Noah Kahan
Discoholic 🪩
will byers stan first human second
almost home
Fai_Ryy
trying on a metaphor
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)
bliss lane
noise dept.
Keni
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wallacepolsom
cherry valley forever
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
tannertan36
Kiana Khansmith
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
official daine visual archive
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@4ngelest
⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ✧ meow… ✧ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊
18+ — MDNI (im funny btw😛😂!!)
Requests may include mature themes.
⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ✧ RULES ✧ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊
• MDNI — 18+ only
• Be polite and respectful
• NSFW content is for mature audiences
• No harassment, hate, or discrimination
• Reblogs > Likes
• Trigger warnings included where necessary
• Follow the rules before interacting ✦
⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊
Genshin (maybe?)
↳ […]
↳ […]
Hsr
↳ […]
↳ […]
JJK
↳ […]
Haikyuu
↳ […]
DC
↳ […]
Requests are open ✦
okay I have an idea for jobe, Jude, or kylian Mbappe or all three where you do the prank where you ask them if they are allowed to get dessert or like a pasta instead of a salad or something like that I think that would be really fun! And maybe it be in front of their team or parents or something! Thanks
ALLOWED w/ l. yamal, k. mbappe, & ju. bellingham
inwhich! you pull the “am i allowed to have __” prank on your boyfriend his front of his closest people.
frannytalks! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LA NIÑA MALA!! i was supposed to upload two things for him today, but i got so caught up, i apologize. :’) (also i replaced jobe with lamine since its his bday, but more jobe content coming soon!) don’t forget to join my taglist(s) here!
Private Island
Désiré Doué x Reader
Part 1
Summary: This time Désiré convinces you to have sex on a private island.
Désiré Doué Masterlist
·༻𐫱༺·
·༻𐫱༺·
TW: Smut
Based off the song Private Island by Gunna- Lyrics are italicised and in bold.
The boat ride itself had been beautiful but nothing prepared you for the moment the island came into view because It looked almost unreal.
The water surrounding it was impossibly clear a soft mix of turquoise and deep blue that changed colour whenever the sunlight hit it differently with the beautiful flows of the wave hitting the boat softly as you can feel the cool breeze brushing through your hair.
As the boat slowed, Désiré stood beside you one hand resting against the railing looking far too pleased with himself and one hand by your waist. The island was completely private. No crowds, no beach clubs, no tourists with cameras, just a handful of white buildings tucked between olive trees and wildflowers.
The wooden dock creaked softly beneath your feet as you stepped off the boat. You turned around slowly taking everything in. “Désiré…”
He laughed. “What?”
“You rented an actual island?” He shrugged as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “It’s only for a few days.”
The pathway ahead shimmered under the sun. Beautiful plants climbed up stone walls in bright bursts of pink and purple and little lanterns had already been hung along the paths for when evening came.
Everything felt quiet, not the awkward type of quiet but the peaceful type the kind that makes you realise how noisy life normally is.
Désiré slipped his sunglasses onto his head and grinned at your expression. “You like it?”
You looked out at the endless sea stretching towards the horizon as the only sounds were the waves brushing against the shore and the wind moving through the trees.
“Like it?” you said, laughing softly. “ oh my gosh baby this is insane.”
And judging by the ridiculously proud smile on his face that was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.
A few hours later,l the excitement of arriving had faded into something much quieter. The afternoon sun had softened painting everything in warm shades of gold. The little seating area beside it had become your spot for the day tucked beneath a shaded canopy with nothing but the sound of waves in the distance and leaves rustling in the breeze.
Your head rested comfortably in Désiré’s lap as he lounged back against the sofa cushions. One of his hands played absentmindedly with the ends of your hair while the other traced gentle, familiar patterns along your arm.
Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence because it was peaceful.
·༻𐫱༺·
Every now and then you’d point out a boat passing far out on the horizon and he’d hum in response his fingers never stopping their slow comforting movements. The world seemed impossibly far away from your little corner of Greece and for the first time in a long time there was nowhere else either of you needed to be.
“So.” Désiré began. Uh oh, this means trouble. You thought.
“Don’t start.” You groaned in his lap.
“What? I haven’t said anything?” He chuckled.
“Because I think I know what you’re about to say.”
“…have you ever been fucked on a private island?”
You playfully slapped his arm. “I knew it! I knew you would say that.” You said as he laughed at your response rubbing his skin you playfully slapped. “We literally had sex on the boat like not even 2 hours ago.”
“Yeah? And we can have even more fun over here!”
You gave him a look.
“Come on babeee, pleaseee!! It’ll be exciting! And plus there’s nobody here, it’s called private island for a reason.” The soft stroke of his hands slowly moved from your arms down to your right and to you damped heat. “See babe, you’re already wet, I think you want this.” His lips smirked against your neck and starts kissing you.
I done heard too many times you can't get rich with no knowledge
You sit up a bit, now taking a between view at him and placed yourself on top of him into his lap as you straddled him. You placed a hand in the middle of his torso, taking in the touch and feeling of his abs. He undid your blue bikini bra in one clasp as he buried his face in your boobs.
Told lil' shawty if she mine, then promise me you keep it solid
“Mm mine, this is all mine, only I can have this.” He muttered against your skin as he began to massage them with each hand whilst taking turns to put on in his mouth we made you throw your head back in response as your fingers ran through his hair making him whimper slightly.
Eventually he took of his shirts whilst you took off your panties leaving you both completely naked on each other as he used the tip of his cock to tease the folds of your wet pussy.
“Désiré stop teasing.” You whined which made him chuckle deeply.
“I’m not so convinced you want this baby, beg for it.” He commanded.
“Please Dés, I want your cock, I’m so wet for you and I want your cold to stretch me good please baby please.” You pleaded and he obeyed. With one smooth motion he pushed himself inside of you making you both gasp.
He held you down securely on his cock whilst making upwards movements thrusting inside of you as quick as he could, making you a minding less on top of him. “Fuck Désiré” you moaned as tears started glistening by your eyes from all this pleasure. “Don’t stop!” You whispered.
You know bitches talk, but you with a boss, and we keep our business private
He planted a small kiss by your ear. “Wasn’t planning on stopping baby.” As his movements never slowed down and only gotten faster.
The sounds of the waves of the shores were mixed with the sound of your moans that’s were like music to Désiré’s ears. You eventually felt your climax approaching as you felt that familiar pit in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum!” You cried as you held onto his neck tighter as his continued to thrust upwards. “Me too baby me too.” He said as you could feel his thrusts getting more sloppy as you can tell he was going to his orgasm soon.
He ain't never fucked you on a private island
With a few seconds your legs were shaking beside him as you felt the tip of his cock switch as he pulled out and spilled his hot ropes of cum all over your stomach, a groan coming out of him. Both of you, hot and breathless looked at each other with a smile, he leaned forward to kiss your lips as you kissed him back. “You’re so sexy, so beautiful and pretty.” He said as he tucks a piece of hair by your ear, sticking to your damp skin.
