JJ [on break]

21

[littleadaline]

♡ ⊹ ₊˚ master list ₊˚⊹♡

WELCOME

About the author

->Hi, I’m JJ

->21 y/o & a university student

->Currently writing for the Barça players

_______________

|| NOTICE ||

❕My work may contain content that is not suggested for minors, so please do interact with caution.

❕Currently not writing smut.

❕Due to being a university student and working throughout the week and weekends, I unfortunately cannot guarantee a publishing schedule.

❕❕REQUESTS ARE CLOSED ATM❕❕

PLAYERS

[P.G8]

[P.G6]

[F.L16]

[F.T7]

[J.K23]

[M.G38]

-Mon rayon de soleil

[littleadaline]

Jules’ Masterlist:

Needed

Mister Romantic

[littleadaline]

Mister Romantic [J.K23]

Warning(s): none that i can think of!

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: other than it was written in 3 hours, i am insanely sleep deprived, and it may contain some sleep deprivation induced mistakes ;) anywho, it’s nearly 6 AM, i have 3 finals to study for and 1 race to watch. Bonne fucking nuit les copains!

A/N 2: I added a hyperlink or whatever you call it for [redacted but SFW] for my visual readers out there. It will be underlined in the text!!

—————————————————

The football season had come and gone. You were finally relaxing after travelling on and off with the team, handling the media communications, scheduling the press conferences. You sighed as you rolled out of bed, the sun tickling your face across the blinds. You swiped your hand to your left, patting down the spot next to yours. Empty…That’s odd. You quietly rolled out of bed, comfortably stretching your aching body. The blinds were promptly opened, light flooding the room as you embraced the new day. Your stomach grumbled, your nose dancing at the smell of something sweet coming from the kitchen. You grabbed your phone, before wrapping yourself in a light blanket and walking out of the room. Strutting into the kitchen, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight. Standing with his back to you, there he was shirtless, his hips slowly dancing to older R&B tunes. Sensing a shift in the air, accompanied by the faint scent of your body mist, he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, greeting you with a smile.

“Bonjour mon cœur.” He rushed to place a kiss to your temple, his hands snaking around your collarbone to pull you in closer. “How did you sleep? I did not mean to wake you up this early.”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist; 8:25 AM.

“It’s okay,” You sighted lightly leaning into his embrace. Jules kept a hand around your collarbone while the other stirred around whatever was in the pan. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” You teased the French player.

His chest rose up and down from his laughter, the vibrations creating a fuzzy feeling that spread across your body.

“I’m trying to make pancakes.” His face contorted with confusion. “I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” He sheepishly confessed. “I even bought fresh oranges to make hand pressed juice, no pulp. Just how you like it.” He tried to give you a peck on the lips, only for you to pull away.

“Morning breath.” You excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

Your mind kept wandering as you washed up.

I know why he is doing this today of all days, you thought to yourself as you spit the toothpaste out. I wonder what else he has planned for today, you thought, raking a hand through your hair. You had heard of people whose experience had gone totally wrong and you prayed it wouldn’t be the case for you guys, you worriedly though to yourself.

When you finally exited the bathroom, Jules was sitting at the kitchen island, waiting for you. Seeing your shadow appear from the hallway, he hurriedly put his phone away, but not before you could get a quick glance at his panicked expression. Weird… You thought to yourself once again.

“Can I kiss you now?” He teased you. You nodded at him before he leaned it to press a quick but delicate peck to your lips.

“What has chef Koundé prepared to accompany today’s breakfast?” You asked, unable to tear your eyes away from the plate.

“We have fluffy vanilla pancakes, doused with the perfect amount of maple syrup, and finally, topped with fruit slices. No cantaloupe or grapes for ma’am.” He gestured at your plate before comparing it to his.

“Thank you, my love.” You rested your head on his shoulder before digging in.

The breakfast went by almost quietly, the sound of clattering cutlery accompanied by your satisfied hums. You and Jules often did that, eat in silence. It was an opportunity to recharge your personal batteries before unwinding for the night. Ever since the beginning of your relationship, neither of you felt the need to bring work home, opting to make your house a work-free zone. After all, you worked alongside one another almost every day. After both plates were cleared, you cleaned up the island, opting to set the plates down in the sink. Jules jumped on the dishes, shooing you out of the kitchen.

“Why don’t you go relax a bit? I’ll come join you after I finish the dishes.” He shouted across the kitchen.

You walked back to your bedroom where the scent of sleep welcomed you back in. The bed was messy; the decorative pillows sprawled across the floor in a symphony of fabrics. You sat down on the bed, trying to find the energy to start cleaning the room. You lived in Jules’ house, having decided to move in together almost 2 years ago. Yet, your heart was keen on keeping the house you were living in prior to your relationship, to your move. Having both struggled with your finances when growing up, you collectively decided to keep one house in your name, and one in Jules’. You had promised to buy your forever home once married, viewing the joint purchase of a new house as the best way to start your new chapter together, a place for you to make into a home.

Consumed by your thoughts, you barely heard the door of the bedroom creak open, Jules’ body dropping next to you with a heavy ‘plop’.

“What’s on my smart, beautiful lady’s mind?” He scooted closer, his hands resting below your jaw, thumb faintly caressing your cheeks. “Mh?”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. You were mesmerized by the way his eyes flickered with glee and love every time you were the subject of his attention.

“How I love being in your arms.” You giggled, leaning into his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around your body, pulling you as close as possible. Unable to resist, you closed your eyes, the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep for the second time today.

———————

Hours went by before you woke up again, this time with Jules sleeping soundly next to you. His left arm was slung around your waist, fingers softly digging into your skin. You heard the covers shuffle before a deep voice filled the silence in the room.

“I guess we both needed that nap.” He confessed, stifling a yawn. “You’re such a loud snorer.” He faked his outrage, dramatically put his hand to his forehead.

“I’m not!” You lightly tapped him on the shoulder, embarrassingly burying your head in his chest and under the covers.

“You had the foundations of the house shaking, I thought I was finally experiencing my first earthquake. Had we been in California, I swear I would have thought it was the ‘Big One’.” He lightheartedly teased you.

“Stoooop.” You jokingly begged him, your cheeks sore from laughing so much.

“I hope our kids don’t inherit your snoring habits.” He innocently said, unaware of the vicious attack awaiting him.

Faking offence, you retaliated.

“I hope our kids don’t inherit their dad’s humongous feet. That shoe size of yours is absolute madness. Every time I want to buy you shoes, it feels like going on a wild goose chase. You need feet reduction surgery.” You exploded in a fit of laughter at Jules’ expression.

“You know what they say about men with big feet, right? Big di-”

“Jules!” You squealed in disbelief, grabbing your pillow from behind you and lightly smacking him.

You both took a moment to calm down, your breaths finally going back to normal. You were still facing one another, unable to look elsewhere. Jules’ lips were curled up in a genuine, love-struck smile.

“So… You want to have my kids?” He teased you, knowing damn well you would give him 100 kids if possible.

“Nah, you got those giant feet. Your genes are gonna have my kids stomping on the floor at the age of 1.”

