around for something in the bathroom. "What are you looking for?" Y/n asked. Pablo looked back to her. "Just Ana's perfume. Do you know where it is?" Y/n looked confused. "But she sent me to-" The pair jumped as a loud thud was heard by the bedroom door closing. "I just say we tell her we can't find it. I've been looking for a good 5 minutes now and I don't think-" Pablo cut himself off as he tried to open the door. He pulled again, then started pounding at it. "What's wrong?" Y/n asked, clearly annoyed. "It's locked." He replied. "And how is it locked?" Y/n tried it for herself. "Ana! Ana, let us out!" Pablo shouted through the door.

"Let us out!" Y/n almost screamed. "Not until you two stop hating eachother!" Ana shouted back. "I'll go out to get dinner and when I get back, you guys better be on good terms!" Y/n and Pablo stood trying to convince Ana to let them out, but it didn't work. Ana still left and shut the front behind her. "That's at least a half an hour I have to be stuck with you." Pablo groaned and sat on the bed. "Believe me, I'm just as mad at this as you are."

"Why do you not like me? The sooner you tell me, the sooner we would be able to leave." Y/n said calmly, walking towards him. "Because Ana wasn't the friend I was meant to end up with that night." Y/n pulled a confused face, looking at the spaniard. "What do you mean?" She asked. "When we met? I didn't intend for me to bring Ana back to my place, I wanted you instead. But I saw you with some other guy so I didn't bother and I went home and slept with Ana." She was dumbfounded. "You liked me?" She asked, almost breathlessly. "I did, until you started arguing all the time. You got annoying and I couldn't get rid of you. You are Ana's best friend." They didn't know how but they had managed to get close, a little too close. Her eyes looked between both of Pablo's and do to his delicious looking lips, before trailing back up to his eyes. "Don't look at me like that." He whispered, sounding more like he was pleading. "Im not looking at you any differently than I always do." She whispered in turn. He had somehow gotten closer.

Pablo's hands rested on her hips, his lips closely shadowing hers. She felt his hot breath on her skin. "We shouldn't be doing this." Y/n whispered. "Then stop." He replied as if it was a simple solution for her. "I- Pablo. We-" She looked between his eyes. "I can't." His hands moved from her hips up her torso. "If you can't then stop me." He whispered. Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat. "Don't ask me to do that." She begged. "Why? Because you don't want me to?" She nodded shamefully. "Then we can keep this quiet and brief." Without much more warning, his lips began kissing the nape of her neck, her head falling back to give him more access. "Pablo." His name fell from her mouth like a sin. "Please." Her fingers ran through his hair, pulling and gripping the curled locks.

A wild grin fell onto his face. "For someone who can't do this, you're very eager." He said before kissing her hungrily, both lips fighting for dominance. "Listen, I am in the better position to be giving a tantrum right now. I just lost the game." Pablo walked backwards, with each step he hoped he would be landing on his bed and eventually he did. Y/n squealed at the sudden drop, making Pablo laugh. "That was funny." He chuckled. "Shut up." She said before delving right back in for another long kiss. Pablo turned them so he was on top. As each of his kisses deepened, he got harder and harder and it was difficult to ignore it. His hips began moving forward, trying his best to relieve the burning desire he held for her desperately. Y/n's hand made it's way down to his umissable bulge, a grin plastered on her lips.

"Dry humping? What are you a teenager?" Y/n challenged. Pablo sat up quickly and undid his zipper. "Alright then. If you want to be like that." He mumbled, before pulling at her trousers. Y/n reached down to the hem of her Barça shirt beginning to lift it when Pablo grabbed her hands. "No, keep the jersey on." Y/n let go of her shirt and smiled. "Whatever you want." She winked, before Pablo hooked her panties with his fingers and tugged. In one swift movement, the fabric was removed. He looked at her hungrily. "Fuck." He mumbled. "Well? Are you just going to stare or actually do something?" She asked.

Pablo's hands traced up her legs slowly, teasing her mercilessly. She whined as he pressed gentle kisses on her thigh, looking up at her almost coming undone from this alone. "Doesn't this have to be quick?" She asked, her hands falling to his head and tangling in his hair. "You're right for once." He rasped, taking his length out and lining up with her. The chain he wore dangled from his neck, prompting Y/n to reach up and bite it, grinning. In turn, this generally innocent act drove Pablo crazy and prompted him to delve into her. She gasped as Pablo took the first few thrusts gently.

She gripped onto his biceps as the noises slipped from their mouths like a sin. "It's okay?" He asked. Y/n nodded. "Quicker." With her permission, he sped up the pace. Her fingernails dug into his back, leaving light scrapes that would easily be gone by the morning. In turn, his teeth nicked and nibbled her neck, leaving marks behind. His name tumbled from her lips over and over again, whilst a chain of curses came from his. "You feel so good." He whispered, his thrusts becoming irregular and sloppy. She hummed in response. "Just for you." His hand traced a line down her middle, ultimately ending on her clit. He massaged it in a circular motion. He would be dammed if he finished before she did. Her mouth fell open as a soft gasp came with it. "You like that?" She nodded, not able to string together a sentence. "Good girl." He growled, turning back to kissing her neck. Her skin was ruined with dark lilac marks that looked like watercolour.

His hand travelled under the barca shirt, lifting it slightly. "You said-" His lips met hers. "Just be quiet and watch." He growled. She nodded in compliance as she focused on how his lips carefully drew bruises right down her core in an almost perfect straight line, his eyes looking up to make sure she was watching how he ruined her. "Can we make this any quicker?" He grinned. "Of course." His hips moved at a rapid pace as Y/n crumbled beneath him, each curse growing louder and louder until she finally came undone, her fingers pulling at his hair as she did. Pablo finished only a few thrusts after as the pair lay in eachother's arms for a moment, both just enjoying their highs, their foreheads resting off one another's. Their eyes opened to stare back at eachother and it settled in. They fucked up and they fucked up badly. Pablo swallowed the spit in his mouth and pulled out, heading to the en suite to grab a towel, chucking it to Y/n.

