Sans titre

you were 32 weeks along and feeling very heavily pregnant.

yeah, it’s all fun and games when dating a tall man until you have to grow his unnecessarily large children.

all you wanted to do was lie down and moan this entire trimester, having nothing but a hard time with this one you were growing. you’d had every bad symptom imaginable, from the nonstop sickness and heartburn, to back and hip pain, difficulty sleeping and sore boobs, and now in the final stages you were experiencing braxton hicks, so yeah - all you did want was to lie down and whine. more than ever, you just wanted to stay in the comfort of your own home and nest.

“—you’re not even nesting though! you’re sitting here watching tv all day! get up and get ready!” rúben had said to you just yesterday morning after you’d told him you were too busy nesting to grab a coffee with him before training.

“mama, i think you should go tomorrrow . .” another sweet voice said from the sofa, glancing sympathetically in your direction.

your sweet boy, elias, didn’t want to offend you and make you feel like a slob, but he really wanted you both to go to his papa’s games. with school, you didn’t allow him to go to any late night matches which were always the majority, but tomorrow’s kickoff was 3:30pm and when he pitched the idea, you felt awful for feeling like you’d deprived him of some fun memories.

you really didn’t want to go, but your baby boy deserved it. he’d been working so hard in the last weeks of school and rúben would agree that you needed to take him - he wanted you both there just as much but he also knew not to tell a pregnant woman what to do - he wasn’t the one carrying an 8lb baby around in all summer.

“you nearly ready, baby?!” you called from your room, trying your best to look acceptable for today’s outing. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done your makeup and styled your hair so neatly, baby dias was really kicking your butt that you hardly had any energy after a shower, let alone doing your makeup and hair.

you really needed them out so you could go back to your old self.

you didn’t remember pregnancy being this hard with eli. with him, you were able to get through the rest of school with him growing in your belly! taking notes and listening in class. sure, you had sickness and a sore back but that was really only at the start and at the end. given, you were younger and full of energy.

eli came along in the last of your teen years but you wouldn’t change anything for the world, same with rúben. he blamed that baby boy for being the reason he pushed himself so hard to get where he was today. he was such an easy pregnancy, and an easy kid.

being honest, you felt more unprepared for this new baby as a grown adult than you did as a teenager back in 2016.

with a few thuds across the landing and a solid jump at your bedroom door, you turned to see your 8-year-old all ready holding two thumbs up. with a man city kit on and trainers, he looked like rúben more than ever. seriously, if you got a photo of rúben back then, it was like looking at eli with a slightly different haircut. it scared you so much. “ready!”

traffic was always bad no matter what time you left, but you got there in one piece and already left eli with one of your closest friends and bernardo’s wife, ines, while you had to run to the bathroom even after such a short journey. jeans were longgg out of the equation so you’d gone with some loose, white trousers to go with the blue football shirt, hoping they didn’t wrinkle too much but still looked good with the outfit. “you are glowing!”

“no, it’s probably just my highlighter,” you pointed to your cheekbone as ines laughed cheerfully.

“no! you look amazing, what are you talking about?! i have missed you!” she couldn’t help but hug you again. “you’re ready to pop!”

she felt your bump and you huffed a sigh, pulling your sunglasses down, “i know, it feels like it.”

you didn’t really like being out this far along, not because you were afraid, but you were at that stage were you were starting to feel gross. like, you looked like a whale no matter what you wore or styled yourself to look like. realistically – you were one of the most beautiful pregnant women the internet had saw. truly, you may have felt like an elephant, but you were still posted on WAG accounts, getting shared by millions of women who begged they could only look as good as you when pregnant or better - envied you for still looking so hot while suffering the struggles of pregnancy.

how?! 😭❤️

life’s not fair!!!! 😫

what’s her secret?!!! 😍😭🙏🏼

but you could have gotten a thousand comments like that . . but all it took was the one bad one.

fucking hell, keep her inside 😂🫣

who is that??

🤣🤣🤣🤮🤮

a lot of the time you didn’t care because you knew how the internet worked, and you know the majority were sad-little-pathetic-football-fan men. they barely impacted you.

when it was women on the other hand . . .

“i just can’t believe one woman would say that to another woman,” you tilted your phone to show ines the replies. “what happened to the whole ‘girls help girls?’” you had to put your phone down before you ended up on a gossip page for arguing with people in your comment section.

“it’s always down to jealousy, babe. they hate you ‘cause they ain’t you,” she pointed, the same thing you had told her when she got her first negative comment, and you smiled at her attempt of making you feel better. she was such a good friend.

the internet was a weird place. your life was a weird place, you didn’t think there’d be a day people hated you for simply being with a person. you found it weird paparazzi followed you around when rúben was the famous one. you found it weird there were accounts dedicated to you when you didn’t do anything. it caught you off seeing people notice every little thing about you or knew things you forgot you’d explained. it did add a little bit of pressure knowing you were being watched and most likely compared to other beautiful WAGS. you’d be lying if you didn’t say you’d put on makeup in fear you’d be posted all over those news articles and WAG accounts.

you forgot how stressed matches made you until kickoff, two minutes in and already overthinking how this would go down. rúben had your heart fluttering nontheless with how he ran up and down the pitch, giving orders all sweaty and even repping the captain band for a bit. it made you feel real good about your baby daddy.

“come on, pa!” your son would shout when a bit of a ruffle would occur, his father speaking passionately to the ref with frustrating hand movements.

the halftime whistle blew and you let out a breath, fanning yourself as your body relaxed for a small moment. 0-0. “ma, i need to go to the bathroom.”

“me too, let’s go!”

perks of dating a footballer? renting out their own box for friends and family - including the private bathroom. no queues around hereee.

walking through the rows and steps, you couldn’t help but feel eyes pinned to you. ines would tell you because you’re a WAG of a player (you regret ever educating her on that term) but really you felt like it was because you looked like a whale making her way through the stands.

eli convinced you to do a lap of the stadium just once to ‘stretch your legs’ when really it was something he always liked to do as he believed it ‘made halftime pass quicker’. so hobbling around with few staff members recognising the kid (or rather seeing the clear evidence he was a mini rúben) , you strolled around the packed building, trying to squeeze past football fans, getting stopped once for a picture.

“thank you so much!”

“no worries at all,” you waved to the two girls, shooting them your kindest smile. they were so lovely, and even complimented you for ‘pulling off pregnancy so well’.

“you’re sLayiNg” eli mocked them, taking your hand.

“shut up,” you tutted. you appreciated being told you were still slaying.

“matt!”

the 8-year-old suddenly bolted to a familair security guard in a neon vest who was delighted to see the boy. “my man!”

you didn’t bother rushing over, you were out of breath as it was and decided to just lean on the wall while elias got his quick catch up, waving at matt instead. halftime was almost over. you should be heading back now.

“—not the best one though.”

“—no, sasha is definitely the best wag.”

i swear, the word ‘wag’ triggers you like nothing else.

you tried not to look around, but to your left, you could make out two bodies mingling with each other. both wearing light blue tops with stylish jeans and trainers, the two girls waiting outside the bathroom, trying to talk quietly between then in a mumbled manner.

you were a mum - you had mastered your hearing to hear the grass grow.

“–but sasha’s not pregnant?”

“–but if she was, she’d have a cute bump, not . . ”

their silence had you believe they’d glance in your direction, and it took every bone in your body not to stare dead on at them with a smile to let them know you heard every word - but you didn’t. you played oblivious and stayed watching eli, a forced sweet smile on your lips.

“–foden’s girl always has a cute little bump too!”

“–oh my god, yes. she’s stunning.”

“–he’s stunning too, to be fair.”

“eli, come on son!” you wanted to bang your head on the wall not wanting to endure the conversation anymore. now you’d tune in, you couldn’t tune out.

“–ok. bye matt! see you later,” he didn’t waste a second to return to you. “see you soon, buddy!”

you waved at matt and led him through the crowds, not meaning to hold his hand so tight until he pointed it out. “ow, ma, you’re hurting me.”

“sorry baby.” you didn’t sound sorry but you felt utterly hot and bothered. and not in the good way.

for some unreasonable reason, a small line of carts drove through the halls, and you stood against the wall as they passed by, holding your son by his shoulders. you could hear a small utter of whispers from your side but refused to turn your head. you really needed to fucking sit down.

“—dias’ girl! look at the size of her!”

“–rob that’s so mean! she’s pregnant!”

“WOW!” eli stole your attention as he almost stepped out in front of a last minute one zooming by. you smiled, and quickly manoeuvred him on your way.

“keep going, keep going,” you shuffled behind him in the stands, but stopped amidst a waiting line as someone caused hassle. your foot kicked something. “oh i’m so sorry!”

you accidentally tapped your foot to a lady’s handbag, but she smiled and waved you off. “you’re alright, don’t worry!” shortly adding, “i’m not surprised!” glancing to your belly.

it wasn’t malicious, but it was about to be the last straw of some floodgates. “ha! i know . . I’m like a whale.”

“how far along are you?” her friend asked.

“about 7-8 months,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the fact they didn’t assure you that you didn’t look like a whale. thanks.

“oh wow!”

“i know,” you fake laughed. why wasn’t this line moving?

“is it twins or just the one?”

you tried to stop your eye twitching. who in the right kind said that?! was that . . a backhanded compliment?! what that even a compliment?! or was she genuinely asking in a stupid and nosey manner? “no, but it feels like it,” you fake laughed, and they did too. twats.

“oh my! you’re so big!”

“he or she will be a big boy or girl,” the other corrected with her pint in hand, knowing her friend’s words had just flown out of her mouth.

“yeah . .” you were done with this conversation but you didn’t dare be rude. thankfully, the line moved, and they waved goodbye. “congratulations!”

“thank you!” you replied, turning back around, mouthing absolute knobheads.

“mum, i don’t think you’re a whale,” eli’s hand patted your own that rested on his shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

your heart thumped and although he didn’t look at you, your heart melted to a puddle as you squeezed his shoulders and ruffled his hair, knowing you’d embarrass him with a kiss. “thank you baby. you’re always to sweet to me.”

and he was. you actually . . wanted to cry. shock.

“hey!” ines greeted. “where’d you guys go?”

you only shook your head and nodded to you son who was standing again, ready and recharged for more yelling. you felt ines squeeze your hand and you looked at her, “are you ok? you look . .”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you dabbed your eyes and put your sunglasses back on. “just . . stupid stuff, and then e said something really sweet and i just,” you held your heart which made her laugh and reassure her for the time being. “ok, but . . you can tell me, y’know?”

“just being emotional,” you said the obvious, making her laugh as you leaned into her for support.

you would tell her later, but right now, you were going to use the rest of the game as your excuse to start screaming.

-

the game ended on a win. you saw rúben briefly when the players walked around and applauded, and eli mirrored his excitement and happiness, waving and calling to him as he spotted you guys. he was ecstatic you could make it.

it was after 6 by the time you got home and settled. you were about to order food when you second guess your options, today’s events replaying in your mind:

look at the size of her!

sasha would have a cute bump.

you’re so big!

you knew you were pregnant but there were far nicer things to say to a pregnant lady. what a bunch of assholes.

instead, you cooked some carbs up for eli and made yourself a seperate dinner, feeling the need to watch what you were eating now - you’d be giving birth soon and all those pregnancy cravings didn’t just leave when the baby came. you weren’t silly - you weren’t going to deprive yourself of food, but maybe they had a point - why wasn’t your bump considered cute? was it hard to tell you were pregnant? what were you doing differently?

you were on the verge of calling sasha and asking her what she put in her green smoothies when the door opened.

“meu amor?”

“in here champ,”

something rúben didn’t expect to see what you lying on the couch with a salad balanced on your bump, and you munching away like it was a 5-star dish. “what’s this about . . ?” he smiled sceptically, dropping his bag to the floor.

“what’s what?”

“that.” he nodded to your plate.

you shrugged. “took a notion for it.”

“for . . a salad?” he clarified, looking down at you, entertained in some sense.

your craving for the last 5 months had been anything with chocolate frosting on it. rúben had watched you talk yourself out of buying a tub of it on its own because you knew if was weird and would have to bake go use it.

“yeah.”

to be fair, the salad was tasty, and you were enjoying it but . . at 7 months pregnant? rúben tilted his head. “where’s eli?”

“is his room.”

“he had salad too?”

“he had pasta and garlic bread.”

now he knew something was up. you? not eating garlic bread? italian in general?

someone had said something to you.

he looked at you concerningly, but he was too afraid to ruin the peaceful moment. you seemed calm. he had won a game and you were in a good mood today. baby boy or girl mustn’t be giving you too much trouble so that was a win in itself. so he just leaned down and kissed you lovingly. “hi.”

“hi,” you smiled, pecking him three more times before he rose again. “well done today.”

“thank you,” his hand touched your belly for about two seconds before you swept it off smoothly with your own, squeezing it instead. you smiled up at him again, “love you.”

he kissed you again trying to hide his confusion – but something was up. you were being odd. “love you too.”

and he left and headed for eli’s room, leaving you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before slouching again and continuing with your dinner.

-

the rest of that evening, rúben was correct. you weren’t yourself.

your mind was somewhere else, and your head wasn’t out of your phone. constantly scrolling, you had overanalysed every picture captured of you today and tried not to nitpick. reading comments. comparing yourself. he wondered what you were doing.

but everyone else did have small bumps. everyone’s looked so cute. they didn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever they wanted or slack with self-care. they still wore tight clothing. they still looked gorgeous. you began to compare yourself to all these other wives and girlfriends on the page, wondering how on earth they looked that good.

ummmm, ‘cause maybe they’re 12 weeks along and you’re triple that?

the next morning, rúben kissed you in the kitchen before leaving. “what’s that?”

“what?”

“that,” he nodded to the drink in your hand.

“a smoothie?”

“for breakfast?”

“well yeah,” you furrowed your brows, and he immediately shook his head, pulling that judgemental, disapproving look you sometimes wanted to punch. “no, no, come on, don’t be silly, now,” he almost laughed, “you need to eat something proper.”

“it’s a smoothie, it has everything i need in it?”

“y/n, make something to eat. you’re almost 8 months pregnant for crying out loud,” he looked at you seriously. he didn’t want to sound like he was scolding you or making you feel stupid but you knew he was worried about the lack.

overprotective rúben had always been a constant in your relationship but when you were pregnant — phew, “you got my baby in there.”

“–and he or she is looked after, it’s a healthy drink—”

he took it from your hand and kissed your cheek in the process, taking it with him to training with a smirk, “stop being lazy and cook.”

you were furious. you were actually annoyed that he had taken the drink himself and didn’t find it funny. he kissed eli’s head and the door closed, and you were left highly irritated.

you couldn’t see eli shrink, but he did, looking wide-eyed at the table as he considered his dad a brave brave man in that moment to do that to you - considering the look of your face.

and as a pregnant woman with her emotional struggling to stay in check - you lost it as they all blended together once eli was dropped off at school, sitting in a car park of a café you regretted going too now that you sat with your decaf latte and triple-choc muffin. the frustration quickly turned to tears as you had a moment, eyes in your hands, thinking over everything the last couple days.

yes you were pregnant, but was there a need to be that big? were you even that big compared to others? were you really that bad to look at? that unflattering? did it even looking like you were pregnant? the loose clothing probably didn’t help, but who wanted to wear tight clothing? pregnancy was hard - it was hard to glamourise it all the time!

you’d never cried over looking bad the first time you were pregnant, maybe once or twice when a pair of jeans didn’t fit or you couldn’t reach your shoelaces, but never over the way you felt about yourself. you actually were starting to feel disgusting, and it was embarrassing because you let randomers make you feel this way!

. . and then the pathetic-ness turned into anger because why were people such assholes?! how can they not keep an opinion to themselves?! making you feel bad about your baby!

. . and then the anger turned to guilt because your sweet little baby was just trying to grow and be healthy and you were upset over it. tears again.

you didn’t know how to fix it. the damage was already done, you had a month left, there was no going back now with salads and smoothies, you yanked your paper bag with your muffin off the floor, eating your money’s worth. rúben subconsciously popped into your head as he was probably eating some fruit salad or nutritious sandwich at this time.

oh rúben. you wished he was here but you also knew you wouldn’t want him near you at the minute, not when you weren’t feeling yourself and you had people in your comments telling you he was on his way of replacing you.

he would call you stupid, but rúben just wouldn’t understand. he wouldn’t get being on the other side, the built in competition that automatically comes with being a woman, more than ever with this lifestyle he had given you. one where you’re compared left right and centre with a certain standard to achieve.

you bet every handbag you owned, he’d screw his face up and go ‘are you serious’ if you told him your issue. he knew you were above anyone commenting stupid things on your posts and found it immature of you in a way if you did take those things to heart - i mean they were nobodies! jealous nobodies! but that’s easy for him to say, his comments are flooded with never ending support, guys praising him for his talent, physique and hard work and most girls telling him to hurry up and leave you. spamming with flame and tongue emojis, thirsting over your man just the way you did, only boosting his ego more which rúben did not need.

so you just felt silly, and picked at your muffin, accepting your were going to be a whale wag.

you felt like a slob when you got back home, staying on the couch after cleaning, and then crying except you were watching a movie to blame it on that.

you still couldn’t get comments out of your head, i mean what was an ‘expired wag?!’ or a ‘busted oven?!’ what did that mean? and why always the skull emojis?!

scrolling once again through photos of comparison, you scrolled onto a beautiful pic of your beautiful bestie, ines, and straight away phoned her. “hey.”

“hey! what’s up! what’s going on? why do you sound you out of breath?”

“why do you think?” you laughed.

“girl are you crying again?!”

and you started talking. you had to get things off your chest and you needed ines to make you feel better, to assure you and let you rant, and she happily did, after all, you’d always been there when she was having a moment.

“–what did rúben say?”

“nothing, i haven’t told him anything. he’ll just tell me i’m being ridiculous.”

“he won’t!”

“ines, he would, he’s not like bernardo. rúben’s harsh!”

“so are you! which is why i can’t believe you’re still crying over this!”

he was harsh in the good way, in the same way you were. you were both practical. real. realistic. you picked each other up and told each off when you were being ridiculous. pulled each other out their asses. brought you back down to earth.

but you just needed comforted at this current moment by your girl.

as you continued to chat and laugh more than you thought, the front door opened without your acknowledgment and rubes stepped through. freshly showered after a long morning of training, he instantly heard your voice rambling over the phone. he took notice of the tissue also crumpled on the floor by the door (you’d been carelessly tossing them for dramatic effect) and paused after he thought he’d heard a sad sniffle. he closed the door quietly and crept near the living room.

“i can’t help it, i do just feel . . blegh,” you felt like you were being ridiculous but you couldn’t help it. “like, why does everyone keep making a big fuss about it? am i really that massively huge or am i just not liked?”

he heard another woman’s laughter on your phone and recognised her as soon as she began talking to you, “y/n, i promise no one is making a fuss of it, it probably just seems in your face all the time because you keep going back to check. i promise the world is not broadcasting you,” ines chuckled sweetly, which followed your sad laugh also.

“well the wag world does!”

“y/n!” she laughed, “you’re overthinking it. i promise you have nothing to worry about. the only person who’s opinion should matter to you is rúben’s and everybody knows he has you on a pedestal!” rúben found himself smiling. he’d always been a fan of ines. “he’s called you his wife since you came to manchester! he’s always been proud to show you off, you look good - you look amazing! people are just saying that stuff about you to make themselves feel better.”

“mm, i guess,” you sniffed, holding your forehead. “i don’t know, it’s just been getting to me . . and i’m not saying to rúben because he’ll tell me i’m being stupid. i wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaving an hour earlier in the mornings to get away from me. it’s not like my looks can make up for my psycho-ness anymore,” you joked.

“y/n!” she tried not to laugh. “though, pregnancy psycho-ness is definitely real.”

it is, rúben mentally agreed also, though his heart still sank further as he heard you talk about yourself in such ways. he didn’t want to call you ridiculous but come on, you were pregnant! didn’t they all count as compliments to a pregnant lady?!

“it is,” you let out a sigh, “i wouldn’t want to be around me either, just this big angry rhino walking around the house,” you laughed together, “he goes to a paris event on friday anyway, he’ll get a break and have plenty of french models to—”

a clear of a throat had you whipping your head to the door, seeing rúben’s hard stare. your mouth went dry. “uhhh, ines i’ll call you back.”

you felt bad hanging up as she was speaking back, too shocked you’d been heard rambling for the last couple minutes. or probably longer! how long had he been standing there?!

