flashes ✦ julian draxler

quatre : playing tourists

[and in honour of julian's first training session with psg, and him and the club officially confirming his move. also, he looks so damn good in that suit and my god go watch the video where he speaks in french on psg's insta ]

| paris, france

JULIAN AND STELLA WALKED side by side slowly, their eyes on the massive sculpture in front of them: the Arc de Triomphe.

"You can only look at a tall landmark for so long until you want to scratch your eyes out," Stella snorted.

"True," Julian hummed and looked at his watch. It was just past 6 in the evening, but the sun had already set an hour ago. Of course that didn't stop any tourists by the famous arch, "How about we get some dinner now?"

Stella grinned, "Sounds like a great idea,"

They then proceeded by walking to the nearby underground parking where Stella's iconic matte black Range Rover was parked.

The two were visiting all the famous Paris landmarks, even though Julian had seen them all previously a number of times. They were meant to go with Serge, but the Ivorian had been held back at the training ground for a impromptu photo shoot. The two had insisted they'd postpone the outing, but Serge convinced them to go anyway. They didn't mind too much; at least Julian can solely speak in his native German, rather than struggle a little in English.

They'd already been to the Louvre- or rather the outside of it, since it would take forever to explore the entirety or majority of the museum.

"Where'd you like to go?" Stella asked as she backed out of the parking space, "Oh no, scrap that. I'm taking you to my favourite restaurant."

On the way to the restaurant, Stella had pointed out little spots in the city, like she had done when they were driving to The Louvre, and then to the Arc de Triomphe. She told little anecdotes about the spots, ones that brought a smile or a laugh to Julian's face. His personal favourite was the one about a nightclub she pointed out. A year and a half ago, someone who had recognised her approached her for a picture when she was completely wasted. Stella had ended up throwing up next to the fan's feet and the story was on the virtual front pages the next day of every social media platform.

"Here we are," she said, stopping the car at the parking behind the restaurant. He noticed that they could see the famous Eiffel Tower from where they were.

Julian looked up at it's glowing sign. It was called something in French- a word he knew not how to pronounce, much less spell. As he expected with the girl, the interior was very high-class and fit for fine-dining with leather cream seats and sparkling chandeliers.

"Miss Greaves," the maître d' nodded curtly at her and flashed his eyes at Julian, "A table for two?"

"Yes, please," she smiled.

The maître d' led them over to a table in the farthest corner of the restaurant, making Julian assume that it was a personal request for every time she came since they passed a load of other dual seating tables on the way. Although, they were sat next to the huge window, which showed the Eiffel Tower in all it's glittering glory. He placed two menus (with velvet covers!) in front of them and left promptly.

"I come here a lot," she informed him, "They know where I like to sit. I hope you don't mind it here."

"Not at all," Julian said humbly, picking up the menu. Unfortunately for him, all the titles were in French, but there were English explanations of the food under it. Stella hadn't even looked at the menu; she knew exactly what she was going to get, and instead picked up the drinks menu.