Y/n stared at herself in the mirror, lifting her shirt to see how her skin looked almost painted in red and purple. Pablo pulled up his trousers, stealing glances of Y/n as she stared at her reflection. "You should get ready. She'll be back soon." Pablo said quietly, his actions finally just settling in. "What do we tell her?" She asked. Pablo shrugged, heading to make the bed. "I don't know. I was thinking of ending it with her." Y/n turned, looking at him almost in disgust. "Over this?" Pablo scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. I've been thinking of doing it for a while. This-" He wagged his finger between them. "Just confirmed I don't love her. So, I am going to break up with her next week and thankfully-" He paused and looked over to her. "We will never see eachother again." She nodded along. "Good. I don't think you deserve a girl like her." Y/n said. "I don't think you do either." He replied and he was right. What kind of a friend does what she just did?

A knock startled the deathly glances between them. "Are you finally friends now?" Ana's sweet voice asked through the door. Y/n didn't answer. She couldn't. "Yes, yes we are." Pablo answered. Ana unlocked the door and smiled. "Oh thank God. Now we can be civil." She pecked Pablo's cheek as he looked right back at Y/n. "Of course. Anything for you." He smiled lightheartedly. "Are you gonna staythe night?" Y/n looked between them both. "I might actually head home. I have class tomorrow." Ana looked at her confused. "But tomorrow is Sunday?"

"Yoga. I do yoga classes."

"Since when?"

"It's a six week thing? First one is tomorrow." Ana nodded. "Okay, well have fun. Message me when you get home." Y/n hugged her friend. She felt like she was lying right to her face, she betrayed her. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ana." She smiled, anticipating the moment she could leave. "Okay, I'll see you later." Ana smiled, unaware of the sins that had happened just moments ago in her own bedroom.

[the-offside-rule]

Fermín Lopez (FCBarcelona) - loml

Requested: yes

Prompt: 46) "Are you going to undress me with your eyes or are you actually going to do something?"

Fermín x f1driver!reader

Warnings: it's just really long tbh oh and there's some fluffy smut, and then SMUT unprotected s€x, oral (f receiving), light cursing

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match and the season for Fermín Lopez. The crowd roared as the team celebrated their victory on the field, but Fermín's mind was already elsewhere. He high-fived his teammates, a wide grin on his face, but his heart was set on the upcoming reunion he had been longing for.

As he made his way through the tunnel towards the locker room, a wave of exhaustion hit him. The season had been grueling, filled with highs and lows, but now it was over. And that meant only one thing—he could finally see Y/n again.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Fermín stepped out to the press area, where the media eagerly awaited. He was greeted by a barrage of camera flashes and microphones, but he was used to this. He spotted a familiar face in the crowd, the team's usual reporter, and gave a nod in her direction.

"Fermín! Over here!" she called, and he made his way towards her. "Great game out there, Fermín, also an incredible goal. How does it feel to end the season on such a high note?" The microphone leaned towards him. "It feels amazing." He replied, his smile broadening. "The team worked really hard, and it’s great to finish strong." The reporter nodded. "So, what are your plans for the summer?" She asked, leaning in with interest. Fermín’s eyes sparkled as he answered. "I’m heading to Monaco to visit my girlfriend, Y/n. She has just raced there, and I can’t wait to see her. We’ve been apart for a month because of my games and her races, and it’s been tough. But I’m really excited to be there to support her."

The reporter's eyes widened with curiosity. "That sounds wonderful! How do you manage the long-distance relationship with both of your busy schedules?" Fermín sighed. "It’s not easy,but we both understand each other’s passions and commitments. We talk every day, and we support each other from afar. Now that the season’s over, I’m just looking forward to spending time with her and cheering her on."

"That’s great to hear. Best of luck to Y/n in her race, and enjoy your summer, Fermín." Fermín smiled."Thank you." He said, giving her a polite nod before moving on to the driver car park. As he walked away, Fermín couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. In just a few days, he’d be in Monaco, the picturesque city by the sea, watching Y/n race. He could already picture her, focused and determined, the way she always was when behind the wheel. For now, though, he had to wrap up his duties here. He answered a few more questions, signed some autographs, and finally, with a sense of fulfillment and anticipation, made his way out of the stadium. The warm evening air greeted him as he stepped outside, and he took a deep breath, savoring the moment. In a few short days, he’d be with Y/n. And that thought alone made everything worth it.

------

The flight to Monaco felt like it took forever, even though it was only a few hours. Fermín spent most of it restless, unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Y/n and how it would feel to hold her again. As the plane descended, his excitement grew, making him almost giddy with anticipation.

Finally, the plane touched down, and Fermín quickly grabbed his bag and made his way through the airport. His heart pounded with each step closer to the arrivals hall. As the automatic doors slid open, he scanned the crowd, his eyes darting back and forth. And then he saw her. Y/n stood there, looking as beautiful as ever, her eyes searching for him in the sea of faces. The moment their eyes met, her face lit up with a radiant smile, and she broke into a run.

Fermín dropped his bag and opened his arms wide just as Y/n leaped into them, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, spinning around slightly as the world seemed to disappear around them. "I missed you so much," Y/n whispered into his ear, her voice filled with emotion. "I missed you too." Fermín replied, his voice thick with the same feeling. He pulled back slightly to look at her, their faces inches apart. "I can't believe I'm finally here with you." She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Me neither. It feels like forever."