“What are you on? Our kids will be advantaged because of my feet genetics. They will be super fast on the field, gonna carry the Koundé name across the best European clubs.”

“What if they don’t want to follow your footsteps?”

“I’m sure the firehouse across the neighborhood will be happy to take them in.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You broke into a fit of laughter, tears rolling down the corners of your eyes.

“No but in all seriousness, I would love to have a family with you.” You confessed. “I dream of the whole ‘getting married, having kids, a dog, and the house with a fence’ thing.”

A silence hung between the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable but rather, familiar. You did not need a verbal response to know that you were both on the same page.

“But, as much as I would love to have a family with you, I don’t feel ready to cross this line yet. I long for the day where two smaller heads of hair will come rushing to the door to welcome me after a long day of work, but I wish to savour our relationship, us, a bit longer.” You confessed.

Jules listened carefully, your need for a bit more time as a couple resonating perfectly with how he felt. He didn’t mind having kids later in life, as long as it got to be with you. Contrary to what he had seen or heard from his friends and colleagues, Jules knew your paths were destined to be intertwined beyond the terms of boyfriend and girlfriend long before you two ever spoke to one another. To say Jules loved you was a lie. He worshipped every move you made, every word to have ever left your lips. He worshipped your intelligence, and the goodness that surrounded you.

His hand rested on your lower back. Jules’ mind was racing at the thought of disrupting the routine you had kept as a couple for the past few years.

“I know you’re a woman whose goals are always set in stone. And I wish to highlight how much I respect that, how beautiful I find it to see you, so goal driven. But I see something wrong with what you’re asking of me, of us, and I cannot ignore that.”

He pulled away, blindly rummaging through his bedside table, nervously pulling a neatly wrapped box. He sat up as your eyes scanned his face for any hint of sarcasm.

“I had originally planned to do this over dinner, or a walk on the beach… Something more romantic than…this.” He gestured with his free hand. “But I quickly realized that it wasn’t authentic to who we are as people and as a couple. I like how easy it is to love and to feel loved with you. I like how… how we can take anything and turn it into a discussion filled with jokes that will bring us to tears.”

You looked up at him, his glossy eyes meeting your surprised ones.

“You know, when it was announced that you were taking over the media position, my heart fluttered. Before I had even seen your face or even introduced myself to you, my soul knew that my life would not ever be the same again. You are the best partner I could have ever, ever, ever, asked for.” You were at a loss for words. The more Jules rambled, the dizzier you felt.

“I knew since the moment I saw your smile across the room that I wanted to give you the wedding of your dreams, the kids, the dog, and the house with a fence.” Your eyes danced between his teary eyes and the box he was holding so tightly against his chest, you were afraid it was going to break. He fiddled with the box, his hands shaking as he struggled to open it. Your hands laid gently on his, your body slowly leaning onto his.

“It’s okay. Take your time, my love.” You whispered against his lips, stealing a shy kiss from him.

He cleared his throat.

“You are my God-given solace. My refuge, my biggest ally, loving you is my greatest and truest achievement. If I were to die tomorrow and must start all over again, I would look for you in every life, and in every universe. Will you marry me?” He broke in a nervous fit of laugher as he presented you with the carefully selected ring, his last sentence hanging heavy in the air. “And subsequently have my giant-footed babies?” He whispered in an attempt to alleviate the thickness of the tension.

You wish you were able to control the flow of tears streaming down your face as you realized what had just happened. The brightness of the diamond bringing you back to reality. Jules’ face was broken with the anxiety upon waiting for your answer.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you and have your giant-footed babies.” You let down a sob as Jules’ exhaled a sigh of relief, carefully sliding down the Emerald-cut ring down your finger. He brought his lips to your knuckles, peppering your hand with light, feathered kisses.

“I had the ring engraved.” He pulled it off your finger to show you. In an almost invisible calligraphy, the words ‘To my God-given solace’ were permanently etched into the metal of the band. Jules slid the ring back on your finger, his eyes unable to peel away from yours.

“I love you, ma fiancée d’amour. Happy anniversary.” His arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“I love you, mon fiancé d’amour.” You giggled in disbelief as you pressed a sensual kiss to his lips.

[littleadaline]

Grief Has No Shape [P.G8]

Warnings: talk of death, heavy feelings, grief

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Sorry for being MIA, I have been focusing on university. I wrote this piece as a way to channel the grief I often carry around when it comes to my grandfather. Although he passed away when I was 11, I often feel down when I see people who have grown up with their grandparents near them. It makes me wonder how his and I’s relationship could have evolved, the bond we could have developed had we had more time, had cancer not happened. To all of those who are grieving, or have been grieving, I send you all my love xx

——————————————

Grief was weird. It knew no bound, no shape, and it didn’t have an expiration date. You have grieved your native city, relationships and friendships, life experiences that were ripped away from you, but the hardest was when death and its effects rippled through your life.

You walked back into the shared house, the dimmed lights greeting you, the lack of warmth holding a mirror to your reality. Your bag slid off your shoulder as you took off your shoes. On the console table, a card caught your attention. You slowly picked it up, your eyes glazing over the picture, your heart clenching at the sight of that smile that once felt like home. The front door opened once again, this time, Pedri walking into the house. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, which he gently placed on the mahogany table. He untied his tie, slipping off his shoes, his hand faintly laying flush against your waist.

“I’ll make us something to eat.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, his hand stroking your hair. “I’m so sorry, mi vida.” He held your face in his hands. You looked away, kissing the palm of his hands, feeling your grief flooding back to the surface. You leaned in closer, the weight of everything bringing you on the verge of tears. Your arms hugged Pedri’s waist, the sound of his heart keeping you from spiraling.

He led you to the couch, sitting you gently. Before you could react, his grip tightened on you, holding you with such force that you thought your ribs would break. On any other day you would have jokingly kicked him away, tickling him under the chin, leading to him loosening his grip on you. But today, you needed his reassurance, you needed his presence to keep you sane.

The faint ticks of the clock in the dining room crowded the room. Feeling unable to verbally communicate the weight of your emotions, you laid back into his arms. Outside, the neighborhood was vibrant; the sound of family picnics; laughing children; and faint music flowing through the streets, creating a stark contrast between your life and the one outside.

As if life was punishing you, you heard a child in the streets scream.

“Abuelo, espérame!”

You buried your head into Pedri’s chest, unleashing all the grief you had been enduring for the past days. Your shoulders shook as your walls came crashing down. Your chest tightened, your mind racing to all the times where you had come short of being a good granddaughter.

“Shhh.” Pedri cooed as he rubbed your back in a desperate attempt to regulate your breathing. He leaned over, grabbing a tissue, lifting your head to wipe away your tears. You closed your eyes at the gesture.

“How does one get over this?” You asked, the emptiness of the room making your skin crawl. It had been 4 days since you had received the call that had changed your life. 4 days since you had fallen down to your knees, your sobs flooding your face as you called out for his name, praying to God that it wasn’t real. 4 days since Pedri had rushed out of training as soon as he got word of what had happened.

He unbuttoned his cuffs, scooching closer to you. He took your hands in his, thumb rubbing your skin in a slow, circular motion.

