#fc masterlist

[theplaygroundkrp]

how up to date is the masterlist?

We update the master list every Sunday after we conduct our Activity Check in the rp. Therefore, the masterlist has been updated as of today, March 9th.

We note, at the top of the masterlist page, when the masterlist was last updated with the exact date, as well.

Please, always check the masterlist prior to submitting your application. As a reminder, we also have a "most wanted" list on our tumblr homepage. If you are further undecided on a faceclaim, you are welcome to submit a list of names (full name, stage name, and group) and we can run a short 24 hour poll for our members to vote on who they would like to see the most.

Thank you!

ㅡTPG Admins

[er-fightmaster]

Can anyone suggest any up to date FC masterlists? A lot of the ones I've reblogged in the past are old and no longer updated.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ guilt trip, t. alexander-arnold. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: every year, trent and his mates bet on no nut november. and every year trent fails to hold out. it's really not your fault you can't hold off.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: so sorry this is up so late <3 day ten of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, brief fingering, begging.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.7k.

"I can't believe it's November already," you said, your eyes fixed on the calendar. The page, a warm palette complementary to the warm autumnal hues of the season, glared back at you with a single, scribbled note: "No Nut November begins today". You sighed, knowing what this meant for you and Trent's love life for the next thirty days.

Trent sailed into the room, his broad frame casting a shadow over your thoughts. "I think this is my year, babe," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I swear I'm gonna win that bet."

You could only roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the bet. "You've never made it past the first week," you reminded him, your voice laden with skepticism.

Every November 1st, you had come to expect the same conversation with Trent. You knew the drill: he'd announce the start of the "No Nut November" challenge with the excitement of a kid on Christmas Eve, and you would play along, feigning shock and annoyance. But this year, you felt a twinge of genuine annoyance. You had been dating for almost two years now, and you had hoped that by this point, the juvenile betting pool with his football mates would've grown old. But here you were, staring down the barrel of another month-long abstinence challenge.

Trent, ever the competitor, was undeterred by your eye roll. "This year's different," he assured you, crossing the room to give your arm a playful squeeze. "Me and the boys have upped the stakes. The winner gets bragging rights and a sweet little prize."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what's the prize this time?" you asked, already bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Trent's eyes lit up. "It's a weekend getaway to a posh spa resort. Imagine it, babe," he said, his voice full with enthusiasm. "Just you and me, no interruptions, no training, no matches."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of interest. A weekend at a spa was something you hadn't indulged in for quite some time. "And who's doing the challenge this year?" you inquired, knowing full well that you would be the one keeping Trent honest.

"Just me, Dom, Ryan, and Harvey," Trent listed off his competitors with a grin. "But it's mainly between Dom and me, to be honest."

You sighed, knowing that Dominik was going to be the toughest competition for Trent. "Alright, you know the rules," you said, trying to hide your amusement. "No funny business for the next thirty days."

Trent nodded solemnly. "I know, I know," he said, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "But just think of the prize, love. A whole weekend of pampering and no distractions. We can finally relax."

You couldn't argue with that. "Fine, I'll hold you to it," you said with a smirk. "But if you even think about cheating..."

"Would I ever?" Trent protested, his eyes wide and innocent. You just raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled, admitting defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll behave."

The first week was surprisingly easy, with Trent's focus on the bet keeping him in check. The two of you spent your evenings watching movies and playing board games, your hands brushing against each other in innocent gestures that somehow seemed more intimate than your usual passionate encounters.

But as November marched on, the tension grew. You could feel it in the way Trent's eyes lingered on you, the way his touch slightly lingered. The air in the apartment thickened with unspoken desire, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from teasing him too much. You knew how much this ridiculous challenge meant to him, and you didn't want to be the one to make him stumble.

One evening, with about four days left to go, Trent came home from training with a new haircut, the fresh scent of aftershave wafting through the door before he did. You were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your dinner, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. His hair was buzzed closer to his scalp than it had been that morning, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his brown eyes. Though you would deny it, you nearly dropped the knife at the sight of him.

"What do you think?" Trent asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice as he spun around to show you the full picture.

You couldn't help but stare. The clean-shaven edges of his head and the short, textured hair on top were always a favorite look of yours, but the excitement in his eyes was purely childlike. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile. "Looks good," you said, your voice a little too flat. "Very clean, babe."

Trent stepped closer, leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze trained on your reaction. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little too casual. "Thought I'd go for a change."

You could see the challenge in his eyes, the silent dare to push the boundaries of the bet. You scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Don't get too cocky," you warned him. "You've still got a few days to go."

Trent chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Cocky?" he repeated, his smirk growing wider at the double entendre. "Now why would you say that?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral as you continued to prep dinner. "Because you know it's going to be hard to resist," you said, your voice low. "Especially looking like that."

Trent pushed himself off the counter and sauntered over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Is that so?" he murmured, his breath warm on your neck as he peered over your shoulder. His fingers danced across your waist, making your heart flutter despite your resolve to keep things PG for the next few days.

"Trent, don't," you chided, swatting his hand away, but not before you felt the electricity of his touch zipping through your body. You turned to face him, your desire shimmering in your eyes despite your stern expression. "You're making this impossible."

"Impossible?" he said with a cheeky smile, his thumb brushing the side of your face. "You know you want to." His voice was a low murmured tease that sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the smell of his fresh shower gel and the sight of his toned arms flexing as he leaned against the counter was making it increasingly difficult. "I've been helping you remember?" you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Ah, but what's the fun in that?" Trent whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, it can stay our secret?"

You knew you should be the voice of reason, but his touch was making your knees weak, and the way he looked at you with that cocky grin had your mind racing. You stepped back, trying to create some distance, but the kitchen was small, and he followed you, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer.

"Trent," you protested, even as she felt yourself melting into his embrace. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, your body craving his warmth.

He kissed your neck, his lips lingering on your sensitive skin. "Come on, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "One little slip won't hurt."

Your resolve was wavering. The smell of him, the heat of his body, and the promise in his eyes were too tempting. "Trent," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We can't. You'll lose the bet."

Trent leaned in closer, his mouth finding yours in a gentle but urgent kiss. "It's okay. I don't care anymore," he murmured against your lips. "I just need you."

You felt the last of your resolve crumbling. You pushed away the guilt that tried to surface. After all, it was just one time. And you had missed him, more than you would like to admit. "Fine," you whispered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But you better make it worth it."

With a growl of victory, Trent swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, leaving the chopped vegetables forgotten on the kitchen counter. He laid you gently on the bed, his hands tracing the curves of your body with a hunger that had been building for weeks. You couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your kisses grew more urgent, your hands more explorative. Trent peeled off your sweater, revealing your bare chest, a silent invitation that hadn't gone unnoticed. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat. Your pulse quickened, the anticipation of his touch making your skin prickle with excitement. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as he untied your sweats and slid them off your legs.

Trent's strong hands roamed your body, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from you. You reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head with an eagerness that surprised you. His skin was warm and smooth, the muscles of his chest tightening under your palms.

You rolled over the bed, a tangle of limbs and passion, the intensity of your kisses matching the urgency in your movements. You felt the heat of his erection pressing against your center, and you moaned softly, your arousal growing. Trent kissed a trail down your body, his teeth grazing your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as he nibbled at your skin, teasing and suckling until you were squirming beneath him. His hand slid down your stomach, his fingers finding your wetness, and you arched your back, your breath hitching in response. He chuckled darkly against your skin, knowing just how much it drove you crazy.

Trent took his time, savoring every inch of your body as if it were his first time. His touch was both gentle and demanding, leaving you gasping for more. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips when he slipped a finger inside you, stroking you in a rhythm that had your hips moving in sync. Your legs fell open wider, giving him full access as he kissed and licked his way down your body.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional sound of skin against skin. Your thoughts swirled in a haze of desire, your body responding to Trent's every touch with an urgency that had been building for weeks. You could feel the tension coiling within you, tightening with every stroke and kiss.

Trent paused, his eyes locking with yours as he reached for his shorts. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your heart racing at the thought of what was to come. He hovered over you, his gaze filled with a mix of need and love.

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed in, the sensation of being filled by him almost too much to bear. He groaned, his muscles tensing as he buried himself deep inside you. The two of you moved together, your rhythm a dance you had perfected over the years you had been together. Each thrust brought a wave of pleasure that crashed over you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the bed sheets.

Trent moaned into your ear, his voice a mix of passion and affection that sent shivers down your spine. "You feel so good," he murmured, his breath hot and ragged. You responded with moans of pleasure, your body arching to meet his as the tension grew tauter. The room was a cocoon of passion, the rest of the world outside your window forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"Baby," you whispered, your voice a soft plea as the tension coiled tighter within you. Trent's rhythm grew more urgent, his breaths shallow and ragged against your skin. The heady scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a silent testament to your shared need.

"Yeah? Tell me what you need, pretty girl," Trent's voice was strained as he moved above you, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to hold himself up.

Your nails raked down his back as he brought your legs up around his waist, changing the angle and driving even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt the orgasm building, the heat pooling in your core. "Please," you begged, your voice barely audible.

Trent kissed you again, his movements growing more frantic as he felt you tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the knowledge spurred him on. "Come on, baby," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "What do you need, love?"

"Harder," you gasped, your eyes wide with desire. "Please, T. Harder."

Trent complied, his strokes becoming more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your breathing grew ragged, and your eyes squeezed shut as the wave of pleasure built, threatening to consume you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, and you knew that with one more push, you would be over.

"Now, baby," Trent whispered, his voice a mix of command and desperation. And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through your body like a storm. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you clenched around him. The intensity of your climax took you by surprise, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Trent followed closely behind, his own release crashing over him like a wave. He buried his face in your neck, his breaths coming in heavy pants against your skin. You felt him pulse inside you, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your core. Your hand gently fluttered over the trimmed hair at the nape of his neck, your touch soothing his panting breaths.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the distant murmur of the city below. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that Trent had just failed to win the bet. But as Trent rolled off you, pulling you close, you pushed the thought aside. For now, you would revel in the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Trent leaned in and kissed your forehead gently. "Worth it?" he whispered, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Your head shook but you couldn't help but laugh. "You're such a tease," you huffed, your voice still shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Couldn't resist," Trent said with a grin, his chest still heaving. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Besides, it's not a big deal anyway. Dom gave up this morning."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What?" you exclaimed, pushing yourself up to look at him. "You mean you could've..."

Trent nodded, his cheeky grin growing wider. "Could've," he confirmed, "but I had to make it good. For the prize, obviously."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Trent," you said, shoving weakly at his chest. "I felt so guilty."

Trent chuckled, kissing your forehead again. "It's alright, love," he assured you. "I think we've been good for long enough."

You sighed, a mix of relief and annoyance crossing your face. "I guess. But you could've told me sooner," you pouted, snuggling closer to his warmth.

Trent shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?" He leaned in, kissing your cheek. "Besides, we both know I was going to win anyway." His voice was full of good-natured arrogance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, even as you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his confidence.

The tension of the past few weeks dissipated into the comfortable silence that had become a familiar blanket between you. Your mind raced with what you could say to scold him, but the feeling of his strong arms around you, his heart beating steady and strong against your chest, was too comforting to let go.

[universefcb]

THUNDER, PAU CUBARSÍ.

→ Summary: Your family and his family are friends, and then decide to go on a vacation together. But it starts to rain and you are afraid, and you have no one to turn to except Cubarsí.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: First fic of the Pau Cubarsí marathon.

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

The Greek sky during the summer was usually clear, tinged with blue and gold, reflecting the waters that lapped the islands. But that night, as if the universe itself wanted to test one’s nerves, everything was covered in dark clouds. Lightning streaked across the sky in a zigzag pattern, and thunder made the ground vibrate subtly.

She lay in her bed, the white sheets pulled up to her chin, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The clock on the nightstand read 1:43 a.m. The sound of the rain beating against the balcony windows was constant, and although for most it would be a relaxing sound, for her, it was enough to send chills down her spine. Ever since she was a child, storms had evoked an inexplicable fear in her—something between irrational and inevitable.

She tried to distract herself. She put on her headphones, tried to listen to a calming playlist. She read a few pages of the book she had in her suitcase. Nothing worked. And when a particularly loud thunderclap made the pictures in the room shake, she sat up in bed with her heart racing.

“Irene.” She whispered to herself. The room next door belonged to Pau Cubarsí's sister, her friend since childhood. Irene would certainly understand her, or at least offer her company until the rain stopped.