Later that evening you both found yourself cuddled up to each other, watching the sunset fade away with shades of orange and yellow completing the sky, his arms is wrapped around you as your head is tucked under his chin, him placing a small kiss to it.
“So, is this the best surprise yet?” He questioned.
“The boat and island or the sex?” You asked back.
“Both.” He laughed.
“Then yeah, best surprise I’ve ever had.
And so the two of you stayed exactly where you were, wrapped up in each other beneath the warm Greek night. Neither of you had any reason to move so you simply stayed there together until the stars gave way to morning.
·༻𐫱༺·
─── ୨ৎ . 𝗠𝗔𝒮𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝒮𝗧 ¡! ❜
⊹ author’s note: i’ll be inactive for a little while as i’m away on holiday. i’ll be back with new stories as soon as i can. thank you for your patience and support. see you soon! ♡
𝗝𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗺 𑣲.
hide and seek — (fluff, comedy)
more than a moment — (hurt/comfort, angst)
the hands that know — (fluff/comfort)
the perfect disaster — (fluff, comedy)
𝗠𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗢𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗲 𑣲.
invisible thread — (fluff, angst)
where my eyes go — (hurt/comfort, angst)
how to be romantic — (fluff, comedy)
𝗗é𝘀𝗶𝗿é 𝗗𝗼𝘂é 𑣲.
after midnight — (fluff/comfort)
Chapter 6
The Footballer and The Popstar
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The week after Y/N visited the AXA Training Centre passed in much the same way as the two months before it, life refused to slow down.
Liverpool’s fixture list grew busier with every passing weekend each match followed by recovery sessions tactical meetings and media commitments that left Hugo wondering where his free time had disappeared. At the same time, Y/N’s world tour was creeping closer. Every rehearsal, interview and planning meeting seemed to carry a greater sense of urgency than the last as though everyone involved had collectively realised there was no longer any room for mistakes.
But somehow they would always make time to talk to each other. Sometimes it was nothing more than a photograph sent from an airport lounge or other times it was a quick ‘ good luck’ before a match or a rehearsal. Occasionally one of them would disappear for an entire day only to return with a simple message apologising for being busy as though neither of them already understood exactly what the other’s life was like. They never demanded explanations and that was one of the things Y/N appreciated most.
One Thursday afternoon, Hugo was making his way out of the training ground when his phone buzzed.
Y/N: I have something to ask
A smile appeared almost instantly.
Hugo: yes???
Y/N: so last week…
Y/N: Did I admit football was harder than I thought?
Hugo: You did
Y/N: Fine
Y/N: Now it’s your turn 🫵🏼
Hugo: My turn for what?
Y/N: To admit you underestimate my job
Hugo: I don’t?
Y/N: Really?
Hugo: Really
Y/N: So you think rehearsals are just as hard as football training?
He paused, he was honest… he’d never really thought about it. Like most people he’d always assumed concerts were demanding but in his mind the difficult part had always been standing in front of eighty thousand people. The rehearsals themselves? He imagined singing a few songs and running through the setlist and maybe practising with the dancers once or twice, nothing like the relentless structure of elite football.
Before he could type a response another message arrived.
Y/N: Exactly
Hugo: You don’t even know what I was going to say 😭
Y/N: I know that silence 😂
Hugo: That’s unfair
Y/N: It’s accurate
Y/N: Come and watch tomorrow
He stared at the screen.
Hugo: Tomorrow?
Y/N: Arena rehearsals start at ten
Y/N: You’ve shown me your world
Y/N: Now let me show you mine
He looked at the invitation for a moment longer than he expected, she was inviting him somewhere that hardly anybody outside her team ever saw. It WANST a concert or awards show, just work before the performance, much like how he didn’t invite her to a match, just him training, which was the work before his performance.
Hugo: Alright
Hugo: Convince me 👀
Y/N: Bring comfortable shoes.
Hugo: Why???
Y/N: You’ll see
Before he could ask another question she sent one final message.
Y/N: And Hugo
Hugo: Yeah?
Y/N: Don’t wear anything you mind getting covered in glitter.
He laughed out loud as he unlocked his car. He had a feeling tomorrow wasn’t going to be anything like he expected.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The next morning, Hugo arrived at the arena just before ten o’clock, huts like she would expect him to.
Unlike matchdays, there were no supporters waiting outside no chants echoing through the streets and no sea of red shirts surrounding the entrances. Instead, lorries lined the loading bays their doors thrown open as crews wheeled enormous flight cases inside. Forklifts moved carefully between stacks of lighting rigs while members of staff wearing headsets hurried from one side of the building to the other, clipboards tucked beneath their arms.
It reminded him less of a concert venue and more of arriving at Liverpool’s training ground before a big European night. Everyone had a job and knew exactly what they were doing.
The receptionist smiled as she handed him a visitor’s pass. “She’s already on stage.”
Hugo thanked her before following the signs through a maze of corridors until the sound of drums and distant voices gradually grew louder. As he pushed open the final door he stopped instinctively.
The arena was enormous, thousands upon thousands of empty seats stretched into the darkness. Giant LED screens flickered as graphics were tested dancers warmed up across one side of the stage and musicians tuned their instruments and stage managers moved briskly between departments, speaking rapidly into their headsets.
There had to be over a hundred people working and if this was only the rehearsal, imagine what the actual concert would be like.
“You’re early.” He turned to find Y/N making her way across the stage. She looked nothing like the woman who appeared on magazine covers, she looked… natural.
Her hair was tied into a messy ponytail she’d swapped designer dresses for black leggings, an oversized hoodie and well worn trainers and there wasn’t a trace of stage makeup on her face. A reusable water bottle was tucked beneath one arm while a thick notebook filled with scribbled notes rested in the other.
“You actually came,” she said with a smile.
“You sounded very confident that I’d underestimate your job.”
“I was.”
“So this is where you prove me wrong?”
She laughed. “Hopefully.”
Before he could answer someone called her name from the opposite side of the stage. “Five minutes!”
She lifted a hand in acknowledgement before looking back at Hugo. “I’ll warn you now…”
“What?”
“This isn’t glamorous.”
“I didn’t expect it to be.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “I made that mistake with football.”
She smiled knowingly. “Good answer.”
A choreographer appeared moments later gathering the dancers together in the centre of the stage while the band took their places. Around them technicians continued adjusting lights camera operators checked angles from the arena floor and a production manager counted down over the sound system.
“Alright everyone,” his voice echoed around the empty arena. “From the top.”
Music thundered through the speakers, almost feeling like a real concert. Y/N walked confidently to centre stage adjusted the microphone in her hands and at the exact second the opening notes began transformed.