“Mi vida…You don’t. And I know it’s probably not the answer that you’re looking for, but…the grief will eventually subside and you’ll feel better. It’ll stop occupying all this space and will eventually find its own place in your soul.” He took a deep breath. “Grief is love that has nowhere to go.” He bent over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Pedri took your hands, placing a delicate kiss on each knuckle.

“Despite the distance, you showed up for all the family reunions, every doctor’s appointment, every birthday. When some family members took advantage of his situation and stole from him, you stood your ground. Put his most precious possessions into a safe and changed the locks on his house.”

You cracked a shy smile.

“I just miss him, you know? I’ll miss how he used to call as soon as the clock struck twelve on my birthday, or how he always had my favorite candle burning in the kitchen whenever I visited.” You fiddled with the obituary picture in front of you. “He was a good man, Pepito.” You laid back into his arms. “He taught me how to ride a bike, and how to change a tire. And he made the best walnut pie.” You chuckled.

“He helped raise a strong, courageous and righteous woman, who has a soul as warm and welcoming as a thousand suns. You may feel like you’re scared of losing the memories of your grandfather, but I promise you, for as long as you breathe, his love will shine through your actions.” His hand brushed over your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze. He got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen, flicking the lights on as he began to rummage through the pantry.

“What are you looking for?” You asked him without getting up from the couch.

“Something.. you’ll see.” He waved you away, his head still in the pantry cabinet.

You sat back, your body melting into the soft fabric of the couch. As your mind begins to wander, you find yourself being lulled to sleep by the ticks of the dining room clock. Unbeknownst to you, Pedri set the dusted book down on the coffee table, hoping that you’ll find comfort in it, once you woke up.

A few hours had passed when you began to stir awake from your sleep. The house looked different. The sun was shining lower in the sky, the air was colder and sharper, and you were hungry, very very hungry. You looked around the room, only to be met with silence, and darkness. A similar smell passed you by, a smell that reminded you of home. Walnuts, butter, brown sugar…

“Pedri?” You got up from the couch, making your way across the house.

“Bathroom!” He yelled out, meeting you halfway in the hallway. “How’d you sleep?” He kissed the top of your head gently.

“Not bad…that couch is insanely comfortable.” You buried yourself against his chest, arms hanging around his waist.

“I’m glad, my love. I have good taste in furniture.” He hyped himself up, wiping away his hands from the excess lotion. His hand found yours, dragging you to the bedroom. Out on the bed, lay a pair of pjs.

“Why don’t you get changed and meet me on the couch in a few? Mh?” He left you alone to get changed, his scent hanging in the air as he exited the room. You sat on the bed, the task of getting out of these clothes seeming impossible. You had never particularly liked this specific pair of pants, nor the shirt, but they were your grandfather’s favourites. You closed your eyes as you took off the shirt, the fabric heavy in between your hands. Your skin felt hot and cold at the same time, confusing feelings taking over. Would you ever be able to wear these clothes again? You fiddled with the garments before throwing them at the back of your closet, choosing to avoid the issue. The pyjamas Pedri had laid out felt plush and soft against your skin, like a built in hug that never faltered.

You met him back on the couch, his head turning at the sound of your feet against the floor. He extended his hand out to you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. You plopped down next to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“I made something for you while you were asleep.” He handed you a plate where laid a slice of pie…a walnut pie. Walnuts, butter, brown sugar… You took a whiff of the dessert, your heart swelling with gratitude. You grabbed the spoon, digging carefully into the slice. The flavours exploded in your mouth, memories flooding your mind.

“I… don’t know what to say, Pedri.” You said, setting down the plate on the coffee table. “It’s exactly how he used to make it.” You hid your sob. “How did you know? How do you have the recipe? He never wrote it down for anyone.” Your voice choked up.

He knelt down to pick up the dusted book.

“When he got the diagnosis that the cancer had spread, he came to me. We got to talking, and he explained to me how cooking together was an activity that meant a lot to the both of you. We got to work together, creating a cookbook of all the recipes he wished to pass down to you. There’s about…every recipe you guys have ever cooked together, as well as family recipes. He made me promise to give you the book only after he passed.” He handed it to you, the weight of the book taking you by surprise.

Your fingers traced the fine engraving on the leather jacket, the title making your heart clench. ‘The Best Granddaughter’s Guide to Cooking’. You fought back the tears as you began flicking through the pages, your heart swelling with every turn of the page. There, in all its glory, was the walnut pie’s recipe. In writing, in physical form for you to keep for the rest of time. You looked back at Pedri with glossy eyes, a thankful smile on your lips.

“Thank you.” You whispered, a knot in your throat.

As you continued to flick through the heirloom, your eyes caught the pictures added to each recipe. Pictures of birthdays, monthly visits, family vacations, the first time you had ever cooked with your grandfather. Your favorite picture was the one where you were sitting on his lap pretending to read the newspaper in a language you had no knowledge of.

It then dawned on you, that your grief would always follow you. Grief was indeed love that has nowhere to go, but it was the ultimate act of love you could show someone who meant so much to you. Some days would be easier, some wouldn’t, but as time would go on, you’d learn to live with the loss, turning it into an eternal symbol of love for your grandfather. You were mad at life for putting you in this position, but it was undeniably a guaranteed cost of being alive and loving.

[littleadaline]

Ferran’s Masterlist:

Not An Ache

Thank you for the sandwich

[littleadaline]

Fermín’s Masterlist:

Rest Up

Best Kept Hidden

[littleadaline]

Gavi’s Masterlist:

-Once Upon A Time

-I Didn't Know Where Else To Go

-Broken Record, Part II

-The Original Version of Us

-Pieces

-Promoted

[littleadaline]

Pedri’s Masterlist:

-Hold Me

-Grief Has No Shape

[littleadaline]

Needed [J.K23]

Warnings: language, SMUT 18+ (MDNI, wrap it before you tap it) 🤭

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Took me a hot minute to finish, got halfway through and realized that I didn’t know how to write smut, but oh well, here we are!

————————————————

“Hey Y/N!” Your manager called you as she hauled her documents around in her arms. She finally caught up to you. “I was wondering if you could give the players their schedule for today’s match day.” She nudged you with her elbow.

You looked at her like a deer in the headlights.

“Why me? It’s not really my department…”

“All the team who usually handles this is out sick unfortunately. Here are the schedules,” she said, handing you a printed piece of paper. You gathered yourself, breathing through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. “Besides, as an intern, this will be good for you.” She patted you on the back.

You stared at the documents in your hands. Familiar names were written in bold ink on the pale paper, yet you couldn’t help but feel a tight knot form in your throat.

You knocked on the door of the locker room, “Everybody decent?”. Flick opened the door for you.

You peaked your head through the door.

“Sorry to bother you all so early, my name is YN, I’m interning with Sarah’s team, and Marcela’s, who is unfortunately out sick.”

“Do you have the players’ schedules for today?” Flick interrupted you. He seemed to understand your nervousness, yet needed to wrap up this interaction.

“Where is Marcela?” Jules asked you, unable to tear his eyes off of you.

“Hermano, learn to listen when people talk.” Iñigo teased the defender, who cracked a smile.