They shared a soft, tender kiss, the kind that spoke volumes about their time apart and their joy in being together again. After a moment, Fermín gently set her down but kept an arm around her waist, unwilling to let her go completely. "How was the flight?" She asked, her hand resting on his chest. "Boring." He said with a chuckle. "But worth every minute now that I'm here with you." Y/n kissed his cheek. "Come on, let's get out of here," Y/n said, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the exit. "I've got so much to show you and so little time before the race."

"So, where to first?" He asked, a playful grin on his face. "Well-" Y/n said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "There's this gorgeous hotel room with a seaside view if you'd like a tour." Fermín bit his lower lip, in an attempt to hide his grin. "Lead the way." He whispered, kissing her hand before she practically hauled him and his luggage out towards the exit of the airport.

-------

The couple walked through the bustling streets of Monaco. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the beautiful city, as the tourists and racing enthusiasts filled the streets, their conversations blending into a lively hum.

As they turned a corner near the harbor, a group of fans spotted Y/n and hurried over, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Y/n! Y/n! Can we get a photo with you?" One of them called out. Y/n laughed and nodded. "Of course!" Fermín watched as the fans gathered around Y/n, their admiration for her evident. One of the fans handed Fermín a phone, asking, "Could you take the photo for us?" Y/n looked over to Fermín, expecting a lighthearted joke about him not being asked for a photo but his reaction was the complete opposite. Fermín's heart swelled with pride. "Absolutely." He said, taking the phone. He backed up a few steps to get a good angle, making sure to capture the picturesque background of Monaco along with the smiling faces of Y/n and her fans.

"Alright, everyone say cheese!" Fermín called out, snapping a few photos. The group giggled and struck different poses, and Fermín happily obliged, capturing each moment. After taking several photos, Fermín handed the phone back to the fan. "Here you go. I hope they turned out okay." The fans checked the photos and thanked him enthusiastically. "They're perfect! Thank you so much!" Y/n turned to Fermín with a grateful smile as the fans walked away, chatting excitedly among themselves. "Thank you babe. You're the best."

Fermín shrugged modestly, but his eyes shone with happiness. "I'm just living my life as a Formula One wag. This is the way." He chuckled. "Easily the best wag." She smiled, taking his hand in hers again as they continued on their walk.

-----------

Fermín stepped out of the sleek black sports car, the warm Mediterranean breeze tousling his hair. The stars sparkled against the inky sky, casting a gentle glow over gorgeous city . He rounded the car to the passenger side, a smile playing on his lips as he reached for the door handle. Inside, Y/n watched him through the window. Fermín was always the gentleman, a trait that never failed to make her feel cherished. As he opened the door, he held his hand for her to take and of course, she did. As she gracefully stepped out, her elegant dress shimmering under the streetlights. As the young driver steadied herself, her fingers interwined with her boyfriend's. His eyes sparkled as he looked at her, admiration evident in his gaze. "You look stunning." He murmured, his voice soft and sincere.

"Thank you." She replied, her cheeks warming. "You don't look so bad yourself." As they stood there, sharing a quiet moment, a few onlookers gathered at a respectful distance. The romantic gesture did not go unnoticed, and soon, cameras were clicking, capturing the sweet scene. Fans who recognized both Fermín and Y/n couldn't help but smile at the adorable couple. They smiled and waved, interacting with the fans who stayed respectful towards them, something that the couple found they would only have in Monaco. "Ready for dinner?" Fermín asked, leaning in. "Absolutely." Y/n replied, her excitement matching his.

Hand in hand, they made their way towards the entrance of the restaurant. The ambient lighting and chic decor promised a cozy, intimate evening. They were greeted by the maître d', who led them to a secluded table by the window, offering a breathtaking view of the shimmering harbor. As they settled into their seats, Fermín reached across the table, his hand finding hers once more. "I've been looking forward to this all week." He said, his thumb gently caressing her knuckles.

"Me too." Y/n agreed, her smile brightening the room. "It's nice to have some time just for us." Their conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter punctuating their words as they enjoyed a delicious meal. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their perfect little bubble. After ordering, they took a moment to appreciate the view. The lights from the yachts reflected off the dark water, creating a magical atmosphere. "I was thinking today-" Fermín began, breaking the comfortable silence. "About how far we've come." Y/n tilted her head, curiosity shining in her eyes. "Oh? What brought that on?" Fermín shrugged, a fond smile playing on his lips. "I guess it's just being here with you. Monaco has always been a dream destination for me, and now I'm sharing it with the person I love. It feels like I'm in a movie or something."

Y/n squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't be mad if you proposed right now." Y/n joked as Fermín smiled lovingly, almost considering proposing, yet he nodded, his gaze locking with hers. "Do you remember our first trip together? We got lost in that tiny village, and you insisted we try to find our way without a map." She laughed, the sound like music to his ears. "In my defense, I had been in that town many times before. I didnt think I needed a map." Fermín bit his lip to hide his smile. "And how did that go for us?" Y/n shrugged as she sipped her wine. "Well, we made it out of that town, didn't we?"

Their meals arrived, and they took a moment to savour the delicious flavors. Between bites, they continued to reminisce, sharing stories and laughter. "Amor?" Fermín said, setting down his fork. Y/n across to him. "The whole point of this thinking is that the one thing I've found is that it doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing, as long as I'm with you." Y/n's eyes softened. "Babe, you're going to make me cry and this mascara was very expensive."