The relaxed girl he’d been texting for the last two months disappeared and In her place stood the performer millions of people knew. Her posture was straightened and her movements were precise and every step landed exactly where it was suppose to be, Hugo forgot he was watching a rehearsal.
Then the music stopped abruptly. “Again.”
The dancers returned to their starting positions without complaint and the band reset. Y/N took a sip of water before walking back to her mark and the song began again.
This time they made it halfway through. “Stop.” The choreographer stepped forward.“You’re half a beat early going into the second chorus.”
Y/N nodded. “My fault.”
“Let’s reset.”
For the next three hours Hugo watched the same process repeat itself over and over, a lighting cue arrived a second too late, repeated again, one dancer missed a formation, repeated again, a camera angle blocked part of the stage, repeated again.
The ending felt rushed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
There were no shortcuts or moments where someone said, “That’ll do.” Every person inside the arena was chasing perfection with the same relentless determination he’d seen on Liverpool’s training pitches.
As the afternoon wore on Hugo found himself noticing things he never would have considered before. Y/N wasn’t simply singing, she was remembering choreography while controlling her breathing listening for musical cues finding television cameras without making it obvious and hitting marks on the stage so precisely they had been taped onto the floor in tiny pieces of fluorescent tape.
If she was even a step out of position the lighting no longer lined up, if the lighting missed, the camera shot changed, if If the camera changed, the entire visual sequence had to be rehearsed again. Watching from the side of the stage Hugo smiled quietly to himself. He’d been wrong, completely wrong, this wasn’t just a concert rehearsal, it was training, juts like how he would, but just on a different stage.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
By the time rehearsal finally came to an end almost five hours had passed. Y/N thanked each member of the crew as they walked past her. It struck Hugo how many people relied on her and how many people she relied on in return. A stadium concert wasn’t one person standing beneath a spotlight, It was hundreds.
Only one of them happened to be the face on the posters. “You hungry?”
He looked up to find her pulling her hoodie back over her head her microphone long since replaced by a takeaway menu someone had left backstage. “I could eat just about anything.”
She smiled. “Good because the catering’s finished.”
Twenty minutes later they were sitting on the edge of the empty stage with cartons of noodles balanced on their knees. Hugo looked out across the thousands of empty seats. It was strange. He’d stood in stadiums filled with seventy thousand people before but being here somehow this felt bigger.
“When everyone comes in tomorrow,” he said quietly, “they’ll have no idea how much happened today.”
Y/N smiled faintly. “They’re not supposed to.”
He glanced at her. “I’ve watched you sing the same chorus,” He pretended to count on his fingers. “about thirty times?”
She laughed. “Thirty two.”
“I lost count.”
“If one thing is wrong people notice.”
She nodded. “So we fix it before they ever get the chance.”
Hugo looked back across the stage shaking his head in quiet disbelief. “I honestly thought rehearsals were just running through the songs.”
“I know.”
“I was wrong.”
“I know.”
He laughed. “You seem very pleased about this.”
“I’ve been waiting all day to hear you admit it.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “Fine.”She grinned triumphantly. “I admit it.”
“What exactly are you admitting?”
He thought for a moment.
“That this,” He gestured around the arena. “This isn’t any easier than football.”
Her smile softened. “It’s different.”
“It is.”
“But it’s the same.”
She nodded slowly. “I thought exactly the same thing when I watched you train.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
She smiled. “Go on.”
He hesitated. “When you have a bad concert,” She looked at him expectantly. “does it stay with you?”
The question lingered between them, she looked out across the empty arena her expression thoughtful. “For days.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I thought it was just me.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“If I miss chances in a match,” he admitted quietly, “I replay them in my head all week.”
“I replay concerts.”
“I read comments.”
“So do I.”
“I tell myself not to.”
“So do I.”
He let out a quiet laugh. “We’re both terrible at taking our own advice.”
“The absolute worst.”
Y/N tucked one leg beneath herself as she looked at the rows of empty seats. “You know what the strange thing is?”
“What?”
“The people who support us only ever see the finished performance.”
He nodded.
“They don’t see today or yesterday or even months before.” She looked down at her half finished noodles. “They don’t see the days when you wonder whether you’re actually good enough.”
Hugo’s eyes met hers. “I still feel like that.”
“So do I.” She laughed quietly though there wasn’t much humour in it. “Some days I stand on stage in front of eighty thousand people and I still feel like the girl singing alone in her bedroom hoping someone might listen.”
Hugo understood that feeling more than he could explain. “Some days,” he admitted, “I walk out at Anfield and wonder whether today will be the day everyone decides I’m not good enough.”
Y/N frowned. “They won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
He looked at her, surprised by how certain she sounded. “You work harder than almost anyone I’ve ever met.”
She smiled softly. “So do you.”
“It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“We met because everyone thought they knew our story.”
She laughed. “And they couldn’t have been more wrong.”
“They saw two headlines.”
“They missed everything that came after.”
She looked around the vast empty arena before smiling to herself. “Maybe that’s what fame is.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“People spend so much time watching you that they forget to actually see you.”
Somewhere in between the training ground and the rehearsal stage between missed chances and repeated choruses between stadiums and spotlights, they had quietly become each other’s safest place that neither of them realised it then.
They simply knew that in a long time they had found someone who understood the weight of living in front of the world.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Tag List -> @4ngelest
friends with benefits headcannons — # désiré doué
# warnings: smut, mdni. curse words. fluff. not proofread.
wc: 576
# mia’s note: i actually really really enjoyed writing this. please bare with me on chapter two of amongst it all, i haven’t had much time or inspiration to write it but it will hopefully come out later today. don’t forget reqs are open. with sooo much love, mia.
masterlist
fwb!désiré who has a whole drawer on his bathroom with your things. your hair brush, your skin care products, some makeup too.
fwb!désiré who loves to kiss you.
you were on his lap. movie playing in the background that you had both forgotten about.
he pecked your lips over and over, making you giggle. “you keep kissing me.”
he kissed you again, smiling against your lips. “it’s my second favorite thing to do.”
“what’s your first? football?”
“you.”
fwb!désiré who stays inside of you for a few minutes after fucking you senseless, just looking at your disheveled state.
he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there while he took your scent in. “you’re so pretty. so full of me.”
“i think ill be sore tomorrow.”
he smirked. “hopefully.”
fwb!désiré who hates when you wear any jersey other than his.
he frowned. his frustration from the game along with the sight of you in a jersey without his last name making annoyed. “why are you wearing that?”
you looked down at your clothes. “what? i thought it looked good.”
“you’re wearing bradley’s name.”
“i didn’t think you wanted them to know about us.”
fwb!désiré who fucks you while you’re wearing his jersey. murmuring filthy things in your ear.
“is it bradley making you feel good?”
you whimpered, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure. he had made you come so many times already that your eyes were watering.