“listen—”

“french models?! french models, y/n.”

“rúben, it’s not in context—”

“oh i heard the context, i heard everything,” he came in the room, not one spot of happiness found on his face. he was fuming. you could tell, and disappointed too, you felt like eli getting told off by him, throwing yourself back into the couch as he stood with that gruff, intimidating look, hands shoved in his pockets.

“you don’t get it—” you could already feel the tears welling in your eyes, though a pit of frustration was brewing in your chest hot and fast. this was going one of two ways.

“what don’t i get? you don’t tell me what’s wrong when i ask you!”

“‘cause you wouldn’t understand!”

“ok but what i do understand is my wife accusing me of what? getting to pick which ‘french model’ i want to take home next week?”

now your face fell flat, realising how ridiculous and cruel that sounded. you shouldn’t accuse him of that kind of stuff.

“rubes, i just—” your mouth felt dry again. tears brimming again, you could feel how hot they were. the words were on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t know how they were gonna come out.

“what is it? tell me,” he pushed, eager for you to actually get out what you wanted to say so he could help sort it. “i’m here to listen.”

and you did, you unleashed it all. “people are assholes. your fans are assholes. i’m sorry but i cannot believe the stuff people have no issue saying to other people - pregnant people at that! as if the 9 months aren’t hard enough, i have this mob of men and women on my back, judging and critiquing my every outting. i can’t do it anymore, it’s actually ruining whatever self-confidence i have left!” the tears were streaming as you began your rant, choking down sobs as you moved your hands, a fury behind all the sadness.

rúben crouched down, wanting to be nearer as you let it all out. “every day, every hour, i have someone online, reminding me off how big i am, how unflattering my paparazzi pic is, how whale-like i am! how hard it’s gonna be to shift this baby weight! i’m getting put in competition with every other pregnant wife and girlfriend of your teammate and showed how much better they pull it off! how gorgeous they look all the time! how their bumps are ‘cute’ and small and ‘suits them.’ i heard it myself at your game the other day! it’s like they’ve never seen an un-photoshopped pregnant woman before!” you met his eyes, realising you were probably being silly and that there were bigger problems in the world. “i just feel disgusting, rúben. i never felt like this with eli, i was in this perfect little bubble but this time so different. i don’t want to leave the house when i know a monstrosity of photos are getting taken of me, pointing out every flaw. i don’t have a cute, small bump! i do look like a whale! i can’t dress sexy! and i get what people are saying when they say it’ll be a bit before you can look at me again ‘cause god knows—”

“shh,” he quickly silenced you, placing a finger to your lips. his brows were furrowed as yours did, fed up of hearing you ramble about all the bad things about yourself. he felt pain in a way. he just couldn’t believe you actually thought these things about yourself. “wha— . . . are you being serious?”

“OH MY GOD!” you threw your arms up. see!

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, meu amor,” his big hands softly caressed your legs in front of him, along your smooth thighs to stop you from exploding again, “i’m sorry. it’s just . . i . . it annoys me that you let these things get to you, these random, strange people that you don’t even know. you take their opinion over mine. so mine doesn’t matter, it doesn’t count?” he looked you deeply in the eye, “how does that make sense? explain that to me.”

your head hit the cushion as you groaned but rúben held your hands comfortingly. he didn’t want to make you feel stupid, but he wanted to hear your thought process. “to me, it’s like . . you have the choice of walking into a room full of all these people who hate you, and you know the hate you, after being in one full of people you love . . and you go into the hateful one and are surprised that all these people are saying all these bad things about you when you could have just left it alone and focused on the lovely ones - from people who matter to you! who are actually in your life! do you understand?”

you nodded along, entranced by his eyes and how they were able to ground you alone. “you know that i think you’re the best thing in the world. you know i would love you if—” he thought off the top of his head, “you had 10 extra toes. a third eye. if you had a cow nose. elf ears!” your hair slipped silkily through his fingers, “you know i think you’re the most beautiful woman ever even dressed in a trash bag. i would still love you if you did wear trash bags. if you had a cow nose. if you weighed the same as a cow. if you weighed the same as a baby cow,” you broke a chuckle at that. “i’ve loved you through our ugly teen years, when i shaved my hair and your eyebrows were stick thin,” you laughed more as he let out a breath of relief, “i loved you when with vomit down your shirt and your hair dyed that weird colour—”

“rúbennn . .”

“what? and i loved you when you had eli in your stomach, and he was big baby,” his hand touched your belly, moving it in the same motion he always did because that’s when he got to feel the small kicks of this baby dias. “i loved you even more even when i saw how he came out,” he shot you a wildered look.

you facepalmed, dragging your hand down dreadfully at the thought of having to relive that moment all over again in over a months time.

his features turned as his thoughts turned sour, “why are you letting stupid fucking people affect you?”

“i don’t know . . i guess ‘cause so many people are saying it i . . it must be true to some extent—”

“y/n—”

“seriously, rúben. i don’t have a cute, small bump. ines and rebecca are always such sweet—”

“Y/N! have you SEEN the size of bernardo and phil next to me! is it any wonder they’re small! their child comes out the same size as them!” his hand shot out with passion.

now your head was in your hand with muffled laughter, caught off guard by his statement. “seriously! seriously, now you’re supposed to be the smart one,” he tried to look at you, that loving smile shining your way as his heart sang at the sound of you laughter. “you’re shocked that me, that we, have big babies . . that ines has a much smaller bump than you . . are you serious? that rebecca has a smaller bump than you? rebecca, phil and elway stacked on top of each other wouldn’t even reach the height of me!”

“rúben,” you laughed, feeling an actual blush of embarrassment coat your face at how stupid he’d made you feel, but in a good way.

he was so right. what were you thinking?

“i’m like, the biggest guy on the team! sorry i didn’t realise that was gonna be a problem for you,” you lightly hit his shoulder to wrap up the sarcasm, still giggling. he looked at you from the floor, his hands still on you, on your leg on bump — the bump that he did make look small next to his hand. “and please remember you’re a month away from giving birth, you’re supposed to be a healthy size. and i been going to training an hour earlier ‘cause i know when this one comes along, i’ll not want to go as much and i’ll want to stay with you both. i’ll start working on my dad bod . .” he felt the small, subtle movement happening inside, but he could feel them if he kept still enough.

“you’d look good with both.” you rolled your eyes.

“and you’d still look better. y/n, you’re not a whale. please stop saying that,” he finally crept to his feet, climbing on the couch on top of you, leaning his arm behind your head. “you are the most beautiful-est woman to me and no-one, NO-ONE can convince me otherwise. you’re my standard of perfect, of gorgeous and sexy and all the rest of it. i’ve found you sexy before this baby, during this baby, and after this baby — i still get comments of people telling me how ugly i look when you’re next to me! you bring my value down!”

his arm wrapped around your neck while the other threw itself over your bump, shifting and snuggling into the sofa more comfortingly, you relaxed alongside him, the tears no trickling down but with good reason behind them as you were shocked to find your love growing even more for rúben when you thought it was impossible. “i don’t know what comments you’re seeing because all i see are the ones calling you a milf, and it takes too much time to try and report them all.”

you held his hand at your shoulder, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly, over and over again. you knew how much he loved you. “yeah, you’re right. fans are just . . assholes.”

“fans are assholes,” he agreed, stroking your cheekbone, “. . don’t listen to them. you think i listen to everything they say about me?” he perked a brow.

sometimes! you wanted to say but knew better. it was rhetorical question, and you knew his sweet intentions.

“alright? i don’t so why should you? you’re hot stuff babe,” he looked at the side of your face, inspecting every little freckle and faint scar, he just wanted to never stop kissing you. “i love you the way you are. eli loves you for the way you are, and this baby,” he rubbed circles on your belly, “he or she is going to be so unbelievably lucky when they see who they have as their mam. i know it’s not the smallest bump but i think it’s the cutest i’ve ever saw, with my baby girl or boy in there,” he kissed the size of your stomach. he grew more and more excited each day as he got a day closer to meeting who was inside. he couldn’t wait. “. . who they get their good looks from and skill and personality - well, i mean i would like to take some credit for the both of those ‘cause i mean their daddy is pretty c—”

you playfully jabbed his side, making him laugh. “yeah, he’s the hottest one on the field,” you glanced at him, kissing his cheek.

one thing about him, he’d always blessed you with beautiful children.

“yeah, and their mum is coolest one at the school pick up,” his lips trailed along your cheek to your jaw, the slight scruff of his beard tickling you. “you’re the biggest milf to walk the planet–”

“rúbennn,” you chuckled, blushing at his words whilst trying to push him away.

“i’m serious,” he proceeded, peppering kissed down your neck, “and she’s coming to paris with me for the weekend so she can outshine me like she does at every event she comes to.”

you laughed at that, smiling dreamily as he proceeding to love on you.

“and eli?”

“elias gets to stay with his favourite uncle who owes a favour,” he winked.

“hmm. ok.”

“and i’ll give her a reason to cry if she starts thinking like that again,” he whispered in your ear.

your heart slipped a beat. “oh yeah?”

“ohh yeahhh,” he nodded, standing to his feet, not before a loud ‘smack’ echoed the room as he mimicked what your poor backside would get if you kept up that kind of behaviour. “see you upstairs, mama.”

you blew your hair from your face, heart thumping, your hands slowly crept up to your adorable little bump where you caressed it gently as he headed for upstairs, whispering softly, “you are soo lucky he’s your papai.”

your heart raced as he peeled his hoodie off, back muscles staring right at you as he headed for your room, you felt your insides begin to sizzle.

"I'm going shopping!"

"Can I come?"

"I'm going with Rachel, sorry".

Rúben pouts, making me laugh.

"Are you buying clothes for our holidays?"

"Of course, everything I have looks terrible all of a sudden so I need to fix that".

"Buy something sexy", he winks and I shake my head.

Something sexy…sure, one actually has to feel sexy in order to look sexy. And I can't say that's the case for me right now. But I try to forget all that when I meet Rachel to go on our shopping trip.

"Hear me out. I know we're not going to travel together but how cute would it be if we both had this matching set? We could be twins on different sides of the world".

I laugh and pick up the clothes she's showing me. Rachel and I have similar taste, so it's not surprising to me I actually really like this set. What we don't have in common is our body shape.

"I don't know, Rach. This top would look great on you but what do I do wearing this?"

"You look hot. That's what you do", she shrugs.

"How?", I say, pointing to my chest.

"What are you even talking about? You wear tops like this all the time even if you don't have much to show. At least you don't have to deal with all I have to show", she says, pointing at her own chest.

"But people like what you have to show. They look at me and wonder if I went through puberty yet".

I leave the top back where it was and move to see other clothes. Of course, Rachel follows me, frowning.

"Has Rúben made a comment about it?"

"About what?"

"About your boobs being small".

"No", I sigh. He's never made me feel like my body isn't good enough or pointed out any flaws. I'm good at doing that myself. I don’t need his help.

"Then where is this coming from?"

"I don't know. Of course I've been insecure about being so flat-chested in the past. But I thought I had made my peace with it. And now all of a sudden it's back. I see all these women with their tiny tops looking so good. Or all the bikini photos on Instagram and…well, then look at myself and it's pretty underwhelming".

"Don't compare yourself to others, please. You're perfect the way you are. And just so you know, it's very uncomfortable sometimes to have bigger boobs like mine. I so wish I had yours many times".

"You don't have to say that to make me feel better but I appreciate it".

"I mean it", and I've known her long enough to know she's saying the truth.

But still, whenever I pick another top or bikini, Rúben's words come back to my mind. "Buy something sexy". Because surely he wants me to be sexy. For him. And yet this is what he gets.

**

For our holidays, we go to a small Greek island. Tourism here isn't as bad and so we can relax better.

"Take that off", I hear Rúben say and open my eyes to look at him.

"Take what off?"

"The shirt", he says and I can see he's got a bottle of sunscreen in his hand.

"I'm good. I already put cream on my legs, don't worry".

"How can you be good? It's almost 40 degrees and you're wearing a shirt".

"I'm fine", I tell him, even though it's really hot and I'm not fine at all.

"Is everything ok? Are you ill or something?"

"No, Rúben. Just stop pestering me, ok? I want to sunbathe in peace".

"With a shirt on".

I close my eyes and turn my head to the side so he can't see the little tears in my eyes. Why do I always have to be so emotional?

But, of course, he can read me like an open book and he moves around the sunbed to look at my face and try to find the answers I won't give him.

"Why are you crying? Did something happen when I was out?"

"No".

"Well, you're scaring me then".

"I don't want to wear a bikini".

His frown is even deeper now. "Not what I expected to hear. But why don't you? I mean, we're sunbathing…is it because of the news that people have been filming women at the beach without their consent? We're in a private area, that shouldn't happen".

"As if anyone would want to take photos of me in a bikini", I mutter.

"I do", he laughs, not understanding what I'm saying.

But instead of telling him, I just get up and go back to the room, closing the door before he can get inside. And I know he'll get the message that I need a second to be alone.

Ten minutes later, the door opens and he finds me staring at myself in the mirror.

"Tell me what's wrong, please. I can't help you if I don't know".

"How can you like this?"

"Like what?"

"This", I say, pointing at my chest. "Your boobs are bigger than mine, Rúben".

"So? What's the problem?".

"Well, you want me to be sexy. I want to be sexy too. And this…this is anything but sexy".

"Why do I find you sexy then?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to be treated like a child, Rúben. I have eyes. And I know what men like. You want someone like Rachel. And I want to look like her too. I'm not blaming you".

"If I wanted to be with someone like Rachel, I would be with someone like her. I don't. I'm with you. And I've been for a while. Don't you think that if your body was a problem, I would have noticed already?"

I put the shirt back on, ignoring him, and go back to bed. But soon, he's lying down next to me.

"It's ok to be insecure sometimes but don't doubt me, please. We've always been honest with each other".

"This is different".

"How?"

"This isn't something I can change. It's not ugly clothes or like that time I thought getting highlights on my hair was a good idea".

"And who says you have to change it?"

"I do. I'm usually confident but we all want to fit it. To fit the standard of what people find attractive".

"And you think you don't already", he says, shaking his head. "That insecurity has gotten to your head but once it's gone, you'll see how wrong you were".

"You don't get it".

Rúben sits up and I follow his movements with my eyes.

"I do. Do you think I just go to the gym to be strong? I want to look good. I want to fit in that stupid idea of what attractive is too. But that's not where the insecurity ends", I sit up to listen to him and he continues. "When I miss a header I think maybe it's because I'm not as tall as other players but I can't change my height so I work extra hard on my jumps. When I'm too slow I wonder if it's because all the muscle I have somehow slows me down. But if I don't have the muscle, I lose strength for the one-on-ones with other players. And the list goes on. You know how I feel after a bad match".

"Yes, you're pretty unbearable", I joke.

"And you put up with me and tell me what a great player I am and the insecurities disappear. So let me do the same for you".

"I don't know if you can right now. The idea is too stuck in my head".

He gets up and offers a hand so I do the same. Then he walks me to the mirror and moves to stay behind me.

"Let's take this off", he says, trying to remove my shirt but I try to stop him. "Let me".

I lift my arms and he takes the shirt off. I look at the bikini again and feel the need to cover myself. But he holds my arms when he notices.

"This is what you think is ugly, then?"

"I don't know if ugly is the word. But not good enough".

He then moves to my side and I look at him frowning.

"You're right. My boobs are bigger than yours".

"What?", I say, choking on a laugh.

"Maybe I should wear a bikini too".

"Rúben, stop".

"No no, let me try".

In a move I didn't expect, he removes my bikini top and tries to put it on his body but…he's bigger, in general. So it obviously doesn't fit.

I look at him, biting my lip so I don't laugh.

"Are you done being a clown?"

"No, because I made you laugh. And I also got your top off, which is another win for me. Because I like what I see. A lot".

"Thank you", I tell him, putting my arms around his shoulders and kissing him. "Should I just stay like this all day? You can wear my bikini if you want to".

"But I don't want tan lines", he whines jokingly.

I end up putting my top on again because he's right about the people taking photos of others. And because insecurities don't disappear after a couple of nice words, no matter how much they helped. But I leave the shirt in our room. Baby steps.

When I get bored of just lying down there, I pick up my phone and go on Instagram. Rachel has posted photos from her own holidays and I like the post before seeing all the photos. But then, I look at them.

"Look how great she looks in a bikini", I tell Rúben. "This is what I meant".

"I don't think many boyfriends get told to look at other women's boobs by their own girlfriends, you know?"

"Stop joking. You know I'm right".

"She looks good, yeah. And so do you. Send her a photo of you in that bikini".

"What?"

"It's Rachel", he says as if that explains everything. "She doesn't lie to you. Don't ask for her opinion on how you look. Just send the photo".

He's right so I find a photo we took earlier, as part of Rúben's plan to make me feel better. And I send it to my best friend.

It doesn't take her long to respond and I laugh.

"What did she say?"

"Stop sending me photos of you looking hot while I'm here with my boyfriend".

"Hot? Good word choice".

"I get the point, Rúben".

"I mean, gorgeous would have done too. Maybe even fucking gorgeous if we want to make sure you really get it".

I roll my eyes while he continues reciting all the adjectives he could use to describe me. But I love hearing him say all of that.

After a very lazy day, we shower and get ready to go out for dinner and a drink. I pick one of the summer dresses I bought on my shopping trip with Rachel. The neckline is pretty low but it's not as if I have much to cover so it works well for me.

"No bra. Naughty!", says Rúben when he sees me putting the dress on.

"I can't wear a bra with this dress".

"And that's why summer dresses are my favourites".

"Of course they are. Let's go eat. I'm starving".

The place is packed with people but we find a couple of seats at the bar and sit there while we wait for a table to be available.

We are just chatting, sipping on our drinks when a woman walks towards me.

"Sorry to bother you. Could you help me fix my top? My friends aren't here and I don't want to ask a man, you know".

I look at her, surprised by the request.

"Sure, what's the issue?"

She turns so I can see the back and points at the straps there. "Is it done the right way? Because it's hurting me".

"No. One of them is twisted. Let me undo this quickly so it's done right. The skin is a bit red too. Hold the front of the top well so it doesn't move".

"Thank you. God! I hate my boobs!"

Rúben lets out a little laugh at her words. "Sorry".

"Don't be. I know you don't get it but these can be so annoying sometimes. So many tops don't fit me or wearing them can hurt like it happened right now".

"Done", I say and she turns to look at me.

"Thank you", she says, giving me a quick hug and looking down at my chest. "See? Look at that gorgeous dress you're wearing. You get to make it look good. I'd have to spend the night trying to keep these two in place", she laughs.

"And I would love to be able to fill my tops with something other than air", I laugh too.

"We're never happy with what we got, are we?"

I shake my head and she says goodbye to us before leaving to go find her friends.

"You do look great in that dress", says Rúben, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me closer to him.

"And I don't have to worry about keeping anything in place".

"Plus the whole not wearing a bra thing…".

It all started when one of his friends had his first child. You and Ruben went to meet the baby for the very first time and both were practically fascinated with the child. Your boyfriend held the baby in his strong arms, holding him like it was fragile, something he had to take care of and protect.

The vision shocked you. You and Rubén had never spoken before about having children, but to see him that way, with a baby in his arms, an instant feeling made you ask yourself what if you and him were parents someday. The idea wasn't so terrible after all.

"Look how small it is. Did you see his little hands?"

His brown eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but smile.

"He’s so cute."

"Our babies would be cute." Ruben said casually, totally sure of what he thought.

Oh, did Ruben think about you and him having a baby?

"Can’t you see us doing that?"

You smiled at your boyfriend’s question.

"Actually, I can."

That was just the beginning. As the days went by, he constantly sent you cute baby videos and photos. You couldn’t stop smiling and thinking that you wanted one, that Ruben was the right man to have your first baby and that maybe, you were ready to start trying.

One day your friends needed your help to babysit their baby. Ruben was practically already knocking on the door of his friends' house. While you were babysitting, you both looked at each other and took care of the little boy. It was a whole new experience, giving the bottle to the baby, playing with him and singing lullabies. At the time of changing his diaper, your man volunteered and made no complaint about anything at all. That proved your suspicions that Ruben would be an amazing father.

"I could do this with our baby."

You smiled, "You would be a great dad, a great one."