Fermín leaned closer, his expression turning serious. "I want to promise you something, Y/n." She felt a lump grow in her throat as she looked between his eyes and down to his lips. "No matter where life takes us, I'll always be by your side. Through every high and low, every twist and turn." He squeezed her hand yet again, reinstating his promise to her. "And I promise the same, Fermín. All that and more." Fermín brought Y/n's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss onto it. "Now, let's eat." He smiled, lifting his fork once more and beginning to eat as the couple indulged in new topics of conversation.

y/nofficial has added to their story

_ferminlopez added to their story

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Inside their apartment, the ambiance was peaceful and inviting. Soft lighting created a warm glow, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing background. Y/n slipped off her heels by the door, sighing in relief as she wiggled her toes. "Want some tea before bed?” Fermín asked, heading towards the kitchen. “That sounds lovely.” Y/n replied, getting up off of the sofa to follow him. She watched as he expertly prepared their favourite herbal tea, the familiar routine bringing a sense of calm and comfort.

"Now, amor. It's hot so be carefu-" Y/n gasped as the hot tea touched her tongue. Fermín began laughing, setting the two cups aside. "I just told you to be careful." He said, his hands now holding both sides of her face. Y/n's hands found his. "You should've been quicker." She retaliated playfully. "Or maybe you should slow down." They stood there for a moment, the quiet music Fermín had put on earlier in the background as they found themselves swaying along. "Today was wonderful." Y/n said softly. "Thank you for making it so special." Fermín moved a strand of hair from her face. "And thank you for being so unbelievably perfect for me."

Finishing their tea, they made their way to the bedroom. Fermín started to unbutton his shirt, while Y/n slipped into the bathroom to change. When she returned, wearing a comfortable pair of pyjamas, Fermín had already laid out her side of the bed and was brushing his teeth. She joined him at the sink, playfully nudging him with her elbow. “Scoot over, I need some space too.” He chuckled, making room for her. They brushed their teeth side by side, occasionally bumping shoulders and sharing amused glances in the mirror. When they finished, Fermín wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Ready for bed?” He asked, his voice low and tender, his lips pressing gentle kisses onto her neck, trying to tempt her back to bed with him. “Mmh, almost.” Y/n hummed, her head falling back slightly as she watched him through the mirror. “I just need to wash my face.” Fermín nodded, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Take your time." He grinned before cheekily slapping her ass. "Fermín Lopez Marín!" She squealed as he headed to the bedroom to wait for her.

Shortly after, Y/n entered the bedroom, she saw him staring at her, hungrily. He was propped up on his elbows as his gaze swiftly moved from her face down to the shirt she was wearing; his shirt. She leaned against the door, an amused smile tugging ag her lips. "Are you going to just undress me with your eyes, or are you actually going to do something?" She asked innocently. "Come here then." He replied. Y/n walked slowly towards him, their eyes not daring to dart away from one another. She stopped at the end of the bed before crawling up towards Fermín. His breath caught in his throat as she climbed on top of him, her hands exploring his bare chest as he looked up to her in complete awe that someone could be this beautiful. His lips needed to taste hers. And so, he bridged the gap between them. Y/n's fingers tangled in his her as Fermín's hands roamed Y/n's body. Their kisses became deeper and deeper. Y/n found herself moving her hips, desperately trying to find some form of friction.

She felt him smile into their kiss. "Please, let me." He whispered into her lips. Y/n hummed. Fermín reached down to undo the string of her shorts as Y/n promptly helped him to take them off. As Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, Fermín had managed to flip them both over so he was now on top. His lips trailed away from hers, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down her body. A smile tugged at her lips as he kissed both of her thighs, looking up at her just as he always did. "Ready?" He asked. Y/n nodded. He always asked, it was his way. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable. He was completely and utterly obsessed.

His tongue licked up her slit sending a shiver down her spine. She arched her back with the sudden pleasure she was receiving and the gorgeous sounds leaving her mouth was all Fermín needed to know she was doing alright. His tongue slid in and out of her, his nose rubbing off her clit every so often. Her head fell back as she felt her core tightening. "Fermín." Y/n whimpered. "You're doing good so far, amor." Y/n sighed, smiling and caressing the strands on hair on his head. Her mouth fell open as she felt herself coming closer and closer to her high. "Ferm- Fermín." She moaned. He kept at his pace, lifting his eyes up to look at her as she came undone. She grabbed the bed sheets, her knuckles turning white as she crumbled, moans tumbling from her as Fermín kissed back up her body until he reached her lips once again. "Are you okay?" He asked gently. Y/n ran her fingers through her hair, nodding. "I'm okay, but I need more of you."

Fermín reached down to his boxer shorts, quickly taking them off and aligning himself with Y/n. His lips licked with her's as he pushed in, muffling her moans. "Good girl." He muttered into her lips. He waited until she adjusted to him, her arm hooking around his shoulders. She nodded, Fermín began to roll his hips against hers as their forehead leaned onto one another. Her hand reached up behind his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Her eyes rolled shut as Fermín started slowly. He remembers their first time together, Y/n got hurt and since then, he's always started slowly until she says she wanted more. He watched her face carefully as he focused on giving her as much pleasure as she gave him. "Fermín, you can go faster." She whispered. Fermín's head fell to the crook of her neck, his hips jolting forward that bit faster and deeper, hitting a different spot than before. She planted kisses on his cheek, a form of reassurance that she was okay. Fermín however felt himself coming close. He didn't want to finish before she did but Y/n could feel him inside of her. She could tell how his hip movements grew irregular and needy and how his pants turned to groans. "Are you close, love?" Y/n purred in his ear. He groaned upon hearing her voice, not being able to give any answer other than a hum. "Come on, love. You're doing so well." That was more or less all he needed for him to climax.