Wearing only cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt, she grabbed her room key and walked out into the hallway with silent steps. The yellow light from the wall lamps cast shadows on the closed doors. She knocked lightly on Irene's door. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

She turned the doorknob. It was locked. She tried to insist by knocking harder. “Irene… open it, please.” No answer. She sighed, frustrated and a little more scared. With each new bang, she felt her body shrink.

He thought about his parents. They were in the hotel restaurant with Pau’s parents. They had mentioned that they were having a special dinner and that they would probably be back late. It was time to enjoy it without their children, they said with a smile.

Without many options, she stood there in the hallway, her bare feet on the cold floor and her heart beating fast.

That's when he noticed the door next door.

No longer.

She hesitated. They weren’t exactly close, but they’d known each other forever. Their families were very close, and that made it all the more…inevitable. They’d spent many summers together when they were kids, and now, even as teenagers—almost adults—they still talked from time to time. They’d exchanged jokes by the pool earlier, laughed together on the boat ride. But sharing a room with him? Would that be weird?

In the silence of the hallway, she heard a muffled sound coming from inside his room. Low music. Voices��TikTok. He was awake.

He bit his lower lip, took a deep breath, and knocked gently.

Seconds later, the door opened a crack. One of Pau's eyes peered through the opening, sleepy, confused.

“Hola?” he said, his voice husky and low. (Hello?)

“Sorry… to wake you up,” she said quickly, feeling her face heat up. “I… I’m scared of the storm. I tried Irene, my parents, but no one answers or is in the room. I just… wanted to know if I could stay here with you. Just until the rain stops.”

Pau frowned for a second. But then he opened the door a little wider. He was wearing shorts, no shirt, his hair was messy and his cell phone was still in his hand, showing a paused live stream.

“Sure. Come in.”

She walked in hesitantly. The room had the same layout as hers—double bed, balcony, low lighting. The only difference was the light mess of clothes and headphones on the armchair and the woody scent that seemed to be his alone.

“Sorry again,” she mumbled, stopping next to the bed. “I know it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird.” He gave a small smile. “You’re just scared… And I get it. That thunder is creepy.”

She smiled slightly, relieved that she wouldn't be judged. Pau walked over to the bed and sat down, putting his phone aside.

“You can sit down if you want,” he said, pointing to the other side of the mattress.

She sat up carefully, her hands in her lap. The rain grew even heavier, and when another clap of thunder lit up the entire room, she let out a small sigh and pulled her knees to her chest. Pau looked at her for a moment, intently.

“You trembled,” he commented, almost in a whisper.

“It’s automatic. I hate that sound.”

Silence for a few seconds.

“Come here,” he said softly, opening his arm in a welcoming gesture. “Just until it stops, I promise.”

She stared at him. For a moment, she considered refusing. But the gesture didn’t feel intimate. It felt caring. Safe. And at that moment, she just wanted to feel protected.

Then she came closer and let herself be enveloped in his embrace. His bare chest was warm, firm, and the sound of his heartbeat gradually replaced the sound of the rain. He rested his chin on her head, slowly, and they remained silent.

“Have you always been this afraid?” he asked, in a tone that almost blended with the sound of the water outside.

“Since I was little. My grandmother said it was because I was born on a stormy night.”

“So you are a child of chaos?” he smiled against her strands of hair.

She laughed softly, the tension easing.

“Maybe just too sensitive.”

“Sensitive... is different from weak.”

His words hung in the air for a few seconds, weighing them down in a strange way. She pulled her face away slightly to look at him, her eyes meeting his in the soft light of the lamp.

"No longer…"

"Hey?"

“You are... kinder than you look.”

He smiled, embarrassed, and looked away for a second.

“You too. I always thought you avoided me, you know?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t avoid it. I just thought you were too serious for me.”

"And now?"

“Now... I think you're more than you seem too.”

The sound of rain still filled the room, but it no longer seemed so threatening. It was almost comforting, like a background soundtrack to what was happening there—something undefined, but delicate.

She settled more comfortably into his embrace, and Pau pulled her slightly closer.

“You can sleep here,” he murmured. “Stay until you feel safe. Or until morning, if you want.”

“Thank you, Pau…”

She closed her eyes, and he placed his lips lightly on the top of her head, in a gesture that not even he could explain. He just did it.

And they fell asleep there, she nestled in his arms, feeling protected. And he took the opportunity to smell the strawberry scent coming from her hair.

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

[iamquiantrelle]

SEEK & DESTROY (part one) • iamquaintrelle

# pairings: jules koundé x black!tennis player (fem)

# tags: @irishmanwhore, @sucredreamer @peyiswriting @greedyjudge2 @simplyyalika @julescpu @hopefulromantic1, @a-moment-captured @jessnotwiththemess @enretrogue @yeea-nah @127hydrangeas @sunfairyy @pinkcatcus @muglermami @bbgkoo @sinflowersugar @cranberryjulce @lev-1-1 @snowseasonmademe, @lostennyc, @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @hotfudgeslug @greyishbach @certifiedlesbianbaddie @invertedempress @kjlovesbigwilo @mauvecherie-writes @carmilladias @sweetcherryanointing @literallysza

# summary: When a rising tennis star spots her ex-fling Jules Koundé in the Barcelona Open crowd, memories of heated nights and unresolved feelings come rushing back. After two months of silence, he's giving her one chance to choose: meet him in Sevilla or it's over for good. Sometimes what happens off the court burns hotter than victory itself.

# author’s note: I saw Challengers and then Jules was at a tennis match and I just had too!

The Barcelona Open finals. The culmination of ten days of sweat, strain, and the satisfying thwock of perfectly struck balls. The clay still smelled fresh despite being pounded by countless players throughout the tournament. The stadium hummed with the kind of electric anticipation reserved for moments when history might be written.

And all she could think about was how fucking much her right shoulder hurt.

"Fifteen seconds, Miss," the umpire called.

She bounced the ball once, twice, three times against the rust-colored clay. Her opponent, Svetlana Kuznova, stood across the court, racket twirling impatiently in her hand. The Russian had already been warned twice for time violations, yet somehow she was the one getting the passive-aggressive countdown.

She tossed the ball skyward, arched her back, and drove her racket through with the kind of fluid power that had drawn comparisons to her idol since she was sixteen. The serve sliced through the air, painting the T-line perfectly.

"Ace. 30-15," the umpire announced.

A pocket of American fans erupted, waving their little stars and stripes like she was out here fighting for democracy instead of just trying to win her first major on clay. Her eyes flicked to them, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth, when she saw him.

Fuck.

Those shoulders. That jawline. The green and white checkered knit polo tucked neatly into black slacks like he was attending a damn garden party instead of a tennis final. Even with the black sunglasses masking half his face, she'd recognize Jules Koundé anywhere.

"Miss Y/L/N, please serve."

Right. Tennis. The final. Focus.

She bounced the ball again, trying to push away memories of his hands gripping her waist, holding her against the wall of his Barcelona apartment, his lips at her neck whispering things in French she couldn't understand but somehow made her whole body flush hot anyway.

Her serve caught the net.

"Fault."

From the commentary box high above, two voices dissected her mistake for millions of viewers.

"Y/L/N seems to have lost focus momentarily. That's not like her, Patrick. She's been laser-sharp all tournament."

"Sometimes in these big moments, the pressure can get to even the most composed players, John. Let's see if she can reset."

She took a deep breath. She had two months of not answering his texts under her belt. Two months of pretending the best sex of her life hadn't happened. Two months of focusing solely on her game, her career, her goals.

And now he was here, on the one day she couldn't afford distractions.

Her second serve landed safely, starting a rally that stretched her side to side across the baseline. Kuznova hit a cross-court backhand that she had to full-stretch for, her grunt echoing around the stadium as she somehow redirected it down the line for a winner.

"40-15."

"Magnificent from Y/L/N!" the commentator exclaimed. "That's the kind of shot Serena would be proud of!"

But she was already thinking about the next point, and definitely not about how Jules had shifted forward in his seat, clapping with that infuriating little half-smile that always made her feel like he knew something she didn't.

By the time she'd taken the first set 6-4, she had managed to mostly forget Jules was there. Tennis had always been her salvation, the place where nothing else mattered. Not her mother's sacrifices to afford coaching. Not the racist comments on social media. Not the memory of Jules' fingers twisted in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp.

Damn it.

"Challenge!"

She snapped back to reality as Kuznova pointed angrily at a ball mark near the sideline. The Russian was already walking to her chair, certain the call would be overturned.

The Hawk-Eye replay showed the ball catching the tiniest sliver of the line.

"Ball was good. Point to Y/L/N. Game, first set, Y/L/N."

The Russian slammed her racket against her chair, launching into a tirade at the umpire that would definitely cost her a code violation.

From the commentary box: "Kuznova clearly frustrated with that call, though the technology doesn't lie, John."

"It doesn't, but when you're out there in the heat of battle, sometimes you see what you want to see. Y/L/N looks composed despite the drama. She's been unflappable."

If only they knew how flapped she actually felt.

During the changeover, she closed her eyes, towel draped over her head. Her coach's voice echoed in her mind: Control what you can control. The rest is just noise.

Jules Koundé was definitely noise. Exceptionally attractive, French-accented noise who had once made her come three times in a single night.

Focus. Focus.

By the third set, her legs burned with fatigue. She'd dropped the second set in a tiebreak after Kuznova started employing every trick in the book – medical timeouts when she had momentum, tying her shoes during her service rhythm, even subtly moving the ball marks with her feet when the umpire wasn't looking.

But she had been dealing with gamesmanship since junior tennis. This was just higher stakes.

She painted the line with a forehand winner to go up 4-2 with a break. As she walked to the chair for the changeover, she allowed herself a quick scan of the stands. Jules was leaning forward, elbows on knees, sunglasses now perched on top of his head. She recognized Pedri and Gavi sitting beside him, Barcelona teammates who seemed fully invested in the match.

No women with them, she noted, then immediately scolded herself for caring.

Two games later, Kuznova hit a return long on match point. The stadium erupted.

"Game, set, match, Y/L/N! She is your Barcelona Open champion!"

She dropped to her knees, racket falling beside her, hands covering her face as the reality washed over her. Her first clay court title. Her name on the trophy alongside legends.

After shaking Kuznova's hand (a frigid exchange that lasted milliseconds), she looked up to her box where her coach and physio were jumping around like lottery winners. She'd done it. Despite the shoulder pain. Despite Kuznova's tactics.

Despite Jules fucking Koundé and his ability to make her body remember things it had no business remembering during a final.

The press conference was the usual barrage of questions – about her game plan, about adjusting to clay, about what this meant for the French Open next month. She handled them with the poise that had earned her the nickname "Ice Queen" from the tennis media, a label she found both reductive and vaguely racist, but had learned to live with.

"And finally, we noticed some famous faces in the crowd today. The Barcelona football players seemed quite supportive. Any connections there?"

Her stomach tightened. "I don't really follow football much," she lied smoothly. "But it's always nice to have support from fellow athletes."

Technically not a lie. She didn't follow football. She had, however, followed Jules Koundé straight to his bed last time she was in Barcelona.

The locker room was blissfully empty when she finally returned, trophy ceremony complete, drug test finished, media obligations fulfilled. Her shoulder screamed as she gingerly changed out of her sweat-soaked match clothes. Tomorrow would be recovery – ice, massage, maybe some light movement. Tonight was for celebration.

Alone, preferably.

She checked her phone. Sixteen texts from friends and family. Hundreds of notifications. And one message from a number she'd been ignoring for two months.

Jules: Magnifique, chérie. Your backhand is still as good as I remember. Dinner to celebrate?

She closed her eyes. How did he still affect her like this? It had been an incredible few months, not a lifetime. Just some phenomenal sex and surprisingly deep late-night conversations in broken English and her high-school French. Nothing worth risking her focus for.

She typed out Not interested and deleted it. Typed I'm busy and deleted that too.

A knock at the locker room door saved her from herself.

"Ms. Y/L/N? Your car is ready whenever you are."

"Thanks, I'll be right out."

She slung her bag over her good shoulder and pushed through the door, only to walk straight into a solid chest in a green and white checkered polo.

"Congratulations, champion," came that accented voice, smooth like expensive bourbon and just as intoxicating.

She took a step back, forcing herself to look up into those dark eyes that somehow always seemed to be laughing at a private joke.

"Jules. What are you doing here? This area is for players and staff."

He gestured vaguely with his hand. "When you wear this—" he pointed to his face with a smile that was equal parts confidence and charm, "—people let you go places you shouldn't."

Despite herself, she felt the corner of her mouth twitch. "Humble as always."

"You ignored my texts," he said, stepping closer, his cologne bringing back memories that made her grip her bag tighter.

"I've been busy. Training. Winning tournaments. You know, my job."