"I think you’d be an amazing mother. I can’t wait to have a baby of our own."

The talks about having children became a topic of conversation before bed. You had come out of the bathroom and settled into his arms, with your head on his chest. Lying next to him was amazing, but lying down and touching his skin, listening to his heart and having him so close was your drug. Kind of like heroin.

"I want a baby."

The silence was interrupted by his voice and his statement. There was a moment of silence, until you reacted and realized you hadn’t imagined it. You raised your head to look at his face. He was totally serious.

"Ruben, are you serious?"

"I’ve been thinking a lot lately about having kids and I think I’m ready. I want a baby. I want to hold our baby in my arms, I want her or him to look like you and me, to be a constant reminder that we are a family. Because that's what I want, I want a family with you. But I really don’t want to have kids with someone other than you, I want you to be the mother of my babies."

Your heart was beating like never before. Your cheeks were red and you wanted to kiss him. So you did, you didn’t control yourself anymore. Your lips joined together, Ruben kissed you back as euphoric as you. His hands went up to your hips, where he held you close to his body. He just separated to keep talking about the baby.

“Would you want to have a baby with me?”

“I’d love to have your baby, Ruben.”

That same night you started your try to have your first baby. A few weeks later, Ruben came home and found you in the bedroom.

"I haven’t looked at it yet. I was waiting for you."

Both approached the bathroom, totally nervous about the result of the pregnancy test. You didn’t dare look at it, so you let Ruben look at the evidence. It was the first attempt, the first time you checked on the pregnancy test, so there might be a chance you weren’t pregnant yet.

Ruben had read a lot, had been informed about how the pregnancy process would be, and had even seen videos of couples discovering they were pregnant. So when you saw him stay quiet you didn’t know what to expect.

"Ruben?"

"You’re pregnant."

"Wait-we’re having a baby?"

You couldn’t believe it, your eyes filled with tears and he came to you. You both hugged and began to understand that in nine months, your baby was going to be born.

“Eu te amo, eu te amo…” he repeated, his face full of happiness.

Ruben always placed a hand on your lower abdomen, even though the pregnancy wasn’t showing yet. Just thinking your baby was there was enough to keep him happy as ever. He was the happiest man in the world, you had made him the happiest man in the world.

When Ruben was not training or at his matches, both shared time at home, talking about the baby and all your plans about the future. He would buy any cute article of baby clothing that he saw, and do a mini haul of what he bought for your baby. That meant he had already brought your baby a City jersey with his number on it.

He also tried to figure out the baby's gender by analyzing your symptoms with old wives' tales.

"I feel like a fat cow."

"Well, you're the most beautiful cow I ever met.”

But your insecurities continued, having a baby in your belly made you feel much more emotional than usual. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but once you found yourself crying and seeing your body in the mirror. Ruben came closer to you and put both his hands in your belly.

"I think I’ve fallen more in love with you being pregnant."

The day he met his baby, Ruben knew that baby was all he needed in his life. That you and your baby were your family, two people he would love forever. The child was finally born and you were both crying.

"I am so grateful to you for loving me and allowing me to be a part of this family with you."

“not here, we- oh…” she grips his broad shoulders and bites her bottom lip to silence her moans. Dominik smirks and challenges her with his eyes.

“we what? What were you saying?” He leans in and bites her neck, his hips slamming against hers each time harder and harder. She whines in his ear and digs her nails into his back.

“ah fuck… right there” she moans when he grips her waist and fucks into her. Her legs are loosely wrapped around his middle. Water dripping down his body, wetting her clothes— or lack thereof.

“right here, baba? feels good, uhm?” He cockily mocks her, biting his lip. She clenches around him. The sight of him in nothing but tight boxers has her foaming at the mouth. She should resist him. But it’s hard when he looks like a greek deity.

“so good…” she repeats, her head tilting back against the mirror. It’s filthy. It’s naughty. It’s forbidden. It’s bad. But it feels so good.

“look at me, look at us…” dominik grabs her chin and her eyes fall on his torso then on his cock disappearing in her wet folds. She whines, biting her lip. A knot forming in her lower stomach as she gets closer and closer to the edge.

“had to fuck that fear of getting caught by your dad out of you, didn’t I?” He teases her but she’s too far gone to follow his words. His hands push her legs higher on his waist and he fucks her harder but slower. Watching as she jolts at every thrust, as she struggles to keep quiet, as she looks up at him with neediness in her eyes.

“fuck… such a good girl.” He mumbles more to himself than to her. She pulls him closer by the necklace dangling against his chest and kisses him. Mainly to silence her moans. Dominik kisses in a way that takes the air out of her lungs. When he pulls away she follows him, almost begging him to kiss her again. She’s gone.

“wanna watch you cum for me… always look so pretty when you do.” He admits, his hand sneaking between her legs and toying with her clit. She nods, agreeing with anything and everything that comes out of his filthy mouth. Dominik is close too. He can feel his cock twitching at every clench of your pussy.

“domi…” she whines and it’s a sound that makes his stomach flip. She needs him. And he needs her just as much. It’s not long after that she cums, almost squeezing the life out of him. Dominik’s lips are parted and low grunts come out of it as he comes undone, his forehead pressed against hers. She’s not sure she’s seen a more beautiful sight of the man in front of her in such state.

“are you guys done? C’mon, your dad is looking for you.” ruben bangs on the door impatiently as he tries not to look too suspicious while waiting for his best friend as she gets her insides rearranged. Dominik chuckles and pulls away after pecking her lips. She gets off the counter and fixes her clothes. He leans against the wall of the showers, still only in his boxers.

“what you looking at?” She winks at him as she approaches him for one last kiss.

“just mentally thanking mr guardiola for the goddess he’s brought onto this world.” He cheekily states while pulling her in and kissing her. They get caught up in it, one kiss leads to another and she’s once again pressed against the shower tiles. His hand loosely wrapped around her neck whilst hers rest in his hair, tugging at the locks. He grunts in her mouth.

“go before he comes looking for you.” He mumbles, trying to find the strength to not bend her over and fuck her again. She whines and pouts. But before she can reply there’s some more banging on the door.

“he’s coming, mierda.” ruben thinks before the worst unfolds in front of him…

“what is going on-“ her dad is standing on the threshold of the locker room. His eyes land immediately on the pair who was kissing just a few seconds before. Dominik should feel more ashamed as he’s standing in just his boxers.

Enjoy!

You felt so alone, so unbelievably alone.

"Is that him?" Lina asked, seeing as your phone was buzzing but you weren't going anywhere near it.

"Probably." You whispered, voice on the verge of chattering.

"Well, what does he want?"

"It's Tuesday, isn't it? He was probably down by the café today, wondering why I'm nowhere to be find, why we aren't open as usual."

Lina nodded. "Makes sense."

She was your boss, your employer, but she had done more in life to help you than anyone in your family, especially your own mother. Yesterday morning you came into work and told Lina that you were quitting. She refused to let you leave however, perhaps sensing that you were about to do something that you would regret. So she shut down the café, having everyone leave by lunch, not caring for the displeased looks and pending bad Yelp reviews. She had pulled the blinds to all the windows and sat you down in front of her, a plate of croissants to bribe the truth out of you. "What's going on?" She asked.

Just hearing the concern in her voice made your eyes water and throat thicken. You were full on crying once you told her that you were pregnant.

"It doesn't look like he's gonna stop. Do you want me to answer?" Lina stared at your phone as if it was someone's crying toddler.

"I don't know?" You fell back against Lina's couch. She and her husband offered you to stay with them for as long as you needed, however their apartment only had one bedroom, meaning you were gonna have to settle for the couch. But it was better than the bed in your dorm room. Those matresses were rock hard. A dancers body usually ached before going to bed, now it ached even more getting out of it.

"Okay, I'm doing it." Lina said, her patient having ran out. She reached for your phone, pressing it to her ear. "Hello, who's this?" She answered with a uncharacteristically stern tone. She would never talk to a costumer that way. "Yes, this is Y/N's phone, who am I talking to?"

The anticipation was unbarable. You brought your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them.

"No, she can't come to the phone right now. Would you like to leave a message...?"

"No, because she's unavailable and doesn't want to talk to anyone right now...."

"No, she's not sick, are you sick?"

"No, this is not her mother, I'm her friend Lina. And you are....?"

Her eyes widened a little.

"Well then...Mr Ruben Dias, I suggest you don't call this number anymore because Y/N doesn't want to talk to you."

"Why.....?"

Lina looked to you, the phone resting in her hand. You nodded your head. She sighed. "Because she's pregnant Ruben."

You closed your eyes, sensing the whole world crashing down around you.

"....so the next time you decide to fuck a girl in the back of your car at least have the decency to wear a condom, or better yet, PULL OUT!"

Enjoy!

You were so indecisive.

"Babe, yellow or blue?"

You called your boyfriend into the room to help you make the critical decision.

"Yeah?"

He popped his black hair head through the door, darting his eyes at where you hovered over the suitcase set on the bedroom floor.

"Which one, yellow or blue?" You held up the dresses before you. Dominik chuckled but stepped into the room.

"Erm...the blue dress, that's the one you wore on our first date, no?"

You lowered your arms. "You remember?"

Dominik smiled. "Of course I do. That dress pursued me to take you on a second date."

"Ha ha, very funny." You folded the blue dress and tucked it into the suitcase.

"But the yellow..."

"What about it?"

Dominik regarded the yellow dress with a finger tapping his chin. "You look so fucking good in yellow."

"Thank you." You giggled. He was right that the bright color complemented your skin tone, especially on a summers day like this one.

"Wait, I changed my mind!"

You paused mid folding.

"Blue, yeah take the blue dress not the yellow one." Dominik nodded.

You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "How so?"

"Huh?"

"Why the suden change of heart?"

His cheeks blossomed.

"Dominik?"

"Okay, okay, pick whatever color dress you want. But remember, if you wear the yellow one and people start turning their heads in the street, I might have to fight somebody. "

You rolled your eyes and thought, "Men." Nevertheless, the blue dress got taken out of your suitcase, replaced by the yellow.

Dominik stepped up and knelt down before you, his hand lifting your chin. "Hey." He grinned.

"Hey." 

"You're mine, you know that right?"

"I know."

"I'm not sharing you with anyone."

"How romantic of you."

He leaned forward, pressing a long kiss to your lips. They were plump once you parted, with Dominik wiping his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "We leave in an hour. Don't overpack."

"Okay."

You were excited. More than excited, actually. It was your first time visiting Hungary, Dominik's home country. You were so excited to walk the streets of Budapest. To shop until you dropped. The local cuisine was also something to look forward to. Dominik would be your own personal tour guide, and hopefully, he would take you to see his hometown. At least, that's what he promised to do.

It would be a huge step in your relationship. Meeting Dominik's parents would be both nerve-racking and exciting. You wanted to impress them more than anything.

Everything happened so fast or so slowly, she honestly couldn’t tell. She was six months pregnant, there was discomfort in every part of her body, her irritation was now focused on the rice. She might’ve added a bit too much water and now it looked like glue, and yes that was completely her fault.

What wasn’t her fault was the candle that fell on her daughter's head. She should’ve known something was off the moment that it got too quiet, but it wasn't uncommon for ears to buzz when you are pregnant, high exposure to sounds now left her partially unwilling to notice the silence or chaos that surrounded her home. 

She did hear Sofia's loud cry, and that’s when the ringing stopped. She turned off the stove and she ran, forgetting about her pregnancy pain, but she ran to nowhere because Sofia wasn’t where she left her. She was sitting happily with her dolls in the family room the last time she went to give her some grapes, and that couldn't have been less than ten minutes ago. 

So she went upstairs as fast as she could, she saw her little frame collapsed on the floor right by her dresser, a candle shattered on the floor, did she worry that she was barefoot and the glass had penetrated her skin? No, because the bump on her daughter's head was more concerning.

It seemed like she had all the strength in the world because she took Sofia in her arms and not so smoothly she got up with the worry that her back would collapse, it didn’t help that she put all her weight on her right foot, the one that was leaving behind footsteps of blood.

“Mamãe, red on the floor,” Sofia drowsily said.

“Tesouro eyes on my face ok, keep your pretty eyes on me” she carefully but with a sense of determination reached the foyer, her pain was long gone, as she walked to the lift that took way too long for her liking. 

“I’m scared, papai?” Rúben! Her phone was inside and she couldn't possibly go back to get it, she only had time to grab the keys, she rushed to the car parking, at least there were no witnesses. 

“Papai, will be here with you shortly, I just need to fasten this seatbelt…” she was in tears, both of them were and it didn’t help that she felt guilty.

Luckily for them they still lived in the city, where the hospital was a short distance, Rúben had refused to buy a home in Manchester since there was no point, their home was in Lisbon. 

Some bloody slippers were now hitting the pavement with firmness, her daughter was still conscious enough to voice her fears, although it was sad she was glad that she was still wide awake. 

“We’re here baby, you’ll be ok and then I’ll call papai” the moment they saw her and her daughter they rushed to aid her, she was placed on the hospital trolley, they tried to unclasp her fingers from the beds railing but she didn’t want to separate from her daughter.

“Miss, you need to let go, you’re bleeding” but her ears were once again ringing, it wasn’t until her steps faltered that they were finally able to place her on a wheelchair. There with close attention to her daughter, they fixed her foot, bandage and all. 

Nothing stung, what did hurt was Ruben’s reaction towards her lack of parenting. At least that’s what she gathered from his reaction. She was able to give the nurse his phone number so they could ring him, and after that her world spun in a fast and blurry fashion. 

She was now walking, she was a very stubborn woman and besides her daughter was getting some X-rays, to make sure there was no concussion or any bleeding in her brain, which was so concerning that she refused to sit. 

Until she felt his presence, so many years together meant that she could feel him. However she expected him to be more warm, yes extremely worried but enough to pull her in his arms and reassure her that everything would be alright instead she got the cold version of Rúben that had never made an appearance in their relationship.

He made eye contact with her and instead of sighting in relief he slightly raised his voice in irritation “Where were you? And what happened?” He grabbed her shoulders, gently moving her aside, trying to see his daughter through the window where the doctor was doing the  X-ray. 

With a knot in her throat, she spoke despite rejection “I was just making her lunch, I don’t know how she reached our dresser and a candle fell on her forehead when she reached for her doll” she angrily said, furious that he was behaving in such a foul way. 

“But why didn’t you pay attention?”

“Because I was making lunch Rúben” he flinched a bit with the way she maliciously said his name, besides she was just matching his tone. 

“Don’t be angry amor, I’m just trying to understand what’s happening…” he tried to approach her, but she didn’t want him close. Her body felt too hot from the worry mixed in with his audacity. 

“By blaming me?”

“I’m not blaming you, you’ve never been this careless though? You never stop paying attention” 

“Do you really think that your behavior will benefit your pregnant wife? Have you forgotten that I’m heavily pregnant and that my mind is a mess?” 

“No I haven’t, I know you have your hands full…” 

“If you know that, why haven’t you even hugged me? I needed your comfort because I was so afraid Rúben. You asked me where I was, but where were you?”

“Querida, please…” her doctor had just come out of the room. 

“Hello, excuse me. Sofia is doing alright, nothing came up on her scan, we’re just waiting for more confirmation, from the X-rays we took. 

“Can we see her?”

“Of course, she’s asking for you two, I’ll be back soon, but the nurse will take you back to her room…” the doctor opened the door for them. Sofia’s eyes instantly lit up when she saw her father, but in an instant her worried eyes looked over at her mum, instantly bringing her little hands to her belly. 

“Mamãe, how’s your foot, I’m sorry?” She did see how Ruben’s gaze fell to the floor, finally realizing that she had a small bandage on her left foot.

“I’ll alright darling, don’t worry” she said gently kissing her daughters hands. 

“I’m sorry, you told me to stay on the sofa…”

“Stop apologizing tesouro, we’re both going to be alright ok” she nodded, now looking to find some comfort from her father. 

“My head hurts papai, the doctor said I will have a gash” Rúben shook his head trying to stop feeling guilty, but only for a second because he needed to comfort his daughter. 

“Yes amor, but it’s a tiny bump that will not be noticeable in a couple of days...”

“Am I still going to look like a princesa?” He tried to get a smile from her by tickling her side, yet she had no energy to look happy. 

“Claro meu amor, you will always be our princesa” 

“When will I go home?”

“We’re not sure bebê, but soon ok…” her eyes were droopy, the events of the day were starting to take a toll on the sleepy four year old. “Get some rest, love…” 

The moment that her daughter fell asleep she went to sit on the sofa by her bed. That stupid glass really cut deep, but at the moment the pain was tolerable because her daughter's bump became her main concern. She could deal with her pain, but it was harder focusing on her pregnant self when all she did was worry about her babies. 

“How did it happen?” Rúben slowly and cautiously sat next to her, but he pointed at her foot. 

“I wasn’t thinking clearly, the candle bounced on her head but it shattered on the floor, I stepped on glass” her voice was strained, a clear sign that she didn’t wish to speak with him. 

“I’m sorry meu amor, I should’ve asked” 

“You blamed me Rúben”

“I didn’t amor, I was just worried” she stubbornly shook her head. 

“So was I? I assumed she was on the sofa, yes that's my fault but I couldn’t get the rice right and he’s been kicking more, so I’m clearly bothered, he keeps pushing down on my bladder so I’m uncomfortable, you can’t understand what I’m going through Rúben”

“I try to though? I always want to help…” the nurse walked in, ready to take Sofia to her assigned room. Maybe she could feel the tension because she awkwardly explained what she was doing. She gently woke Sofia up, helping her sit on the wheelchair. She was a bit groggy, but nonetheless still polite. 

While she unwillingly accepted Ruben’s help, she leaned on his side, and sure she really wanted a hug but she would remain stubborn.

“We’ll be right back to tell you her results ok?” The nurse spoke after Sofia was tucked into her hospital bed. 

“Thank you so much” Rúben was the one to always talk to people, he was the extrovert of the relationship maybe because he also had that sense of confidence that could also carry intimidation, in moments like this she was glad that he was the mentally strong one.

Yes she was still seething but with his help she was able to sit without just plopping down like usual. He crouched in front of her, he really wanted to talk to her, but the way her gaze kept bouncing around, he knew that it would be tough to even utter an apology. 

“Can I touch your belly?” She huffed, but regardless she nodded, with a sneaky eye roll. He was now murmuring to her belly, the baby had begun to kick, clearly feeling that bond with his father, with a gentle kiss, he got up. 

She believed that he would go outside, but when he took a cautious seat next to her, she couldn't help but verbally complain. 

“I don’t want you next to me”

“Amor you’re being quite childish”

“Right, me” 

“I want to be next to my wife, is that a crime?”

“Yes because I don’t want to be next to my husband” he chuckled and yes it was stupid to laugh about her complaint, because the moment that breathy laugh was released, she started to sob and talk.

“I’m not being dramatic Rúben, I had such a horrible and scary day, and I didn’t get any love, the only one that was kind to me was our daughter, she noticed and she got worried. Then you could’ve held me, but instead you laughed at my feelings” her words tumbled from her mouth, she wasn’t even registering her outburst or the volume that she was speaking in. 

So with enough fear, he pulled her into a secure embrace and the most confusing part was that she didn’t even fight back, she actually surprised him by pulling him closer. There he realized that she probably was tired and just done with the stressors of the day. 

“I’m sorry, meu amor. I shouldn’t have been so stupid, I was worried, I figured that you didn’t have your phone, so I received the call from the hospital and they weren’t very helpful. They refused to explain her condition other than the fact that an object fell on her head and I just rushed here.”

“I’m still mad, but right now I only want to be held…” he kissed her temple, only pulling her closer. “You have a lot of making up to do” 

“I know meu amor, what do you want me to do” he found it better to ask, because if he tried to do something that she didn’t want she would be mad, happened before and he really doesn’t want to relive those tears that she shed for him literally cleaning out the fridge. 

“I want a massage, like a full one” that seemed easy enough. 

“I’ll book you an appointment then-”

“No, I want your hands on my body, makes me feel more comfortable” she whined.

“Makes sense” he had to agree with her, he had no choice. 

“It does,” she smiled proudly at her idea. 

“Amor, how will I massage your back with your belly?”

“There’s a table for that, you just have to buy it” 

“Won’t it take a long time to get here?” She only snuggled closer to him.

“I don’t know…you smell good” yesterday she hated his usual scent, so at least he didn’t have to worry about finding a new fragrance. 