“I don’t, I mean, I do have today’s announcements!” You answered Flick’s question, stuttering and mentally kicking yourself.

Jules chuckled at your mistake, “Are you nervous?” He teased you. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but the warmth in his voice allowed your nerves to untangle. You proceeded with ease. He stopped talking, allowing you to continue.

“As you all know, today is game day. Your training session is due to take place as usual, which is in,” You looked at your watch. “30 minutes, but the warmup will take place an hour before the game is due to start.” You anxiously looked up at Flick, only to be met with two thumbs up from the German coach.

Moving over to where Pedri was seated, you handed him a paper.

”Pedri, the media team would like for you to stay to film a segment before the game, Sarah will be in contact with you.”

You walked over to Balde and Gavi, handing them their duties for the day as well. “You both have a press conference after training, please be on time.” You looked at Gavi who had a devilish smile on his face. This time, the players let out a laugh as they saw Gavi’s cheeks turn red.

Koundé raised his hand, “I had an interview scheduled for today but it’s been cancelled, would you happen to know when it’s due to take place now?”

You froze in your tracks, nervously flipping through the pages of the calendar.

“ I’ll communicate the details as soon as I receive them.” You concluded with the Frenchman. Your gaze lingered on his lips, sheepishly looking away.

“ Before I leave, does anyone have anything to add? Or a question?” You looked around the room, hoping for a reaction. You gathered your documents, taking the players’ silence as an answer. You glanced around the room one last time before exiting, waving away at the players.

You walked back to the office you shared with your team, replaying the interaction in your mind. Thanks to the whole team falling ill, you had the office to yourself. Looking at your watch, you concluded you had time to skim through your emails before training started. Most of the emails were routine communication, such as upcoming sale deals, upgraded pr campaigns, but only one caught your attention. The cursor hovered above the title of the email before clicking on it.

You observed the first training from the window in your office. Coffee in hand, you glanced through the crowd of players until your eyes landed on the one player who had caught your attention. Jules Koundé.

Ever since you had arrived, you were able to maintain a generally professional policy, despite your limited contact with the players. You loved being able to joke and banter with the players, all while knowing how to stand your ground. But with Jules, all it took was one look and your knees buckled, your thoughts turning into a puddle of obscenities. You had spent countless nights just imagining him pounding into you, your lips carelessly screaming his name into the mattress.

A knock stole your attention away from the window. Flick was standing in the doorway. “Is the training over?” You got up to greet the coach, smoothing your pants in the process.

”Yes, everything went well. Balde and Gavi are on their way to shoot their interview.” You both stood awkwardly, neither knowing what to say.

“Regarding Koundé’s interview, I will communicate the details to him as soon as I can get my hands on them. Marcela sent them by email, just give me the time to skim through everything.” You apologized profusely.

“Relax, Adidas sent over the new schedule, I can let him know.” Flick put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Oh…” You disappointedly exclaimed, hoping to start a conversation with the RB.

“Unless you want to…?” Flick said, picking up on your disappointed tone.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, it’s just…” You stumbled over your words all over again.

Flick got up and closed the door to the office, giving the two of you privacy.

“Can I be honest with you?” You felt uneasy as the German coach sat on the edge of your desk.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’ve noticed something I think is worth…addressing. I’ve been observing your interactions with the team and one player in particular has stood out to me. I’m talking about a few exchanged looks. Nothing inappropriate, but noticeable.”

You held your breath.

“Listen, I am not trying to dictate your career, nor your life. But I need you to be careful. I have taken a close look at your work, the whole management team has. You are driven, you submit exceptional work, to say you are brilliant at what you do would be an understatement.” He got up, hands behind his back, pacing around the room.

“I know you’re professional,” He continued. “And I don’t doubt your intentions for a second. Frankly…I’ve been in this business long enough to know that perception is a powerful thing. Once people start talking, whether it’s the media, colleagues, or even the team, it can create narratives that are tough to control.”

He rested his arms on the back of your chair, his eyes piercing through your soul.

“If you feel anything towards Koundé, remember that there’s a dynamic to consider. Athletes operate in a different world. A world with a lot of attention, influence, and expectations. No matter how harmless things might seem, there’s always an imbalance that can complicate things down the road. The media may be forgiving towards him, but don’t expect them to be for you. They will tear into every single thing you have ever said or done.”

He got up and walked towards the door, his hand hovering over the handle.

“I won’t be the one to stand between the two of you, but at the end of the day, you are both employed by the same club. And we all know who will end up staying if things go wrong. I trust you to make an enlightened decision.” He concluded, walking out of your office.

You stood there, speechless, your mind still trying to process Flick’s words.

You shakily sat back down at your desk, desperately racking your brain for ways to get this conversation out of your head. Deep down you knew Flick was looking out for you, his tone soft yet firm. For the second time today, a knock interrupted your attempt to work. You signaled for the person to come in, barely looking up from your computer screen. The scent of a familiar perfume filled the room. You slowly looked up at your distraction through your eyelashes.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.” The French player shyly apologized.

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes unable to peel away from his biceps.

“No,” You cleared your throat. “Please, have a seat.” You gestured to him. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as the player sunk into the leather chair in front of your desk, his arms resting on the sidearms.

“How may I help you?” Your voice was barely audible.

“Flick actually sent me here.” He cracked a smile, a warm sensation spreading across your stomach.

“About the Adidas interview!” You both said at the same time, a laugh escaping from you.

You felt yourself relax, the tension slowly fading away. You dove back into the many emails that were sent since that morning, your eyes skillfully scanning for the email title. You grew frustrated, the email nowhere to be found. The RB noted your thinning patience.

He got up from his chair, walking over to your chair. “Do you want me to take a look?” The words brushed past your ear as he stepped in even closer. Jules stood close, way too close, as he leaned over to help you find that damn email.

As he moved, his arm brushed against yours, the brief contact sending an unexpected spark through the space between you. The warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne, the quiet confidence in his movements, all of these factors were driving you closer to making a dangerous decision.

His hand hovered just beside yours on the keyboard, his fingertips nearly grazing your skin. The tension, thick and electric, as you swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus on the screen in front of you instead of the way his body nearly presses against yours. He notices, and lets the faintest hint of a smirk show at the corner of his lips.

“Found it,” he said, his breath warm against your cheek. But neither of you move right away, the silence between the both of you filled with everything unsaid.

Jules is still standing behind you, his fingertips trailing lightly over the edge of the desk, an almost absentminded gesture. You felt a pair of arms drag your chair around, forcing you to look at him.

He brought his hand to your face, his fingers resting under your chin. The tension was eating you alive, your desire for him to crash his lips into yours turning into an undeniable need.

"Are you sure about this?" Jules asks, his voice low, rough in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Because if you’re not sure we can-”

“Please”. You begged, interrupting his rambling.

His lips landed onto yours in a kiss that started soft, deliberate, but deepened with each passing second, as though he was memorizing every detail; the way you tasted, the way you responded to him; the way you melted, like putty in his hands.

You allowed yourself to relax into the warmth and softness of his lips.

To your dismay, he pulled away, chest heaving.

You admired the sight in front of you; a lust thirsty Jules, breathless and flushed cheeks. He sat down in your chair, his arm extending the invitation to you. You felt pulled forward, straddling his lap.