"And I have been busy winning matches. My job also." He shrugged those shoulders she remembered digging her nails into. "But I still find time to reply to messages."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware that at any moment, a reporter or tournament official could round the corner.

"I need to go."

"To celebrate your win, yes? Perfect. I know a place."

"Jules—"

"Your coach, your team, they can come too." He stepped back, giving her space, but his eyes never left hers. "Unless you are afraid to be near me?"

There it was. The challenge. The slightly cocky edge that had drawn her to him in the first place.

"I'm not afraid of anything," she said, chin lifting.

His smile widened. "This I know. I watched you today. Fighting like a lion."

"Lioness."

"Oui, of course. The more dangerous of the two." He checked his watch, an elegant timepiece that probably cost more than most people's cars. "My teammates, they are waiting with their girlfriends. We have a reservation at Disfrutar in one hour. Best restaurant in Barcelona. You deserve the best today, no?"

She knew she should say no. Knew that getting entangled with Jules again would only complicate her life right when things were falling into place professionally.

But standing there, riding the high of victory, with his dark eyes filled with something that looked dangerously like admiration mixed with desire, she found herself nodding.

"Fine. But I need to shower and change first."

"Of course. I will wait."

As she turned to head back into the locker room, his voice stopped her.

"Hey."

She looked back over her shoulder.

"You cannot say no to me, chérie. We both know this."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face.

"Watch me," she said, letting the door swing shut behind her.

But they both knew she didn't mean it.

________________________________________________

The restaurant was nothing like she had expected. No teammates. No coaches. No buffer between her and the man currently pulling out her chair like they were on some kind of goddamn date.

This dreadlocked-ass nigga is trying to be slick.

And he was. A bouquet of white lilies and pink roses waited on the table—her favorites, which she'd mentioned exactly once during a 3 AM conversation months ago. The private corner table screamed premeditation, tucked away with a view of the Barcelona skyline lighting up against the deepening twilight.

"You said your teammates would be here," she said, settling into her seat, already mapping an exit strategy.

Jules slid into his chair, close enough that his knee brushed against hers under the table. "They were busy." His accent made every lie sound smooth as cognac. "Such a shame."

"Yeah. A real tragedy."

He smiled, not even bothering to hide his deception. His locs were pulled back loosely, a few escaping to frame his face in a way that was entirely too appealing for her sanity. She tried to focus on the menu instead of how the restaurant lighting caught the angles of his jawline.

"You played incredible today," he said, his voice dropping to that lower register that always did things to her body. "That backhand down the line in the third set? Magnifique."

"Thanks."

The waiter approached with a bottle of champagne she definitely hadn't seen Jules order. Another part of his master plan, obviously.

As the bubbling liquid filled her glass, Jules leaned closer. "To the champion," he said, clinking his glass against hers. "And to reunions."

"I didn't agree to a reunion," she muttered, but took a sip anyway. The champagne was excellent, obviously. Nothing but the best for Jules fucking Koundé.

"Yet here you are."

"Under false pretenses."

"Details." He waved his hand dismissively, eyes never leaving hers.

The first course arrived—some delicate arrangement of seafood that probably cost more than most people spent on groceries for a week. Jules watched her take her first bite, his gaze so intent it made her skin warm.

"Stop staring at me while I eat."

"I like watching your mouth," he replied without a hint of shame. "It reminds me of things."

She nearly choked on her food. "You're being inappropriate."

"And you're being stubborn." He shifted closer, the heat of his thigh pressing against hers. "Two months, chérie. No reply to my texts. No call. Nothing. As if what we had was nothing."

"It was just—"

"If you say 'just sex' I'm going to lose my mind." His hand found her knee under the table. "We both know it was more."

His fingers traced small circles on her exposed skin where her dress had ridden up, the touch sending unwelcome electricity up her thigh. She shifted away, but the small booth didn't give her much retreat.

"The press will have a field day if they see us," she tried, changing tactics.

"Let them." Jules shrugged, taking a sip of his champagne. "I'm not ashamed of being seen with you."

The conversation momentarily paused as their main courses arrived. She used the interruption to collect her thoughts, to remind herself why she'd stopped answering his texts in the first place.

Focus. Career. No distractions.

But Jules had always been the ultimate distraction. Even now, as she tried to concentrate on her food, she could feel his eyes watching her every move.

Halfway through the meal, he leaned over and pressed his lips against her exposed shoulder, the contact brief but burning.

"I missed you," he murmured against her skin. "Missed the sounds you make when I touch you."

She cleared her throat, hyper-aware of the restaurant staff moving around them. "Jules, we're in public."

"Mmm." He pulled back, but only slightly. "Then perhaps we should go somewhere private."

"We're eating dinner."

"I'm hungry for something else."

She rolled her eyes, though the heat spreading through her body betrayed her true reaction. "Does that line actually work on women?"

"I don't use it on women. Only you." His smile was slow, deliberate. "And judging by how your pulse just jumped, it's working just fine."

Throughout the meal, Jules maintained his assault on her senses. A hand on the small of her back. His thumb brushing over her wrist. Eyes that tracked every movement of her lips. She was holding strong, though—keeping the conversation light, deflecting his more suggestive comments, ignoring the way his cologne made her want to lean closer.

Until dessert arrived.

One plate. One spoon. One knowing smirk from Jules.

"I ordered for us to share," he said innocently, though nothing about the heat in his eyes was innocent.

She eyed the decadent chocolate creation between them. "I can ask for another spoon."

"Where's the fun in that?" He scooped up a bite, holding it toward her lips. "Open."

Against her better judgment, she leaned forward and accepted the offering. The rich chocolate melted on her tongue, embarrassingly good. She licked her lips to catch a stray bit of sauce, only realizing her mistake when she saw Jules' eyes darken.

"You don't know how much I've dreamt of your lips and tongue," he said, voice so low it was almost a growl. "The things they do to me."

She inhaled sharply and started coughing, chocolate going down the wrong way. Jules patted her back, his touch firm but caring, while passing her water with his other hand.

"You good?" he asked, concern briefly replacing the desire in his eyes.

She nodded, taking a sip of water. "You can't just say shit like that in public, Jules."

Instead of backing off, he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "We should leave."

"No."

His eyes widened, a flash of surprise quickly melting into something darker, more primal. The brown of his irises deepened to molten pools that rivaled the chocolate on the table.

"Why not?" His head tilted to the side, studying her with newfound interest. Then he leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You always playing around like you don't want this dick. I know you do, chérie. You know why?"

She gasped, partly at his words, partly at the feeling of his hand sliding higher on her thigh.

"Because I know how much you been wanting to taste me, to fuck me just like I've been wanting you. You know how much your pussy been aching for me to—"

Someone cleared their throat nearby. The waiter stood there, check in hand, expression carefully neutral. She wanted to sink through the floor.

Jules switched effortlessly to Spanish, exchanging pleasantries with the waiter as if he hadn't just been whispering filth into her ear. He pulled out his black American Express card and handed it over without even glancing at the bill.

As the waiter walked away, Jules turned his attention back to her. He leaned back in his seat, legs spread wide in classic manspread, arm draped casually across the back of her chair. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder as he picked up his dessert wine with his free hand.

He sipped slowly, eyes never leaving hers over the rim of the glass. The intensity of his gaze made her shift in her seat, heat pooling between her thighs despite her determination not to react to him.

After finishing his wine, he set the glass down with deliberate care. The silence between them stretched, charged with everything unsaid.

Finally, Jules sighed, his expression shifting to something more serious, more vulnerable than she was prepared for.

"I missed you."

She rolled her eyes, unable to handle this sudden sincerity. "This fucking man," she thought.

Jules saw the incredulous look on her features. "I do, besides all the sex. I miss you."

"Lies."

"Never," he scoffed, shaking his locs in denial. The motion caused several to fall forward, framing his face in a way that made her heart stutter. He rubbed his goatee thoughtfully, a smirk playing on his lips though his eyes remained fond. "Remember the summer, after the Olympics? When we stayed almost two full days in our hotel in Lisbon? How we didn't want to leave each other's sides at all?"

She did remember. That stolen weekend had been a little piece of respite before they both had to return to training for their respective careers and their schedules became increasingly hectic.

"I do," she admitted softly.

"Remember what I told you that night when we went to NOBU? How I wanted you to be my—"

"I'mma stop you there, Jules, because you're pushing it."

A low chuckle escaped his lips, rich and velvety. "Chérie, don't act like I won't pull you into a bathroom and bend you over the counter and..."

With each word, he moved closer, until she found herself backed into the corner of their booth. Their faces were mere inches apart, his words trailing off into charged silence.

"You make me feral," he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. "You make me wild and I don't know why. I'm addicted to you, chérie. I'm addicted to your smell, your taste, your presence, and I don't know why. You didn't have to ghost me, you know? You didn't have to leave me like you did knowing that all I wanted was to be yours."

"Jules, we are both—"

"Busy," he finished, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's always been your excuse."

He made a soft tsk sound against his teeth, the sharp click somehow both dismissive and intimate. Then he pulled back slightly, giving her room to breathe.

"I know we're busy, but we could've given it a chance. At least tried instead of not even making an attempt."

"Jules, you don't know what you're talking about. We had a fling and it was getting very hot and..."

"And what?" he wondered, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "We both caught feelings. Admit to that at least."

"Jules..."

"Admit to it," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for evasion.

She exhaled slowly. "Maybe we both caught feelings, but as I was saying—"

"Oh là là," he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, and she knew Jules' petty side was about to make an appearance.

Before she could tell him off, the waiter returned with his card. Jules tucked it back into his wallet after signing his name, then turned his attention back to her.

"You're so annoying at times," he said, but there was no real heat behind his words.

She parted her lips to retort, but he held up his hand, stopping her.

"I'm tired of playing these games, really. I know I should move on, but you know me—you know how stubborn I am and how I always fight for things I want. And you're the only person I want." He exhaled deeply, his intense stare sending a shiver down her spine. "So I'm going to give you a choice, and whatever you do tells me how you really feel."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Copa del Rey is next week in Sevilla." His eyes narrowed slightly. "You remember Sevilla too, right? When I fucked you on our hotel balcony?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jules," she gasped, glancing around to make sure no one had heard him.

"I knew you remembered," he smiled widely. "That was the first time I made you squirt."

"Oh my god, Jules, please!" she hissed, urging him to get to the point.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled. "Copa del Rey is next week. Your coach told me that you're free then and will be in Paris to prepare for the French Open. I booked you a flight." His expression sobered. "The choice is whether you take that flight from Paris to Sevilla and watch me at my match. If you do, then I know you feel the same as I do but were just being your normal stubborn self. And if you don't..."

"If I don't?" she prompted when he trailed off.

Jules answered with a shrug. "You just don't. But to be clear, I will never try to link up with you anymore, and you can't come running back on some 'I made a mistake' bullshit. You will be blocked."

"Petty much?" she teased, giving him a look of distaste.

"I'm protecting my peace, chérie. Don't shit on my methods." The impasse between them stretched for several seconds before he broke it. "Deal?"

After another pause, weighing the implications, she finally nodded. "Deal."

With that, he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before standing. "Your driver should be here by now."

Sure enough, her phone buzzed with a text from her driver saying he was waiting outside.

"I'll walk you out," Jules said, his hand finding the small of her back as they moved through the restaurant.

The Barcelona night was warm, stars barely visible against the city lights. A gentle breeze carried the scent of the Mediterranean, mixing with the lingering notes of Jules' cologne as he walked her to the car.

He opened the door for her, his hand lingering on hers as she slid into the backseat.

"See you soon, I guess," he said, the uncertainty in his voice a rare crack in his confident façade.

She nodded, still stunned by the evening's turn of events. As the car pulled away from the curb, she watched him through the window, standing tall and impossibly handsome in the soft glow of the restaurant lights.

What the fuck had just happened? And more importantly, what was she going to do about that flight to Sevilla?

......tbd

[scribblesofagoonerr]

the pests are back in town | chaos fc

summary: someone at arsenal made a rookie error and paired the aussie pest and british menace together for media day and it's the usual chaos like always. pairings: chaos fc reader!monkey x kyra cooney cross x arsenal wfc chaos fc masterlist

“It’s a joke right? Tell me it’s a mistake?” You overhear Steph question as you walk nearer to them and you’re curious to know exactly what they’re talking about.

Kim sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I don’t think so.”

“Alright, I’m here now the party can begin,” You joke, hobbling through with your foot still in a boot and grinning mischievously when you spot Lia chatting with Kim and Steph, “Hi, Wallaby! Did you miss me?” You ask, slinging your arm around the Swiss woman’s shoulder with a slight difficulty of her being taller than you.