“I’ll figure it out later” she nodded, kissing him so softly that he barely registered her lips. 

“Yeah, you have time, I want my foot to heal, but you do have to cuddle me for weeks” 

“Don’t I usually cuddle you?” 

“Rúben?” A little warning, It wasn’t the time for him to be sassy. 

“Right, I’m sorry baby. What else do I need to do then?”

“Just kiss me right now…” he captured her lips in a much needed kiss, he tried to apologize through it but she wasn’t having it “…but I’m still mad at you” she murmured before kissing him with much more need. 

“I figured you will be, I was an idiot, a prick, and a horrible husband” she shook her head, offended by the last bit. 

“You know what you will never be?”

“What meu amor?” He had that stupid grin that she loved to hate. 

“A horrible father, or a horrible husband” 

“Thank you linda, but I do feel really bad, just know that my intention was never to hurt you or blame you, I was just terrified” 

“I was too, when you get home don’t freak out about the mess, we’re lucky I turned off the stove” at least her pregnant brain wasn’t that foggy. 

“I’ll clean it all up, while you relax, you’re getting closer to your due date and I want you as calm and pampered as possible, I love you and I’m sorry again” she pecked his lips in what she considered a step towards forgiveness. 

“I love you too, but don’t forget about the massage table, but right now rub my shoulders…” he instantly got his hands on her shoulders and just like that they went back to normal.

Only after the fact that he did have to clean up the floor from the faint blood stains of her footprint and all the shattered glass. He was glad that his wife was where she was supposed to be, with his daughter. He would always be thankful for everything she did, because she was right, he was often gone, which left her questioning his whereabouts during accidents or milestones. However they both knew that together they could solve all their issues as long as they remained strong and equal. 

The End…

Tag-List: @xjval / @justme-espcaping / @alexisquinnlee-bc / @nightlockcornucopia / @kathb59 / @pjofics / @cinderellawithashoe / @jajajhaahaha / @alwaysclassyeagle /. @urmotheris / @shobaes / @a1leexxa / @delicateearthquakellama

(This tag-list includes everyone that has asked me, if you want to be removed or added you can always let me know, and if your name is crossed out that means that you’ve changed your username)

After all these great performances, Jules deserved a little treat. The lingerie was definitely coming back with you.

Jules did not want to be rude, but the sight of your name on the screen was a good reason to break some rules. He cracked a smile, praying that you did not send an audio. If that were the case, he would have to wait a bit more.

His teammates were like brothers to him, and they would act like it the second he would put his phone out to listen to an audio. They will bombard him with questions. Jules liked his privacy. 

He discreetly took his phone out of his pocket and grabbed a glass of water. Jules expected an audio or a text message. It was a ritual for you to talk about your day each night, except on match days. You preferred to keep the interaction for your post-match moment. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what you sent him. He almost chocked on his water when his eyes landed on the provocative pictures of you in a black lingerie set. He held his glass with an iron fist to fight the lack of space in his boxer. His wide-open eyes alerted his teammate.

The room started to feel too hot and suffocating as he kept scrolling. Without his impressive self-control, his desire would have been way more than visible. Looking at such pictures at the dinner table was risqué, but his desire outweighed the rest. 

You concluded the posts with a caption: "You don't buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it 😉."

Coming soon...

The private terminal at Paris Charles de Gaulle was quiet except for AK's pacing and animated phone conversation. Jules slouched further in his leather seat, watching his friend – all confident swagger even at 7 AM, his caesar fade fresh and goatee perfectly lined – sweet-talk his girl in English.

"Baby, just—no, I know security's a pain but— Yes, love, I know…"

Wilhelm caught Jules' eye, his light brown fro slightly squished from the beanie he'd just removed, and they shared a knowing look while Stef and Nas bickered over their usual FIFA argument. Typical morning – Nas pushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes while insisting PSG was clear, Stef's curly fade catching the morning light as he defended Arsenal with his whole chest.

"Elles arrivent dans dix minutes," (They'll be here in ten minutes) AK announced after hanging up, running a hand over his fade. "La sécurité était supplémentaire, apparemment." (Security was being extra, apparently)

"Depuis quand parlez-vous London roadman?" Nas teased. (Since when do you speak London roadman)

"Depuis qu’il a commencé à simper," Stef added, dodging AK's half-hearted swing. (Since he started simping)

Jules stayed quiet, scrolling through Instagram without really seeing it. This season had been kicking his ass, Barcelona's form worse than he'd seen it, and all he'd wanted was a few days with his boys to decompress. No game analysis, no press, no expectations. Just vibes.

When AK had first floated the idea of bringing Van along, Jules had been firmly against it. He got it – long distance was rough, with her in London and AK running his luxury concierge business in Paris. The few times Jules had met her, she'd seemed cool enough, but this trip was supposed to be about escaping everything, including relationship drama, but AK had been persistent.

"Look, I barely see her these days. This trip is the only time that works with our schedules, and..." He'd paused, that look in his eye that always meant trouble. "She's bringing a friend. Might be good for you, get your mind off this season."

The last time AK played matchmaker still haunted him – that disaster in Mykonos last summer with the Instagram model who spent more time staging photos than having actual conversations. Or the "entrepreneur" before that who turned out to just be selling detox teas on social media. His friend meant well, but…he was garbage at picking girls for him.

It wasn't that Jules was picky – okay, maybe he was. But he had standards. He appreciated a natural beauty, curves that didn't come from a surgeon's table in Turkey. Like what was wrong with stretch marks and cellulite? More importantly, he wanted substance. Someone building something real, not just chasing clout or a footballer's lifestyle. His last few hookups had been a wash-rinse-repeat cycle of the same type: beautiful but boring, more interested in being seen with him than seeing him.

"You're too bougie," AK always said. "Too picky."

"I know what I like," was Jules' standard response.

And what he wanted wasn't another Instagram baddie with a BBL and empty conversations. He wanted—

"Oh shit, they're here."

Jules looked up, ready to be annoyed, and...

Oh. Oh.

Van glided in first in her brown faux fur coat and babushka hat, but her friend made Jules sit up straighter. She moved differently – this quiet grace about her as she followed behind. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, baby hairs laid so precisely it looked like art, and when she smiled at AK's introduction, the small gap between her front teeth and deep dimples hit something in Jules' chest.

Her style was effortless – the turtleneck was clearly expensive but not flashy, paired with brown ski leggings, boots, puffer, and gold jewelry. Everything about her seemed intentional but not trying too hard, from her perfect posture to the way her pants hugged her ass just right without being obvious about it.

"Alright," AK said, his whole face lighting up as Van kissed his cheek. "Let me introduce everyone properly. This goddess right here is my girl Vanessa—"

"Van," she corrected with a playful eye roll, her West London accent wrapping around the word.

"Van," AK amended, "and this is her best friend Y/N. Ladies, meet the guys – that's Wilhelm with the fro, Stef and Nas are the ones looking stressed about whatever FIFA argument they're having, and this quiet one right here is Jules."

"Hey!! We about to turn up in Lapland!" Van announced while Y/N just offered a small wave, those long lashes framing eyes that seemed to take everything in quietly.

Jules found himself standing, fixing his Jacquemus sweater without thinking about it. Not that he cared what she thought.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a flight attendant appeared, perfectly poised in her uniform. "We're ready for boarding."

"Let the ladies through first," AK said.

Van practically bounced up the stairs to the plane. "Oh my days, this is proper bougie!" Her voice carried back down. "Y/N, look at this!"

And then Jules heard it – Y/N's voice, soft and melodic with a lilting British accent that was somehow a bit posh and warm. "It's beautiful," she said simply, and something about the understated appreciation in her tone made his chest tight.

But watching her settle into a seat near the window, pulling out a book (who brings a book on a trip to Lapland?), Jules had to admit – maybe, just maybe, AK wasn't completely fucking up their vacation.

Even if he'd never tell him that.

"You good?" Wilhelm asked quietly in French, catching Jules staring.

"Juste fatigué," Jules replied, but they both knew it was cap.

"Liar," Wilhelm teased under his breath.

"Ta gueule," (Shut up) Jules muttered, but he couldn't help noticing how different Y/N was from Van, who was already talking about the clubs they had to hit. There was something understated about her, the way she moved, the slight smile when she caught him looking.

Fuck.

This was not how this trip was supposed to go. He was supposed to be decompressing, forgetting about his shit season, not noticing how a stranger's collarbones peeked out from her turtleneck or how she smelled like something expensive but subtle as she passed him in the aisle to use the bathroom.

"T'es dans la merde," (You're in trouble) Wilhelm muttered, and Jules couldn't even argue.

Three hours into their seven-hour flight to Rovaniemi, Jules found himself doing that thing he swore he wouldn't do – stealing glances at Y/N from his single seat across the aisle. He'd settled into that classic position – slouched with legs spread, one hand propped on his chin, thumb absently stroking his goatee – trying to look casual while very much not being casual at all.

Van's shriek of laughter cut through the cabin as AK whispered something in her ear in their back twin seats, followed by sounds Jules really didn't need to hear. But Y/N seemed unbothered, completely absorbed in her book – an actual paper book, not just scrolling on her phone like most girls he knew. He caught the title: "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo." That book that was all over TikTok, the one his sister wouldn't shut up about. And was that... a kitten bookmark?

Check box one, he thought. She reads actual books.

The flight attendant moved through the cabin, setting up champagne and an elaborate spread of charcuterie and pastries. Y/N got up gracefully, fixing herself a small plate with careful consideration, and returned to her seat. A small smile played on her lips as she read, and Jules found himself wondering what part of the story caused that reaction.

Stop being a creep, he chided himself. But he couldn't help noticing how her turtleneck hugged her curves, how her crossed legs seemed to go on forever. This could get messy – she was his best friend's girl's best friend after all. But then again, Van brought her for a reason...

Stop being a pussy and just talk to her.

Jules did another scan of the cabin. Nas and Stef were knocked out cold, their light snores creating a gentle backdrop. Wilhelm was lost in his Switch game, probably destroying someone online in Mario Kart. And AK and Van were... yeah, definitely preoccupied.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Jules smoothly stood and slid into the empty seat beside Y/N. She looked up from her book, those long lashes framing curious eyes.

"What's up?" He aimed for cool but heard the slight nervousness in his voice.

"Just getting to the good part," she replied, her soft British accent making even those simple words sound melodic.

"Evelyn Hugo, huh?" He nodded toward the book. "Heard that one's good."

"You've read it?"

"Nah, but my sister's obsessed. Wouldn't stop talking about it in the family group chat."

Y/N's smile deepened, those dimples making an appearance. "It's worth the hype. I'm usually pretty varied with my reading though."

"Yeah? What else you into?"

"Bit of everything really. Some mysteries, biographies..." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "The occasional spicy book."

Jules' eyebrows shot up. "Spicy like...?"

"You ever heard of 'Ice Planet Barbarians'?"

He had – another TikTok famous book, one that had people in the comments wilding about blue aliens and their unrealistically large sex organs.

She's a little freak, huh? "That's, uh..." He cleared his throat. "That's quite a range you got there."

Her laugh was soft but genuine. "Life's too short to stick to one genre, don't you think?"

Something about the way she said it, like she applied that philosophy to more than just books, made Jules lean in slightly. "What else you got on your reading list?"

As Y/N started describing a mix of upcoming reads, Jules found himself actually interested – not just pretending to be interested like he usually did when girls talked. The way her eyes lit up when she discussed her favorites, how she spoke with her hands when explaining particularly complex plots.

"So you're telling me you haven't read any Sally Rooney?" Y/N asked, turning slightly in her seat to face him better.

"Is that the Normal People author?"

"Mm, that's the one." She adjusted her bookmark – definitely a kitten, orange and white – before setting the book aside. "The show was good but the books hit different."

Jules shifted too, his long legs taking up more space than strictly necessary. "I'm more of a music person myself."

"Let me guess..." Y/N studied him for a moment, and something about her direct gaze made him want to fidget. "You've got that look about you. Definitely into fashion, probably listen to Steve Lacy? Kendrick Lamar?"

"Damn, am I that obvious?"

Her smile came with those crater-deep dimples again. "Your sweater's Jacquemus and your shoes are those limited Lewis Hamilton x Dior sneakers. You're either into fashion or you've got a really good stylist."

Now it was Jules' turn to be impressed. Most girls he met only knew the obvious brands, the ones you could easily flex on Instagram. "You know your stuff."

"I work in fashion editorial," she said with a small shrug. "Kind of have to."

Another box checked.

"Editorial?" He leaned forward slightly. "Which magazine?"

"I'm at British Vogue." She tucked a stray baby hair back, the movement drawing his attention to her elegant fingers, no overtly long fake nails in sight. "Junior editor assistant, nothing major yet."

"Nothing major, she says," Jules teased. "Just casually working at one of the biggest fashion magazines in the world."

"What about you? Besides the obvious football career, what gets you excited?"

They fell into an easy conversation about music (they shared a love for Frank Ocean), art (she'd just been to the new Basquiat exhibit he'd been meaning to see), and travel. Y/N had actual opinions, thoughtful ones, not just agreeing with whatever he said like he was used to.

"The vintage shopping there is insane," he said, talking about his time in Japan. "Like this one spot in Harajuku, they had original Raf Simons pieces I'd never seen before. And the food..."

"I've always wanted to go," Y/N said, her eyes lighting up. "The fashion archives alone must be incredible. Plus, I heard they have these cafes where—"

"Where you can drink coffee and play with cats?" Jules finished. "Yeah, they're everywhere. Way better than those fake Instagram spots everyone posts about."

"See, that's what I want to experience. The real culture, not just tourist traps." She tucked another stray baby hair back. "What was your favorite part?"

"This tiny ramen spot in a back alley. No pictures allowed, no social media. Just incredible food and this old man who's been making the same recipe for like forty years."

"That sounds perfect."

"You'd love it," Jules said without thinking. Then, realizing how presumptuous that sounded, added, "I mean..."

But Y/N just smiled. "Maybe I would."

Something about her genuine interest, the way she didn't immediately pull out her phone to check Instagram locations, made Jules sit back and really look at her. "You're dope, you know that?"

The slight flush on her cheeks made something in his chest tighten. "Because I want to eat ramen in back alleys?"

"Because you actually care about the experience. Most people I meet just want the picture for the gram, which is cool but still...I thought you'd be like that."

"Because I'm Van's friend?" She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Because AK has terrible taste in setting me up."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Y/N's eyebrow arched delicately. "Oh? Is that what this is?"

Fuck. Me.

"I didn't mean—" Jules started, but her soft laugh cut him off.

"Relax. Van already told me about AK's matchmaking attempts." She glanced toward the back where AK and Van were finally sleeping. "The Mykonos story was particularly entertaining."

Jules groaned. "She told you about that?"

"Mm. Something about an Instagram model and a very expensive photoshoot gone wrong?"

"In my defense, I didn't know she'd brought a whole production crew."

Y/N's laugh was worth the embarrassment of reliving that memory. "Well, I can assure you I don't have a glam squad hidden in my carry-on."

"No? Not even a ring light for emergency selfies?"

"The only emergency items I packed are snacks and more books."

Jules felt himself smiling – a real smile, not his usual media-ready one. The kind that actually reached his eyes.

Something shifted in the air between them, the casual conversation taking on a different weight. Y/N held his gaze for a moment before looking away, but Jules caught the slight upturn of her lips.

"We should probably try to sleep," she said finally. "Long day still ahead."

"Right. Yeah." But he didn't move.

"Jules?"

"Mm?"

"That means you have to go back to your seat."

"Oh. Right." He stood, perhaps a bit reluctantly. "Thanks for... you know."

"For not being an Instagram model with a production crew?"

His laugh was soft. "Something like that."

As he settled back into his own seat, Jules couldn't help stealing one more glance. Y/N had already reopened her book, but he swore he saw her smile widen slightly.

Definitely in trouble.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're beginning our descent into Rovaniemi Airport."

Jules blinked awake from his nap, the seven-hour flight having passed quicker than expected. Maybe because of that conversation... He pushed the thought away, stretching in his seat as the plane started its descent through snow-heavy clouds.

The landing was smooth, and Jules watched as Y/N stood to thank both flight attendants by name – Marie and Sophie – even asking about Sophie's baby she'd mentioned during meal service. She did the same with the pilots, genuine appreciation in her voice.

Another box checked.

The whole "be nice to service staff" thing wasn't exactly groundbreaking, but there was something about the way she did it – not performing kindness for an audience, just being genuinely thoughtful – that hit different.

Lapland's winter air slapped different too, the kind of cold that made him grateful for his cashmere beanie as they descended the plane stairs. He wasn't trying to be creepy, walking behind Y/N, but when her foot caught that patch of ice and she started to slip... his hands found her waist automatically.

"You good?"

She steadied herself, this little embarrassed laugh escaping. "Yeah, just... can I get a rewind button? Because that was embarrassing as fuck."

Something about the way she said it, like she was annoyed at herself but trying to play it cool, made him chuckle. "Consider it deleted from the record."

Their luggage situation was borderline ridiculous – his three suitcases for a week's worth of fits, her matching his energy with her own collection of bags.

"Someone came prepared," he couldn't help teasing, watching her oversee the arrangement of her bags on the cart.

Her smile was playful, dimples making another appearance. "Don't judge me. A girl needs options for the Instagram dump."

"Nah, that's actually valid. Fit pics are essential."

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "You bring your whole camera crew or something?"

"Just my Nikon and a drone."

She nudged his shoulder, the contact brief but enough to make him hyper-aware of her presence. "But not a whole production crew?"

Ah, she got jokes... "Listen," he said, trying to keep his face serious. "You can't disrespect the Northern Lights with iPhone quality. That's just wrong."

"Mhmmmm." The way she nodded, all exaggerated understanding, shouldn't have been as cute as it was. "Very professional of you."

"Y/N!" Van's voice cut through whatever was building between them. "Stop flirting and come on, we need to get through customs!"

The customs line crawled by, but Jules found himself not minding, especially when Y/N would catch his eye and they'd share silent amusement at Van's increasing dramatics about the wait.

Their driver was posted up at arrivals with a sign for AK's company – "1 Pourcent Concierge" in sleek lettering because AK never missed a branding opportunity. The private coach was exactly what you'd expect from someone whose whole business was luxury experiences, complete with a mini bar that Van spotted immediately.

"Time to get this party started!" She was already reaching for bottles.

Wilhelm checked his phone, looking tired. "It's 2 in the afternoon."

"We're on vacation!" Van started lining up shots like they were at Tape London instead of just landing in the Arctic Circle. "Stop being a party pooper!"

Jules watched Y/N slip to the back of the bus, pulling out that same book from earlier. He must have been staring because Wilhelm's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu fais semblant de ne pas vouloir la rejoindre," Wilhelm said low enough that only Jules could hear. (I don't know why you're pretending you don't want to go join her)

Stef, never one to miss an opportunity to clown him, snorted. "Tu sais que Jules est timide." (You know Jules is shy.)

Jules flipped him off, but Stef just grinned wider.

"I'm chilling," Jules said, but even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

"Bullshit," Wilhelm and Stef chorused.

"I don't want to do too much," Jules tried to explain. "Nous venons de parler dans l’avion. Si j’y retourne maintenant..." (We just talked on the plane. If I go back there now)

"Quoi, elle pensera que tu es intéressé?" Stef's eye roll was Olympic-level. "Assez sûr que le navire a navigué, mon frère." (What, she'll think you're interested…Pretty sure that ship has sailed)

"Merde, si tu ne veux pas lui parler..." Nas dramatically ran his fingers through his hair, preening. "I will."

Before Jules could say anything, Nas was heading toward the back of the bus. At that exact moment, Van cranked up some Drake song and started twerking.

Jules pulled out his noise-canceling AirPods with what might have been the biggest eye roll of his life. He tried to focus on Frank Ocean instead of the way Y/N's laugh carried from the back of the bus – probably at something Nas said, which shouldn't have annoyed him but did.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, they were pulling up to their home for the week. The cabin was crazy in the best way – all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern wooden architecture that somehow managed to look both cozy and expensive as hell. The deck wrapped around the whole structure, perfect for Northern Lights viewing, not that he was already thinking about how that could play out.

"Ladies first," he said as they entered, immediately regretting it when Van's excited shriek pierced his eardrums.

"Come on, Y/N!" Van grabbed her friend's hand. "Let's check out the rooms before these boys mess them up!"