“talk to me, pretty girl.”
you shook your head as you could. “no. you are, des, you are making me feel good.”
he smirks, his pace not slowing.
“des, it’s too much.”
he kissed your hair. “you can take it.”
fwb!désiré who, after being so rough, gets worried that he went too far.
he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, pecking your lips softly. “i’m so sorry, baby. are you okay?”
you nodded, drowsy. “i’m perfect.”
“you were amazing. amazing just for me.”
he cleaned you up while you squirmed under him, lying by your side once he was done.
fwb!désiré who makes sure you fall asleep before he does, admiring you before he gives in to sleep himself.
fwb!désiré who knows you’re so much more than just a friend he fucks. that you guys are only intimate with each other, but doesn’t say anything while you tell other people he’s just your childhood friend.
fwb!désiré whose eyes never leave you at parties. making sure you always have a drink in your hand.
fwb!désiré whose hands also don’t leave you at parties. or anywhere.
“you okay?” he whispered into your ear.
you smiled and nodded. your eyes were more shiny than usual, so he could tell you were a bit drunk.
he smiled. warm and unguarded. “you tipsy, pretty girl?”
your giggles only made him certain of two things. you were definitely drunk, and he was definitely in love with you.
fwb!désiré who takes you home after making sure to stay completely sober to make sure he could take care of you.
he took your dress and your bra off, knowing that you didn’t like to sleep in it, and dressing you on his hoodie.
he kissed your forehead while you looked at him
sleepy, laying you gently on the bed.
fwb!désiré kisses your forehead until your body gets heavier on top of him and your breathing evens out.
fwb!désiré who sleeps amazing with you by his side. mind peaceful knowing that you’re his.
and he’s yours.
hiii
would you mind writing a friends to lovers with désiré doué? either a one shot or a series, as you prefer but maybe she could be his brother's best friend (or one of his team mates' really) so she's always been around and they know each other very well but she never thought of him as more than a friend untim smth happens
ty sooooo much, i love your writing you're so good
✮ Doucémente - Désiré Doue
désiré doue x fem!reader
sy: you’ve known désiré for years. he’s your brother’s best friend, your best friend, and someone you’ve never once looked at differently. until suddenly, you do.
a/n: i think i read this completely wrong, i think my english is actually regressing, but i hope this was okay!
warnings: no.
you think you’ll always see désiré as a brother.
i mean, sure, he’s got it all. and everyone around you always ask how you manage to restrain yourself from absolutely drooling over him when he’s near. but, you always have the same answer.
he’s your boy.
not boyfriend.
like everybody seems to assume. especially, your biological brother, bradley. he’s like a self appointed, and unwanted, matchmaker when it comes to désiré and his little sister.
“désiré’s coming over soon,” brad says, hopping across the lounge whilst trying to slide his right sock on. “so, get ready.”
you snort. “excuse me?”
bradley falls back onto the nearest chair, still struggling to slide his sock on. he flits you a look. “i’m sure you’re not deaf amoungst all the other problems you have. get ready.”
that draws you away from the magazine you were once reading. “one, i don’t have any issues—you took one for the team,” you scoff, “and two, what’s wrong with how i look?”
its partially rhetorical. because, genuinely, what is wrong? you’re wearing a light grey shirt with the spiderman promo that compliments your matching joggers and your hair is pulled up into a simple pony.
bradley finally gets his sock on; now he turns to sit upright. “one, you’re wrong… i’m perfectly healthy. and two, you’re dressed like a seven year old boy, who’s just discovered marvel comics, and, when you have your hair like that, it shows your receding hairline.”
you grit your teeth, arm high with the magazine you’re about to waltz at him. “why you little—”
ding dong.
“my boys’ here!”
you freeze your arm mid-air.
as if it had been orchestrated solely to spare his physical battering, your brother finds the doorbell an escape route to flee as he jolts to the front door like his life depends on it.
between one breath and the next, the door flings open with force and hammers the wall behind. and you spot him, a smile blooming your expression.
désiré doue.
he looks just as charming as ever. the kind of facile charm that seems to come naturally to him, probably why everyone always questions how you keep your calm demeanour around him. from the way his hair falls untidily into place to the comfort that never quite leaves his expression. his features are familiar, but it’s almost like the feeling attached to them is unfamiliar. the curve of his smile, the tenderness in his eyes, the infectiousness of his laughs.
“yo!” brad hollers, bumping into his chest—the things guys do that you will never understand.
“i’ve missed you man!”
your brother waddles further into the lounge, welcoming désiré in, causing you rise up from the sofa as he makes his way over to you.
“heeey, you,” désiré offers a hug, and you pat him sweetly back. “how’ve you been?”
“yeah, all good,” you wave a hand, rolling back on the heels of your feet. “apart from y’know.. brad.”
“i am here,” bradley states matter-of-factly, whilst the both of you chuckle quietly together. brad staggers back from whatever he was disturbing with at the tv stand, with three controllers and a cd disk for a game under his armpit.
“i figured we could all play this new game that i bought the other day,” he suggests, shoving a controller into his bestfriends hands and tries to you too. “it’s got really good reviews.”
you recieve it reluctantly. désiré is quick to agree, snatching the cover and scanning the back of it. “i’m not really in a game mood,” you hand the controller back.
“what!” you turn to drift apart but your brother grabs your shoulder and spins you. “it’s a tradition to play a video game when doue comes over!”
its almost as if he’s guilt tripping you.
you sigh, looking between the pair of guys. désiré takes most of your attention, as he stands besides your brother, almost sheepish. his hands are at his sides, his fingers tapping the air rhythmically. your eyes trace along the veins in his arms, then along the width of his shoulders, to his neck, then back to his biceps, in which they were stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt far more than you remember.
since when did he have such nice arms?
“ahem,” your brother clears his throat. “so is that a yes?”
you tear your gaze away from désiré, blinking as you give your head a rough shake. “er—no, no. i’ll just be in my room.”
out of pure abashment, you lower your head when you hasten past them both, beelining your way to your room.
how humiliating was that?
your cheeks feel red hot, and so does the rest of your body. oh my god. when you reach your room, you dive head first for your pillow, resisting the urge to scream.
désiré, he’s nothing but a second brother to you. why the heck did he not feel like one just now?
had he grown the last time you saw him—two months ago? had he started working out more? had he started looking after his appearance—like using cologne n mints?
your thoughts are intersected when a loud bang hits your door, and both boys come flying into your room. “hey, sis, c’mon now, we know you really wanna play.”
“no, i do not,” you twist away from your brother whose now perched right next to you. “i’m busy.”
he snickers. “doing what?”
your back is to them both, and you twindle a loose string from your pillowcase through your fingers. “i—taking a nap.”
“a nap my ass,” bradley squeezes your leg, and to that you merely sit upright. “c’mon, wakey, wakey.”