"Mierda. I-"

"That's okay." She smiled, her fingers caressing the side of his face. He looked down at her confused. "Inside you? With no protection?" Y/n shrugged. "You're my boyfriend. I don't mind." Fermín smiled, pecking the tip of her nose. "How about we get you to finish then, yes?"

"I already did."

"No, no. I mean together. I want to feel you." Y/n looked between his eyes, chuckling. "You don't think you being in me already is you feeling me?" Fermín and Y/n burst into a small fit of giggles. "Okay, okay. We can go another round." Fermín's smile faded as he took one of her legs and placed them over his shoulder. Y/n's brows raised. He had never done this position before, but she trusted him completely. His hips rolled forward once again, hitting a spot in her that had never been hit before. "Oh my god." The two of them let out a synchronised sigh. Y/n's hands flung to Fermín biceps, gripping and leaving behind white scratch marks on his tanned skin. He once again sped up, drilling into her like he never usually did, but in her current state, Y/n couldn't complain; she enjoyed it too much. "Fermín, I'm close!" She nearly screamed. Fermín gripped her hips, pulling her down to meet him. She felt her core tightening as she grew closer and closer to her orgasm. "Fermín, oh my god!" She screamed. "Hold on for me, princesa." He murmured. "I'm close too." Y/n winced. "I don't know if I can."

"I know you can. You're already doing so well for me." It took everything in her to not cum, waiting and waiting for Fermín to tell her he was about to finish. She grew more and more sensitive, eager to reach her orgasm and then finally, Fermín could feel himself twitching. "Coño. Tan bonita cuándo dentro de ti." While she only understood a little Spanish, it always pit her over the edge and this time was no different. She finally let go and let herself come crumbling beneath him as he held her in his arms doing the exact same thing. Their sweaty foreheads rested against eachother as they rode out their orgasms, panting and catching their breath.

He pulled out gently and headed for the bathroom to grab a towel. "Im sorry if it was too much." He whispered as he helped to clean her up. "Sorry? I enjoyed it." She smiled back. He pecled her lips lovingly before chucking the towel into a small wash basket. He walked back to the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto his chest.

"So, you enjoyed it?" Fermín chuckled. Y/n looked up. "Yup. Best sex of my life." She replied. "Ah so I'm doing better." Y/n giggled. "You could say that." He grinned, looking down towards her, pure adoration in his eyes like always. "I was writing my wedding vows in my head that whole time." Y/n burst out laughing at the joke. "You're such an idiot!"

"Yeah, but you love me." Y/n shrugged. "That's true. And I assume you love me?" Fermín nodded. "Of course I do."

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Coffee Date

Requested: yep

Prompt: Coffee date with Gavi

Warnings: none

Y/N sighed as she stacked her books on her dorm room desk, exhausted from a morning of back-to-back classes. College was a different beast from what she remembered, but she was determined to stay focused this semester. The knock at her door broke her thoughts. "Quién es?" She called, trying not to sound too distracted. "Gavi. I’ve got a surprise!" Pablo’s voice filtered through the door. Her heart leaped. It had been a while since she’d seen her friend, with him recovering from his injury and training to get back on the field. She quickly opened the door to find him standing there with a smile, holding two takeaway coffee cups.

"Gavito!" Y/N beamed, pulling him in for a hug. "What are you doing here?" She asked. "Te dije que te sorprendería. Thought you could use a coffee break." He winked, handing her one of the cups. "Perfect timing. I swear these exams are killing me," she groaned, grabbing the coffee eagerly. Pablo laughed. "Let’s go sit outside, you need some air." They walked to a nearby park bench, the sun casting a warm glow over the campus. "So, tell me-" She started as they sat down. "How’s it feel to be back playing?"

He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back. "Es lo mejor. No te das cuenta cuánto lo extrañas hasta que estás fuera for so lonv. But now that I’m back, I feel stronger, ready to prove myself otra vez. The team’s been really supportive too." He smiled. They started speaking Spanglish a while ago since Y/n spoke English fluently after moving to Barcelona when she was younger and Pablo needed to learn english, so their compromise? Spanglish.

"I’m sure they missed you. Everyone did. I saw your name trending so many times on Twitter." Gavi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, pero you know how it is. Fans can be... intense sometimes." They continued talking for a while, catching up on everything from football to Y/N's exams. The ease of conversation made it feel like no time had passed. But soon, she noticed some people nearby whispering and glancing their way. "Is it just me, or are we being stared at?" Y/N asked, lowering her voice. Pablo looked around, his brow furrowing slightly. "Eh, puede ser. Or maybe they recognize me." Y/N rolled her eyes. "Of course. Mr. Famous."

Just as she said it, a group of teenage fans walked by, snapping a quick photo of them. Pablo didn't seem to mind, but Y/N felt her stomach twist. She wasn’t used to this level of attention. "Qué pasa?" Pablo asked, noticing her expression. "I don’t know, I guess I'm just not comfortable with all the attention." She admitted. "I like being normal."

"Don’t worry, no es gran cosa." He said, trying to reassure her.

But within hours, the picture was all over social media. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok—you name it. The photo of them sipping coffee and chatting was everywhere. Fans were speculating about their relationship, and the reactions were mixed.

They’re cute together!

Omg she's so pretty!

Ew wtf??

Gorgeous!!!

Love her style ❤️

Who even is she?

Others weren’t as kind:

Who is she? Gavi could do better....

Y/N tried to ignore it, but when she walked into campus the next day, it was clear the photo had done its damage. People whispered as she passed by, and a few even pointed her out. Some smiled, others looked jealous. It was overwhelming. Later that day, her phone buzzed with a text from Pablo.

Pablo: I’m picking you up in 10. We need to talk.