Y/N shot Jules an apologetic look as she was dragged upstairs, and he had to fight back a smile. Van's "Oh my god, this one has a FIREPLACE!" echoed down the stairs, followed by Y/N's softer laugh that was already becoming way too familiar.

"T'es foutu," Wilhelm said, clapping Jules on the shoulder as he passed. (You're screwed.)

_______________________________________________

The den of their cabin was peak luxury winter vibes – all exposed wooden beams showing off the snowy landscape, but Jules was barely registering any of it. They'd been killing time until dinner, everyone doing their own thing. Wilhelm was in his gaming zone, Nas and Stef were arguing about upcoming Premier League matches, and AK was texting someone about work because he never really stopped working.

And Y/N? She was upstairs napping, which shouldn't have annoyed him but kind of did. Not that he needed her around, but her presence would've been better than Van's constant complaints about her nails not being done right or whatever else she was going on about before she got ready for dinner.

Jules had nothing against Van. She made AK happy, even if sometimes he wondered how his boy dealt with… all that. But not his woman, not his problem.

The sound of heels on wooden stairs made everyone look up. Van strutted – literally strutted – down in what had to be the tiniest leather dress Jules had ever seen.

"Babe, it's negative twenty-three degrees," AK said, though his eyes said he wasn't exactly mad about the outfit.

Van gave him a look. "I know, that's why I got the fur coat."

"What fur coat—" Jules began, but the words died in his throat because that's when Y/N appeared.

Holy fuck.

She'd let her hair down from that bun, now styled in a middle part with curls. Her own outfit was giving winter goddess – some maroon designer dress he couldn't even focus on because his brain was short-circuiting, and yeah, she was carrying two fur coats.

"Thank god!" Stef broke the moment. "I'm starving!"

The bus ride to the igloo restaurant should've been awkward, but Jules found himself sliding into the seat next to Y/N before he could overthink it.

"Good nap?" he asked, aiming for casual.

"Mm, needed it." Her smile was soft, sleep-warm. "These time zones are killing me."

"Wait till tomorrow when we go snowmobiling. Wilhelm's already talking about racing."

"Oh yeah?" She turned slightly toward him. "You any good on a snowmobile?"

"Better than Nas. Man crashed three times last time we went."

"I heard that," Nas called from behind them. "And it was twice, respect the facts."

The igloo was something else – set in the middle of a forest clearing, stars scattered above them like diamonds. No Northern Lights yet, but the sky was doing its own kind of magic.

Their chef appeared – this older Finnish man with kind eyes – and started describing the courses. "Tonight we're working with what nature provides. Our first course is foraged mushrooms with…"

"For the main," he continued later, "we have local reindeer—"

"Not Rudolph!" Van's gasp was theatrical.

Jules caught Y/N biting back a smile as the chef patiently offered, "We also have freshly caught Arctic char—"

Van opened her mouth again but AK's "Babe, chill" shut it for her.

The waiters moved around them with practiced grace, pouring wine that Y/N examined with actual knowledge – doing that little swirl thing, checking the color against the candlelight.

Jules found himself watching her, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, until she caught him staring.

"I see you, wine connoisseur," he said, enjoying the slight flush on her cheeks.

"You know your wines?"

"Got a few favorites. This Bordeaux that'll change your life, and this Spanish one in my cellar that you should try out." He let the invitation hang there.

Y/N almost choked on her sip. "Are we flirting?"

Jules just shrugged, taking a deliberate sip of his own wine, but he couldn't quite hide his smile.

"So tomorrow," Wilhelm was saying, "we got the snowmobiles booked for eleven—"

"After breakfast at our villa," Stef added.

"Then ice fishing in the evening," Nas continued. "Unless you guys are scared of the cold."

"Please," Van scoffed. "I'm from London, we invented cold."

"That's… not how weather works, babes," Y/N said quietly, just for Jules to hear, and his laugh came out before he could stop it.

The first course arrived – something beautiful with mushrooms and herbs that looked like art. Jules watched Y/N take her first bite, the way her eyes closed slightly in appreciation.

The wine was taking its effect – or maybe it was just her. Jules found himself getting bolder with each course, his hand occasionally brushing Y/N's shoulder when he leaned in to talk, letting his touches linger a bit longer than strictly necessary. The igloo's candlelight did something magical to her skin, and he kept catching himself staring.

"You're staring again," she murmured during the fourth course, some elaborate fish dish he wasn't even tasting anymore.

"Can't help it." The wine made him honest. "You're nice to look at."

Her laugh was soft, private. "The wine's making you brave."

Van's loud giggle cut through their moment – she was properly drunk now, hanging off AK's arm and talking about something he didn’t care for. Y/N caught Jules' eye and they shared a silent laugh.

Their driver met them outside the igloo after they finished their meal, warning them about an incoming snowstorm. "Nothing serious, but better to be inside tonight."

Once they got back to the villa, Van took this as her cue, practically dragging AK upstairs the moment they got inside. "Help me with this dress, baby!"

"Sauna?" Wilhelm suggested to the guys.

Stef and Nas were already heading that way, but Jules' attention was caught by Y/N slipping off her heels, heading toward the stairs.

"Not tonight," he said, not even trying to be subtle anymore.

"Get it, bro," Wilhelm teased.

Jules shot him a look but was already following Y/N up the stairs.

She sensed him behind her, turning with this little smile. "You stalking me?"

"Psssh, what? No." He laughed nervously, suddenly aware he might be coming on too strong. Wine drunk Jules was always a menace. He needed to chill.

But then she hit him with this smile that was pure trouble. "Wanna hang in the jacuzzi?"

Fuck yes.

"Bet."

He practically ran to his room, yanking off his sweater and digging through his suitcase for his trunks. A quick shower, his robe, those Ugg slippers he'd never admit to loving, and he was back downstairs starting up the jacuzzi.

Wine. Need wine.

He grabbed a fresh bottle and glasses, setting them up on the ledge just as Y/N appeared at the doorway. And – oh.

Her robe slipped off to reveal this black bikini that was definitely designed to kill men on sight. The way she eased into the hot water, sighing at the temperature, had his hormones going insane.

"This is perfect," she said, tilting her head back.

Jules slipped in across from her, trying to keep his eyes respectful even though that bikini was making it difficult. The wine made it easy to talk, to laugh, to gradually move closer until their legs were almost touching under the water.

"You're different," he found himself saying.

"Different how?"

"Just… real. Not trying to be anything else."

Her eyes met his in the dim light. "Maybe you're just used to people playing games."

"Maybe." He was definitely closer now, close enough to see water droplets on her eyelashes. "Or maybe you're just special."

The moment stretched between them, heavy with possibility. Then Y/N's hand found his under the water, and that was all the invitation he needed.

The first kiss was soft, testing. But then her fingers slid into his dreads, and he was gone. Her lips soft but demanding against his, and he pulled her closer as the kiss deepened.

They broke apart for air, but he couldn't stop, pressing kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her quiet gasp when he found a sensitive spot had him tightening his grip on her waist.

"Jules," she breathed, and his name had never sounded better.

He captured her lips again, slower this time but no less intense. Everything else faded – the sound of the jacuzzi, even the wine forgotten on the ledge. There was just this, just her, just the way she fit perfectly against him.

When they finally pulled apart, staying close enough to share breath, Y/N laughed softly. "Definitely better than the sauna, huh?"

Jules grinned, stealing another quick kiss. "Definitely worth it."

"High praise."

"You have no idea."

Who would've thought the quiet girl who reads would be the one leaving everyone in her snow dust?

Jules watched Y/N zip ahead on her snowmobile, her all-white ski fit with that polka dot puffer making her look like some winter fashion editorial come to life. But it was the way she handled the machine – confident, fearless – that had him thinking about last night. About how those same hands that gripped the handlebars had been in his dreads, about how that mouth, which was now hidden behind the black helmet, had felt against his…

"Keep up!" she called back, and yeah, he was definitely in deep trouble.

They stopped at this clearing that looked like something out of a Christmas card – untouched snow stretching for miles, mountains in the background. While AK set up the drone for aerial shots, Van immediately started on what she claimed would be "the baddest snowman in Lapland."

Jules found himself drifting toward Y/N like she had her own gravitational pull. She was adjusting her helmet, cheeks flushed from the cold and the speed.

"Didn't expect you to be such a speed demon," he said, reaching out to fix a strand of hair that had escaped her helmet.

"There's a lot you don't know about me yet." That smile again, the one that made his stomach flip.

"Yet?" He stepped closer. "That mean I get to find out more?"

"Maybe." She looked up at him through those lashes. "If you play your cards right."

The others were occupied – Van directing AK on proper snowman architecture, Nas trying to get Wilhelm to race him again, Stef actually getting decent drone footage – when Jules decided to shoot his shot.

"Skip ice fishing with me?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And do what instead?"

"Thought we could chill at the villa instead? Unless you're really excited about sitting on ice for hours…"

"Trying to get me alone?"

His laugh was low. "Is it working?"

Later, the group visited the small village of Levi, and Van pulled Y/N into some boutique, leaving Jules to deal with his boys' inevitable commentary. They found a coffee shop, and Jules knew from AK's face this conversation was coming.

"So," AK said, that smug look taking over his features. "Nous allons en parler?"

"Parler de quoi?" (Talk about what?)

"À propos de la façon dont je suis le meilleur ailier de tous les temps? À propos de la façon dont mes compétences en matière de jumelage sont d’élite?" (About how I'm the best wingman ever? About how my matchmaking skills are elite?)

Stef rolled his eyes. "L’élite? Après cette catastrophe de Mykonos?" (Elite? After that Mykonos disaster?)

"Ou cette fille à Ibiza," Wilhelm added.

"Ou l’entrepreneur en thé détox," Nas chimed in.

"Vos compétences de jumelage sont généralement nulles," Jules corrected, though he couldn't help smiling. "C’est clairement une consade." (Your matchmaking skills are usually trash. This is clearly a fluke)

"Et qu'en est-il quand tu l'as embrassée dans le jacuzzi?" (And what about when you kissed her in the jacuzzi?)

Jules nearly choked in his coffee. "Comment as-tu fait—" (You guys saw that?)

"S’il-vous-plaît," Wilhelm cut in. "Toute la cabine a des fenêtres, génie." (The whole cabin has windows, genius)

"Et Van t’a vu en route pour piller le réfrigérateur," AK added. (And Van saw you on her way to raid the fridge)

"Et Nas espionnait depuis le sauna," Stef said. (And Nas spying from the sauna)

"Surveillance!" Nas corrected. "Je menait à la surveillance." (I was surveilling)

"Vous êtes trop les gars," Jules muttered, but he was fighting a smile.(You guys are too much)

"Admettez-le," AK pressed. "J’ai bien fait cette fois-ci." (Admit it, I did well this time)

"Je n’admets rien." (Im not admitting anything)

"Ton visage admet tout," Wilhelm said. "Tu brilles comme un adolescent avec son premier béguin." (Your face admits everything. You shining like a teenager with their first crush)

Before Jules could defend himself, the girls returned loaded with bags, and damn if Y/N didn't look good with snowflakes in her hair.

_______________________________________________

Their guide showed up for the ice fishing expedition, and Van's parting shot to Y/N was pure Van: "Have fun getting your back blown out!"

"She's something else," Jules muttered as the others left.

"That's one way to put it." Y/N was already heading toward the kitchen. "So, what's the plan?"

The plan turned into Jules showing off his cooking skills – nothing fancy, just some pasta aglio e olio and garlic bread, but the way Y/N watched him cook made him feel like a master chef.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" she asked, perched on the counter while he worked.

"My mum. Said no son of hers was going to survive on takeaway." He handed her a taste of the sauce. "Good?"

Her eyes closed slightly as she tasted it. "Mm, perfect."

They ended up in the den, fire crackling, talking about everything and nothing. About that club Van was insisting they hit for New Year's ("It's Lapland, how lit can it be?"), about Y/N's job at Vogue ("The Devil Wears Prada lied, it's actually worse"), about Jules' family in France and Benin.

"You're really not that bad," Y/N said suddenly.

"Where’s this coming from?"

"From what I expected. From what Van said."

"Van talks about me?"

Y/N's laugh was soft. "She tried to warn me you were shy. Said you'd probably just brood in corners looking pretty."

"And?" He shifted closer.

"And…" Her eyes dropped to his lips. "You're definitely pretty."

This kiss was different from last night – slower, more deliberate. Like they had all the time in the world to explore this thing between them. His hand found that spot on her neck that made her sigh, and her fingers was back in his dreads.

Yeah, maybe AK's matchmaking skills weren't completely trash after all.

Jules couldn't stop kissing Y/N if he tried, each kiss deeper than the last, more urgent. His hand found its way into her hair, curls falling loose from her updo.

Everything had shifted, like the whole universe was conspiring to make this moment happen. Y/N pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, "Do you want to come up?"

"Yeah." He tried to play it cool, but his mind was going absolutely crazy. HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. Here he was, Jules Koundé, known for being calm and composed in front of 90,000 people at Camp Nou, completely losing it over six words from this girl.

Following Y/N upstairs felt like torture in the best way. She moved with this effortless grace that had him mesmerized, throwing these looks over her shoulder that was sin – half shy, half something else that made his stomach flip.

When her door finally clicked shut behind them, the air felt electric with possibility. Jules stood still, his dark eyes tracing the curve of Y/N's silhouette as she leaned back against the door. She reached up to pull the last pin from her updo, letting her curls tumble free. Jules swore he forgot how to breathe.

"You look nervous," Y/N said softly, her voice light, teasing, as she stepped closer, her bare feet barely making a sound against the floor.

"Do I?" Jules asked, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, but the way her hands brushed against his chest when she closed the space between them made it impossible to care.

"A little," she said, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, pulling him closer. "I like it, though. Makes me feel powerful."

Jules huffed out a laugh, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe." She tilted her head, her lips brushing against his.

That was all it took for him to close the distance, his mouth slanting over hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Y/N sighed into it, her arms winding around his neck as his hands explored the curve of her back, her hips, the warmth of her skin beneath the material of her clothing.

He backed her toward the bed, his fingers trailing down to the hem of her thermal top, pushing it up to reveal the soft skin of her stomach. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, Y/N pulled him down with her, their laughter mingling with their heavy breathing.

"You're in such a hurry," she teased when they broke apart for air.

"Can you blame me?" Jules smirked, his hands sliding over her hips, fingers hooking into the band of her leggings.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with another kiss, deep and deliberate, his tongue brushing against hers. His hands worked her leggings down, the fabric clinging stubbornly until he finally peeled them away, leaving her in just a simple pair of black underwear and the thermal top pushed up to her ribs.

"You’re stunning," Jules murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, as his gaze roamed over her.

Y/N smiled, reaching for him. "Your turn."

Jules obliged, pulling off his sweater in one swift motion, the muscles in his chest and arms catching the light in a way that made her breath catch. He leaned back down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear, earning a soft gasp as her hands roamed his back.

The thermal bunched higher as his kisses trailed down her neck and across her collarbone, his fingers skimming along the edge of her panties. Y/N arched into him, her nails grazing his skin lightly, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest.

When she reached for the button of his pants, Jules caught her wrist, his eyes dark and hooded. "Slow down," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "We’ve got all night."

Y/N grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed, her breathing unsteady. "Then you’d better make it worth it."

Jules took his time, his hands tracing over Y/N's curves with a slowness that had her squirming beneath him. His fingers slid her panties down her legs, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of her as more of her was revealed.

Her arousal glistened between her thighs and Jules felt his stomach tighten at the sight.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. He pulled back just enough to sit up, his dreads falling forward, framing his face as he looked at her.

His gaze took in the soft rise and fall of her chest, her thermal pushed up to just beneath her breasts. "This has to go," he said, his voice teasing as his fingers tugged at the hem of the fabric. She lifted her arms, letting him pull it over her head, and then he reached behind her to unclasp her bra. The garment fell away, baring her to him entirely.

Jules let out a slow breath. Her breasts were full, her nipples pebbled, and he couldn't resist leaning down to press a kiss to the swell of one, his lips brushing her skin softly before moving lower.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips dragging a path across her stomach. His eyes dipped back down, lingering between her thighs. "And this—" He ran a finger along the slickness there, grinning when she shivered. "So pretty. I need to have a taste."

Y/N flushed, her breath hitching as she propped herself up on her elbows to meet his gaze. "I’ve never met a guy who actually liked giving head," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, though there was a teasing lilt in it.

Jules raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something almost wicked. "You've been messing around with the wrong niggas, cherie," he said, shaking his head as if it were an absolute tragedy. He settled himself between her thighs, his hands gently coaxing them wider. "Don't worry. We're gonna change that."

His words sent a shiver through her, her anticipation building as his lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Jules," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"Relax," he said, glancing up at her, his eyes filled with heat and something softer beneath it. "I've got you."

Not to brag because, honestly, it wasn't his style, but this was his thing. Eating pussy was state-of-the-art to him, an art form he'd mastered, a skill that had left more than a few women crashing out over it. He took pride in it, sure, but it wasn't just about being good at it. He enjoyed it. The taste, the sounds, the way a woman’s body responded when he knew exactly what to do — it was intoxicating.

And Y/N? She was a masterpiece. The way her body trembled, her soft gasps, and the way she shifted her hips as if seeking him out — she was an active participant, not someone who held back. It made every second feel electric, like a performance where they were both in perfect sync.

Another box checked. She was fucking perfect.

That thought hovered in his mind for a beat too long, a flash of something deeper creeping in, and he shoved it away. This wasn’t about feelings. Not right now. Right now, he had a job to do. So he got to work.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above her center, letting his breath ghost over her. His tongue followed, a slow swipe that had her hips jerking upward. "Relax, cherie," he murmured, his voice low, smooth, and tinged with amusement.

She whimpered softly, her thighs quivering against his hands as he pushed them farther apart. His tongue explored her folds with purpose, slow and teasing at first, mapping every inch of her like he had all the time in the world, but when her moans grew louder, more urgent, he picked up the pace, alternating between long, languid strokes and focused flicks of his tongue against her clit.

"Jules," she gasped, her hands diving into his dreads, holding on for dear life as he worked her over.

He hummed against her, the vibration sending a jolt through her body. Her hips bucked, and he grinned, tightening his grip on her thighs to hold her still. "You're so fucking responsive," he said, his voice muffled as he dove back in.

She moaned again, her body writhing against him, and Jules felt a rush of pride — and hunger. He wasn’t stopping until she was completely undone, every thought wiped clean except for him and what he was doing to her.

Her breathing hitched, turning into desperate little gasps, her thighs trembling around his head. "That’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against her. "Let go for me."

And when she did — her back arching, a cry spilling from her lips, her body shaking with the force of it — Jules couldn’t help but smile. He’d always enjoyed this part, watching the aftermath, the way a woman's body melted into the mattress, chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

"See?" he said, his voice warm and teasing as he kissed his way back up her body. "Told you we were gonna change that." Jules brushed a kiss against Y/N’s lips, still tasting her arousal on his tongue, before pulling back. His voice was soft but charged as he asked, "Got a condom?"

Y/N nodded, her breath still uneven. "In my tote bag. Corner of the room."

He gave her another quick kiss, playful and lingering, before sliding off the bed. She watched him stride over to the tote, his movements unhurried, almost teasing, as if he knew exactly what kind of show he was putting on.

When he crouched down and opened the bag, his smirk widened. "What do we have here?" he mused, holding up a sleek vibrator with a raised brow.

"Oh, my God," Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Put that back, Jules."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and dropped the vibrator back into the bag. "No judgment. Just saying we might have to use this some other time."

She peeked out from between her fingers. "You’re ridiculous."

"Mm, you like it," he shot back, pulling out the pack of Trojans. He glanced over his shoulder, his smirk turning downright sinful. "Found what I was looking for."

He walked back toward her, the condom packet in one hand and her gaze traveled down, taking in the way he casually shucked off his pants, then his boxer briefs, until he stood completely bare in front of her, his arousal standing proud and unashamed.

Y/N's eyes widened slightly and she had that usual smile on her face.

He tore open the packet with his teeth, his eyes never leaving hers as he sheathed himself. The deliberate way he rolled the condom on, his movements smooth and precise, sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

Jules caught the way her thighs shifted on the bed, the way her teeth caught her bottom lip, and his grin softened into something deeper, more intimate. "You good, cherie?" he asked, his voice warm and genuine as he climbed back onto the bed.