“Hi little one,” Lia turns to give you a side hug, “How did the hospital appointment go?” She asks, concerned.

“Doc’ is dumb,” You murmur in a low voice, your mood changing instantly at the mention of the appointment you had this morning that didn’t go your way like you thought it would.

You were kind of disheartened by your latest hospital appointment, you didn’t get the good news that you were expecting after all and you were still going to be sidelined for a while yet, since your ankle fracture still hadn’t healed properly yet.

That definitely wasn’t made worse by the fall you had when you and Kyra tried and failed to do a TikTok trend, but that’s a story for a different day.

“Here’s the menace,” Steph jokes, ruffing your hair, ���I see you still got the boot on, eh?”

“Unfortunately, I hate it,” You huff while definitely feeling grumpy and deflated about the news, “Stupid doc reckons it’s still not healed properly yet– I just wanna play and I have no chance of it anytime soon, it’s not fair!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried that TikTok trend then,” Kim remarks knowingly as she gives you a pointed look you’ve been on the receiving end of too many times.

“What TikTok trend? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about there, Kimmy,” You play dumb and shrug your shoulders.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kim states while she purses her lips.

Shaking your head, you pull a silly facial expression, “Nope, literally have no idea–  What’re you guys lookin’ so… Irked about anyways?” You wonder, noting the weary looks the three of them share, “What’s going on?”

“It’s gotta be a mistake,” Steph murmurs, staring at the paper with a blank expression on her face, “Right?”

Before you can get a straight answer, Lia jumps into the conversation again, “It’s gotta be.”

“What?” You repeat the question, staring at them while still none the wiser.

“Nope it’s not,” Beth appears, peering over Kim’s shoulder and confirming what you’re already itching to know.

“Oh god,” Steph mutters, shaking her head in disagreement.

You blink, still utterly confused about the topic of conversation they were on about, “What… What is it?” You exchange looks between all 4 of the older girls, but none of them are giving you anything to work with, “What’re you all on about?”

“You and Kyra,” Lia finally decides to be the one to tell you the good news, “You pair are together for media day.” She tells you, biting her bottom lip and clearly bracing for impact.

“Seriously?” Your eyes light up in pure glee, “Yes! Winner!” You're practically vibrating with excitement, and if it wasn’t for your dumb ankle fracture then you would definitely be jumping up and down in joy.

You and Kyra? A dangerous duo on any given day, but today– on media day– things were about to get even more chaotic.

Steph groans dramatically, “We’re all doomed.”

“Who made the mistake?” Beth furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head, “These two together are a nightmare– The last media day proved it alone!”

“Hey! We’re not that bad,” You insist, huffing in offense.

“Yes. You are,” Steph deadpans, “You and Kyra are the worst when you’re together. Need I remind you of Melbourne?”

“Oh, but that was such a fun time!” You exclaim, grinning mischievously, “I don’t know about you, but I personally had a blast out there.”

“I think Kim is still reliving that nightmare,” Lia chips in amusedly as you sneak a glance at your captain who you swear shudders at the memory, “This isn’t a good idea.”

You pout, crossing your arms together, “Oh, come on. You guys seriously don’t think that much about us, do you?”

Beth doesn’t even think to hesitate, “No.”

“Absolutely not,” Steph shakes her head, reinforcing it.

You open your mouth to argue, but then Katie strolls over  with Caitlin while smirking, “Oh you guys just discovered the pests are together for media day?” She questions.

“This is a nightmare,” Beth shakes her head dramatically.

“Well that’s just rude,” You huff in response just as you spot your best friend and instantly perk up, “Ky! Guess what, we’re together for media duties!”

“What, seriously? Yes!” Kyra exclaims, letting out a cheer and definitely buzzing about the news.

“This is bad, so very bad,” Lia mutters to herself, shaking her head in disagreement.

You roll your eyes, exasperated, “Nah, nah, this is a great day!” You insist, “It’s gonna be wonderful. It’s like Christmas morning!”

Steph snorts, clearly amused, “If this is how excited you get for Christmas, you’ve got serious issues.”

You shrug casually, zero shame on your face, “Yeah, I know. I come with a lot of trauma,” You pause for a split second, “Dead dad, mum that abandoned me, blah blah blah,” You wave a hand like it’s not a big deal, “Need I go on?”

“Leah!?” Kattie furrows her brow in concern, “There’s something with your kid,” She glances around to look for the blonde, “I think she’s broken!” She jokes, dramatically.

“Oh no, she’s not broken,” Leah laughs in amusement, slinging her arm around your shoulder, “She’s just… Well, she’s Monkey.” She explains, shrugging her shoulders.

“See? I’m just– Hey, that was still an insult, Malfoy!” You grumble in protest.

“Monkey, we’ve already been over this,” Leah groans in annoyance, “Will you stop callin’ me that?”

“Nope,” You can’t help but smirk, “As long as you still continue to get wound up over it, definitely not.”

“Give me strength,” Leah mutters, rubbing her temples, “What’re you so happy about?” She wonders, noticing the cheshire grin on your face.

“Me and Ky are paired together for media,” You fill her in with a grin plastered on your face.

Leah can’t help but snort and shake her head, “That’s a joke, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Steph exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “Someone must’ve made  a mistake, right?”

“No, no, no,” Leah shakes her head promptly, “You two are… You’re trouble together, look what happened in America!”

“I think you’re overreacting slightly there Le,” You insist, rolling your eyes.

“Am I? Cos’ I think the fractured ankle really speaks for itself,” Leah deadpans.

“Urgh,” You groan dramatically, tilting your head back at the painful memory, “It’s bad enough I have this stupid cast, you don’t need to mention it as well.”

“Wait, does Kimmy still have your skateboard held hostage?” Kyra wonders, curiously as she wraps her free around your shoulder.

“Yeah she does,” The pout currently plastered on your face really just spoke for itself, “Le’s being the captain of the fun police and not allowing me to have any fun.” You mutter.

Leah clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “And risk breaking your neck as well? Yeah, not a single chance am I taking that risk– It stays at Kim’s out of the way since we can’t exactly send it back now.”

“But what fun is it if it just stays in the cupboard?” You don’t relent from this conversation as you huff dramatically, “How about…”

“How about we don’t revisit this conversation and forget about the skateboard instead, yeah?” The blonde cuts in with a knowing look.

“Monkey? Kyra?” One of the media team waves over to you both to get your attention, “We need you both.”

“We’re needed already?” Kyra furrows her eyebrows and shrugs her shoulders, “Lets’ go!”

Your eyes light up in glee, “Fantastic, be right there,” Before looking back at the huddle of older girls, “It’s showtime!”

“Don’t be a brat and get in any trouble–” Leah begins to say.

“I’m sorry all I heard then was blah blah blah,” You interject with a mischievous smile on her face, “Come on Ky, let’s go and find out what we’ve gotta do!” With that, you quite literally pull Kyra in the direction of where you need to go.

Katie chuckles lowly at the blondes’ facial expression, “You’ve got your hands full with that one, ain’t you, Le?”

“Don’t even go there,” Leah huffs and shakes her head in response, “That girl sometimes, honestly she’s so bloody cheeky, but I do love her dearly.”

“Hi, I’m Kyra!” Your Australian counterpart jumps in first to speak, introducing herself.

“And I’m Monkey– “ You start but get cut off with the cameraman giving you a knowing look, “What? Seriously, I have to answer my actual name? Oh for *bleep* sake!”

“Monkey!” You hear Leah scold from the other side of the room, which you’re honestly shocked how she managed to hear that so far away.

“Sorry, sorry, anyways…” You quietly mumble your name begrudgingly in front of the camera that’s rolling, “I can’t believe you guys just made me say that aloud. I hate you all.”

The cameraman chuckles from the other side, “Continue.”

You huff and dramatically fold your arms, “Alright, well yeah, we’re gonna play ‘How Well Do You Know Each Other?” You pause for a brief second, “This should be interesting.”

“Puts our ‘best friend’ knowledge to the test,” Kyra adds in, grinning teasingly.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes in response as you look at the cameraman, “How do we do this then?”

“One of you will read the cards aloud and answer, while the other sits further back with headphones listening to music,” The cameraman explains, motioning to the large bulky headphones on the table in front.

“Better be good music,” You remark in a cheeky tone of voice.

“Do you wanna go first?” Kyra asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah, sure why not… How hard could it be?” You smirk as you grab the cards in front of you, “Pft, easy, bring it on!”

With that, the camera stops filming for a second before it begins again with Kyra sitting on a chair a few feet away from you while you’re sitting on the chair in front.

“You good?” You question, Kyra responds with a thumbs up when she can’t hear anything and you giggle, “I could say so much right now…” You say, as Kyra continues to look cluelessly at you.

The cameraman chuckles, “Let’s get to the questions.”

You pick up the first card, “Where is Kyra from?” You read the question aloud and ponder thinking for a few seconds, “Australia, well Queensland to be more specific– Yeah I’m sure it is there!”

You switch out the card and scan your eyes over it,  “When is Kyra’s birthday?” You continue to read the next question aloud, “Easy, 15th February, 2002– You know you guys should really make these more easier for me,” You joke, grinning teasingly as you look directly at the camera.

Tossing the card aside, you flip to the third and final one, “When did Kyra make her debut for Arsenal?” You read the final one aloud, “Oo, this ones’ even better! It was last October, the first game of the season, which we unfortunately lost, but I was there,” You pause after giving your answer with full confidence, “I’m surprised I remember, cos’ I was sick, but yeah… her first debut was then!”

The cameraman chuckles, “That’s three for Kyra done,” He declares, turning the camera off and gesturing Kyra back to sit beside you, “Right, now we’ll film it so it’s Kyra reacting to your answers before switching roles. Sound good, girls?”

You wave dismissively, “Yup, no worries!”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Kyra adds, planting herself down in the empty seat, as she camera starts rolling again, “How’d you do?”

“The questions were so easy,” You joke, cockily, “Kinda wish I had more of a challenge.”

“You seem overconfident right now,” Kyra smirks, taking a glance at the questions, “Alright, first question, where am I from?”

“Queensland, and now I think… Why am I doubting myself?” You frown, taking a minute to wonder if you have got it right.

Kyra laughs, “That is where I’m from!”

“Phew, first one correct,” You wipe your forehead dramatically.

���Next one– When’s my birthday?” Kyra repeats the question aloud you’ve just answered, “You should definitely know this one, if not then… Well, I don’t think we can be friends.” She jokes.

You pretend to think about it for a second, “Yeah I’m positive I know this one cos’ we celebrated it,” You give pause for the dramatic effect, “15th February, 2002. The day after Valentine's Day. Bleugh– Shit, I’m gonna be kicking myself if it’s wrong now.”

“Monkey,” The cameraman interjects from behind, shaking his head.

You feign innocence and give him a sheepish smile, “Sorry.”

Kyra snickers at the fact you have no filter sometimes, “Nice, yeah, that’s right!” She exclaims, “You’re doing so well… You know me so well!” She retorts, playfully.

“Well I’d hope so since I’m your best friend,” You respond with an eye roll.

“Final question,” Kyra speaks up as she gazes at the last question, “Tough one– When did I make my Arsenal debut?”

“First game of the season against Liverpool,” You answer way too confidently and immediately pray it’s correct, “Right? I hope so, I was on me deathbed for that game!”

“Nailed it,” Kyra confirms, grinning.

“Yay, go me!” You fist pump the air as you do a little wiggle in celebration and the camera’s stop filming, “So, now we swap?” You clarify with the cameraman.

“Yep, that’s right,” The cameraman chimes in.

Nodding in agreement, the camera cuts while you switch positions so you’re the one stuck with the headphones, and at least the music isn’t too bad.

You can’t hear a single word that’s being said, but you’re just content to listen to the music, singing the song in your head as you do a little shimmy in your seat.

It’s times like this where you wish you could lip-read, it’s not the easiest thing to do though and your attention span wouldn’t last that long sometimes before giving up.

You can’t help but let your thoughts wander away at this current time, “Maybe I can buy more lego soon? I need to add to my collection– You can never have too much lego!”

At last, you're given the gesture of a thumbs up before removing the headphones and get up to sit on a closer chair with the slight difficulty of the boot currently on your foot.

“Was that easy for you?” You joke with your best friend.

“Piece of cake mate,” Kyra grins in response.

You pick up the cards and read over the first one, “First question, what is my favourite drink?” You read aloud, smirking as you know she definitely does know this answer.

“Energy drinks, duh? You love them!” Kyra answers with a knowing smile.

You beam a wide smile and nod, “I do, even if I’m not technically allowed them anymore— Mean Malfoy!” You joke, looking directly at the camera and scowling.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Kyra jokes with a wink.