She frowned, wondering what he wanted to talk about now. True to his word, Pablo pulled up in front of her dorm ten minutes later, leaning out of his car window. "Vamos, get in." Y/N slid into the passenger seat, crossing her arms. "This isn’t helping, you know. People already think we’re together." Pablo laughed as he pulled away from the curb. "Ah, come on. Don’t be dramatic. They think we look good together." She glared at him. "I’m serious. This has ruined my chances with Pedri." At that, Pablo nearly choked on his laugh. "Qué dices? You with Pedri? That’s not happening." Y/N frowned, feeling defensive. "And why not? Pedri’s sweet, plus you introduced us." Pablo shook his head, still chuckling. "No way. I wouldn’t let you near him. He’s too... no sé, it would just be weird."

"Well, weirder than this?" She gestured between them, frustrated. Pablo didn’t answer right away, focusing on the road as they drove through the city. After a beat, he shrugged. "I like it when people think we’re together. It doesn’t bother me." Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. "Wait, cómo que te gusta? Why?" He shifted uncomfortably, his playful demeanor fading. "No sé. I just... think we look good together. That’s all." She pressed further, her voice softening. "Do you... like me, Pablo?" The question hung in the air, tension filling the space between them. Pablo glanced at her quickly, then back at the road, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"Yo... no." He said, almost too quickly. "No, I don’t. I mean, not like that." Y/N’s heart sank. She tried to hide her disappointment, but it was hard to miss the change in her mood. "Right." She murmured. "I get it." Pablo glanced at her, seeing the hurt in her eyes. He wanted to say more, but he was terrified of ruining things. What if she didn’t feel the same? They pulled up to his apartment, and the rest of the car ride was filled with awkward silence. Once inside, Pablo grabbed them both a drink, sitting down on the couch beside her. "Look." He said quietly. "I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just... I don’t want you to think that I don’t care about you. You’re one of my best friends, and..."

"And?" Y/N prompted, her voice barely a whisper. Pablo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And maybe I like you more than I should, pero I don’t want to mess this up." She looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "So... you do like me." He hesitated, but then nodded, the weight of his confession finally sinking in. "Sí. Pero...I was scared you didn’t feel the same." Y/N blinked, the tension in her chest releasing as she smiled softly. "Idiot. Of course I like you too." Pablo let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a grin spreading across his face. "Well... that’s a relief."

"Yeah." She teased, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You'rean idiot for not telling me this sooned." He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You're a scary girl."He joked. "I'm not that scary." He scoffed. "Jeep telling yourself that, cariño."

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Skating Rink

Day 3 of Christmas

"I hate this." Pablo said as he put one of the skates on his foot carefully. "Oh come on. I've had this booked since October. You knew this was coming up." Y/n, his girlfriend said. "What you didn't know was that I'd be unable to skate with the reason of, I don't know? Maybe my knee needing surgery?!" Pablo retorted. "And yet you still decided to come with me. I was going to ask your sister but you insisted." Pablo rolled his eyes and stood up. "Do you need the frame again?" She asked. Pablo scoffed. "There is no way, I am going to be using a frame that is made to help kids skate."

Pablo watched as his girlfriend skated rapidly around the rink as she simply used the kiddies Skating support frame. He mumbled to himself as he gently skated around before Y/n stopped going so quickly and simply skated alongside him. "It's a shame you had surgery. I think you would've been a pro at this if you hadn't had that injury." She smiled. "If I didn't have this injury, I'd be at training as we speak." She rolled her eyes. "No you wouldn't. This is like one of the few times a year you actually get the see me because I don't have college until January now." She grinned. "That just means I have more time to spend with you I the evenings." Pablo said, shrugging his shoulders. "Come on, I'll bring you for a skate. It looks less awkward when you have your girlfriend helping you." She said. "It may even look romantic." Pablo muttered. "Exactly. Now come on." She said and held onto him to bring his for a skate.

Without the frame was very different. He felt less stable and it didn't help that he still had a knee brace on either, but Y/n supported him enough to have little to now pain there. Y/n chuckled as she found her boyfriend holding onto her hands for dear life as she led him on carefully, making sure he wouldn’t fall. “Y/n! You’re going too fast!” Pablo shrieked as Y/n slowly went around a corner. “There is a child going around this rink quicker than us, babe.” 

"So?!" He shrieked. "It's okay! Look at me." She let go of him. He panicked, but then decided to hold onto the wall for support. "I can spin and go fast. I am so good at-" Just as she was spinning, she managed to slip. She felt a snap, followed by a sharp pain shooting up through her leg. Pablo laughed at first, before he heard her roaring in pain. "Y/n! Are you alright?"

Cut to an hour later, the pair were sat in the hospital. Doctors had been in and out showing her, her x-rays and offering her pain medication. She also needed ice for the swelling on her ankle. "Gracies." Pablo said as the last doctor left the room. "I can't believe I did this to myself." Y/n muttered. "Well, it can happen to anyone. I'm just happy you don't need surgery." He joked. "Well, it's not my ACL now, is it?" The pair grew quiet as the constant beeping, and people talking surrounded them.

"At least now we both can't use our legs. We have an excuse to stay home and watch movies all Christmas." Pablo mumbled. Y/n chuckled, before it turned into full on laughter. Not too long after, Pablo joined in. As the doctors came in, the laughter died down. She held onto her boyfriends hand and looked at him. "I love you." She sighed. "I love you too." He replied. I think it's safe to say the pair never went ice Skating again after that. They couldn't have a repeat ever again. And I don't think Y/n could ever live down how cocky she was.