Y/N nodded, her fingers reaching out to touch him, to pull him closer. "I’m good," she murmured.

Y/N was bringing out something else entirely in him. Something raw. Something freaky. And honestly? It was only right. If she was going to let her inner freak shine, Jules had no problem meeting her there. He had a feeling, though—there was something about the way she smiled, all soft and sweet, but with that glint in her eyes that promised trouble.

He stayed between her legs, his gaze dragging over her like she was a masterpiece he couldn’t stop studying, like he wasn’t in any rush. Jules had patience, especially when the reward was something like this.

"You’re bad, you know that?" he said, his voice low and teasing as his hands slid up her thighs.

Y/N smirked, her eyes half-lidded. "And you’re just figuring this out?"

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, I’ve been clocking it. Just didn’t realize how bad."

His hands gripped her thighs a little firmer, pulling her closer so he could line himself up. The slick heat of her against him was enough to make his head tip back for a second, eyes closing as he gathered himself. When he looked at her again, she was watching him with that little smile, her legs shifting to hook around his waist.

Yeah, she’s definitely a freak.

He liked that. A lot.

"Say the word, cherie," Jules murmured, his voice softer now, the teasing edge melting into something deeper.

Y/N didn’t hesitate, her hands sliding up his arms, her nails grazing his skin. "Do it."

That was all he needed. Slowly, he pushed into her, taking his time, letting her feel every inch. The way her body tensed, then melted beneath him, had his heart pounding in his chest.

"Shit, Y/N," he muttered, pausing once he was fully inside her, giving her a moment to adjust. "You’re... God, you’re perfect."

She exhaled shakily, her hands gripping his shoulders as she shifted beneath him. "You can move," she said, her voice breathy but certain.

Jules smiled, something almost wicked flashing in his eyes as he pulled back, then thrust forward again, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

It wasn’t long before her moans filled the room, soft and then louder, her hands roaming over his back, her nails digging into his skin in a way that had him groaning. "Damn," he said, his tone full of admiration. "You like that, huh?"

She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another moan, but Jules wasn’t having that. "Don’t hold back," he said, his voice firm but still warm. "I want to hear you."

He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against hers in a way that had the bed creaking under them. Y/N met him thrust for thrust, her body arching, her legs pulling him closer, deeper.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice trembling but filled with so much need it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yeah, cherie?" he said, leaning down to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

"You’re gonna ruin me," she whispered, her voice full of awe and teasing all at once.

Jules chuckled, his forehead pressing against hers as his thrusts grew deeper, more intense. "Good," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "Let me show you how it’s supposed to be."

And oh, he did.

The intimacy of missionary was something he didn’t take lightly—he liked being able to look her in the eyes, to see the way her lips parted and her head tilted back as he rocked into her.

Her breath hitched with each thrust, her nails raking lightly down his back, leaving faint trails that hurt in the best way. Jules dropped his head, kissing along her jaw, her neck, then catching her lips in a kiss so heated it felt like it could burn the room down.

But as much as he loved this—her chest pressed against his, her thighs gripping his sides—his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn’t ignore the temptation of something he’d been eyeing for far too long.

Since they’d left Paris, Jules had been trying not to be a complete dog about it, but damn. Y/N’s ass was something else. Every time she walked ahead of him, he found his gaze following the sway of her hips, the way those leggings hugged her perfectly.

And now? Thank God.

"Turn over for me," Jules murmured.

Y/N blinked up at him, dazed but smiling, and she nodded, biting her lip as she shifted beneath him. Jules helped her, his hands guiding her onto her stomach, then pulling her hips up until she was on all fours.

And there it was.

His breath caught for a moment, his hands gripping her waist as he took in the view. "Damn, cherie," he whispered, his voice thick with appreciation. "This fucking ass."

She laughed, glancing back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed. "You like it?"

"Yeah," Jules said, smirking as his hands slid over her hips, his thumbs pressing into the dimples of her lower back. "And now I get to see it properly."

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, then one to each cheek, his goatee grazing her skin, making her shiver. He took his time, his hands roaming, gripping, appreciating every inch of her.

When he finally lined himself up and thrust back into her, the angle hit different—for both of them. Y/N gasped, her fingers gripping the sheets, her back arching as he set a steady rhythm, his hands on her hips keeping her steady.

"Fuck," Jules muttered, his voice rough, his movements deliberate but powerful. He watched the way her body moved with him, the way her ass bounced with each thrust. It was hypnotizing.

"You good?" Y/N asked, her voice breathless, teasing.

Jules chuckled, leaning forward just enough to press a kiss to her shoulder, his chest brushing against her back. "Better than good," he said, his voice low in her ear. "You feel like heaven, cherie."

Her laugh turned into a moan as he adjusted his angle, hitting deeper, harder. Jules was relentless but attentive, listening to every sound she made, every shift in her body, making sure she felt as much pleasure as he did.

And as much as Jules was enjoying the view—and he really was—it was the sounds she made, the way she responded to him, that had him losing his mind. Every moan, every gasp, every whispered "Jules" was fuel, driving him to keep going, to give her more.

"Perfect," he groaned, his voice almost reverent as he tightened his grip on her hips, thrusting harder. "You’re fucking perfect."

"Ooh fuck, Jules....yes."

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to that precipice with each thrust. She felt so good, better than he could imagine, and when her moans began to turn into screams...yeah...he prayed that no one heard them.

They finally came, her orgasming first and then him immediately after. Both of them still catching their breath, hearts beating a little faster than normal. Jules looked down at Y/N as his sweaty body slumped over hers.

"You're something else, Y/N," Jules said, his voice low but filled with admiration as he moved away to dispose of the condom.

She chuckled softly, rolling onto her side and facing him. "I could say the same about you."

The moment felt calm, peaceful almost, and for once, there was no rush. Jules stroked her hair gently as he lay next to her, the space between them filled with a comfortable silence.

Y/N reached up, brushing her lips softly against his, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "So... what happens now?" she asked, her eyes playful but still searching for some sort of direction.

"I guess we just chill then maybe another round," he replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jules woke up to sunlight streaming through Y/N's bedroom windows, the snow outside making everything look bright white and clean. Inside though? Inside was all warmth – her room somehow perfectly heated (unlike his ice box down the hall), and Y/N's bare skin pressed against his under her ridiculously soft sheets.

He couldn't help smirking a little, remembering last night. Everything had gone exactly as he'd hoped when he followed her upstairs, that confidence he usually saved for the pitch coming in clutch.

Now here he was, watching her sleep and feeling pretty good about himself. She looked different like this – all soft edges and messy curls, evidence of their night together in her slightly smudged makeup and the marks he'd left on her neck.

"Stop staring," she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Not staring." He was definitely staring. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"About how you stole all the covers in the middle of the night."

She cracked one eye open. "Lies and slander. I'm a perfect sleeping companion."

"You literally kicked me."

"You were hogging the bed!"

"It's a king size bed!"

Her laugh was still morning-rough, and something about it made his stomach do that flip thing again. She stretched, the movement doing interesting things to the sheet's positioning, and – he was staring again.

"Like what you see?"

"You fishing for compliments this early?"

"Maybe." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at him with those eyes that got him into this situation in the first place. "Is it working?"

Instead of answering, he pulled her down for a kiss. She tasted so good and when she made that little sound in the back of her throat...

A loud bang on the door made them jump apart.

"Y/N!" Van's voice carried through the wood. "Stop riding Jules and come get breakfast! We got husky sledding in an hour!"

Y/N groaned, burying her face in Jules' chest. "I'm going to murder her."

"I'll help hide the body."

"My hero."

They lay there for another moment, his hand playing with her hair, neither wanting to break the bubble they'd created. Outside, he could hear the others moving around – Van's loud laugh, AK telling someone to hurry up, the clatter of plates downstairs.

"We should probably..."

"Yeah."

But neither moved.

"Or we could just stay here," Y/N suggested, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest that were very distracting.

"Tempting." He caught her hand before it could wander lower. "But if we don't show up, Van will absolutely break down that door."

"Ugh, fine." She sat up, the sheet falling away, and – oh.

"You're making it really hard to be responsible right now."

Her smile was pure trouble. "I can see just how hard it is."

"You're terrible."

"You like it."

And yeah, maybe he did. Maybe he liked a lot of things about this girl who read actual books and drove snowmobiles like a pro and kissed like she meant it. Maybe he was in trouble in the best possible way.

But first: breakfast. And then huskies. And then... well, they had time to figure out the rest.

Jules pulled on his clothes from last night, unable to keep the satisfied smile off his face as Y/N disappeared into her en suite. The sound of her shower starting up had him thinking dangerous thoughts, but nah – they needed to actually make it to breakfast.

His own room felt weirdly cold and unfamiliar after the warmth of Y/N's bed. Quick shower, fresh clothes, trying and failing not to think about last night while he got ready. By the time he made it downstairs, Y/N was already at the breakfast table looking way too good in her red puffer, black ski pants hugging curves he now knew intimately. Those Moon Boots shouldn't have been cute but somehow were.

Their villa's chef had outdone himself – full spread of everything from eggs benedict to fresh pastries, fruit platters that looked like art. Y/N was already nursing a coffee, and the way she smiled at him over the rim of her cup had him remembering exactly how she'd smiled last night when—

"Earth to Jules," Stef called out, snapping him back to reality. "You want the last croissant or can I have it?"

Y/N slid the pastry toward Jules with a wink that definitely meant trouble. "Better fuel up. Long day ahead."

Van’s eyebrows raised in pique interest as she drank her mimosa.

The bus ride to the husky farm should've been chill, but Van immediately dragged Y/N to sit with her, that look in her eye that meant interrogation was coming. Jules caught Y/N's slightly panicked look and had to laugh – she was about to get the full Van experience.

"So," he heard Van start as he settled in his own seat. "Don't leave out any details..."

The husky farm was everything the brochures promised – dozens of excited dogs practically bouncing in their harnesses, their breath visible in the cold morning air. But Jules was only half listening to Erik, their guide, explain the basics of sledding. He kept getting distracted by Y/N's animated conversation with Van a few feet away.

"—and then he did WHAT?" Van's voice carried, way too loud.

Y/N's eyes met his across the snow, this little smile playing at her lips that had him remembering exactly what he'd done.

"Focus, lover boy," Wilhelm muttered, elbowing him. "Unless you want to crash into a tree."

Erik paired them up – two per sled – and obviously Jules ended up with Y/N. Obviously Van made some comment about "riding" that had AK trying not to laugh while pretending to scold her.

"You good?" Jules asked as Y/N settled into the front of their sled, his hands on her hips maybe lingering longer than necessary as he helped her in.

"Better than good." She looked back at him with that smile that was becoming dangerous for his mental health. "Though a bit sore."

Before he could respond to that loaded comment, the dogs took off, their excited barking filling the crisp air as they raced through the snow.

The dogs pulled them through this winter wonderland that didn't seem real – all pristine snow and frosted trees, sunlight making everything sparkle. But Jules was more focused on how Y/N kept leaning back against him, the way she fit perfectly between his arms as he held the reins.

"This is incredible!" she called back, turning her head just enough that he could see her profile, cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement.

"The dogs or my steering skills?"

"Both." She settled more firmly against him. "Though I think I could drive better."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm. Wanna switch?"

They pulled to a stop at a clearing where Erik had planned a break. Y/N hopped out with that same grace she did everything, immediately going to thank their dogs by name because of course she'd memorized them already.

"Sven likes you," Erik noted as one of the huskies practically melted under Y/N's attention.

"The feeling's mutual," she cooed, scratching behind the dog's ears while Jules watched, something warm spreading in his chest that had nothing to do with his heavy coat.

"You're staring again," Van said, appearing beside him with two cups of hot chocolate from Erik's thermos.

"Mind your business."

"Impossible. This is literally the most entertainment I've had since that Mykonos disaster."

"Which you promised to never bring up again."

Van's laugh was loud enough to make the dogs look over. "Sweetie, that story is getting told at your wedding."

"Whose wedding?" Y/N asked, joining them with snow in her hair.

"No one's," Jules said quickly, but Van was already cackling.

"Just planning ahead," she said with a wink before dramatically calling out, "BABE! Come take pictures of me with the dogs for the gram!"

AK dutifully pulled out his camera while Y/N gave Jules a questioning look.

"Do I want to know?"

"Definitely not." He handed her the other hot chocolate. "Ready to show me these superior driving skills you were bragging about?"

And watching her handle the sled with the same confidence she'd shown on the snowmobile (the same confidence she'd shown last night), Jules thought about how sometimes the best things in life came from letting go of control.

The next few days were a mess of heated kisses, late-night jacuzzi sessions that definitely weren't just about enjoying the water, and fucking each other’s brains out. Y/N kept "accidentally" ending up in Jules' room instead of her own, and he definitely wasn't complaining. Even Van's knowing looks at breakfast couldn't dim the way Y/N's sleepy morning smile hit different when she was wearing his clothes.

Santa's Village had Van acting like a whole child, dragging them from attraction to attraction, but Jules couldn't even be annoyed because Y/N kept catching his eye and biting back laughs.

The go-karting was pure chaos – Y/N proving yet again she was secretly an adrenaline junkie, drifting through the snow like she'd been doing it her whole life. "Your girl's crazy," Stef had said, watching her lap Nas for the third time.

Your girl. Jules liked the sound of that more than he probably should.

Sledding turned into an all-out war, teams forming naturally until it was couples versus singles. "That's not fair," Nas had complained. "You two got that honeymoon phase energy!" But watching Y/N trash talk Wilhelm in her posh accent while absolutely destroying everyone on the slopes? Top tier entertainment.

Then New Year's Eve hit, and Van finally got her wish about that club. It was actually decent – something about drinking champagne in an ice bar while the Northern Lights danced overhead felt surreal. But Jules was more focused on how Y/N felt pressed against him as they danced, how she tasted like champagne and promises when they kissed at midnight.

They'd barely left his room the next day, making up for lost time until Van literally broke in with a spare key because "I NEED MY BEST FRIEND!"

Now here they were, back in Paris, the magic of Lapland already feeling like a dream. They landed in Paris just after sunset, the January air was soothing after Lapland's intense cold. The private terminal was quiet except for Van's dramatic goodbyes – she was basically hanging off Y/N like they hadn't just spent a whole week together.

"I'm gonna miss you so much!" Van wailed while AK tried not to laugh.

"Girl, I'll literally see you next weekend," Y/N said, but hugged her back just as tight.

The guys were more lowkey with their goodbyes – Nas and Stef dapping Y/N up with a "you're cool people" and "don't be a stranger," while Wilhelm gave her a quick hug and whispered something that made her laugh and Jules narrow his eyes suspiciously.

"You sure you don't want to stay at AK’s?" Van tried again, finally releasing Y/N. "We can get brunch tomorrow before heading back to London..."

"I've got that editorial meeting first thing," Y/N sighed, adjusting her carry-on. "Need to prep tonight."

That's when Jules stepped in, unable to let the week end just like that. "Stay at mine."

"I really should get back..."

"I’ll even go with you on the train to London tomorrow morning."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Why should I even stay?"

The look he gave her said everything he couldn't in public. Her quiet "fine" was trying to sound put out but didn't quite hit the mark.

In his car, one of his hands was on the wheel while the other found her thigh. The city lights caught the snow that had started falling – nothing like Lapland's heavy drifts, just light dustings that made everything look softer.

"Your playlist is actually decent," Y/N said, scrolling through his Spotify. "Though I'm judging the amount of Drake."

"Leave Drake alone."

"Make me."

His laugh was low. "Later."

They fell into comfortable silence as Steve Lacy came on, and Jules tried to sort through the thoughts that had been building all week. This wasn't supposed to happen – he barely had time to breathe between matches and training, let alone time for a relationship. But here he was, already thinking about when he could see her next.

"So," he finally said, aiming for casual. "This thing..."

"This thing?" Her smile was teasing.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"You're not going to make this easy, huh?"

Her laugh was soft. "When have I ever made anything easy for you?"

True. From that first moment in the private terminal to right now, she'd challenged him at every turn. Maybe that's why this felt different.

"I want to see where this goes," he said finally. "Like, properly."

"Properly?" She was definitely enjoying watching him squirm. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means I want to figure out our schedules. See when you can come to Barcelona. When I can come to London." He glanced at her. "If you want."

The smile she gave him made his chest tight. "I want."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She squeezed his hand. "Let's see what happens."

Later, watching her sleep in his bed like she belonged there, Jules thought about how AK finally redeemed himself with suggesting his girl and her bestie join them on their boys trip.

Speaking of AK, Jules' phone buzzed with a text:

"So... best wingman ever or BEST wingman ever?"

For once, Jules didn't argue. He typed out a reply:

"You redeemed yourself…but barely."

Then he placed his phone back onto his bedside table and smiled at a peacefully sleeping Y/N.

A congratulatory  lump sum from your generous grandparents and a gap year after completing medical school had you in your eat pray love era. University took the life out of you and now you were doing everything to get it back. You started slow, you did a staycation in London with some of your friends but when they started to work and you were stuck home you decided you needed to leave the confines of the United Kingdom. 

The next stop was Paris. You were coming up on two weeks in the city of romance, bread and fashion and you’d mostly just experienced the bread. Your friends back home kept telling you to go on a date and get into the love portion of your eat pray love journey but that was proving more difficult than you anticipated. 

It wasn’t totally Paris’ fault, the men were handsome but you just weren’t that outgoing. This trip to Paris was already the most spontaneous thing you’d done in the last five years. Dating a random Frenchman while on a solo trip to Paris felt a bit too go with the flow for you. 

You returned to your lodging after a day roaming the city and plopped down on the floor with a sigh. The floor was hard but there was no way you were getting on your bed in the clothes you wore on the metro! You slumped further and grabbed your phone. It was flooded with questions from your friends about if you’d spoken to any guys. It was partly your fault because you kept sending them covert pictures of cute guys or gushing over some mysterious man you saw on the train. What can you say, you liked the idea of a crush, just not the reality. You messaged your girls a simple no, I didn’t talk to any and picked yourself off the floor for a shower. 

Once you were clean and free from the germs of the city you cosied into your surprisingly comfortable bed. You were all tucked and ready from some doom strolling when you saw the latest text in your girls group chat. 

Kianna: you need to be more spontaneous! All this free time and money and you’re just eating chocolate and bread? DO SOMETHING WOMAN! 

You laughed at your most dramatic friend’s message. You, personally felt this solo trip was spontaneous enough but clearly you weren’t meeting your currently overworked friends expectations. 

You: I am doing something! I’m eating good! 

Kianna: you could be having a sexy frenchman eat you good but noooo you’re boring 

You laughed out loud at her message before replying 

You: do you not care for my safety!? 

You asked, thinking that being trapped with a random man naked in your bedroom was beyond risky. 

Tia: we care about you getting laid 

You: sex isn’t everything 

Kianne: well there is only so many food reviews we can watch from you 

Tia: we want some Parisian man reviews 

You: speaking of food, the french onion soup I had today? WOW 

Kianne: 🙄🙄

Tia: 🙄🙄

You laughed at their reactions and switched to your tiktok to get to doom scrolling. If you were honest, you were getting a bit tired of your solo France adventure but you didn’t think a man was what you needed to fix that. You’d been considering a new destination but you talked yourself out of everywhere you considered. You were almost at the point of just going home but in a last ditch effort to utilise your period of freedom you typed “best destinations for solo female travellers” into tiktok. 

A good number of suggestions came up but one caught your attention: Tokyo, Japan. 

“Is that too crazy?” you asked yourself. It was far - 13 hours from Paris far - and you didn’t know the language or anyone there. It did look intriguing though…you bit your lip as you debated. You got as far as looking up flights and saw that there was one from Paris the following day. “Tokyo y/n?” you questioned yourself again. You could afford it and with your grandparent’s miles you could even do business class. You sighed at the screen with the potential flight details staring back at you and picked up your journal. 

PROS you wrote on top of the page and started your list 

A city you’ve never seen 

Good food 

Safe for women 

Unique cultural experience 

CONS 

This is crazy 

You’re alone 

This might be more than crazy 

You underlined your last point on your cons list and squinted your eyes at it, hoping for the pages to tell you yes or no. You didn’t really have many cons. It wasn’t like you had anywhere else to be. You closed your journal with a decision, unfortunately, yet to be made. You resorted to calling your grandparents for their opinion. It was mostly their money after all. 