“Exactly,” You retort with a playful grin, “Alright, next question then– You should definitely know this, and if you don’t then, well, we need to rethink our friendship.” You tell her, jokingly.

“Our friendship’s on the line over this?” Kyra clutches her hand over her heart and faux’s her shock, “Well then I guess I’d better get it right. You adore both Shrek and anything Marvel related of course, and if it’s anything else then I’m not having it.”

“Ding, ding, ding, correct!” You grin, “I have watched them way too many times to count, but who cares?”

“I knew it!” Kyra exclaims, “Phew, our friendship still remains intact.” She jokes with you.

“For now, just as long as you answer the final question correctly,” You continue to wind her up, leaning in dramatically, “When did I join Arsenal?”

Kyra bites her bottom lip in hesitation, “See, this one was hard to remember, so I guessed and went with age 9, so I know you’ve been at the academy before signing the senior team...”

You shook her head in disagreement, “Want a clue?” You joke, amusedly, “Leah’s known me ever since I joined, and that was…” You pretend to count on your fingers, “11 years ago.”

“Oh!” Kyra’s eyes light up in realisation, “So, you were 8 then? I was so close!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air, “You’ve known her for 11 years? That’s wild! How’s she put up with you for that long?”

“Yeah, I know it’s– Hey, that’s cruel!” The realisation hits finally and you gasp, “Speak for yourself, you’re the Aussie pest.”

“Yeah, and you’re the British Menace,” Kyra jokes, grinning at you.

“Right that does it, this friendship is… it’s under discussion,” You shake your head dramatically, continuing to play up for the camera in front of you, “Two out of three, I suppose it’s not that bad,”

“I’ll take it!” Kyra shrugs her shoulders, “The last one really threw me off!”

You grin and wrap your free arm around her, “Awh, don’t worry. We’re still besties!” You exclaim, before attempting to wrestle her down to the floor as the older girls in the background catch wind of your antics, just as the camera stops rolling.

“Lessi is definitely the clumsy one in the team - she falls over all the time. I know that says a lot, considering I'm currently in a boot,” You say with a gleam in your eyes as a memory lights up, “Oh, oh! We have to tell them about, you know, what happened at training the other day!” You grin mischievously, already knowing the chaos you’re about to stir.

Kyra looks at you, clueless, “What happened at training?”

You snort, shaking your head in disbelief, “You don’t remember?”

“No, should I?” Kyra questions, further confused.

“Of course, yeah! About Malfoy,” You retort, a cheeky grin plastered on your face.

“Monkey, don’t you dare,” Leah warns, shooting her a look.

“I dare,” You smirk in satisfaction as you see the daunting look on Leah’s face, “You see…”

Her eyes narrow, and you can see the tension building in her jaw. Right as you're about to spill the story, Leah storms over and claps her hand over your mouth, cutting off your words so all that comes out are muffled noises, “Monkey, don’t push it,” The blonde warns in a firm tone of voice.

You roll your eyes dramatically, wiping at your mouth for emphasis, “I was just gonna get the fun bit as well, ” You shrug with an exaggerated innocence, using the advantage of your crutches  to try and keep her at bay so you can continue to yap like you wanted to do, “Anyways before I was so rudely interrupted about what I wanted to say… Oh yeah, Leah completely fell over the other day and it was hilarious to watch!”

“You’re such a menace sometimes,” Leah mutters in disbelief while shooting you a playful scowl.

“Yeah, but you still love me regardless,” You flash her an innocent smile, waving your crutch around in the air, “Come on, it’s okay to admit it that you do.” You add.

Leah arches her eyebrow in response, “It’s questionable sometimes when you come out with things like you do.”

However due to your own clumsiness you end up falling over in the process which causes Leah to instantly drop her annoyed act and immediately becomes concerned instead. 

“Oh my God,” Leah’s eyes widen as she watches you fall to the floor and rushes to help you back onto your feet, “Are you okay?” She questions.

“Ow, shit, that bloody hurt,” You grumble your profound language and completely forget that there’s still a camera rolling so that’s something the media team will have to work on editing out again, “Clearly I’m not stable on my feet, like I thought I was.” You continue to grumble, accepting Leah’s hand to help you up off the floor as you hiss in slight pain.

Leah tuts and shakes her head, her previous annoyance completely forgotten about now, “You really do need to be more careful,” She chides in a gentle tone of voice, “Or you’re going to make things worse for yourself my girl.”

“Yeah,  yeah I know, you don’t need to remind me,” You huff in response and use your crutches to balance your support to save you falling on the floor again, “I’m already stuck on these crutches for what feels like the foreseeable.”

“Exactly, that’s more of a reason to be careful little miss clumsy,” Leah retorts, once she’s made sure you’re okay before she takes the chance to rip into you a bit for your usual clumsiness.

Rolling your eyes in response, “Speak for yourself when you’re the one that fell over at training the other day.” You chip in again as she flash her a cheeky smile.

“Menace,” Leah murmurs now rolling her own eyes.

It’s only now that you realise the whole interaction has been filmed, “Wait… Was the camera still filming, like all of that?” You question.

“Yep,” A member of the media team responds in agreement.

“Urgh,” You let out an exasperated groan and shove your head in your hands, “Great, everyones’ gonna see my clumsiness. Fuck sakes.”

“Monkey,” Leah chides, shooting you a stern look, “Language.”

“English,” You reply while trying to feign your innocence, “Right, shit yeah, no swearing in front of the cameras. Noted…”

“Monkey, you did it again,” Kyra snickers in amusement.

Smiling in realisation, you look at the media time guiltily, “Whoops. I did it again, didn’t I? My bad.” You apologise to them, scratching the back of your head awkwardly, “I guess you guys’ are gonna have a fair bit to edit, eh? Well at least we keep things lively around here!”

© scribblesofagoonerr

[barcapix]

FOOTBALL MASTERLIST!

all of the ones that are like this, are being renovated.

PABLO GAVI:

࣪Right Next to You (fluff)

࣪Car Sleepy (fluff)

࣪Spooky Season is Upon Us (fluff)

Not in This Life (angst)

Affair of the Heart (fluff->angst)

Tóxica (angst)

Sun & Sea (fluff)

Glow (fluff, dad!gavi)

࣪Drunk but Sober Feelings (fluff)

Night Before (fluff/comfort)

࣪Fútbol Play (fluff, dad!gavi)

Miss González (fluff)

Out of Reach (fluff)

Pablo!Bf (headcanon)

Family of 4 (smau, dad!gavi)

Always on My Mind (angst)

Pink Paradise (fluff)

Mujer Bonita (fluff)

True Love ≠ Best Medicine (comfort)

Home Is Where The Heart Is (fluff, dad!gavi)

PEDRI GONZÁLEZ:

Thinking of You (fluff)

Comfort in the Darkness (comfort)

Baby Steps (fluff, dad!pedri)

Cohabiting Hearts (smau)

Pedri!Bf (headcanon)

Birthday Especial (smau)

Belleza (comfort)

(Heart)Ache (fluff)

The Real Winner (fluff/comfort)

Barcelovena (fluff)

Strangely Cute (fluff, dad!pedri)

Protective4You (comfort)

Beachside Lullaby (fluff, dad!pedri)

Shoulder to Cry On (comfort)

JOÃO FELIX:

࣪Nerd (fluff)

Heels & Drive (fluff)

Joao!Bf (headcanon)

Português or English? (fluff)

࣪Clingy Like You (fluff, dad!joao)

Miles 2 get 2 You (comfort)

Reverie (comfort)

Milano & L'amore (fluff)

Dorethea (angst)

FERMIN LOPEZ:

Cold Outside (fluff)

࣪Pet (fluff)

Fermin!Bf (headcanon)

ALEJANDRO BALDE:

Flirtatious (angst)

Flirtatious Pt.2 (angst->fluff)

Don’t Shy Away (comfort)

Love Is To Be Seen (comfort)

Alejandro!Girl!Dad (headcanon)

PABLO TORRE:

࣪Together Again (fluff)

Father of the Match (fluff, dad!pablo)

MARC BERNAL:

Bernal!Bf (headcanon)

Busy Bee (fluff)

Serenity (fluff)

Crimson Kisses (fluff)

Alza la Vista (fluff)

Sleep Is Overrated (fluff)

Teenage Romance (fluff)

Handcuffed.. Gone Wrong? (->español ver) (fluff)

PAU CUBARSÍ:

Pau!Bf (headcanon)

࣪Questionable (fluff)

Post Match Affection (fluff)

Secret Feelings (fluff)

Mischief (fluff)

One Kiss or Two? (fluff)

Hairband Habit (fluff)

HECTOR FORT:

Hector!Bf (headcanon)

Tú y Mamá (fluff)

Digital Picturesque (fluff)

Riddle Me This (smau) SOON!

Campus Shenanigans (fluff) SOON!

FERRAN TORRES:

Ferran!Bf (headcanon)

He Loves Me, Yeah! (fluff)

BARÇA BOYS:

Tattooed Ink (fluff) SOON!

Sports Car (fluff) SOON!

KENAN YILDIZ:

Watch Your Step (fluff/comfort)

GUILLE FERNANDEZ:

Forever Young (fluff)

XAVI SIMONS:

Xavi!Bf (headcanon)

JAN VIRGILI:

Champagne Coast (fluff)

[tikitakatia]

Good night everyone, I´m Art (estoy harta) | she/her | 18+ | woso writer.

I´m here because I enjoy #woso and I need to find a hobby to relax and decompress when I have a difficult day, but also to share my love for writing and hopefully make some friends, interact and be part of a community. Don´t be scared to say hi! :D

As requested by a very nice anon, here are my works. I only write for #Alexia Putellas now cause she´s my fave, but maybe I can expand the horizons in the future depending on the demand. I do accept requests or some ideas and etc. And also, I would love to have feedback to improve my skills and also to talk about my writing (or anything else) with anyone who wants to, I hope you enjoy my works! <3

Masterlist is below the cut :)

One-Shot Imagines / Blurbs

Swapsies

Louvre

Wrong Chat Capi!

Multi-Chaps

🎮 Barça: Player Mode— “Built different. Literally.”

Game. Set. Start!

Initial Calibration

Rendering Errors

Unauthorized Access

(06/06/25)

(13/06/25)

(20/06/25)

🍹Escape — "I was getting tired of my lady, we´ve been together too long."

Like a Worn Out Recording

Getting Caught In the Rain

If You Have Half a Brain

The Taste Of Champagne

Write to Me and Escape

You’re the Love That I’ve Looked For

If You Like Making Love at Midnight (Smut)

🛠️ Fixer Upper — "She makes chaos look like foreplay."

Not My Circus, Still My Monkey

Headcanons Pt. 1

Couples Therapy

Kicked Out of Pilates

🍵 No Credentials — "Unlicensed. Unbothered. Unexpectedly Yours."

A Soft Place to Crash and Burn

Everybody Wants a Piece (09/06/25)

🛡️Under Watch — "Assigned to Protect. Doomed to Fall."

You´re Late

New Neighbor, New Problems (02/06/25)

[dearstvckyx]

Promise you that'll make a baby with you , Make a momma of you - Gavi

After the shocking news of an unexpected pregnancy at just 19, you and Gavi are forced to grow up fast. Now, months later, the baby decides to come early — right in the middle of one of Barça’s biggest matches. With Pedri as your panic-stricken birthing partner, Gavi racing from the stadium, and emotions at an all-time high, the journey into parenthood begins in the most chaotic, heartwarming way possible. Featuring godfather Pedri in full crybaby mode, a stadium’s worth of love, and Gavi being Gavi: emotional, extra, and absolutely in love. - The Neighbourhood , Jealou$y

Pablo Gavi x Reader (ft Pedri, Gavis Family, Barça Players)

Warnings: Language (in both English & Spanish) , Descriptions of childbirth/labor (nothing overly graphic) , Emotional themes , Lots of crying , Pedri nearly passing out from stress (I had to add this) , PROBABLY BADLY WRITTEN SPANISH IM STILL LEARNING

The Neighbourhood Lyrics Masterlist - ⌂

Camp Nou – VIP Box

You gripped the edge of your seat, trying to breathe through the tightness spreading across your stomach. At first, you thought it was just nerves. Then warmth rushed down your legs.

You blinked. “Pedri…”

He was on his phone, half-watching the game. “Hmm?”

“Pedri.”

He looked over—and saw the panic in your eyes before he noticed the puddle beneath your chair.

“Oh, mierda.” He jumped up, already fumbling for his phone. “Vale, no entres en pánico…”

“Estoy teniendo el bebé, Pedri! AHORA MISMO!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, breathe. I got you,” he said, kneeling next to you. “You’re good. You’ll be fine.”