His hand rose to push a loose strand of hair out of your face. Every whisper, every lingering kiss, every slow, deliberate movement built something that felt inevitable.

His hands trailed over the hem of your shirt, teasing you. You grew impatient, your skin longing for his burning touch.

“Please, Jules..” You feverishly begged into his ear. His lips delicately travelled from your neck to your mouth, peppering kisses over your lips. Your eyes rolled back, a shy moan escaping from your lips as Jules sucked on your sweet spot.

Your body jolted from the newfound wave of pleasure, your hips bucking against his, dragging a low moan from the right-back.

“Want to take this off for me baby girl?” He sensually whispered into your ears, his tone sending shivers down your spine. You senselessly nodded. Your senses were sent in such overdrive, you struggled to grab at the hem of your shirt. The French player grew frustrated. He grabbed the material, tearing it off of your body. He let out a series of gasps as your lacy bra was exposed to him.

“Putain…” He groaned softly, the sight of your chest rising up and down, drawing a reaction out of him. “You look smoking hot.” He praised you, his lips kissing the base of your chest, soft moans escaping from your lips.

You leaned in, his ear close enough for you to hear your begs.

“Porfa….” You dragged your nails on his back, expertly clawing the skin. If this man was an angel on the field, he was a devil in between the sheets.

“Soon, soon. Let me take care of you first.” He expertly unhooked your bra, his lips latching onto your breast for a taste of what he had been longing for, ever since laying his eyes on you, “So sweet, yet so desperate. I love it.” He confessed as he stole a passionate kiss from you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, laying you along the edge of your desk. You sat back up, your fingers dragging along the hem of your panties, your pants long gone. You felt his hand grab yours, pushing it away from your undergarment. It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of fabric ripping. Looking down, your panties laid in a pool of fabric underneath your feet.

“May I?” Jule’s hands faintly touched your thighs, shy of making any sudden move.

“Please.” You begged, closing your eyes as you felt him grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulders. You let out a shaky moan as his breath tickled your core, his tongue shyly making contact. Your body jolted as he ate you out, your eyes rolling to the back. Your mouth stayed agape from the pleasure, unable to produce any sound. Your hand instinctively found his hair, pulling him closer.

”Please… please, Jules.” You called out for his name, a burning sensation growing inside of you. Just as you were ready to come undone under his touch, he pulled away, a devilish grin on his face. Your face dropped, the lack of pleasure turning into disappointment.

He bent down to kiss your lips, pulling you closer in the process. He lifted your thighs, carrying you over to the leather chairs in front of your desk. He sat you down, your legs straddling his. He pressed a kiss against your forehead, his hands laying against the curve of your ass.

“Do you have a-”

”No…You?”

”Neither…Fuck, what do we do?”

You looked at each other for a minute before bursting into a fit of shy laughter.

“Move a bit closer, my love.” He guided your hips, lifting them gently. You caught a glimpse of his length, mentally gulping.

“I want you to make love to me. And I want it to be slow and passionate.” You confessed, your cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. The right-back stared at you for some seconds, his eyes overtaken by lust, red blush creeping on his face.

“I can do that. Slow and passionate?” He hummed in your ear, pushing back a few strands of hair from your shoulders. He leaned over, peppering some kisses on your collarbone. You couldn’t help but close your eyes as he slowly made his way down. His kisses felt like fire against your icy skin. You lifted your hips slowly, hovering over his dick. His hands guided you, until you were completely sunken down on him.

You let out a breathy moan, too afraid of alerting your colleagues in the nearby offices. Having yearned for his touch, your senses sent into heaven as he began rocking his hips against yours. You threw your hands around his neck, desperately bringing him closer. Your lips parted, ready to cry his name, only to be met with silence.

“Fuck…This…” He breathlessly whispered.

“So…Good…” You moaned in his ear. His hips continued rocking against yours, the friction bringing you closer to the edge. “Harder. Please.” You begged the Frenchman.

His hands snaked around your hips, gripping at the skin as he mercilessly pounded into you, drawing near pornographic moans from you. His hand flew to your mouth to drown out the noise. The sound of skin slapping filled the office, along with your pleas and cries of pleasure.

“Jules, plea-”

“I’m so close.”

“Come inside me, please.” You cried out into his ear, your hands clawing at his shoulders for support. You felt him move a few more times before a warm liquid filled you up, the remnants dripping down your thigh in a slow pace. You clung to him, chest heaving as you both came down from your high. His hands found yours, interlocking your fingers as he slowly kissed your forehead.

“That was…mind blowing, to say the least.” He bent down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Next time I’ll make sure to take you out on a few dates, and bring you flowers-you like flowers, right?”

“Lillies.” You simply answered. “I love lillies.” You said, drawing hearts on his chest with your fingertips. “And my favorite dessert is tiramisu.” You giggled.

“I’ll make sure you get all that.” He helped you get out of the chair, your thighs still covered in fluid. You cleaned yourself up as he picked up your clothes off the floor and tidied up your office, replacing a few knocked files and crooked frames on the surface of your desk.

————————

The next day:

You came into work still sore from yesterday’s activities. Upon arrival, you ran straight to your office, wanting to avoid unnecessary chit chat with your colleagues. Setting down your bag, you noticed a bouquet of pink and white flowers sitting on the edge of the window. Lillies. No he didn’t… you thought to yourself. You picked up the note attached to it, unable to hide the grin on your face.

Ma chérie, I hope you’ll appreciate the little gift I have left for you in your office. As promised, I wanted to ask you out on an official date, which is why I suggest we dine at La perla nascosta di Gianmarco, a restaurant that specializes in Italian cuisine…and desserts.

Yours truly, Jules.

PS: Look in your desk drawer ;)

You shoved the note into your pocket, carefully opening your desk drawer. There, wrapped in pearlescent paper, was the same exact pair of panties he had torn off of you the day before. You grabbed the card he had left within the wrapped paper.

PS 2: I expect you to wear these to our dinner. You know me and fashion, I only want to see the best of the best. Although, I prefer when you’re naked and in my arms ;)

Kisses, Jules.

[pensat-i-fet]

Mas información.