[the-offside-rule]

Eric Garcia (FCBarcelona) - Chaos

Requested: yes

Prompt: Singing a lullaby

Baby Promptlist

It had been a whirlwind few months for Y/n and Eric Garcia. The birth of their daughter, Sofia, had been a beautiful moment, but the sleepless nights, constant feedings, and never-ending diaper changes had left Y/n running on fumes. "You okay?" Eric asked as Y/n groggily sat down at the litchen table. "Yeah." She mumbled. "Im just-" She paused, looking over at her boyfriend. "Look at me. I ust don't feel like I'm dping this right. It's feels like Im not doing anything right for Sofia, not to mention I have a breakout and no amount of cleanser or toner is fixing it." She rested her head on the table. "Nothing is working." Eric hated seeing her like this. She had been nothing short of incredible since Sofia was born, getting up most nights to tend to her, caring for her whilst Eric was away at training or matches. To him, she was almost like a superhero wifh everything she was doing.

"You need a spa day." Eric said, stroking his fingers through her hair. "Just you and your friend, no distractions, no responsibilities for a few hours." Y/n looked up and smiled, though her tired eyes betrayed her. "That sounds amazing, but are you sure you can handle everything with Sofia by yourself?" Eric puffed his chest out, feigning confidence. "Of course! It's just one day. How hard can it be?"

"Please don't say that. Those are famous last words." Eric stood up. "Come on, amor. I can do it. Besides, it would be nice to spend some time with her beflre the champions league starts up. I wont be seeing you both for days at a time flr some lf the games." Y/n sighed. The spa day sounded great, but she pondered pn whether or nlt Eric would be good at all this. The diaper changing, the baby feeding, all of it. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll go." Eric grinned, kissing the top of her head. "You deserve it."

A few days later, Y/n stood at the front door of their house walking Eric through everything. "If she gets hungry, I left some milk so all you really need tl do is prepare it. If she starts crying, walk around with her for a bit, that usually works. Any other problems call me." Eric chuckled. "I will not be calling you on your day off. This is a daddy-daughter day." Y/n smiled uneasily. "Y/n, I can do this." He reassured her. "You’re right. You can do it. But just, if there is a problem, you know-"

"Amor." Y/n sighed, kissing her daughter then turning to kiss her boyfriend. "I love you." He smiled. "I love you too. Ill see you later!" As Y/n and her friend drove off, Eric stood in the doorway holding Sofia, waving them goodbye. "We've got this, right Sof?" He whispered to his daughter, who looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. For the first hour, everything was smooth. Eric fed Sofia a bottle, changed her diaper, and even managed to get her to fall asleep. He plopped down on the couch, proud of himself. "Easy peasy." He muttered, grabbing his phone to message some of the guys. They begged him to join them in playing Fifa, but he said no. He couldn't, not whilst he was meant to be takong care of Sofia. He instead, prompted himself to call Frenkie. "Eric." The dutchman said. "What do you do when Mikkey is away and you have to take care of the baby by yourself?" Eric asked. "Hello to you too." Frenkie laughed. "Why? Is Y/n gone shopping?"

"No, no. I sent her and her friend on a Spa day. I thought she needed it." Eric replied. "She trusted you with a baby for that long?" Frenkie joked. "You're hilarious, but seriously. What do you do?"

"Well, right now Miles is just on some sort of playmat Mikkey picked up for him back home. He likes that but I dont think Sofia is able to dp that yet." Eric's brows furrowed. "Why?" He asked. "You dont have a playmat, do you? Anyway, when Miles was that little, I kind of just let him lie on my chest or just let him sleep. They need to sleep as much as possible. Plus, its nice to enjoy the peace."

But his moment of peace was short-lived. A shrill cry pierced the air. Sofia was awake—and she was not happy. "Mierda. I'll call you back!" Eric said quicly hanging up, just hearing Frenkie's laugh through the speaker. Eric hurried over to the crib, lifting his daughter into his arms. "Hey, hey, it's okay, baby." He cooed, bouncing her lightly. But Sofia’s cries only grew louder. He checked her diaper; dry. He offered her the bottle; she pushed it away. He walked laps around the living room, swaying her gently, but nothing seemed to work. The crying continued, and Eric could feel himself starting to panic.

"What do you need, Sof? What am I doing wrong?" He muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He tried walking into different rooms, tried playing soft music, but nothing helped. Sofia just kept crying. Defeated, Eric sank onto the rocking chair in Sofia’s nursery. He held her close, gently swaying back and forth, back and forth. He was about to give up when a memory popped into his head; Y/n, softly singing a lullaby when Sofia had been crying one night. "I guess it’s worth a shot." Eric murmured to himself. Taking a deep breath, he began singing softly, his voice shaky at first.

"Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Daddy's gonna buy you a mocking bird-"

Slowly, to his amazement, Sofia’s cries began to quiet. She stared up at him with her big eyes, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she slowly drifted off. Eric kept rocking, kept singing, even as her breathing evened out and she finally, blissfully, fell asleep. Eric sat there for a few more minutes, savoring the quiet moment, before quietly making his way back down to the living room and gently placing her back in her crib. He exhaled deeply, half in relief and half in disbelief that he had managed to calm her down.

Later that afternoon, Y/n returned, her face glowing with relaxation. "I'm back!" She smiled as she stepped into the house, her eyes immediately darting to the baby monitor in her hand. Eric was stretched out on the couch, a proud grin on his face. "How was your spa day?" He asked, getting up to greet her. "Perfect." Y/n said, leaning in for a kiss. "But I think the real highlight was seeing you on the baby monitor." Eric froze. "Wait, what?" Y/n laughed, holding up her phone. "Yeah, I had the baby monitor app open while I was at the spa. I saw everything. It was adorable. You singing to her, rocking her to sleep. I’m not going to lie, I have never been more attracted to you before in my entire life."