“no.. look i, really, don’t wanna play—”
“check out this new game doue bought!”
there’s no fight in you left when troy pushes a cd into your console (that you thought you’d hidden away pretty nicely, to prevent, things like this occurring) and the tv illuminates with said game.
its different to the one he suggested prior.
before you could utter a word, brad throws a controller that hits you square in the stomach. he equally shuffles over into the middle of the bed, almost pushing you off and désiré slides in last.
a sigh that leaves your lips keeps your shoulders rumbling. you comply anyway, but not with much effort. after you suggested playing roblox to the pair of them a hangout ago, brad had been hell bent on playing a video game everytime désiré came back over.
the game pings to life. all three controllers illuminate, and another sigh slips past your lips as your fingers drift over the joysticks with little more than absent-minded ease.
bradley and désiré end up facing each other after eliminating you, and the pair go at it like starving wolves fighting over the same kill. their joysticks click and clatter with every movement, and the pair have completely abandoned their relaxed posture in favour of sitting upright, in contrast to you, who’s reclined contently against the headboard.
“dont run, brad,” doue calls out, amusement clawing at his tone as he hunts him down. you almost laugh, wondering if your dumb brother is unaware that the split screen has made hiding from désiré completely pointless.
“im plotting,” he defends. “not running.”
“sure,” désiré teases, his tone suddenly dipping into a lower register that catches you slightly off guard. you peek over your brother’s head, only to find yourself caught on désiré’s smile.
it’s ridiculous, really, because he’s always looked like that—yet anywise, right now, something about him keeps your attention on him.
his cheekbones sit high enough that when he smiles, it consumes his whole face. it’s perspicuous, almost unfairly so, and somehow futile not to mirror. there’s the small smirk he wears so naturally; the subtle movement of his adam’s apple when he swallows—and when his eyes crease at the corners when victory over your brother brings out a genuine smile—you’re noticing things you’ve never bothered to notice before.
bradley’s arms fly up in annoyance beside you, but even that fails to break your subconscious stare at doue.
since when did he get so attractive?
why has these thoughts only occurred now?
you’re hauled from your fantasy when your brother twists his head back to you and suggests, “round two?”
“er,” you blink hard. “yeah, why not.”
désiré also looks back at you, offering a gentle smile that causes warmth to rise to your cheeks, where you press the controller to hide it. why did that make you blush? he’s done that plenty of times before and never provoked a reaction.
you’re about to press start again, when your brothers phone vibrates between his legs. it’s a call.
“they always call at the wrong time.”
he exhales agitated, shuffling off the bed with his phone in his right hand, points and says “hold i gotta take this.” before he darts off and shuts the door behind him. when he exits, you wait until his voice falters as he walks further and further away, leaving only you and doue, before you break the silence.
“do you hate him as much as i do?”
“i—what?” desire tilts his head, a grin curling at the corner of his mouth.
you nod towards the door that bradley just left through, mirroring the same smirk. “brad. we have a mutual hatred for him, don’t we?”
“sometimes,” desire now laughs. he pushes himself back against the headboard to your bed, adopting your position and crosses his ankles over one another. he also shuffles a little closer to you, which intentional or not, makes your palms a little clammy.
“i think we should play without him,” you elbow his arm impishly. it’s only afterwards do you realise how close you both are. normally, you wouldn’t give it a second thought. normally, sitting this close would feel like second nature.
but for an unknown reason, there’s a small swoon of butterflies in the pit of your stomach this time.
“i think we should too,” doue says, “it’ll be better without him as he’s clearly,” he gestures to the tv where it shows a cross next to your brothers name tag, “pretty shit at this.”
a laugh rumbles from your throat, almost spilling into a full belly laugh. that’s bradley. the one and only.
shit at all the games he’s so arrogant that he’s the best at.
the game continues, and you fail at it just like you did previously. eliminated, eliminated, eliminated. except, your patience was wearing thin when doue had completely cheated when he coaxed you to trap you inside an inescapable room.
“that was not fair!” you exclaim, jolting your back up and your knee clashes with his. your ears borderline pink.
“it so was!”
“it so wasn’t!” you protest, turning to face him entirely. “you completely cheated! cheater!”
“i’m a cheater?” doue bites back playfully, “you were camping the entire game. you have cheater written all over you!”
you swat his chest playfully, and what starts as a simple tease quickly evolves into a soft playfight. the footballer catches your wrist before you can land another shove, laughing as you immediately try to pull free. “i am not—!” your sentence stops abruptly, when désiré hurdles for you and sends your body smacking the plump mattress, though it had a slight sting to it. giggles erupt from the both of you, as you attempt to wiggle out from beneath him, although it’s no good.
“you know you’re not getting out of this,” désiré croons, poking the sides of your stomach as you immediately try to force him off. “tell me i’m not a cheater.”
“but you are a—” he tickles you again, sending desperate giggles into the air, as you pant for air. “désiré, stop that!”
“make me.” his smile is ear wide, a mute, salmon blush creeping up to his cheeks. the gold chain he wears around his neck swirls over you.
“désiré…”
“i said,” he taunts. “make. me.”
theres a sudden resilience that pulsates through you, and you flip doue over as you now hover above. you go to flaunt, and for whatever reason, you blink and you’re laying back down with him ontop again.
“hm,” he grins, teasing. “didn’t last long did it?”
this time, he doesn’t poke you. he doesn’t pinch or provoke you. he just stares down at your face, slightly squinting his eyes as his hands brace at the sides of your head, one pining your wrist above your head. his words don’t register in your brain, because all that you can focus on is the curve of his lips.
désiré takes his tongue along his bottom lip, probably absentmindedly but it sends a shiver through your lower belly. a silence sediments between you before his gaze dips to your lips for a brief moment.
soft, breathless pants are the only sound audible. the laughs stop.
then, they explore back over your eyes, and every blink he takes seems to drag. there’s a faint smell of his cologne lining your nostrils, as he’s merely inches away from your face. his breath fans softly against your skin, warm, and you can only hope and pray that you don’t look as crimson red as you feel.
his eyes drop down to your lips for a half a second more. they don’t dart away this time. they linger, almost as though he’s trying to work out whether he’s imagined whatever’s suddenly settled between the two of you. your heartbeat pounds so loudly you’re convinced he can hear it. neither of you utters a word. neither of you moves.
he’s désiré.
your brother’s best friend.
your best friend.
your…
before you can convince yourself otherwise, you’re leaning forward, lips parted as you reach for his own. your lips brush his for barely a second, hesitant enough to give him every opportunity to pull away. however, he doesn’t.
instead, his hand slips from your wrist to cup the side of your face as he kisses you back, gentle at first, then with enough certainty to make your stomach completely forget how to function. your mind goes completely blank, caught somewhere between disbelief and the overwhelming realisation that this is actually happening. because this isn’t some stranger, some passing crush you can easily brush away—it’s him.
someone you never thought of as nothing more than a second brother.
as if he’s testing how far he can go, his lips connect to the curve of your neck, teeth nipping at the supple skin that borders your jaw. they glide across your flustered skin, reaching your lips once again, pushing them open to suck at your top lip.
something about this feels so wrong but also so right.