[bloglikeanegyptian]

at the beginning of the genocide i used to make a lot of posts encouraging people to speak up and thanking people for speaking up, because i know a lot of people were intimidated by manufactured complexity about the middle east, and a lot of people were scared of repercussions. and then i stopped, because it started to feel really dehumanizing to be thanking allies for the bare minimum, and because i was tired, and because i was distracted by the scope of loss

but now i've noticed that as things have gotten worse, as so many of the things we asked you to speak up before they happened have come to pass, people are actually less likely to talk about palestine than they were ten months ago. now that it's palestine and lebanon, now that it's genocide and carnage, now that it's clear that the rule of law really doesn't apply equally no matter how much people protest and how much evidence they compile, now that people are criminalizing free speech and actively inviting authoritarianism simply to curb protest on palestine, i've noticed a withdrawal that isn't just exhaustion, but also disillusionment. and unfortunately this has left the onus on the most vulnerable to continue to be the most visible

so let me get back to it. yes, it is the bare minimum and it is small. yes, it can be more complicated now with an election you care about coming up soon. yes, things are very bleak. but i've said it before. this isn't a short term process. this is the long haul. there is no button that ends a genocide, there is only a lever we are all collectively pulling together.

the least and most you can do is speak up. i will give you concrete examples: when you see a post that dehumanizes arabs, a post that ignores genocide, a post that justifies massacres, you actually should object to that. it's not nothing. this is the rhetoric that allows these wars to continue, as poisonous as overt warmongering is covert normalizing with warmongering, is ignoring the genocide in gaza and the massacres in lebanon, and all the other overreaches of the US war machine. when you see people being unfairly targeted for being pro-palestine, you should still support them. when you see the things you love—movies, celebrities, literature, publishers, companies—supporting genocide, normalizing israeli war crimes, ignoring the sheer amount of suffering in the world, ignoring the wars happening with your taxes, you should still speak up against them. this isn't something you stop doing. this is now something you live with, the way you live with every other principle you hold dear, whether it comes to racism, to homophobia, to kindness, to cruelty, to keeping libraries open, to keeping children alive.

if you remember that this is injustice, then you have a role. your role is to remind people. they haven't forgotten that they are committing injustice, they're hoping you have. and the least you can do, the very least you can do, is remind them that you haven't.

[pblgv306]

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️‍🩹

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

i'm sharing it ❤️‍🩹

[infectiouspiss]

i think the most i can say right now is: yes he was a horrible person, no he didn't deserve to die, yes i feel sorry for his friends and family, and yes we should all be concerned about how people are going to treat maya henry and other victims of abuse after this.

[littleadaline]

Pieces [P.G6]

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Talks of abuse, infidelity, depressive feelings.

A/N: love y’all, i missed writing sm i can’t believe how cathartic it feels.

————————————

You took a look around at the empty office chair. The plaque on the desk had long been gathering dust. The office had sat empty for some time now, no one daring to utter for how long. You threw the wilted plant into the trash, sighing at the tasks ahead of you. You were embarrassed to be left on the receiving end of this, but you owed it to yourself to move forward. The faint trace of his perfume haunted the room, making your heart itch in disgust.

[Flashback:]

“Just get me this report in time, I’ll take care of the rest.” You heard your boyfriend’s voice say through the closed door. “Yes, I’ll have time to finish the report, the meeting with the investors isn’t until tomorrow afternoon, and the board of directors went home early. Great, see you then.” You heard him hang up the phone before knocking softly on the door.

“Come in.”

You slowly opened the door, calling out his name. He perked up at the sound of his name, but an expression of guilt soon replaced the one of joy. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, desperately trying to hide the lacy bra under his desk.

“Amor…What are you doing here?” He cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?” He rose to greet you, desperately trying to push away the lacy undergarment stuck in the wheels of his chair.

“Eh, Laporta had to move it…Emergency meeting with Nike. I thought we could have lunch together… Just like before?” You playfully grabbed his tie, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. He looked away, his face riddled with a sense of anger and indifference.

“I can’t…I have a meeting with the board of directors in a few minutes.” He pulled away from the embrace, gently walking you out of his office, his hand nestled on your lower back, pushing you towards the exit. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll get us dinner on the way home.” He left a kiss on your cheek before closing his office door shut.

Does he think I’m brainless? And oblivious? I saw the lacy undergarment under his desk, for fuck’s sake, it was bright pink. And a meeting with the board of directors? After they’ve all gone home?

[Back to now:]

“Y/N?” You turned around at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Hola Pablo.” You warmly embraced the player.

“I can’t believe it. You’re back.” He sighed, smiling against your shoulder. “Lo siento mucho.” He glanced at what used to be your ex’s desk. “I meant…We meant to send you flowers.” He fiddled nervously with his hands.

“It’s okay, Pablito. I’m doing better now. I’m getting the help I need.” You nodded painfully. You didn’t want to talk about it, nor did you want to think about what had happened. But your mind had other plans.

Sensing your discomfort, Gavi was quick to change the subject.

“I have physical therapy in a few minutes, but I’ll be back before you leave.” He waved goodbye before disappearing into the hallway.

You let out a sigh of relief.

[Flashback:]

It was a Friday afternoon. The day had started just like any other day of the week. You woke up, got showered and ready before heading off to work. Just as expected, you got off at 17:00 and drove home in silence, a tradition you had implemented ever since signing your first contract. Pulling into your driveway, you spotted your boyfriend’s car. You frowned in confusion.

He probably got off early… You thought to yourself. You couldn’t shake the eerie feeling.

“Mi amor.” He greeted you at the door. “I got us tickets for that movie you wanted to see!” He sprung the news on you, a wide grin on his face.

But instead of feeling excited, you took a moment to look around the room, before settling on your boyfriend’s face. He looked dishevelled, his hair tangling at the tips, his lips red and swollen. A familiar piece of garment caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Your heart dropped at the realization. You turned back at him in anger, the rage seeping through your eyes.

“How could you?” You uttered through gritted teeth. He grabbed you by the wrists, desperately trying to calm you down. “Do not fucking touch me!” “How-“ You punched his chest. “Fucking-“ You pushed him. “Could-“ You grabbed his jaw, hissing the words at him. “You?” “All that talk about getting married and starting a family? And you were cheating the whole time?” “You fucking bastard.”

You doubled down, screaming at him to pack his shit and leave. His pleas fell on deaf ears as you continued raining hell down on him. You stomped to the bedroom to open the window. He followed your footsteps, begging you to hear him out.

You started rummaging through the closet for his stuff, grabbing it by the handful before throwing it out the window. In a fit of rage, he ran up to you, pushing you onto the bed, pinning you down with his weight. You felt yourself lose strength, screaming and scratching at him to let you go. You doubled down on the scratching, until you heard him hiss in pain, his arms withdrawing to inspect the damage.

You ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You slid down the wall, your heart beating like a hummingbird. You felt exhausted, emotionally drained and physically numb. You stayed hidden, your ear pressed against the bathroom door. Finally, you heard the wheels of a suitcase on the floor, and the door slamming shut. You left the bathroom as his car drove away, sighing in relief.

You emerged from the bathroom, fearfully looking around at the damage. The vase of flowers by the bed was shattered, leaving the floor littered with debris. The pictures inside the frames were left scratched from the broken glass. You let out a sob.

[Back to now:]

The same lacy undergarment which had blown your relationship into pieces was now in your hands. Seething in anger, you stuffed it into the box of things to throw out. You couldn’t do this anymore. Yes, it has been a year. Yes, you did your best to move on. But seeing the piece of lingerie that triggered it all, broke something in you. After a year of crying, of feeling unworthy, and undesirable, seeing the small piece of fabric was like being uppercutted by an iron fist.

You realized an hour had passed when Gavi’s soft knocks against the wooden door frame pulled you out of your thoughts.

“How are you feeling?” He knelt to your height. You lifted yourself off of the floor, dusting off your pants.