“Hello darling, how is Paris?” your sweet grandmother answered your call. 

“Hey gran it’s lovely…I am getting a bit bored though,” you rested against the headboard. 

“Bored? In Paris?” she questioned your judgement. 

“A little…I was thinking about either coming home or going somewhere else,” you gave her your view. 

“Home is much too boring,” she quickly refuted that option. She may be old but she lived for adventure. 

“Yeah…but I umm…I was considering this one place to go but I think it might be too crazy,” you prefaced the big question. 

“Oh where?” she sounded genuinely intrigued. 

“Uh..Tokyo...Japan,” you braced for her to tell you you were ludicrous. 

“Japan?” she asked and you nodded before actually answering yes, “Well…that sounds exciting you should go!” she cheerfully motivated you. 

“Really? You don’t think it’s too far?” you asked. 

“You’re young sweetie, this is the time to do these things, that’s what your granddad and I gave you the money for,” she continued to encourage, “explore, make memories,” she pushed. 

“There is a flight tomorrow…,” you still mulled over it. 

“Take it, if you don’t like it you come home but you won’t know unless you go,” she made it sound so simple…you guess it was. 

She encouraged you further, telling you that you were a young educated black woman and the world was your oyster. One thing about your gran, she could make you feel like the world was in fact, your oyster. You ended the call with the confidence to explore. You clicked through the flight booking and 5 minutes later you were booked for a trip to Tokyo. Maybe you were spontaneous afterall. 

The next day was your flight. You woke up early to pack and get some little things, including a cosy tracksuit to travel 13 hours in. You got through the airport and arrived just in time for boarding. Once on you cosied up in your fancy business class seat and took out your phone to send updates to your friends. They were shocked about your Tokyo decision to say the least but they were excited and sent you all sorts of photos of things you should visit and do once in the city. 

You were sitting in a middle seat but no one was sitting in the adjoining seat, at least not when the economy section began to board. You were just done texting your friends your luck when you saw a man putting his bag up in the overhead beside you. 

Just my lu- your own thoughts were cut when you laid eyes on the man, or rather, his midriff that was exposed as he reached into the overhead space. The happy trail in front of you laid on the background of brown skin was a thing of beauty. The sound of the overhead bin locking shut snapped you into consciousness and you quickly sat up straight and faced forward. The man came into your peripheral view, dressed in all black with locs framing his face. Brown skin and locs? God is this you working!? You could feel the man was sexy. You hadn’t gotten a good look but you could feel his aura. You were too scared to really look his way but you glanced over as he buckled his seatbelt and did an internal celebratory dance when you saw no ring on his wedding finger. God this must be you. You said a little prayer of thanks and worked up the courage to turn your head in his direction. Wow. Yeah he was hot. His jawline was sharp, his cheekbones regal and his lips pouty. You got up the courage to look but you hadn’t found it to speak. 

Instead you distracted yourself on your phone, gushing to your girls about the extremely good looking man sitting beside you. The flight attendants went through the protocol and the plane took off. In all that time, you didn’t look your cute neighbour's way. 

“Pour vous,” the flight attendant handed him a menu and stretched one over to you. You reached for it but as you did your phone fell to the ground and when you instinctively reached forward for it you hit your head on the  middle console. 

“Shit,” you cursed. You heard a chuckle beside you and met your neighbour’s smiling face holding your menu when you looked up. 

“Êtes-vous d'accord?” are you okay. He asked and you squinted in misunderstanding. 

“Désolé, je parle anglais,” sorry I speak English. You produced a line you practised frequently in your two weeks in Paris. 

“Are you okay?” he switched to English with ease, “that looked like it hurt,” his concern was mixed with obvious amusement. 

“Uh yeah I’m okay,” you answered, now totally embarrassed at the realisation the cute boy saw you make a fool of yourself. Now that you could look at him face on, he was even cuter. His deep brown eyes sparkled when he smiled and his smooth brown skin was dotted with little beauty spots on his cheeks. His soft nose set contrast to his sharp features and gave him a hint of boyishness. 

“Okay,” he nodded through a chuckle, “here is your menu,” he handed you what the flight attendant was trying to before. You took it from his hand with a soft thank you. 

You put your eyes on the menu, trying to hide from the shame but you could feel his eyes on you. 

“So…have you been to Japan before?” he surprisingly asked and you shot your head up to look at him. 

“Uh no, first time, you?” you wanted to sound smooth and sexy but you sounded awkward and nervous. 

“I went once before but not for long, this time I’m going for longer with my boys,” he continued the conversation. 

“Your boys?” you asked, seeing as he was sitting next to you. He pointed to the window side of the plane beside him where one man was fast asleep and then to the two seats in front of us where you couldn’t see who was sitting. “Oh,” you nodded. 

“What about you?” he asked and you bit your lip unsure if you should tell him. He seemed to sense your hesitation so he introduced himself, “I’m Jules by the way,” he put his hand out. You smiled at the gesture and shook his hand that swallowed yours. 

“Y/n,” you answered and held eye contact as he shook your hand, “and to answer I’m going alone..spontaneous vibes and what not,” you shrugged and he laughed. 

“A spontaneous trip to Japan?” he questioned with light in his deep eyes.

“Yeah I’m on a eat pray love journey,” you admitted more about your plans to this stranger within a minute of introduction than you had to anyone who didn’t have access to your Netflix account. 

“Eat, pray, love?” he seemed further amused with you, “what’s that?” he asked and turned his frame more to you. 

“It’s to like… find myself I guess…explore, try new foods, get centred,” you gave a loose description because you weren’t too sure yourself what you wanted to achieve on this venture. 

“And find love?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. You paused, first not knowing how to respond to that but then getting lost in his direct gaze. “You said eat, pray, love right? So there must be love in there,” he placed his elbow on the median between you two and leaned in. 

“Umm…,” you gulped your butterflies back, “it’s just a saying,” you averted your eyes to your lap. 

“Unless you already have love?” your head shot up and immediately shook no at his question. You stopped yourself from your overzealous answer and used calmer words to reply. 

“No…I mean…no,” your response made his perfectly groomed eyebrows pinch together. 

“Are you sure?” he asked and you more calmly shook your head yes. 

“I’m sure…I wouldn’t be on a solo trip to Japan if I had love now would I?” you tried to make a joke of your dismal love life and you hoped it landed. 

“I guess not,” he smiled, “if you did, he’d be a fool to not want to be with you,” he trapped your air and held your gaze. Your lips parted with your slackened jaw but no words came out. He was obviously flirting and it turned you dumb. 

“Umm…yeah…yeah I guess so,” you struggled to speak against your dry throat. 

Fortunately, the flight attendant came back to ask what we wanted to order and you quickly had to focus on the menu rather than the man beside you. He got distracted after the flight attendant left with sending some messages on his phone and didn’t put it down until the flight attendant returned. 

“Merci,” he thanked her and you repeated his words when she placed your tray in front of you. “Do you want to watch a movie?” you lifted your head to him at the question. 

“A movie?” you asked. 

“Yeah…unless you like to eat in silence,” he tapped the screen of the entertainment display in front of him, “we can share,” he handed you a side of his bluetooth earphones. You looked at the half of his headphone in his hand and back up to him. He gestured it to you again, affirming his offer and you took the bud in your hand. 

“What’s your pick?” he asked and you shrugged. 

“I’m not much of a movie girl,” his eyes widened in disapproval at your confession.

“Have you seen basic instinct?” he tapped on the movie on the screen in front of him.

“Nope,” you shook your head and got another disapproving look from Jules. 

“Y/n,” he reprimanded you but the sound of your name rolling off his French accented tongue had you feeling everything but guilt. “We are watching it,” he insisted and you simply nodded. You couldn’t really form words after the name drop. 

He settled in his seat after pressing play and lifted his glass in your direction. 

“To eat, pray, love,” you laughed at his toast and lifted your glass.

“To eat, pray, love,” you clinked glasses with him. He put his to his lips and winked at you before taking a sip. You were supposed to be drinking too but your brain stopped on seeing his adams apple slide up and down his neck with his sip. You were grateful for the dim lightening and your brown skin because if you were any fairer your cheeks would be burning red right about now. 

You took a quick sip to avert your gaze, put his earbud in your ear and settled into your seat to watch the movie with him. 

Throughout the movie he would lean over to whisper things about the characters and their actions and at some points you asked him things when you got lost and he happily explained. Once you settled into the idea that you were watching an in flight movie with an extremely cute stranger it actually became really fun. 

“Uh uh,” you scrunched your nose in displeasure at your fruity dessert. It wasn’t to your liking when what you desired was a sugar fix. 

“You okay?” Jules looked across instantly. 

“Oh yeah..I just..,” you wondered if to admit to your pickiness, “this just isn’t for me,” you told him anyway and you put the dessert cup down. 

“Do you want mine?” He picked up his layered chocolate mousse cup. It did look like something you’d like but you felt rude to take it. 

“It’s okay,” you denied after your eyes lingered on his treat. 

“No, take it,” he switched his and yours, “I shouldn’t eat so much sugar anyway,” he shrugged. 

“And I should?” you giggled a bit and happily picked up the mousse. You were denying at first but you couldn’t lie, chocolate was what you needed right now. 

“A pretty girl like you can have whatever she wants,” he smoothly answered, sending heat across your face. Your melanin was working overtime to keep your cover but your nervous giggle betrayed you. You couldn’t help it. He was stirring butterflies you thought were permanently dormant. 

“Thanks,” your voice weakened by your butterflies. You tried to bury your smile with a spoonful of the chocolate mousse but that wasn’t helping much. Thankfully Jules turned his focus to the movie. 

“How was it?” he asked, finding you now on your last spoonful. 

“Really good,” you regrettably spoke with dessert in your mouth. Classy much? You judged yourself and put the cup down. “Thanks,” you thanked him again for giving you his, “I needed that,” He nodded at your thanks and his eyes zeroed in on your lips. Your face pinched in confusion that deepened when he reached to your face. 

“You spilled some,” he swiped his thumb from the side of your mouth to the side of your bottom lip before you could respond. He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it clean, leaving you spellbound. “All good,” he put his hand on his lap and refocused on the movie. You however could not focus on the movie, not when the man's hand - his very big hand- was just on your lip! Fuck you’d be thinking about the way he licked that chocolate of his thumb for months to come. It should be my -- you cut your horny brain off from taking over your main one. It was bad enough you were a blushing mess around the man. You could not also let yourself get stupidly horny. 

The flight attendant returned for the trays and the movie came to a close. The cabin crew made an announcement they would soon dim the lights and you saw Jules lean over to rummage through his bag. What he pulled out instantly made you giggle. 

“Are you for real?” you asked as he slipped a black bonnet over his head,” 

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused by your reaction.

“A bonnet?” you asked amused. 

“Yeah, I never sleep without it,” he stated matter of factly, “where is yours?” he turned the tables on you. 

“I don’t have it on me,” you were much too shy to pull out your cheetah pride bonnet on a commercial flight. 

“I’ll lend you one then,” he leaned over and whipped another black bonnet out of his bag, “you shouldn’t trust this pillow with those curls of yours, your hair is much too pretty,” he handed the bonnet over with a compliment. 

“Oh umm…thank you,” you took it but hesitated to put it on. Were you really about to put this bonnet on next to this dreamy man? 

“Go on,” he insisted. You guessed you were. You tucked your hair into the bonnet and he nodded in approval. “Now you can sleep well,” he made you smile. One of your exes always made fun of you whenever he slept over and you needed your bonnet. This definitely was a refreshing change, even if he was still essentially a stranger. 

The cabin lights dimmed and you cosied into the bed your seat converted into. You didn’t usually sleep comfortably on planes but you felt surprisingly comfortable enough on this one to lay your head to rest. Maybe it was the bonnet or maybe it was the bonnet’s owner but you were feeling a peace you never did on a plane ride before. 

In your sleep you felt a gentle rocking of your shoulder that caused you to turn your body to the median. 

“Hmm,” you half groaned, half hummed. 

“It’s time to wake up y/n,” a gentle male voice spoke to you. You slowly opened your eyes and realised where you were and who was speaking to you. 

“Oh, uh,” you sat up too quickly and had to steady yourself with a grip of the middle console. 

“You okay?” he asked and you nodded. 

“Yeah sorry, umm what time is it?” you blinked and he informed you the plane was soon landing and you needed to put your seat back to a seat. You nodded with closed eyes and made moves to make that happen. Once settled into your seat you pulled out your phone camera and nearly gasped at the reflection. Bonnet on, lips dry, skin dull and eyes puffy. “Excuse me a minute,” you quickly grabbed your toiletries out of your bag and rushed to the airplane bathroom. How long had you been looking like this? Ugh, you hoped the french boy wasn’t turned off by your morning face because he somehow looked perfect when he woke you up. 

You took a few minutes to brush your teeth, moisturise your face and zhuzh your curls. You still looked a little sleepy but it was much better than your fresh out of bed state. 

“Slept well?” Jules asked when you returned to your seat. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you handed his bonnet back to him, “and thanks for this,” 

“No problem,” he took it and put it in his bag. The voice of the airplane intercom came between the two of you, asking you to prepare for landing. 

“Y/n?” He said your name again and woke the butterflies up. “Yeah?” you tried to sound normal. 

“I really enjoyed the flight with you,” 

“Me too,” your voice lit up with joy. 

“Do you think I could have your number? I’d love to speak again,” He asked and you quickly nodded. 

“Yes of course,” you eagerly answered, making him return your smile. You two exchanged numbers and now you finally knew the surname to go with his first. 

“I will definitely call you,” he promised and you hoped he meant it. 

When the plane landed Jules helped you get your bag down from the overhead and he again promised to call you when you started to walk out of the plane. You two parted ways but he definitely did not part from your mind. 

After the airport you went straight to your hotel and called it a night. You slept on the plane but you were the type who needed time to reset. After a long shower and ordering food up to your room you jumped into bed to deep dive on your air plane crush. You wanted to tell your girls about him but given the time zones you knew they’d be in work and you needed to drop this story when everyone was free for a three way call. 

Jules Kounde. You put it into the search engine not sure if you’d get anything. Jules was a pretty common name but it was worth a shot. To your surprise, his face immediately popped up, his face and a wikipedia page. He told you on the flight he played football but you didn’t know much about the sport so you just thought he was one of those guys who did their knees in secondary school and kept telling everyone they are footballers. Shockingly, he actually  was a footballer. The man was in the Euros days before meeting you and he didn’t even mention that! Again, you didn’t know much about football but you at least knew what the Euros were. 

“Well that's…crazy,” you put your phone down and stared at the ceiling. He was already maybe one of the fittest men you’d seen in your adult life and now he was also a professional footballer? You sighed because your dream man was feeling dangerously out of reach. 

Your phone buzzed during your wallowing. 

Jules: did you get to your hotel okay? 

You smiled at the message and quickly replied that you did and you even sent him a picture of your bare legs stretched out in front of you on your soft hotel bed. 

Jules: great 

Jules: Nice legs btw 😍

You openly giggled in the privacy of your room at his compliment. Maybe the dream man wasn’t so far from reach. 

You texted back and forth for a bit until he said he had to go because he was at dinner with his friends. Later that night he texted you he was back at his hotel but you were already asleep. In the morning, he beat you to wakefulness and sent you a text wishing you well for the day. Could this be love bombing? Did a few text even qualify as love bombing? Maybe not, but you haven't received this type of attention from a man well…ever, so it did feel like a lot. Yet, it also felt so good. 

In the morning, you went for breakfast and you called your girls to give them the whole story. They were gassed to say the least, telling you that this man must be your soulmate and that’s the only explanation for meeting a man so into you like this. They definitely did a number on your head because after breakfast you were floating on a cloud thinking this man actually might be your soulmate. 

The rest of the day you spent exploring and by evening you were knackered so you called it an early night. You didn’t bother with dinner. Once back in the hotel room you tossed your clothes aside and stepped into the shower. The water soothed the ache in your legs from all the steps you made whilst the sounds of SZA streamed out of your phone. The ping ponging of your iphone ringtone cut through SZA and forced your eyes open under the stream of the rainshower head. 

You opened the shower door and reached out for your phone expecting to see your mothers name on the screen. Instead it was Jules Kounde. Your heart started to beat faster and you stood frozen through another ring before catching the call at the last moment. 

“Hi,” you answered 

“Hey…good time?” he asked. 

“Umm yeah,” you answered despite being stood in the shower. 

“Is that rain?” Jules asked

“It’s my shower,” 

“You’re in the shower?” his voice told his intrigue and made you put your hand over your breast as if he could see. 

“Uh…yeah, why’d you call?” you tried to take the conversation off of you being naked and in the shower right now. 

“Well…I’ve been thinking about you,” his confession made you smile, “and I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight?” you gasped and immediately covered your mouth, “Y/n?” he called your name in the absence of your verbal response. 

“Oh yeah umm yeah I’d love too,” you tried to be normal but you were literally buzzing at him asking you out. 

“Great, I can come pick you up with the driver and we go,” he suggested and you agreed. You exchanged with him your hotel details and he gave you a time to be ready for. When the call ended you squealed like a teen and did a little jump up and down in the shower before you realised the dangers of doing that. 

A date!? And not some netflix and chill date, this hunk of a man asked you out on a real date while in Tokyo!? Your friends would be so impressed. Yeah you didn’t date in Paris but hey they’d still get their ‘date with Frenchman chronicles!’. He was more than a chronicle to you though. Something about him felt special and you were sure that is why you felt so giddy about this date. 

You thanked your former self for doing some shopping in Paris that resulted in the little black dress you picked for the night. He didn’t tell you the restaurant so you weren’t sure how much you should dress up but you thought it would be better to be overdressed than underdressed. 

He made a few comments about your curly hair on the flight so you styled it curly and kept your makeup simple but with a bit of red lipstick because it made you feel sexy. The thought of him alone filled you with nerves so you had to do something to build your confidence up. He called right on time as you were applying your second coat of perfume. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror and told the girl looking back that she was strong, beautiful and the world was her oyster before grabbing your purse and leaving the hotel room. 

He sat in the lobby and rose to his feet as soon as he laid eyes on you. 

“Bonsoir chérie,” Jules smiled and gestured the red rose in his hand to you. 

“Hi,” you giggled and took your rose. 

“You look beautiful,” he took a step back to properly look you over,  “I love your hair,” he stepped forward again. The compliment made the effort more than worth it. 

“Shall we?” he put his hand out and you incautiously took it. You didn’t know when last you held a man's hand but something about Jules’ felt so safe. It felt good to feel your hand swallowed in his. It felt good to be led by him to the car. It felt so good that you wondered if you were even truly awake right now. 

He held the door open for you and you got into the back of the luxury van first.  He sat beside you and you, on a whim of confidence, put your hand on top of his. He met your gesture and turned his palm to hold your hand in his. You sighed with content and sat back in your seat. 

You talked on your way to the restaurant, mostly about how your trips so far had been and what foods you liked and disliked. On arrival he stepped out first and waited at the door with his hand extended to help you step out of the car. He was a total gentleman the entire time. He had you wondering if you stepped into your personal princess film. He held the door, guided you through the restaurant with a light hand on the low of your back and pulled out your chair when you got to your table. 

“You can have whatever you want, even if you want to try everything they have,” he offered and you laughed. 

“I don’t think I’ll need all of that but thank you,” you opened your menu. 

“Well if you change your mind, you can,” he opened his menu. 

The waitress came swiftly and you began your order with drinks. Jules asked you about your life back home and you told him about medical school. He seemed intrigued and asked genuine questions and refrained from the standard “when will you have time for anything else” comments you got from men and some family. He also asked about your world beyond that. Your hobbies, your dislikes, even your fears. You were usually the listener friend so at first you were apprehensive to share but there was something so warm in his eyes that made it easy to unravel. 

He told you about football and you revealed you did google him. He laughed at that and asked what you found out and you mentioned you knew he was a scorpio and he worked in Spain. He laughed at what you focused on and explained his career and what his life in Spain was like. Part of your spirit dropped when he spoke fondly of Barcelona because you considered how difficult it would be to maintain a relationship with a man so far away. Rather than bringing it up you swallowed that thought and focused on him talking about his favourite foods in Spain. You were getting ahead of yourself y/n, it’s only the first date. 

“What is something random you’re really good at?” he asked during your meal. Your face scrunched at the question, “Oh come on there has to be something,” he pressed for an answer and something came to mind. 