You grabbed his hoodie and screamed as another contraction hit.

“Ay DIOS, me está MATANDO!”

“Tú puedes, vale? Vamos. We’re going. I’m calling the car—” he rambled, speaking rapid-fire as he motioned for security.

“¿Dónde está Pablo? ¿Por qué no está aquí?”

Pedri helped you into the wheelchair. “He’s still playing. But don’t worry — I texted him. He’s gonna come. I swear.”

⸻

At the Hospital – 20 minutes later

You were already in a gown, gripping the bedrails like they were lifelines. Pedri sat by your head, holding a cool cloth to your forehead with shaking hands.

“¿Puedes verme? Mira mis ojos, vale? Solo respira conmigo,” he said.

You gasped, “Dios mío, esto duele más de lo que pensé!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” he said, visibly panicked. “Estás siendo tan valiente, joder… nunca había visto algo así.”

“I CAN’T DO THIS—”

“Yes, you can. Yes, you are. Look at you! You’re doing it right now!”

⸻

Back at Camp Nou

Gavi was still in the game, unaware, until his phone buzzed on the bench.

A message from Pedri:

Your girl is in labor. We’re at the hospital.

Coach glanced at the message, then at Gavi. “Vamos,” he muttered, waving him over.

Gavi jogged toward him, confused. “¿Qué pasa?”

The coach smiled knowingly. “Buena suerte… y felicidades, papá.”

Gavi froze, realization hitting like a freight train. He sprinted off the pitch, waving off the crowd’s confusion.

Shower. Clothes. Bag. Phone. Car.

⸻

Labor room

Back in the labor room, pedri is still doing his best to calm down his best friend, and himself.

Then the door slammed open.

“MI AMOR!” Gavi’s voice cracked as he ran in, bag still slung over his shoulder. He looked wild — flushed from the sprint, hair damp from a quick shower.

Pedri stood and stumbled back. “Oh thank God. I’m OUT. I’m so out.” He threw his hands up and bolted out the door like a soldier who’d seen too much.

Gavi raced to your side. “Estoy aquí, mi amor . Estoy aquí. Perdóname por no estar antes.”

You burst into a fresh round of tears as he kissed your temple and took your hand. “I was so scared.”

“I know, I know. But I’m here now. We’ve got this, okay?”

You squeezed his hand like it was your last anchor.

⸻

Delivery Room – Hours Later

Your screams filled the air, but you barely heard them. All you felt was the pressure, the burn, the need to finish this. Gavi never left your side, whispering to you constantly.

“Eres increíble, juro por Dios… Nunca te había amado tanto,” he murmured.

Tears streamed down your face as you bore down one last time—

And then the cry filled the room.

You gasped. “Is that—?”

Gavi looked at the nurse in awe. “¿Está bien? ¿Está bien él?”

“Si,si.” the nurse smiled, gently laying your newborn son onto your chest.

You let out a sob, holding your baby for the first time. “He’s so… tiny.”

Gavi sat beside you, tears streaming. “Nuestro hijo… míralo.”

⸻

Recovery Room – Later

The door creaked open slowly. “¿Puedo entrar?” Pedri whispered, peeking his head in.

You smiled, exhausted but glowing. “Si, godfather.”

He froze. “What?”

You glanced at Gavi. “We talked about it. We want you to be his padrino.”

Pedri blinked, then walked in like a zombie and looked down at the baby in your arms. He reached out, gently took him, and sat in the chair nearby.

Then he started crying.

“¿Qué te pasa, Ri?” you laughed weakly.

“No sé… es que… he’s beautiful. I just—” His voice cracked. “You guys are like family.”

⸻

A couple hours later

The room you were set in was now full of Barça Teammates, Coaches, and Gavi’s Family

Soon, the whole room was buzzing. Teammates poured in. Coaches shook Gavi’s hand. Someone brought cupcakes. Pedri’s family showed up and hugged you like their own daughter.

Then the door opened again—and in walked Gavi’s mom.

The room went quiet.

You tensed immediately, holding your son a little tighter. Gavi noticed and placed a hand protectively on your back.

But then his mom crossed the room, eyes on you—not the baby—and gently sat beside you.

Without saying a word, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around you.

“Lo hiciste muy bien,” she whispered, brushing hair from your forehead.

Your lip trembled. You melted into her shoulder and cried again, this time from relief.

⸻

Later that night

The room had cleared out. Gavi sat beside you, his arm around your shoulder as you held your baby in your arms. His fingers brushed over the tiny ones poking out of the blanket.

“Somos tan jóvenes… pero mira lo que hicimos,” he whispered.

You turned to him with tired, misty eyes. “Lo hicimos juntos.”

He leaned down, kissed your forehead, then smirked—classic Gavi mischief lighting up his eyes.

“Te lo dije, ¿no? Que iba a hacerte mamá.”

You turned slowly, face blank. “Did you seriously just say that?”

He grinned. “Prometí, y lo cumplí.”

You swatted his arm. “Idiota.”

“Mm, pero sexy.”

You groaned and looked down at your baby. “You’re gonna grow up with a dad who thinks he’s funny. I’m so sorry.”

Gavi just laughed, resting his head on your shoulder as you both stared at the tiny life you made together.

“Todo por ti,” he whispered.

Note: this was part 2 of this fic - part 1

[masonmontz]

heey everyone, how are you? :)

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

smut (unprotected sex, praise) word count: 2,5k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“Oh… fuck.” Mason groaned as he came and leaned his head against the cold wall from the locker room bathroom, while still making light movements in his dick. Mason got goosebumps, he really wanted it to be your hand there. “Fuck.”

It was torturous having you massage his leg in physical therapy, no one would understand how horny you made Mason. He had just played the first half and was left alone in the locker room to take a cold shower. He was horny for half the game and will be lucky if no one notices in the photos that his dick was hard as a rock.

He closed his eyes, his breathing quickening as he thought about the sight of your breasts on top of him during the afternoon. It was really hard to concentrate on the rest of the day while Mason was in such bad pain in his balls, he just wanted to get back to the hotel and get relief, but he couldn't take it anymore and had to go to the locker room shower, knowing that some players were outside.

All Mason wanted was to get between your legs and fuck you, fill your neck with marks and kisses and lose himself in your pussy. No one knew, but you and Mason used to meet up in the corners of Carrington, or he would show up at your house just to have sex and leave, and that was fine, you also showed up when you wanted to have sex and Mason was okay with that.

Mason just came, but he couldn't stop imagining your lips around his dick, you kneeling looking up at him, and he felt his cock getting hard once more. He looked like a horny teenager and knew he would only calm down when he could get his naughty thoughts about you out of his head. 

It was so hot in the United States, Mason was upset to be going back to England in a few days. He knew he would be back in the rainy and cold weather and he would miss the warmth, especially since he saw you walking around the hotel in short clothes and that was not common in England.

“God, help me.” Mason begged the universe, but decided to get out of the shower, knowing that he needs to go back to the pitch and watch the rest of the match. He didn't hear anyone else talking and figured the players had left, so he wrapped the towel around his waist and even though he wanted to jerk off again, he decided not to.

You were taking the dry towels to the locker room, since the other players would be showering after the match and things needed to be organized. You were the physiotherapist, but sometimes you did a little bit of everything to make things easier for them.

As soon as you left the towels on the counter, the door to one of the showers opened and Mason came out with the towel around his waist. You were startled and tried to ignore the drops of water running down his body.

“Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know you were here.” Mason spoke and you noticed he was red in the face and panting. 

“Hey, is everything okay? Are you feeling sick?” You got closer and Mason's face got redder, you looked at his body to see if there were any notable injuries but the only thing you noticed was... that he was excited. “Oh.”

The bulge was straining against the towel, and you felt your own face turn red as you caught Mason in an indecent moment. It was inevitable and you bit your lips, feeling your mouth go dry as other thoughts crossed your mind. Wild thoughts.

“Please, help me.” Mason whispered, placing his hand on his cock and moving it up and down, still with the towel. 

“Mason, we can't do this here, someone might come.” You scolded and approached him, looking back to see if anyone from the team was there. “Were you masturbating in the shower?”

“Because you had those boobs in my face during the pregame massage and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I spent the first half of the game so horny, it was hurting so much.” 

“You're so stupid, why didn't you wait until you got to the hotel?” Mason grabbed you by the arm and pulled you against him, knowing you couldn't resist him. 

“Because you're so fucking hot and all I thought about was fucking you the whole game, please I just came so hard, it felt like you sucked me off, I just want to cum again.” 

Mason pulled your hand down to the bulge on his hip and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to give up. You and Mason were like fire and gasoline, you exploded when you were together. You got along well, and Mason was desperate to fuck you. 

Who were you to say no, when you liked danger as much as he did?

You looked back at the empty locker room, but you knew anyone could walk in and that made you excited. Mason pulled you and took you to one of the showers, closing the door and pushing you against the wall.

“Mason, my clothes are going to get wet.”

“Shh, what's the difference if i'm going to make you wet too?” He ran his lips down your neck and pushed his body against you. The Manchester United uniform you were wearing was soft and so you could feel Mason perfectly. He took off his towel and threw it on the floor, and you drooled at the sight of his naked body, even though you had seen it many times before.

“Why are you so stubborn?” You pulled Mason's face towards you, so he kissed you. Mason is a good kisser, but your favorite kisses are when he's horny and wants to fuck you until your legs are shaking. 

Mason slid his tongue across yours and his hands were already pulling at your shirt, so he quickly took it off and left you in just your bra. He was going to throw the shirt on the floor but you forbade it, so you held it and moved away to hang it on the wall. And to tease him, you turned your back and took off your pants, sticking your ass out for him and showing off the black lingerie you were wearing.

Mason liked to tease, but so did you, and he went crazy when you did that.

As soon as you set your pants aside, Mason grabbed you from behind and pressed his erection against you, and you moaned without realizing it, but Mason quickly placed his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

“You don't want someone to catch us here, do you?” You threw your head back as Mason pressed you closer, placing your head on his neck as he trailed kisses down your shoulders and slid his hands down your body, unclasping your bra and taking it off.

Mason ran his hand over your breasts then pinched your nipple, making you close your eyes and sigh, feeling the heat grow inside you. He was so good with his hands, with his mouth, that you were always surprised by the things he did to you.

“Don't mess with me then, I don't want to get caught.”

“What's the point if it's not dangerous?” 

“Do your job, Mason.” 

Mason laughed and turned you to face him, kissing you once more. Mason brought his hands to the middle of your legs and pressed your clit through your panties with his thumb, and you sighed, because Mason knows exactly where to touch.

You brought your hand to Mason's cock and made slow movements up and down, hearing him sigh and kiss your neck. Mason was so sensitive. You pressed the slit of his cock slowly and Mason squirmed, bringing his hand to yours and helping you with the movements. 

“Yeah… fuck, this feels so good.” Mason grabbed your hand and pressed it against his cock, speeding up his movements and you felt it throb over your fingers. 

Mason let go of your hand and pulled your panties down, quickly bringing his fingers to your wet entrance, sliding his fingers through the soft slit and you sighed, bringing your mouth to his shoulder to moan without anyone hearing. 

Mason slid a finger inside you while you were still jerking him off, then you realized he was desperate and it was one of those days Mason didn't want games, just relief. You thought of him being turned on the whole game, in pain and wanting your hands or your mouth around his cock. 

“Did you think about me while you were playing?” You asked softly and pulled his lip with your teeth, then stopped the movements with your hand around his dick and pushed him against the wall. Mason sighed because of the cold wall.

Mason inserted another finger into you and increased his movements, watching as you closed your eyes and bit your lip, then you lifted one leg and Mason held it, helping you stand as you brought your hands to his hair and pulled.

“All the fucking time.” He responded and kissed you, then Mason took his fingers out of you and brought them to your mouth, making you suck both fingers. Mason felt his own cock throb at the sight, imagining it was his cock in your mouth. “I just wanted to fuck you and feel that wonderful pussy.”

You grabbed his wrist and put it around your neck, making Mason squeeze you. 

“Please just do this so I can get back to my work.” Mason raised an eyebrow and smiled, then turned you around so that your back was to him once more, placing you against the wall. You sighed as Mason pulled your hair and pressed his body against you, and you felt him bring his hand down to his cock and place it against your pussy, sliding and teasing you a little, until he thrust his entire length hard inside you. 

You moaned loudly as he filled you, so Mason quickly brought his hand to your mouth so you wouldn't make any noise. He pulled your head against him as he made quick movements from behind and filled you so well. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to hold on to the wet wall. 