“well—”
the bedroom door swings open.
in the scramble to untangle yourselves as bradley stands frozen, blinking between the two of you, you end up kicking him against the bed frame, one of your knees trapped between his, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand.
“…do you guys want me to leave or?”
|| 🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb @madamsoulette @mariejuli @bwueden (lmk if you wanna be added or removed ◡̈)
clingy — # désiré doué
synopsis — you overhear desire on a phone call calling you clingy.
# warnings: angst but a fluffy ending.
# mia’s note: i’m actually quite proud of this. give it a try. i’m off to take a nap, ill read you later. with sooo much love, mia.
masterlist
the apartment smelled faintly of garlic and butter.
you’d picked up dinner on the way home, balancing two paper bags against your hip while fumbling with your keys.
“désiré?” you called as you stepped inside.
“in here,” his voice came from the kitchen.
you smiled automatically. he’d probably already started complaining that you took too long.
you kicked the door shut behind you and made your way toward him.
“…no, because she’s gotten so clingy lately.”
your footsteps slowed.
désiré stood at the kitchen counter with his back to you, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear while he absentmindedly stirred something in a pot.
“i swear…” he sighed, “i can’t even get five minutes to myself.”
you froze.
“…it’s exhausting sometimes.”
your fingers tightened around the paper bag.
i felt ridiculous. you knew it was ridiculous. you hadn’t even heard the beginning of the conversation. maybe he wasn’t talking about you. but the thought that maybe he could be made your chest ache.
he laughed. “yeah, exactly.”
something in your chest quietly folded in on itself.
you weren’t trying to listen anymore. you couldn’t hear much beyond the ringing in your ears.
you forced yourself to walk the rest of the way into the kitchen. the paper bags crinkled.
he turned immediately. “there you are.”
his face brightened the second he saw you.
“hi, baby.”
he smiled the same way he always did. warm. easy. like seeing you was the best part of his day.
he covered the speaker of his phone. “i’ll be done in a second.”
you smiled because you knew you were supposed to.
“okay,” you set the food on the counter.
he leaned over without thinking and kissed your forehead before turning back to his call.
the kiss lingered. usually, you’d smile. maybe wrap your arms around his waist for a second.
today you just stood there.
that night, you waited until he fell asleep before letting yourself cry.
not loudly. not dramatically.
just silently. because maybe he was right.
you were always around him. always asking for one more hug. always following him into the kitchen. always sitting beside him instead of across from him. always wanting to tell him about the smallest parts of your day.
naybe he’d only smiled because he didn’t know how to tell you to stop.
you wiped your face before he could wake up.
the next morning, you made yourself a promise; you’d give him space. because désiré was one of the best things and he was yours, and you couldn’t mess it up.
it started with little things.
instead of sitting on his lap during breakfast, you sat across the table.
instead of slipping your hand into his while he searched for his car keys, you tucked your hands into your pockets.
when he came home from training and automatically reached for you, you hugged him. briefly. then stepped away.
he frowned for half a second. you pretended not to notice.
days passed.
you still loved him exactly the same. maybe even more. the thought that he had to endure your clinginess only because you didn’t know how to stop made your heart break over and over.
so you just loved him from farther away.
you stopped wandering into his office when he was playing video games. you stopped asking if he wanted to watch another episode together. if he fell asleep on the couch, you covered him with a blanket instead of curling up beside him.
every instinct told you to be close. every thought reminded you not to.
it was strangely exhausting to constantly stop yourself.
sometimes you’d catch yourself walking toward him without thinking. then remember, and change direction.
désiré noticed. of course he did. he just couldn’t understand it.
at first he assumed you were tired.
then maybe stressed.
but the smiles never disappeared. neither did the kisses goodbye.
you just… stopped reaching for him.
it was subtle enough that anyone else would’ve missed it.
he didn’t.
he noticed every time you almost leaned your head on his shoulder before changing your mind. every time your hand twitched toward his and then fell back to your side.
every time you looked at him like you wanted a hug and walked away instead.
the apartment felt bigger. colder.
he hated it.
nearly a week later, he couldn’t take it anymore.
you were putting dishes away after dinner when he quietly said. “can we talk?”
you looked over. his expression made your stomach tighten.
“of course.”
he leaned against the counter, watching you for a long moment. “are you upset with me?”
“no.”
“you’ve been… different.”
“i have?”
“you don’t come cuddle me anymore.”
you looked down.
“you don’t steal my hoodies.”
silence.
“you don’t interrupt me while I’m cooking.”
another silence.
“you don’t even climb into my lap anymore.”
your eyes stung. “i didn’t know you noticed.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “how could I not notice?” he laughed softly, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “i miss you.”
the words almost broke you. “you see me every day.”
“i don’t.”
you looked up.
“the girl who’s usually attached to my side?” a tiny smile appeared. “i haven’t seen her in a week.”
your throat tightened. “i thought…”
he waited.
when you didn’t continue, he stepped closer. “what happened?”
you stared at the floor. “i heard you.”
“hear me?”
“on the phone.”
his face shifted. “what phone call?”
“the one where you said…” your voice nearly disappeared. “…that i’ve gotten clingy.”
his entire body went still. “…what?”
“you said I don’t give you five minutes to yourself,” your eyes filled despite your best efforts. “i figured…” you swallowed. “…i figured i hadn’t realized i was being too much.”
désiré swore his heart had been taken from his body and beaten with a bat.
you sounded so small. he had made you feel small.
the silence that followed was deafening.
then—
“oh, God,” it came out almost like a whisper.
his eyes widened in horror. “no,” he shook his head immediately. “no, sweetheart.”
he crossed the kitchen so quickly you barely registered him moving.
“It wasn’t you.”
you blinked.
“it wasn’t?”
“no.”
the answer came so quickly it almost overlapped your question.
“i was talking to my mom.”
you frowned through your tears.
“you know my sister broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago.”
he rubbed a hand over his face.
“she’s been taking it really hard. my mom called to check on her because she’d been spending a lot of time with me.”
his expression twisted with guilt.
“she’s been calling and texting almost every day,” he gave a small sigh. “she doesn’t like being alone right now. so my mom asked how things had been.”
he swallowed. “i told her…” he looked down for a second. “‘she’s gotten so clingy lately. i can’t even get five minutes to myself sometimes.’”
his eyes immediately found yours again. “i wasn’t talking about you. i was talking about my sister.”
he shook his head, looking absolutely crushed. “you walked in halfway through the conversation.”
your shoulders slowly slumped. “it… wasn’t me?”
his face crumpled instantly. “oh, baby.”
the nickname alone made your tears spill.