“Bit better…” you sniffled. “I didn’t expect this to be so emotional.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through this. What he did…” He exhaled, a hint of anger could be sensed in his voice. “Hijo de puta. He wasn’t a real man-”

“We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Gavi.” You cut him off. “I know how you feel about him, trust me, I share the sentiment. But, I cannot bring myself to curse him off when he isn’t around to hear it anymore.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He handed you a tissue.

You stared at each other for some time before Gavi spoke up again.

“Are you done packing?” He pointed at the cardboard box sitting on the desk.

“Yes. I think I’m done…” You took one last look around. In a few weeks, this would be someone else’s office, a new beginning for the whole team. No more drama and no more heartbreak.

“Let’s go then. Do you want to say hello to the boys?” He held the door open for you as you exited the office for the last time.

“I’d appreciate it.”

“You missed us, didn’t you?” Gavi teased you as you got on the elevator. He took your shy smirk as a positive answer.

When the boys say you walk into the gym, all hell broke loose. You had a swarm of teenagers and grown men run towards you, embracing you in a tight hug. Iñigo pulled you aside.

“¿Cómo estás? We missed you around here.” He held your hand softly. He had always treated you like a family member, opening his home to you when your relationship fell apart, and when your ex passed away. You were like an older sister to his daughters.

“I’m hanging in there. I’ve had an incredible support system. Gavi’s also been checking up on me pretty regularly. And when he can’t-”

“He sends…me.” He clumsily interrupts you, a deep laughter escaping from him. You chuckled.

“I’ll be okay. Te lo prometo.” You hugged him tightly, refusing to let go.

“I don’t doubt it for one second.” His hand settled on your shoulders, his eyes looking at you with pride.

You stayed to chat with the team for a few more minutes until you announced you had to leave. The group hugged you one last time. Gavi followed you, waving goodbye to his teammates.

“Do you want to grab some lunch?” Gavi asked you as you both walked towards the parking lot.

Before you could answer, your stomach betrayed you. You sighed in embarrassment.

“Sure, let’s go. But nothing too complicated.”

“So…Burgers?” He smirked devilishly.

“You get me.” You smiled back at him.

———

He stopped the car at a local burger joint, noting down your order before walking inside. He came back a few minutes later, handing you a brown bag.

“Got an extra something for you.” You looked at him in confusion. “You’re free to look at the inside of the bag.” He teases you.

Gavi drove back to his house, sighing in relief at the thought of being back in his safe space.

“Home sweet home.” He threw his keys on the console. “C’mon, don’t be shy.” He took the takeout bag from your hands, guiding you to his patio. He made you sit down while he took out the contents of the bag. He handed you your burger before sitting down and biting into his. A moan left his lips as he devoured his food.

“How are you feeling? Like… really?” He bluntly asked you.

You paused for a second, not knowing how to answer him.

“Which version do you want?” You sarcastically answered.

“The truth. I just want the truth.” He brought his chair closer to yours.

You swallowed down your pride, letting yourself speak freely.

“I used to feel like utter shit, Gavi. Every moment, I was reminded of the humiliation he dragged me through. Not only in my personal life but my social and professional life. He stole from me…precious time I will never get back.” You paused. “How would you feel if your partner kept talking to you about marriage and babies, only to find out they had been cheating since the first day of your relationship.” You took a bite of your food.

“All these years in this relationship, only to find out it was built on lies and disgraceful behavior. This shit… breaks a person, crushes the spirit. And now, I can’t even confront him because he’s fucking dead.” You cried out.

Gavi got up from his chair and hugged you tightly as you sobbed out a year’s worth of emotional turmoil. He didn’t know what to say, so you both stayed in silence until your tears dried.

“When he left, after I caught him cheating, I spent the evening wondering what I had done wrong for the relationship to go the way it did. I blamed myself for months and months on end.”

He shook his head regretfully.

“I would wake up in cold sweats every single night after he left. I was afraid he would turn up at home and blow up at me the way he did when I confronted him about his infidelity. I was a shell of a human, I could not function.” You continued.

You dried the tears under your eyes, sniffling. He handed you a tissue.

“Honest to God, without you and Iñigo, I don’t know where I would be today. You helped me pick myself up when I didn’t even think I deserved to be alive. You kept me afloat when everything around me crumbled.” You squeezed his hand.

“And we would’ve done it over and over again. Whether it’s a street away or a continent away, we will always be with you. You call and we answer.” He kissed the top of your head.

That night, Gavi invited you to stay over. He pulled out the snacks and set the projector, inviting you to a movie night.

“I’ve got to tell you, after our conversation earlier, I don’t think I can watch something too complicated.” You confessed.

“Well, we could watch Despicable Me…” Gavi playfully pouted at you.

“I’d like that.” You smiled gently.

[littleadaline]

helloooooo

Sorry for the inactivity, I was on vacation in the south of France and in Barcelona (yes i watched the game against Bilbao) and I just came back home. I have a lot more inspiration to write, let’s just see if I can find the words to do so lol 😽 I’m still gonna write that story based on the poll I made almost a month ago (oopsie)

[littleadaline]

Thank you for the sandwich [F.T7]

Warnings: some smut content [18+], some light swearing

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: whoooops hihi

———————————————

“Oh and another thing,” Flick told you before exiting his office. “Ferran had his Adidas commercial canceled today. If you want to get ahead on the YouTube channel content, today is your day. He came in early for training, I have no reason to keep him this late.” He handed you back your bag.

“Thank you. I’ll grab my equipment from my office and head down to let him know. Have a nice day, mister.”

‘You too.” He softly smiled at you before closing his office door shut.

You walked back to your office, head in your notebook, scanning for the ideas you had jotted down for Ferran content. You had made it to your desk when an unknown figure sitting in your chair made your heart jump.

“Ferran, coño, you scared me. What are you doing here?” You put down your material in the now-empty chair.

“I had my Adidas shoot canceled for today. I wanted to know if you wanted to catch up on some content we had to shoot.” He shot you a smile, nervously fiddling with the pens at your desk.

“That’s funny because I was going to ask you to do the same. But I need to finish editing tomorrow’s video, if you don’t mind waiting for me.”

“Can I wait here?” He kept playing with the stationary on your desk.

“Will you be quiet?” You raised an eyebrow, plugging your computer into the wall.

“Yes… at least I’ll try.” He shot you a smirk. You giggled, signaling him to sit in the chair next to you.

You spent the next 30 minutes putting the clips together, selecting audios and playing with the visual effects. You always felt a great deal of pressure when tasked with editing the videos for the club’s social media. You wanted to be proud of your work, all while having the fans' approval. You were deeply focused on your work, when Ferran’s voice pulled you out of your bubble.

“Are you done yet? Are you done yet? Are you done yet?” He playfully threw a few balled-up Post It’s at your face.

“Ferran! What did we agree on?” You said through gritted teeth, the frustration of your work getting to you.

“But I’m bored!” He whined. You looked to your left, only to be met with a pouting face and arms crossed across his chest.

“I am almost done, I swear! Have some patience.” You diverted back to your screen, only for your stomach to betray you. An idea flashed through your face. “How about you get us some food?”

“Sure! What do you want?” He got up, straightening his pants.

“I’ll have a turkey sub, extra pesto, hold the tomatoes please. And a mango Jarritos.”

“Anything else?” He ruffled the top of your hair before leaning into the doorway.