Eric’s face turned bright red. "You saw that?" She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Of course." Y/n teased. "And I loved every second of it. You did great." Eric relaxed, letting out a small chuckle. "I was a little out of my depth there for a minute. But hey, I think we made it through." Y/n kissed his cheek. "You’re amazing, Eric. Thank you for this. It means the world to me." He smiled, pulling her closer. "Anything for you. And for Sofia. But, uh, next time, maybe you can stay just a little closer to home?"

Y/N laughed. "Deal."

[the-offside-rule]

Frenkie De Jong (FCBarcelona) - Swift Coded

Requested: yes

Prompt: Reader is listening to Taylor Swift and she decides Frenkie is in fact Swift coded, leaving the dutchman very confused

Warnings: swiftie frenkie

As Y/n sat in the back porch watching the rain drizzle down and sketching on her study folder, her mind was elsewhere. While she listened to the Lover album from Taylor Swift, she found herself listening to each and every song and having a deep connection with them. Now obviously with the exception of London Boy, every other song rooted itself to Frenkie. She had met Frebkie in their younger years when she became an exchange student in Amsterdam to better her Dutch and met Frenkie by simply being partnered up with him for a project of some sort. However, she remembers distinctly being told he would possibly not even be around to help eith it because of his football. Nonetheless, he still showed up to the library everyday after school before having to head off to training or matches. And on the off-chance he had to travel away for a match, he still did his part on the bus over. From there, Frenkie missed their regular hangouts to finish the project so they started hanging out regularly and that turned into dates and surely enough, the began dating.

Her head turned as she heard the front door opening and closing followed by footsteps echoing throughout the house. "Lief? I'm home!" He called. "Out the back!" Y/n replied. Frenkie walked through the house and spotted his girlfriend sat on the porch with a cup of tea on the table whilst she sat scribbling away. "You know you need to stop writing on your study folder." Frenkie chuckled as he kissed her cheek and sat down beside her. "Mmh. I don't know. I think it's fun." Y/n replied. "Your final year in college and you're drawing."

"Maybe they'll appreciate the trees I'm drawing." She lifted up her folder to show the back, a forest sketched into it with pencil. "I don't think that would give you enough credit for get a degree." Frenkie grinned and looked out into the garden. The rain laced their comfortable silence before Y/n spoke up. "You're very much a Taylor coded man." Frebkie turned to his girlfriend with an arched brow. "Like her boyfriend. All the songs written about him is the closest comparison I can find to how I feel about you. You know?"

"But I'm not English?" He replied in a questioning tone. "Neither is she." Y/n said. "Yes, but isn't her boyfriend? I think I remember you telling me that on our first date." Frenkie chuckled. "I did not talk about Taylor Swift that much." Y/n scoffed. "You talked about her more than yourself I think." Frenkie joked. "In my defense, it was the one thing I knew how to talk about from my Dutch classes in school. I needed to talk about an interest for a full five minutes." Frenkie chuckled and interlocked his fingers with Y/n's. "If I could have the option to go back to when we met and fall in love all over again, I would love to do that."

"You're very romantic." Y/n smiled, starting to make their hands sway. Frenkie laughed. "What can I say? That's just how you get the girl." He replied. Y/n grinned. "I have trained you well, Frenk."

[the-offside-rule]

Frenkie De Jong (FCBarcelona) - Baking

Day 15 of Christmas

Frenkie and Y/n strolled through the festive aisles of the grocery store, their laughter echoing in the air. The couple exchanged glances, a shared excitement for their Christmas baking adventure evident in their eyes. As they gathered ingredients, Frenkie couldn't resist stealing a playful kiss, making Y/n blush.

Back home, the cozy kitchen transformed into a holiday haven. Frenkie donned a festive apron, and Y/n followed suit, the two ready to conquer the art of Christmas baking. Flour dusted the air as they playfully engaged in a flour fight, turning the kitchen into a temporary winter wonderland. The couple stood side by side in their kitchen, surrounded by the warm aroma of cinnamon and oranges. Flour dusted the air as they attempted to tackle the ambitious task of baking Christmas cookies together. "Ready?" He asked holding a wooden spoon. Y/n chuckled and lifted her whisk. "Always."

Their chosen recipes became a mix of shared tasks and stolen kisses. Frenkie expertly cracked eggs while Y/n measured out sugar, their synchronized movements a testament to their connection. The scent of gingerbread and cinnamon filled the air as the oven worked its magic, turning raw ingredients into delicious Christmas treats.

As Frenkie fumbled with the cookie cutters, Y/n playfully swiped a bit of flour from his cheek. Laughter filled the room, creating a festive atmosphere. The flour war escalated, resulting in a messy kitchen and uncontrollable giggles.

Amidst the floury chaos, Frenkie looked at Y/n with a mischievous smile. "I think we might need a Christmas miracle to clean up this mess." Y/n chuckled, wiping flour from their hands. "Well, miracles do happen during the holidays, right?" They shared a loving glance, appreciating the joy of being together in the midst of the chaos.

With determination, they began cleaning up the kitchen, working as a team. As they washed dishes and wiped countertops, their conversation flowed with shared memories and dreams for the future.

Frenkie, holding a dishcloth, teased, "Our baking skills might need some improvement, but at least we have fun, right?"

Y/n grinned, "Absolutely. Besides, it's not about the perfect cookies; it's about the memories we create together."

As the last cookie sheet was cleaned, Frenkie gently took Y/n's hand. "You make every moment special, especially the messy ones."

Y/n leaned in, sharing a sweet kiss. "Likewise, Frenkie. Merry Christmas."

In that kitchen filled with love, laughter, and a little floury mess, Frenkie and Y/n embraced the true spirit of the season.