“I can crochet,” you told him, “pretty well honestly,” you got a surprised expression from him. 

“Can you make clothes?” he asked and you nodded, “you should make me something,” he suggested and you laughed, “I’m serious!” he insisted. 

“What if you think it’s ugly,” you stabbed your fish with your fork. 

“I won’t, you seem like you have good taste,” he took a sip of his drink. 

“Do I?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re on a date with me aren’t you?” he winked and you blushed. 

“You got me there,” you giggled and he laughed with you. 

“You should though, whatever it is I’ll treasure it,” he kept his eyes on you and set fire under your skin for the hundredth time tonight. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you gave him a loose promise that he accepted. 

The night flowed with ease. He paid for the dinner and the two of you went on a slow walk, continuing to talk for an hour until the car came for you. He walked you into the lobby and you accepted his offer to walk you up to your room. The hotel was incredibly safe but wouldn’t say no to his escort. 

“This is me,” you turned your back to your room door to face him. 

“I had a great time,” he reached out for your hand and took a small step to close the space between your bodies. 

“Me too,” you looked up at him. The wild side of you wanted to invite him in, it wanted to pull him through the door behind you and push him back on your bed but the cautious majority of you said to hold your horses. 

“I’d love it if you came out with me tomorrow,” a smile curled on your lips at his suggestion, “my friends and I are going around the town shopping and stuff do you want to come?” he explained. 

“That sounds good,” you didn’t have any concrete plans so a full day with him sounded fantastic. 

“Great, I’ll pick you up here in the morning,” he made the plan you were happy to go along with.

“Okay,” your agreement came out as a whisper because he took a step closer to you. He lifted his hand to your face, softly resting his thumb on your cheek. He was so close that you felt his hips against your tummy. He stroked your cheek softly and flicked his eyes from your eyes to your lips. You instinctively leaned into him. He began to lean in and your heart stopped. Your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation of his kiss. He pressed his lips against your cheek, just beside your mouth and surprisingly pulled back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well,” he took a step back leaving you blinking. 

“Uh…yeah okay tomorrow,” you gulped and turned around to open your hotel room door, “bye,” you gave him an awkward wave. 

“Bonne nuit chérie, bye,” he raised his hand in a wave. You dipped into your room and closed the door on him. 

Why didn’t he kiss me!? Your thoughts screamed. 

“Maybe he’s just a gentleman or something,” you sighed and took your heels off. If someone asked you if you kissed on the first date you would say no, you weren’t that easy but the rules were different for a man like Jules. You felt such a pull to him that you couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t have slept with him tonight if the mood went that way. Maybe it was a good thing he displayed restraint. 

He texted you when he got back to his hotel, letting you know he was there and telling you what time to be ready for in the morning. You appreciated the communication. You hoped it wasn’t temporary with him but even if it was, you were going to soak up the attention while you had it. 

The next morning you woke up super early to give yourself time to get cute. You tried on 3 different outfits before landing  on a white shorts coord you felt wasn’t too 

casual nor too dressy. You didn’t want him to think you were trying too hard but you also wanted to look good. 

He called you when he arrived and you had to stop yourself from skipping out of your room. 

“An ounce of demure y/n, do you have it in you?” you scolded yourself when you pressed the elevator button. You took a deep breath after your pep talk but when the doors opened and you stepped out to see Jules leaning against the wall in a tank top that displayed his thick defined arms you felt your hopes of being demure wash away. Your heart rate picked up and your throat already felt dry. How was it possible that he kept getting sexier? 

“Oh hello,” he smiled when he noticed you, “you look great,” he looked you over and placed a kiss so quickly on your cheek you didn’t have time to process that and tell your feet to move when he grabbed your hand to walk out. “Coming?” he asked and you forced your brain to work.  

“Yeah,” you hoped you covered up your moment and followed him out of the hotel. 

He walked you to the car with your hand in his like the night before. He held the door open for you but today you were met with three other men in the car. Jules sat beside you and introduced you to his friends. They were all pleasant and none seemed to think it odd Jules invited you, a girl he met a few days ago, on their day out. 

You joined in conversation with them for the short journey and when you got to the drop off spot Jules held your hand to help you out of the car. He kept your hand in his, your fingers intertwined as you made your way into the first store. It was a vintage luxury store and although the bags were nice,the price was not. You remained quiet next to Jules as he looked and spoke with the sales assistant. It was easy to learn he liked fashion so it was nice to see him talk about his interest with others. 

“What do you think?” he turned to you, asking your opinion on a bag he pointed at. 

“It’s nice, I think I like that one more though,” you pointed to the other one you heard him considering “more special,” you added. He looked at it and hummed, mulling over the choice. 

“I think you’re right, I’ll take that on instead,” he picked the one you chose. 

“You sure?” you asked him, hoping he wasn’t about to spend that money just because you said so. 

“Yeah, you’re right it is more special,” he smiled at you, “good eye,” he put his hand on your lower back. You smiled at him because you felt like he was being genuine. “Do you want something?” he asked and you immediately laughed. 

“No!” you refused. 

“You don’t like bags?” he asked, glancing down at the one on your shoulder and then back to you. 

“I do, but not at this price point,” you folded your arms. 

“I’ll get it for you,” your eyes bugged out of your head. 

“No,” you firmly refused. 

“Just tell me what you want, it’s yours,” he stepped closer to you. 

“Jules, I don’t think a single thing here is under £10,000!” you whisper shouted to him in the small space between the two of you. 

“I make enough, just tell me what you want,” he put both of his hands on your folded arms, “I want to,” he met the quiet pitch in your bubble. You bit your lip looking at him and sighed. 

“I’ll look,” you compromised and he smiled. He took your hand when you unfolded your arms and gestured for you to lead the way. You gave a little roll of your eyes at his stubbornness but deep down you thought it romantic he wanted to get you something. Boys before would barely offer a chocolate! This man brought a rose, took you on a nice date and now was willing to buy you a gift with a price tag that made your head spin? Your grandmother's prayers for you to find a good man were clearly very strong. 

Jules ended up getting you a little bag you kept circling back to in the store. You kept telling him you didn’t need it but he said he could tell you wanted it so he got it anyway. After the vintage shopping the group of you went to what you can only describe as a children’s store. There were pokemon toys, figurines and mangas everywhere. Shockingly, Jules seemed over the moon. He might have even been more excited to be here than he was in the luxury store. 

“Which one Batman or Superman?” he asked you of two figurines in his hands. 

“Is this some sort of test?” your eyebrows pinched. 

“No, I want your opinion,” he smiled. 

“Umm…batman I guess,” you bit your lip. 

“Good choice,” he put Superman down. 

“So this was a test!?” 

“Don’t worry you passed,” he kissed your cheek and took your hand to see something else in the ‘toy’ store. You giggled at his kiss and silently hoped he’d do it again. He was pretty touchy; holding your hand, kissing your cheek but you two still hadn’t kissed and the thought of his lips on your was definitely playing on your mind. Even with him now showing you a pair of pikachu slides with glee. He definitely was an interesting man. 

The five of you walked around the city for a while after shopping and the entire time Jules kept you close. He would point things out to you, offer you water and tell you to go pose every five minutes for a photo. At first you told him you didn’t want photos but he insisted. 

“I’m not photogenic Jules,” you tried to deny him when he pointed out a third location he said you should go stand while he takes your photo. 

“Are you kidding?” he pulled up the previously  taken photos on his dslr camera, “you’re the best thing I’ve photographed since being here,” he showed you a photo of yourself that honestly was nice. You gave him a look that you weren’t convinced though. “Go, I won’t take no for an answer,” he pushed and you did as he said. You normally didn’t like to take photos but his encouragement did make it feel more comfortable.  

At dinner you sat next to Jules and it felt natural like you had been doing this everyday for years. He asked you if you wanted to taste his meal and you didn’t feel the need to be coy like you usually would in an early stage of seeing someone. Things felt easy with Jules and yet exciting. Every time his hand landed on your thigh or he smiled at you you felt electricity jolt up your body. 

After dinner, the consensus was it was time to go home. Jules told you he’d take you back to your hotel first when you stood up from your seat in the restaurant. He held your hand to walk toward the car and you pulled him by that hand to stop his stride once his friends were ahead of you two. 

“Yeah?” he stopped and asked you. 

“Umm…,” you bit your lip. 

“What’s up?” his brows slightly furrowed. 

“I was just wondering,” you kept your eyes on your linked hands, “if I could go back with you,” you got your request out and looked up at him. 

“To the hotel?” he asked with a smile and you nodded, too shy to clarify verbally. “Of course you can,” he turned to walk with you to the car. You sighed a quiet sigh in relief beside him. 

In the car ride to the hotel, rather than holding your hand, he kept his hand firm between your thighs. He stroked your lower thigh with his thumb and occasionally he would squeeze your flesh. He maintained conversation with his friends the entire time but you could barely engage. Instead you were trying to cool the heat forming further up your thighs. The sight and feel of his big hand in between your thighs (though near your knee) was driving you crazy. You were silently wishing he would move his hand higher but you had to remind yourself you were quite literally surrounded by his friends in the confines of a luxury van. You couldn’t quite tell if Jules was doing this to tease you, but if he was, it was working. 

You didn’t say much on the journey up to his hotel room, mostly because it was fairly obvious to all of his friends when you got out of the car with them and into the elevator that you were going to be spending the night with Jules. Yeah you’d spend all day with them and Jules was never hesitant to hold your hand or kiss your cheek in front of them but something about standing in an elevator knowing everyone knows you probably want your back blown out was too awkward for you to get words out. 

Maybe they think you just want to talk. You tried to convince yourself when Jules told them goodnight and walked with you to the end of the hall where his room was. As soon as you soothed yourself, you created new anxiety. What if Jules thinks you just want to talk!? Wait what if he thinks you don’t just want to talk!!! You started to panic. Yeah you were attracted to him, yeah you definitely wanted to see him naked but did you want him to see you naked. You’d gone from panicking over his friends thinking you were here for sex to panicking about actually having sex. 

“Here we are,” he opened the door and held it open for you to walk in. You gave him a tight smile, hoping you were masking your sheer internal panic. 

“Nice room,” you stepped into the large room with floor to ceiling glass panels across from the bed. You kicked off your shoes and stepped in and sat on his couch that faced the glass panels. Some might consider it bold you walked right in, but really you were just escaping his closeness and the thoughts of what might happen tonight. Why did you even suggest coming back here? Oh yeah cause you wanted your back blown. You rolled your eyes at your earlier horny self because your normal self struggled to have her confidence right now. 

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, opening the mini fridge in the room. 

“I’m okay,” you told him. He hummed and stayed by the fridge. 

You heard him crack open a bottle of water and you looked back to see him swipe his phone open. You watched him a few feet away and bit your lip. He was really good looking. He leaned against the desk with his one leg crossed over the other dripping of casual sex appeal. His locs fell around his face, his chest pressed against his sleeveless top and his arms, though relaxed, looked like they were crafted by Michaelangelo. Your normal self was locked away after taking him in. Your more confident, desire driven self was in charge now. 

The aura around him pulled you to your feet and over to where he stood. 

“Changed your mind?” he gestured his water to you on noticing you standing in front of him. You shook your head no and he uncrossed his legs. “What’s up?” He put his phone down behind you and pulled you against his body with a firm arm around your back. 

“Nothing,” you put both of your hands on his chest and kept your eyes low. 

“Talk to me,” he also put his water down and put both hands on your lower back, holding you against him. 

“We talked all day,” you looked up at him, and bit the inside of your bottom lip. You dropped your eyes to his lips, hoping to imply your feelings. You two had been talking all day. You wanted to communicate in ways that didn’t involve words now. 

“We did,” he slipped his hands under your top and onto your bare back. 

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” you openly told him. His face lifted into a smirk at that quick response from you. 

“Okay,” he flatted his hands against your lower back, pulling you a little closer and leaned into your ear, “What do you want?” He kissed the tip of your ear and lifted his head to look at you. You kept your eyes on him but you were mute at the question, “Would you rather I ask in French? Maybe Spanish?” he teased and you scrunched your nose and shook your head no, “Well tell me baby…what do you want?” his voice deepened and sent the vibrations into your core. 

You took a little breath and finally got the words out, “I want you to kiss me,” you told him just the start of all the things you wanted from him. He took one hand off your back and placed it on your cheek then brought his lips within reach of yours. 

“All you had to do was ask,” he pressed his lips against yours and you lifted your head to meet his kiss. He pressed for you to open your mouth and you did for him to dip his tongue into yours. He dropped the hand that was on your back to your ass and grabbed it with a force that pressed you even closer to his firm body. You moaned into his mouth at the mercy of his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your body. 

He moved both hands to the back of your thighs and pressed to pick you up. You jumped into his arms, your arms around his neck and your lips on his. He walked you to his bed and lowered you down, keeping his lips on yours. You put your hands in his locs, keeping his head close when he pulled his lips off yours to kiss your neck and collar. 

“You’re so sexy,” he mumbled through kisses of your cleavage. 

“I want you,” you breathed, easily giving your request now.  He nodded and pulled at the strings holding your top together. He pulled the first one and you reached for his top. He took your hands off him and put them over your head. 

“Patience,” he kissed your lips, “I will make you happy,” he looked you in the eyes from his place hovering over you and you knew that was a promise. You nodded and let him lead. He told you to go lay on the pillow and you did just that. He returned to his place over you and continued to untie your top. He took his time on your naked breast first. He palmed both in his big hands, then rubbing simultaneous circles over your nipples bringing them both to a peak. He then took the right in his mouth, licking and rolling his tongue around the nub in a way that made your pussy squeeze. 

He went to the left, repeating the same tantalising routine that was melting your brain. He popped your nipple out of his mouth and kissed down your belly. He put his hands on the side of your shorts and started to pull down them and your panties in one. You lifted your hips for him, wanting nothing more than to be naked for him. 

Usually, you’d be shy. You’d want the room ultra dark or you’d want him to not look at you too much but with Jules, you felt beautiful under his eyes. He looked down at your naked frame and you opened your thighs for him. You wanted him to look at you because you felt appreciated. 

He hooked his arms under your thighs and slid to lay down between them. 

“Do you want this?” he asked and kissed above your slit. 

“Yes, I want you,” you assured him. He spread you open with his fingers, exposing your clit to the cool air of his hotel room. Your thighs clenched and your chest heaved  in anticipation. He kept you spread and brushed another finger over your clit with a feather-like touch. “Jules,” you whimpered as the slick pooled down in your centre. 

He took his name like a command and flatted his tongue against your clit. Your hips lifted off the bed and into his mouth. He pushed them back down with one strong arm across your hips and used the other hand to keep you spread to take the brunt of his viper tongue. You were sure you’d never felt anything like this. He made you sing a chorale of moans with the rapid attack of his tongue on your pulsing clit. 

“Jules, wait, Jules!” you shrieked and he went faster, faster and faster until the contraction of your orgasm hit so hard you nearly pulled the hair off his scalp. 

He slowed his licks, replacing them with gentle sucks as you came down from a vision blurring orgasm. He backed off and took his clothes off while your eyes were still closed and your head in the clouds. 

“Y/n?” he called your name and your eyes snapped open, “you okay?” he asked, clearly amused. 

“Perfect,” you pulled him down over you. He followed your pull and kissed you. Your tongues mingled, spreading the taste of you in your mouth. He ground his hips into you and you wrapped your legs around him, wanting more than just the feel of his obviously thick cock brushing against your pussy. 

“Condoms,” he reminded you and you sighed and unwrapped your legs. You were normally militant about safe sex but right now you felt you’d die if he wasn’t inside you immediately. 

Fortunately, he was swift with getting the condom and it gave you the opportunity to appreciate the beauty that would soon be inside of you when he rolled the condom over his length. You reached forward to touch and he grabbed your hand before you could. 

“You’re not very patient are you?” he raised an eyebrow and you shook your head no. How could you be when the knot in your belly was threatening to suffocate you. You needed him. “I’ll have to fix that,” he put both of your hands over your head, holding them with one hand and holding his cock with the other. He stroked it along your heat, pressing just enough into your hole to make your hips jerk before pulling back and stroking up and down again. 

“Jules please,” you shamelessly begged, “I need it,” 

“When I say so,” he squeezed your wrist in his large hand and slapped his cock on your clit. You gasped at the tease. You were so close to cumming just from that, that you felt you might combust when he finally slipped his cock in.

He dragged things out a little longer. He leaned over your body and sucked each nipple into his mouth once more, making your pussy clench with each lick of your nipple. He then returned to sliding his cock up and down your pussy. You tried to wriggle your hips against him in a silent plea but it didn’t work. He took his time. 

“Relax chérie, I’m going to make you happy,” he promised again and finally slid his cock into your ache. 

The fill made your eyes shoot open. He pushed his hips deep into your body, hitting a place you never felt before. You wrapped your legs around him, trying to get them to stop shaking to no avail. He kept your hand pinned with one hand over your head and now used the other to keep your hips pinned to the bed as he railed you into the soft white sheets. You were moaning his name but you didn’t think it was coherent. It couldn’t be with the way your orgasm came on quickly and aggressively. 

“Come with me,” he lifted you by the arms to sit up and practically carried you to the floor to ceiling glass. He stood you in front of the incredible view of the city miles below and placed your hand up on the glass wall. “Arch your back for me baby, I’m going to fuck you where everyone can see,” 

You did as you were told. You sunk your back into a deep arch that got a low curse of his approval. He put his hands on your hips, his thumbs pressing into your arch and lined himself up with your needy hole. 

“Ple-,” he buried himself fully into you before you could get your plea out. Your nails scratched against the glass and you rocked forward with his strong strokes. He pounded into you so deep you felt it in your womb. Your ass bounced just from the force he moved in and out of with. You had never felt anything this deep. He kept the pace until you soaked him with another orgasm. He then slowed and slapped your ass with the silent instruction to work for your next one. 

You bounced your ass back on him, sinking your back as low as you could and sliding along him with each flick of your ass on his cock. 

“You look so good right now, you’re putting on such a good show,” he slapped your ass and gave you the encouragement to bounce your ass faster along his cock. 

He let you have control for a half a minute more before grabbing you by the hips, pulling out of your pussy, turning you to face him and pressing your back against the glass. He lifted your thigh, buried himself into you once more and then picked up your other leg so you were totally in his support. You held on to his ripped shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as he fucked you against the glass wall. 

He pulled your back off it to bounce you up and down his cock and you felt the orgasm rip your belly apart. He hit a point so deep you were sure he moved things around to accommodate him. You dropped your head in his neck as it hit and he fucked you through it, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were for him and how much he loved it. 

He carried you to the couch you were sitting on when you first walked into his room. He laid you down and slipped back into you. You held his head and kissed him. Your kisses were now messy and fervent. His strokes were getting slopper and his moans louder. 

“I know baby, cum for me,” you said into his ear, while his face was tucked into your neck. 

“Fuck,” he panted and came with one more deep stroke into your pussy. He collapsed over you, his weight dropped in a heavy comfort. You stroked his back as he caught his breath. He sighed and lifted his head to kiss your cheek and then your lips in a soft kiss. 

“That was…,” you trailed and he kissed you again.

“Perfect, you’re perfect,” he filled your blank and kissed you again. He slowly pulled out and rose to his feet. He took you with him to the bathroom and you two showered together. He gave you some of his clothes and made sure you drank some water before joining you in bed. 

“I want to keep seeing you,” he kissed your now bonnet covered head. One thing about this man, he didn’t play about hair care. 

“How will that work?” you asked a question you’d been avoiding. 

“I will make it work,” he promised. You turned to look at him and displayed your questioning of that promise with your eyes. “You trust me?” he asked, pulling your thigh across his lap. You thought about the fact you just let this man who you met only a few days ago on a flight to Tokyo fuck you over the night lights of the city and nodded at his question. Clearly, your heart and mind trusted him. 

“Trust I’ll make this work, I’ve been around the world and never found a feeling like this…,” his words made your heart flutter, “I’m not letting going easily,” 

“I don’t want you to let go,” you hugged him and rested your head on his chest. 

You weren’t sure if promises were enough to overcome the potential barriers between the two of you but that didn’t matter to you right now. Nothing else mattered but the feeling you had in your chest cuddled against Jules. If today was the end of your gap year adventures you’d be content that you accomplished what you set out : you ate, you prayed and potentially…just maybe, you found love. 

.