“No, thank you!” You re-arranged your hair in a hurry.

After Ferran had left your office, you took a quick glance at yourself on your computer screen. You had trouble hiding your reddened cheeks at Ferran’s touch. You liked it when he subtly crossed the boundaries of professionalism and into friendship. Ferran was the first player you really clicked with when you got started. He made sure you were well welcomed, and treated with respect. 2 years into the job, you had each others’ number and addresses. You would often meet up on days off to spend time with your newly formed group of friends. But these past few months, you have wanted to spend less time with the group and more time with just him.

Ferran came back just as you were saving the video on your hard drive.

“I got you something extra. Little sweet treat for all your efforts.” He handed you a brown bag. Your ears perked up, your arms extending for the bag.

“You got me… red velvet? You remembered.” You sighed in awe.

“Of course I did! It’s your favorite.” He shrugged nonchalantly. He sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up. You ran up to hug him, your sudden move throwing him off the chair and onto the floor.

Ferran’s arms softened your fall, your faces merely a few inches away. You could feel his breath on your lips, and it took all your might to stop yourself from violating the code of professionalism. Ferran’s eyes lingered on your lips, unable to pull away. He had one hand on your back and the other on the back of your thigh, his touch leaving a burning sensation on your skin.

“We-um…We should get up before someone walks in and sees us.” You breathlessly said, pushing yourself off of his chest. You tried to hide the fact that your little interaction had caused a not so small chemical reaction in the Barça player’s shorts.

“Yeah… that.” He said, disappointed.

You both ate your food in an awkward silence, before cleaning up and heading downstairs to film the video. The vibes were off, which prompted you to call off the shoot earlier. It would just have to be a shorter video than usual. Nothing bad. You both said your goodbyes and parted ways for the rest of the evening.

“I’ll see you…” Ferran asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Monday. I’m off for the weekend.” You waved him off as he drove away.

———————————

You had finished loading up the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. You opened the door only to find Ferran standing there, his hair and clothes soaked by the rain.

“Ferran? Oh my God, come in! How long have you been standing outside?” You pulled him by the sleeve of his jacket. “Let me get you a towel. Give me your jacket.” You undressed him from the many layers he was wearing.

He sat on your couch, droplets of water tainting his sweet face, and dripping onto the floor.

“Aye, Ferran, what the fuck happened to you?” You knelt in front of him, towel in hand. You dried his face the best you could, giving extra attention to his face. Your heart fluttered at the sight of the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes. “What were you doing in the neighborhood?”

“I told Flick.” He blurted out.

“You told Flick… what did you tell him?” You hummed softly, your hand resting on his cheek.

“I went back to his office after you left. I told him that I love you. I told him I was in love with you, and I was planning on asking you out, one day or another. I wanted to suppress my feelings, protect you and your heart…But after today’s incident in the office… the way your lips just…Fuck.”

He grabbed you by the neck, pulling you into his lap, before crashing his lips against yours. Your body took no time reacting to his touch, choosing to melt into his embrace. Your hands found the nape of his neck, gently stroking the hair, nibbling behind his ear, subtly leaving a hickey. His hand lifted your ass before gently placing you in his lap, his hands never leaving the curve of your ass. You moaned into his mouth, as his fingers found the hem of your shirt, peeling it off painfully slow.

“May I?” He gestured at your bra. You nodded feverishly, your body itching to tear his clothes off and leave trails of kisses along his chest. Ferran’s eyes grew hungry as he slowly undid your bra. You trailed your arms alongside his body, searching for the hem of his shirt. Ferran’s hands found yours as you peeled away his soaked t-shirt.

You got up from his lap, shimmying out of your shorts and underwear, before extending your arm out to him, inviting him to do the same. He rapidly shed his clothes before grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bedroom, where your bed was a witness to your sexual activities.

The next morning, you woke up to Ferran’s soft snores. It was still dark and early in the morning. You snuggled back into bed, Ferran’s hand instinctively wrapped around your waist. He hated to admit it, but he was a snuggle bug. You turned back to face him, his lips slightly ajar, and his hair merely ruffled. You snuggled against his chest, letting his heartbeat lull you back to sleep.

The next time you woke up, it was once again because of Ferran. But he wasn’t snoring in your ear anymore. He was leaving hot, feverish kisses at the base of your chest.

“Good morning hermosa.” He came out from under the covers, his cheeks covered in a faint pink hue, his hair still disheveled. “I must say, that body of yours, is a 10/10. Love every freckle, dimple and scar this body has. My love.” He said as he snaked his hand down to squeeze your ass as you giggled from the sudden move.

You both spent the rest of the day in bed, as neither had any obligations. As the day dwindled down, you both sat on your couch, your head in his lap.

“So… when you said you would ask me out one day or another, to Flick, did you mean it?”

“Princesa, I meant every word I said to Flick. I would steal the Milky Way for you if you asked me to.” He bent down to leave a kiss on your lips. “Which is why I want to ask you… would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Yes!” You giggled with excitement, feeling a part of your dream come true. You swung your arms around his neck, dragging him down for a heated make-out session.

[ballsbalb]

how many of those argentina players, the same ones who openly and proudly chanted about how black frenchmen on the national team are just africans who like fucking trans people, have black french teammates?

enzo plays with disasi, sarr, fofana, badiashille, ugochukwu, and nkuku; macca plays with Konate; garnacho plays with malacia (and if varane is black/of immigrant descent, then him too, but i’m unsure if he is/does); molina and de paul play with Lemar; martinez plays with kamara and diaby; parades played with mbappe, who is explicitly mentioned in the song as a “person who fucks transgender people” (cometravas), for five years. every single one of these men plays with black players on their team at club level, every single one plays with a black man who represents or is from a european country.

of course, we don’t know who all was actually singing along. we only have the limited scope of enzo’s live, so of course we don’t know if it was all the players or just some; however, when you allow that behavior and don’t speak out against it, you’re as much a part of the problem as the guys chanting along. not one of the argentina players has spoken out or said anything about the chant, not one has criticized or condemned it.

these guys are friends with people who they would disrespect in an instant as soon as it’s seen as okay to do so.

this doesn’t make their actions any better/worse, though. racism is racism is racism; it doesn’t matter if it’s about a friend or a complete stranger or a group of people of which you have many friends who make up that group. it just further shows that this kind of thinking, this kind of racism, is so ingrained in the way people think that they don’t even realize that the people they are insulting are their friends, their family, their community.

you can wear patches and armbands and kits with a fist on it and say “say no to racism!!” all you want, but it’s not enough until every racist player and every racist chant and every racist club is punished with the same unrestrained objectivity. racism is racism is racism, and it has no place, whether subtle or overt or both, in football or the world in the modern age.

it is incredibly telling how little media coverage this incident has got. the institutions who claim to be anti-racist will give in to whatever the easiest road is. they don’t care about racism, they don’t care about equality- they care about money and clicks and attention.

and it doesn’t matter if players weren’t chanting, or weren’t on the bus— by not speaking up or condemning it after the fact, all these players have endorsed this behavior until they show that they feel or believe otherwise.

[peligrosapop]

I’m so dissapointed