“Oh, Mason.” You tried to moan, even with his hand covering your mouth. You had your eyes closed and felt Mason's breath in your ear, sending shivers down your entire body as you heard him sigh too.

“I've waited so long to fuck you like this.” He brought his other hand up to your hair, pulling once more while with the other he tried to keep you still, but the sound of his hips hitting your ass was loud enough for anyone to hear. “Hm- yeah, so fucking good.” 

Mason took his hand off your hair and slid it down your body, bringing it to your clitoris and making quick movements with his fingers. Having sex with Mason was good because he knew exactly what to do, because you spent time discovering each other's bodies the first few times. 

“Oh god.” You mumbled against his palm, and Mason pulled out of you only to thrust in again. Mason made you bend over a little more, then he picked up your shirt that was hanging on the door and handed it to you. 

“Bite this.” You did as he said, and Mason held your hips with both hands as he moved back and forth behind you, movements so fast just to cum and relieve himself of all the excitement that filled you both. “Yeah, good girl.” 

You rolled your eyes, Mason knows you don't like it when he says that, but he does it to tease you and there's nothing you can do to make him stop. A heat ran through your body, and Mason was making clumsy movements, so you knew he was close to cumming again. 

You bit your shirt harder, but it was no use when the sound of your skin touching was as loud as a moan. If anyone was outside in the locker room, they would know there were two people there.

Mason pulled you up again and pressed his chest against your back, he made a few more movements and when he held you against him tightly, you felt him cumming inside you. The orgasm exploded inside you and you felt your inner walls press against Mason's cock as you came at the same time as him, letting out sighs while still biting the fabric of your blouse.

“Oh, fuck, it gets better every time.” Mason whispered against your ear while you still felt him throb. You brought your hands to his neck, holding and removing the blouse from your mouth. 

“I know.” That's what you managed to say, still trying to recover. Mason was holding you and that was probably what was keeping you from falling, as your legs were shaking like jelly. 

Mason pulled his cock out of you and you felt the liquid dripping down between your legs. Mason brought his fingers between your legs and touched your sensitive clit, you gasped at his touch, but he just wiped some of what had dripped and ran it over your nipples. 

“You look messy.” He chuckled softly and left a kiss on your hair, still behind you. You smiled tiredly at him, then pulled away a little and turned to him, putting your arms around his shoulder and giving him a calm kiss. 

“It's your fault, I hope no one notices.” You grabbed your clothes and decided to put them on, knowing that you would soon go to the hotel and could take a peaceful shower, and who knows, Mason might join you again. 

Mason picked up the towel on the floor which was now completely wet, but he didn't care and wrapped it around his waist again. He waited for you to put on your clothes and gave you another kiss, pulling you against him, then Mason quickly fixed your messy hair. 

“There you go, no one knows that you had sex in the bathroom with number 7.” 

“You like bragging about that number, don't you?” Mason smiled at you, shrugging. He gave you one last kiss and opened the door, checking to make sure no one was around to see you. Mason nodded and you quickly left, grabbing your slippers and running out, walking slowly and quickly checking yourself in a mirror, then you ran back to the physical therapy area, leaving Mason behind.

Mason shook his head and smiled to himself, and even though once again you just had sex, he liked you and he knew that if things continued like this, he could fall in love. He pushed the thoughts away, but he was already wondering what time he would show up at his room for another round.

[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 2 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which life does not go on after Mason breaks your heart over and over again. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 2 ! Mason made his first goal for United and I'm emotional 💞 I'll do part 3 later

taglist: @dreamingofautopia @xjval @sunflower-tia @sad-fridge2323 @girlidekanymore @borbolwra3

Chelsea added to their story.

Your phone notified you, immediately dampening your mood. Everything was related to him.

It’s been two months since Mason shattered your heart after that nightmare of a night. The funny thing is that a part of you didn’t hate him, a part of you that still loved him existed. 

You had waited for him to text you to ask how you were and if you were free to hang out. And by the time you realized that he wasn’t going to, it was too late… too awkward for you to ask as well. So, both of you had resorted to ignorance and hostility. 

Life eventually went on, even though you had cut one of the most important people out of your life. And you’d see yourself by night, in your dreams. All these faces in the crowded city of London, and for some reason, you’d still try to find his. Mason was no longer yours.

Although he never was.

The first time Mason saw you after that night was a couple of months later, at a family lunch. The two families —Mounts and yours—had united in your family's garden for a little lunch to catch up on life. You had turned twenty and Lyon was old news. 

But Mason’s eyes were stuck on your body as he watched you sit between his sister and your brother just before him. Sipping from a glass of wine that you most likely didn’t like, he glanced at you.

Your brother had brought his new girlfriend with him and even though you were still as close as ever, his attention was on the pretty blonde talking to your nanny.

Mason had spent so much of his life avoiding you, but after the night of the party, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Although he just couldn’t. 

—Dear, will you serve me a little piece of that cake? —Your mother had her plate in her hand, waiting for Mason to react. It took him about five seconds to come out of his trance and then he served her what she had ordered.

He was too busy thinking about you.

—So, Mason… when is your next match? Your dad told me you were playing for England. —Your mom tried to lighten up the mood since you were not bickering with Mason as you were on other occasions. 

Mason smiled up while you looked at him and caught a glimpse of his beautiful Cheshire cat smile.

—I’m playing next week, on Sunday… —He looked around at everyone and proceeded. —You are all invited, of course. 

After an hour or two, everyone stood up, scattering around the decorated garden. Mason grabbed his phone from the table and headed to the kitchen in search of a beer.

In the background, the voices of the two families blurred together as you finished washing your plate. Both Mount sisters were busy playing card games with their mother and your brother was having a talk about politics, which you were not at all interested in. You had no one to talk to.

Suddenly, you feel someone behind you trying to open the refrigerator. That bloody refrigerator, which, being so old, could not be opened correctly. You turned around, not expecting to see Mason looking at you.

You headed to the refrigerator to open it, so Mason moved from where he was previously standing, leaning on the kitchen counter. You gave the refrigerator a little kick and it opened.

—Thanks… —He said grabbing the beer, the tension being palpable in the air. After a long pause, you continued:

—How are you? —you asked, he could feel your eyes staring into his side profile, but he stared at the sun setting over the British landscape.

—I’m alright.

Scoring some scarce points with Chelsea has become almost impossible under a year ago now, and you really felt sorry for him, knowing everything he and his team put in.

—How are you holding up? —you stood next to him, nudging his shoulder with yours, before looking down at the floor. You felt the look of pity that Mason was giving you, but you tried to ignore it.

—Thank you, really. 

—Mase...

He looked in your eyes this time, he looked so sad, so broken. So desperate for a hug. You didn’t pressure him to answer your question, instead, you gently placed your head on his shoulder looking along the garden in silence.

—It will be alright, you know. —He hummed, knowing you were still hurt because of what he had said.

—I know. —You whispered back. —And don't worry much about scoring, in the least expected moments your shot is the one that serves the most.

He hated how much you believed him because at that moment he felt like the six-year-old boy with dreams bigger than the world itself, who thought everything was possible. 

Mason looked down at you, the smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart, and threw his head back in a laugh. 

—I don't think I’m ever getting rid of you.

Now it was your turn to laugh. After all the laughing he noticed how your eyes shifted from his own to his lips, and then he remembered why he was avoiding you in the first place. He did a face.

—I know, I know. —You said with a sad look on your face.

—You know I’m too old for you, right? —Mason whispered as he leaned his forehead on yours.

—I’m in it for the long game, Mount.

It felt like your heart was twisting and stuttering, sometimes beating too quickly that you were afraid it was going to push you over the edge. You wanted him to notice, to do something to fix it. 

Time went on flying, the last few days being hectic. It was already Sunday and today Mason was playing with England and obviously, you were more than proud. He had invited your brother —his best friend—, you and your family to watch him from the special box for family and friends.

The cold air hits your face as soon as you enter the box with your family. Excited, you see Debbie and Tony, and their children already seated. You were so nervous that your hands were even sweating.

You sit next to Stacey, Mason's older sister. She gives you a smile.

—Nervous about the game? —she asks.

—A bit, yes... —you say as you settle down, your eyes scanning the pitch, looking for him. For Mason. 

—This should be an easy game, England has a better team.

—You never know. —you reply. You were almost freezing, you only had the basic England t-shirt on.

Stacey noticed that you were shivering from the cold and decided to take off the sweatshirt she had tied around her shoulders. She put it on your lap and smiled.

—Put it on, otherwise, you'll freeze to death here. —she said, laughing.

—I'm... —You said about to deny it. For a second, you thought about the cold that you would catch without the sweatshirt, so you decided to take it. —Oh, never mind.

The sweatshirt was white and had his number and surname printed on the front, in a blue font. This made you remember the uncountable times when you stole Mason's sweatshirts just to have his number on you.

Stacey, without you seeing, grabbed her phone and texted his brother: "Just wanted to say that she's here and she's got your name on her sweatshirt. Good luck! We're all rooting for you. And don't worry, she'll wait for you."

All of a sudden, Summer, Mason's niece, came up to you asking if she could sit in your lap to have a better look at the pitch. It was no secret that Summer enjoyed seeing you, as she had grown up seeing your brother and you in the Mount household.

—Look over there, Summer! There is your uncle. —said Stacey, and both Summer and you looked over to where the players were entering the enormous pitch. There he was, beautiful as always.

The whistle was blown and the match started. Everyone was immersed in the excitement of the box, watching the match carefully. The atmosphere was electric, and each second increased the tension.

—Yes! —You screamed when Mason's friend, Declan, scored the opening goal, feeling your heart beat against your chest rapidly. Summer looked up at you with wide eyes, before she started giggling. You smiled and leaned down to where she was and kissed her on the forehead.

The second half started and your eyes only followed Mason running up and down the pitch. Only one goal was scored in the whole 45 minutes of the first half, that being Declan's goal.

Abruptly, Stones stole the ball from a player on the opposing team. He ran alone, jumped over some defenders and, feinting, the ball passed to Henderson on the right side. He analyzed the position of the players spread around the pitch before passing it to Foden, who was almost close to the goal.

He passed it to Mason and he, avoiding the players, aimed and kicked with all his strength.

The world went silent for a moment. He had scored.

After realizing that he had scored a goal, Mason ran to the end of the field, right where you were. The atmosphere was pure shouting, people jumping and celebrating but you only had eyes for Mason.

He looked towards the box looking for those who truly love him and just at that precise moment, you connected glances. With a shaky breath, you stood up from your seat and waved to him, also trying to hold Summer up with your other arm.

Mason's heart melted when he saw that scene and many things went through his head: he couldn't believe he had scored a goal after so long and he also couldn't believe how beautiful you looked with his niece in your arms.

In celebration, he pointed to both of you and you could only sigh in love. The game ended with a great performance from Mason and a win for England.

As soon as he stepped into the box, he scanned the room for you, but Summer caught him off guard.

—Uncle Mase! —she ran toward him and he picked her up, planting a kiss on her cheek while she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

—My favourite person! —His eyes fell on you and he didn't know if it was his imagination or the fact that he hadn't seen you in days, but you looked prettier than usual.

You were standing at the back, watching Mason greet his family. You felt shy and awkward, which made you hate the feeling even more. All you wanted was love from him and for that, you haven't slept well in the days after the family lunch with the Mount's.

—I played well, all thanks to you. —He kissed her head and his niece giggled. The little girl ran toward her mother and then closed the door, leaving you and Mason all alone. Your family had congratulated Mason before and told you they were waiting outside.

—How have you been? —His voice was gentle like he was afraid to say something.

—Mason! —you laughed. —You just scored a tremendous goal for England and you ask me how am I? Sometimes I don't understand you.

—Alright, alright. You have a point! —he laughed, definitely not missing those nervous butterflies in his stomach. He felt like a little boy.

His gaze searched yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He scratched the back of his neck and then looked at your sweatshirt with his surname and number.

His number looked very good on you, he thought.

He gazed at your lips and he came dangerously close to you. You stepped back, hitting the table. Mason was looking straight into your eyes when he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and sat you on the table. You let out a little squeal. The air was thick with tension, and all you craved was to pull him close and kiss him passionately.

—We-we should go. —you said, clearing your throat. —Your family is waiting.

Quickly, Mason grabbed your wrist.

—Mase... You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. His breath hitches.

—I feel things… —your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him say that.

Pushing his hand down, you look back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again.

What he didn't know is that he's everything you were imagining those long nights… he had never kissed you, not even touched you.

—It’s okay if you want to stop- —he said, while you slid your hands under his t-shirt. Running up and down your hands through his lower torso, you felt his abs contract.

—Mount, I'm certain that I'm okay. —you said, giggling. He smirked. Your core grows tighter with his expressions, now holding onto his broad shoulders.