“i thought…” you whispered.
“i know,” his voice cracked. “i know you did.”
he reached for your hands carefully, almost hesitantly, like he was terrified you’d pull away.
instead, you let him take them.
“they’re freezing.”
he looked down at your fingers.
“you’ve been carrying this around all week?”
you nodded once.
“i didn’t want you to feel trapped.”
his eyes immediately filled. he actually looked like someone had knocked the air out of him.
“don’t say that.”
“i just wanted to make it easier for you.”
he shook his head so fast it almost looked frantic.
“you being close has never been something i have to tolerate.”
he cupped your face. “it’s my favorite part of every day.”
you let out a shaky breath. “i kept thinking about every time i followed you around the apartment.”
“i love that.”
“i always sit next to you.”
“i know.”
“i steal your hoodies.”
“i buy extra because i know you’re going to.”
a watery laugh escaped you.
he smiled through damp eyes. “you know what this week felt like?”
you shook your head.
“it felt like i was losing you.”
your heart squeezed painfully.
“i’d reach for you…” he mimicked the motion. “…and you’d already taken a step back.”
“i thought i was respecting your space.”
“i don’t want space from you,” his forehead rested against yours. “i want you.”
the words settled somewhere deep inside the hurt you’d been carrying all week.
“i want the random hugs.”
“i want you sitting on the kitchen counter while i cook.”
“i want you following me from room to room.”
“i want you asking if i’m busy just so you can climb into my lap anyway.”
you laughed quietly. “i do that.”
“you absolutely do.” he smiled. “and i hope you never stop.”
he wrapped both arms around you, pulling you against him so tightly it almost made you laugh again. instinctively, your arms slipped around his waist.
“there she is.”
his smile widened the moment you hugged him back without hesitation.
“i missed this.”
“i missed you too.”
“you were right here.”
“i know. but i didn’t have this.”
he squeezed you once more before suddenly lifting you off the floor.
you yelped, immediately clutching his shoulders. “désiré!”
“there,” he buried his face in your neck. “now you’re being clingy again.”
you gasped.
he grinned. “my favorite thing in the world.”
you couldn’t help laughing. real laughing. the kind that made your stomach hurt.
“there she is,” he whispered again, smiling against your skin.
he carried you to the couch like you weighed nothing, sat down with you still in his lap, and refused to let go.
when you tried to wiggle free to grab the TV remote, he tightened his arms. “no.”
“i need the remote.”
“i’ll survive without television.”
“you’ll survive?”
“barely.”
you laughed again.
“i’ve decided something.”
“oh?”
“if you ever think i’ve fallen out of love with the way you love me…” he kissed your forehead. “…you ask me.”
“i don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”
“i don’t care if i’m half asleep.”
“i don’t care if i’m walking into training.”
he brushed his nose against yours. “because i never want you spending another week loving me from a distance.”
your eyes filled one last time.
“i’m sorry.”
“no,” he shook his head gently.
“no more apologizing.”
he smiled, impossibly soft.
“now come here.”
“i already am.”
“you could be closer.”
you laughed.
“i am literally sitting on you.”
“hm.”
he pretended to think about it.
“i still think we can improve.”
you rolled your eyes, smiling as you tucked your face into his neck.
“there we go,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “my clingy girl.”
this time, instead of pulling away—
you held him just a little tighter.
@ moulinrougemo
me after reading the same fic for the 38th time bcs i'm too attached to the writing and story:
(i am in absolute desperate need of fic recs of jude, trent, michael, hugo, lamine, djed, and noni 🙏)
lmk what you guys' fave fics are! 🫶 def would love to read and support them too!
Countdown.
wc: 3.7k
Warnings: age gap, smut, mature themes (18+)
A/n: If you like boring stuff, don’t read Idk what to tell you lmaoo. Hugo one shot to test the waters as promised (kinda moved by him lately). Happy new year Hugo girlies. Enjoy lol
“What does your ideal partner look like? Please tick the boxes of all that applies:”
For the umpteenth time, Cassidy feels so embarrassed that she has to close her ipad and put it aside. She can’t believe she’s doing this and on New Year’s eve at that. It feels so desperate, so shameful. Yet, after a fifth failed date in the span of two weeks, she feels it’s more than justified. Who knew that dating at 29 would be this hard? Her mother’s voice attempts to prick at the fringes of her mind in mockery of her predicament. The woman would warn her that she’d regret not prioritizing her love life in her older teen years into her younger twenties. But Cassidy will never regret being career focused. At only 29 years old, Cassidy has more degrees than she knows what to do with and is also a part of a successful team of pharmaceutical chemists. Her bank account is not only hefty, but her work is actively impacting the lives of many positively and that’s something she always hoped to do. But everyone gets lonely, and nobody prepared her for just how much her body starts demanding more the older she gets. In simple terms: Cassidy needs to get laid. With that thought, she swallows her pride and reaches for the ipad again.
She ticks off boxes: funny, charming, preferably tall. It takes five minutes to complete the questionnaire. At the end of it, she receives an email that they have a match for her. They promise safety and discretion yet still advise that she doesn’t make her home their rendezvous. Of course, Cassidy is smarter than that, which is why she is already stationed at the JW Marriott Hotel. She had planned to spend the evening alone, get dinner downstairs then perhaps watch the fireworks outside. Instead, her finger lingers over the button to confirm payment. ‘Are you really about to rent some ‘company’ for a few hours?’ The mocking voice in her head makes her shiver but she proceeds anyway. That’s it. She gets the confirmation message that her guy will be there within the hour. Suddenly, her stomach hurts. Cassidy shuffles out of bed to check over her appearance once more; she’s freshly showered and her skin is thoroughly moisturized. She’s radiant, though her almond shaped brown eyes look a little tired. Her lips are plump and glistening while her curves are barely concealed in a nude negligee. Her bundles fall just a little past her shoulders in loose curls. She looks good— there’s no need to be nervous, but she is. Cassidy paces the entire twenty five minutes until the knock finally comes. Rhythmic, airy taps on the door that for some strange reason, makes it less intimidating. She takes several deep breaths before swinging the door open. Cassidy can’t conceal her shocked expression when she sees him. Sure he’s tall, she’d guess he’s about 6”2, but he’s so lanky it’s almost comical. His hair is in neat stitch cornrows, his skin the colour of coffee with too much milk. His outfit consists of wide linen pants, an oversized sweater with artsy graphics and a bag slung across his chest. His fingers and hands are decorated neatly with metal jewelry. He’s handsome, sure, but definitely not what she was expecting. He grins at her to reveal teeth that are a bit tiny but she finds it so endearing.
“Room 24. You’re Cassidy, yes?”