Unexpectedly, you both heard from behind the closed door someone shout: —Mate, are you there? The party starts at ten, hurry!

Fuck. That was your brother.

Mason had completely forgotten about the party in honour of their win. How the fuck was he getting out of that room with a hard-on? He had to calm himself.

You, on the other side, felt your heart falls into pieces. You thought about how long you had waited for this exact moment, every time you gave your endless hope all you ended up doing was bleeding. And this time, not only he was about to leave you alone but he was going to leave you turned on.

—I'm-I'm sorry... —he said, exiting quickly from the room.

After that match, you only heard from Mason through your brother. He had told you that after the match, at the party, Mason had rejected every girl who appeared to flirt with him.

Apparently, you've had an effect on him.

Mason hated how his heartbeat boomed in his ear when he saw you standing in his parents' house, with a blue shirt that had printed out the number 19 on the back, hugging your figure. 

You had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, you had for sure gone through puberty. He didn’t like to stare but he found it hard not to sometimes. Especially on family boat trips when you would wear a bikini in front of him.

—So, we're leaving after lunch. Do you want to meet at the stadium or at home?

You took a minute to understand. —What?

—The game, remember? We're having lunch here and then driving up to watch the game. —Said your brother, while getting on the boat. About three weeks had passed since you almost kissed Mason and now you were about to hop on the Mount's boat in Portsmouth.

You had completely forgotten about the game. During your conversations with your brother, you could sense that Mason hadn't mentioned anything about that night which was, in a way, kind of relieving.

Just like you, Mason had also forgotten that your family was coming over. But when his sister sent him a text saying that your family would join him before his game, he was flabbergasted.

You both hadn't spoken since the night of the win, but you both were thinking about that interaction since then. To forget that incident, he had spoken to one of his best friends, Ben, in search of a solution.

—Mate, what you need is a good fling. Maybe you should invite someone next time you're going on a family boat day —said Ben, laughing because of what Mason was asking him.

You got on Mason's boat, feeling heavy-hearted once again. After an hour, you were seated on the floor, helping Stacey with a puzzle, after your mom expelled you from the kitchen when trying to help her. Meanwhile, Mason and his mother sat down on the couch.

—She has grown into a beautiful woman, don't you think? —His mom said teasingly, already knowing that you were not the only one fallen for someone.

—Yes, she has. —He looked at you, seeing you laugh at something his sister had said. —Mom... I think I fucked up.

—If you had fucked up, she wouldn't be here.

—No mom, I really- —Mason got interrupted by the entrance of a tall, dark-eye, skinny blond, almost gotten out from a runway. She turned toward Mason and presented herself as Daphne, a friend. Debbie now understood why her son said he had fucked up really bad.

Your brother, seeing Daphne —the supposed fling of Mason— talking with him, turned to you.

—Forget your stuff, let’s just get off this boat. Don’t turn around okay? —his hands gripping strongly your shoulders. He knew how much you liked his best friend.

You laughed and followed your brother down the steps of the boat before stopping in your tracks.

—Since when have I ever listened to you? Dear God, I- — Your mouth fell open as you turned around to be met with Mason and his mother, and the presence of a girl that looked like an actual model.

She was leaning on him and he was laughing at whatever she had to say, while Debbie looked at you with pity. You felt like he had personally ripped your heart out, for a hundred times.

—You knew?

Your brother sighed before running his hands through his hair: —She's only a side thing, a one-time fling. I mean she’s not you, but he decided to find someone before Christmas. —He shrugged his shoulders and you felt the rage creeping up your body.

—What about me? When will I be happy? —you said, crying.

That sentence broke your brother's heart.

19 years to be exact, that's the time you've been waiting for him.

[purinfelix]

joao felix masterlist! ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

(because i have so many fics for him it wouldn't fit in the other masterlist ...)

ꕤ series

possibly, maybe i'm falling for you - when you're asked to train the new barista at work, you don't think much of it until you realise something about him is winning over customers - and it isn't just his coffee

- part 1 - part 2

➷ oneshots

force of habit - joão has a nervous habit that comes out before games, but you're just the thing to calm his nerves

back home - after a solo trip away, you're a little worried about how your boyfriend might react to your return

nothing's new - in which you learn dating a famous footballer comes with the price of secrecy

your hero - your boyfriend saves you from an unwelcome pest

love actually, is all around - christmas fluff

just an act - in which your boyfriend's possessive tendencies are put to the test

gorgeous - when a new player joins the team you manage media for, you're eager to make a good impression - that is, until you actually catch a glimpse of him

study buddy - in which joao has to balance being both your boyfriend and study buddy

white ferrari - you don’t really know how to respond when a familiar face shows up at your apartment doorstep, one you haven’t seen in almost half a year since a fated summer of both love and heartbreak.

is it casual now? - after yet another night spent together in secrecy, you finally build up the courage to ask Joao and uncomfortable question

friendly competition - 1v1ing your pro-footballer boyfriend

i like me better when i'm with you - a study abroad program, an impulsively bought plane ticket, and a whole lot of homesickness

baby steps - during a movie date, your new boyfriend notices you looking a little tense and tries to help you out

just do it, don't wait - in which it dawns on you that your 'no-strings-attached' relationship with joao might've become more than you bargained for

✧ headcanons

joao with a formula one driver reader

★ blurbs

belt loops

babying him

blame it on the alcohol

princess treatment

silent affection

experience

i'll wait for you drunk and needy gamer bf joao marking your territory post match blues talking about you

partner in crime discreet wish you'd just talk to me

requests are open right now! you can check my rules here

[pinkpurplesunrises]

Masterlist - pinkpurplesunrises - I wish I could see them every day - She/Her - 18+ - writing for woso, mostly Alexia Putellas.

l'm a bit of a shy whirlwind, totally obsessed with Grogu and an enthusiastic Barça Femení supporter.

This masterlist also applies upcoming dates when I'll upload newly written dialogues, short stories and for in the future longer stories.

Masterlist starts under the cut, enjoy reading!

Alexia Putellas x Reader

We were never meant to break, but we did anyway (and still found our way back)

We were made, unmade and remade in the morning light (and that's how we knew we were always meant to return)

Where the sun meets the flower (you'll always be my girasol)

She whispered to both (and one whispered back)

She came back after the silence (but not before it broke you)

Scarf, hoodie, blanket, you

Alexia Putellas x GroguObsessed!Reader

You don't know me (yet)

I was just trying to breath (and then you knocked)

The Grogu Plush

The Goblin dog Milo

Photo gallery 1.0

Dialogue Only:

Comforting Alexia

May the 4th

The Mandalorian episode

Short Stories:

Win Me a Grogu

Milo, Grogu and the Bump

Grogu goes to the doctor

Alexia Putellas x Chaotic!Reader

A small glimpse of Chaotic!Reader

Vibes 1.0 of Chaotic!Reader

Vibes 2.0 of Chaotic!Reader

Dialogue Only:

The Long Distance Relationship

The Passport

Zombie Apocalypse

Pink hair

Short Stories:

Other

Salma Parallueo x Reader: Dialogue - Birds

Alexia Putellas x Norwegian!Reader - Tidy

[universefcb]

ANATOMICAL PIZZA LOVE, PAU CUBARSÍ.

→ Summary: You're home alone and decide to make pizza! But Pau had never made it before.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: To ease the pain of losing the final yesterday... And forgive me for my inactivity! I promise to come back with a calendar full of fics!

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

She left the bag of flour on the counter as she looked at Pau. His parents had gone out for dinner—a rare romantic date on a Saturday night. His sister, Irene, had texted him that she was going to sleep over at her boyfriend’s house. It was just you and Pau in the house now. A house that had always had people, noise, some pot on the stove. Now it was full of silence.

“Do you really want to make pizza?” he asked, leaning on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, his hair messy as if he had taken a shower in a hurry.

“Better than asking. And it’s all here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I’ve never made real pizza.”

You gave a half smile and threw the flour onto the counter with more confidence than you actually felt.

“Then let’s do it together.”

Pau raised an eyebrow, but smiled back. He picked up his apron—the one his mother sometimes wore, with a bell pepper pattern—and tossed another one to you.

The atmosphere was light, with that good tension of their relationship, which was just beginning.

“Heart or round?” you asked, as you rolled out the dough.

“Sweetheart, sure. Let’s make it the cheesiest tradition possible,” he replied without hesitation, leaning his hip against the counter next to her. “We deserve it.”

You laughed, and he looked. That way. A second longer than necessary. A look that made him embarrassed, turning his head away with a slight blush on his face.

He approached you from behind while you were still rolling out the dough and wrapped his arms around you in a light hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a moment, breathing the same air.

“You smell like flour and apple shampoo,” he muttered, before letting out a small chuckle.

“It’s an irresistible combo,” you replied, feigning pride, and he pressed your body lightly against his before letting go.

You cut the ingredients, he assembled them. You bumped into each other all the time. Every touch seemed to last a little longer. Every excuse to help became another reason to stay close. Sometimes your eyes met by accident. Other times, on purpose. He smiled at the corner of your mouth, and you looked away, but the smile remained.

“It’s crooked,” he said, looking at his pizza.

“Yours too. It looks like a liver.”

He laughed. That short, sincere laugh that he only gave when he forgot to control himself. And his heart filled with love.

“We should patent this. Anatomical pizza of love.”

You laughed too, trying to hide the heat rising in your face.

When the oven finally dinged, the kitchen was warm, smelling good, and full of shards of conversation. Pau grabbed a towel and theatrically waved it at his face, sweating slightly. You threw an olive at him, and he pretended to be offended.

“We’re good,” he said, sharing a slice of the prettiest, or least ugly, pizza.

“We make a good pair,” you added without thinking. When you realized what you had said, you looked at him quickly.

Pau was already looking.

And he didn't deviate.

Silence fell, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was full. Almost electric.

“You know I like being with you, right?” he said quietly. As if he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

You swallowed hard. And nodded.

“I like being with you too.”

He approached. Slowly, without rushing. His hand touched hers, and stayed there. A simple touch, but direct.

“This here”—he pointed to the messy kitchen, the half-eaten pizza, the low music playing in the background—“could be our routine, you know?”

You smiled. Not the shy kind. The knowing kind.

“It is, right?”

Pau moved closer, his eyes on yours. His forehead almost touching yours. His breath mingling with yours. He brought one of his hands to your face, his fingers sliding lightly across your cheek.

“So can I kiss you now?”

You didn't answer. You just pulled his apron and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was calm, warm, with the taste of tomatoes and something new. His hands found your back, pulling you closer. One hand on your waist, the other still on your face. You laughed in the middle of the kiss, awkwardly, and kissed again. Because it was easy. Because it was right. Because it was already you.

When your lips parted, he still had his eyes closed, as if he wanted to prolong that moment a little longer. You rested your forehead against his, feeling your heart beat fast and calm at the same time.

“That was the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he whispered.

You smiled, your eyes shining.

“It wasn’t even a full dinner.”

“So we can do it again, right? Tomorrow. And the day after.”

“And then,” you repeated, like a small, whole promise.

He pulled you closer, again, and this time it wasn't a kiss, but a hug. Tight. Warm. Smelling of baked dough and his expensive perfume.

" I love you"

“I love you too, Barsí”

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

[pitchsidestories]

Barcelona Femení Masterlist (platonic)

Pizza girl

You were raised through La Masia, but you still feel anxious, before your first game for the Barcelona Femeni A team. Luckily a team bonding evening with your teammates help to ease your anxiety.

The kids are alright

The Barça youngsters see Lucy and you as their team mums, a game against your Spanish teammates doesn’t change the love you've for them.

Early twenties

The team found out that reader has a crush on someone and keep asking her everything about it, but reader is embarrassed and shy, can they help her out?

Under pressure

Reader takes it too far in training and must live with the consequences. But no one sees the pressure which is weighing down heavy on her young shoulders.

Betrayal in Blue

At Barça, Reader saw Keira, Lucy, and eventually Ona as family. But when Keira transferred to Chelsea mid-season, it felt like a betrayal for her.

Manchester City Women Masterlist (platonic) I Arsenal Women Masterlist (platonic) I

[n0vazsq]

hector fort masterlist !

oneshot ── ★

smau ── ⯌

. . . hector fort #32 full masterlist

. . . immortal ★

. . . what would you do? ★

. . . the distance between us ★

. . . enough for now ★

. . . more than me ★

. . . forever, for you ★

. . . anything for you ★

. . . in love ★

. . . always forever ★

. . . in love pt.2 ★

. . . understatement ★

. . . breathless ★

. . . close to me ★

. . . bf!headcanons ★