“And you look like a kid. You’re not from the er… agency, are you?”
“Oui.” He pauses to do a slow perusal of her from head to toe; “You look lovely.”
“Uh… thanks but listen, you’re… how old are you even?”
“Old enough.” He steps into the room without an invitation. His scent hits her: not in an overwhelming way, but inviting. It’s citrusy, floral with an earthy undertone.
“Don’t you… shouldn’t you be spending the night with your erm… age appropriate friends?”
He gives a lazy shrug; “I would have… if you didn’t-”
“Alright!” She hurries to interrupt before the guilt becomes all consuming.
“You know what? This is what I get for doing this shit. Please tell me you’re over 21 at least.” She cocks her hips, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
“Yes. Why are you complaining? You ticked the boxes, you get the best match.” He holds his arms out as if presenting himself.
“Yes, but you… I was expecting someone older and a lot more… sophisticated.” From the videos she had seen about these kinds of arrangements, they’re usually sharply dressed men who carry themselves with a lot more… maturity.
Cassidy sighs; “But fuck it. You’re already here. Let’s just do this.”
The man scoffs; “Do this? At least take me to dinner first. Get dressed.”
Cassidy blinks up at him rapidly in surprise. “What?”
“Get dressed, Cassidy.”
And she isn’t exactly sure why she obeys, but she finds herself pulling on the pair of jeans she packed to wear home tomorrow. She tops it off with a button down, her coat and a pair of boots.
“Nice, let’s go.”
The man leads her out of the hotel and onto the crowded streets of Chicago like he paved the sidewalk himself. Laughter rings out from people in groups, some decked out in 2026 headbands, some with light sticks. The energy of excitement is contagious and Cassidy finds herself relaxing minute by minute. Midway into their journey, he reaches behind to loosely grasp her right hand to gently tug her along. He takes her to a spot that’s hidden unless you’re looking for it. It’s between two brick buildings and almost the same size as her hotel room.
“They have the best hot dogs here.” He announces to her just before they get swallowed into the noise of the small pub. It smells strongly of alcohol and caramelized onions.
“You made me dress up in heels to get hot dogs at a pub?” She says with a deadpan expression.
“They say life is an audition, no?”
“Hugo!” A man over the counter greets him with enthusiasm. So that’s his name, Hugo. He makes two orders in what she assumes is French. He goes around back and returns a few minutes later with hot dogs loaded with onions, peppers, cheese and an orange looking sauce along with two bottles of beer— chilled and sweating held expertly in one hand.
“When you told me to take you to dinner, I was expecting to pay.” Cassidy comments watching him settle the bill.
“Hey, not because I’m prostitute doesn’t mean I’m not a gentleman.”
He winks at her as she sputters around her first bite of food. He’s right, it’s the best hot dog she has ever had.
“Don’t just say that!”
“It’s true?” He lifts a brow, clearly confused by her reaction.
“I… how did you end up doing this?”
“International student looking for quick money.” Again, his response is so matter of fact that it makes her nonplussed.
“So you aren’t ashamed?”
He snorts; “Ashamed that I get paid to fuck beautiful women like you?”
A gust of cool wind cuts through the swarm of bodies and tickles her skin as they walk side by side on the busy sidewalk.
“Question is, why is a woman like you looking for men like me in the first place? Especially on night like this.”
“I work… a lot.”
He continues staring, clearly waiting for her to add more detail.
“I spent most of my life being an academic weapon and career driven. I work as a pharmaceutical chemist; it’s demanding, but rewarding and some men, especially my age or older, view that as a threat and— look, bottom line is, my friends are away on trips with their partners, dating is hard, I didn’t want to be alone tonight and I need to… it’s been a while since… you know.”
“You intend for me to fuck you and you can’t even say it?” His eyes twinkle in amusement.
She slaps his shoulder playfully, rolling her eyes in faux annoyance. “Shut up, little boy.”
“Oh there’s nothing little about me, or it.”
Her breath hitches; “Yea? Is it…”
“Long? Longer than an anime intro.” He wiggles his eyebrows in her direction.
Cassidy can’t help but chortle from the pit of her belly. She laughs until she has to lean on him for support. He takes it all in stride, grinning all the while.
“You’re such a clown. Who even thinks of that?”
“I’m great company, Miss Cassidy. But when we get back to hotel, I’m going to make you apologize for calling me a boy.” Hugo shoots her a wink while popping a hard candy in his mouth. It’s said cheekily but Cassidy swallows thickly. Because beneath all the amusement, there’s a wicked glint that’s present in his eyes.
Hugo creates the perfect balance between humour and flirting the entire walk back to the hotel. Cassidy didn’t even realize where they were headed until they got there.
“You don’t want to watch the fireworks outside?”
He stares at her like he can already see beneath her layer of clothing; “Non. Your room has a perfect view of city. We can watch from there.”
Her breath hitches but she nods.
As soon as they re-enter the lobby, something shifts; he breathes down her back while she unlocks her room door and steps inside without waiting to be told to enter. The locks click into place behind him and suddenly, Cassidy feels nervous again. She busies herself with removing her shoes then moving to the bathroom to freshen up and pace in between. When she returns to the room, Hugo is lounging on the bed while scrolling through his phone. He speaks without looking up;
“Take your clothes off for me.”
Oh.
A harsh breath. Then with trembling fingers, she starts unbuttoning her top. The rustle of fabric gets his attention; Hugo keeps his eyes glued on her as she strips. Top on the floor. Black bra next. The jeans take a while longer, she shimmies them down her thicker frame. They’re left in a messy heap.
“Non.”
Her fingers that are hooked in the waistband of her thong freeze. Hugo crooks his index. Cassidy strides over to him as if in a daze.
“11:12” He mutters more to himself than to her. A second of contemplative silence, then he nods. The temperature of the room rises the second he stands, he towers over her in a way that makes something in her belly flutter.
“Bed, Cassidy.”
Her heart palpitates. She doesn’t take her eyes off him as she sits, then shuffles further up the bed. Cassidy lies on her back, letting her legs fall apart. Hugo removes his clothes like he has all the time in the world. He stops when he’s only in his boxers and even though he isn’t fully hard, Cassidy can already tell he wasn’t bluffing earlier by the bulge in front.
Hugo kneels between her spread legs. His fingers skim between her thighs causing them to quiver in response. He teases her until her breathing grows in volume. Eventually, his touch grows firm until he’s pressing into her flesh. Cassidy finds herself becoming aroused and relaxed simultaneously. His hands move further down the length of her legs until she can feel the heat from his skin against where she’s damp. On instinct, she opens up wider. Heat crawls up her skin, slow and torturous, just like his touch.
“That’s it, relax.” The baritone of his voice shakes her to her very core. But her body melts against the sheets like butter. Cassidy tries not to squirm while he massages her; knots she didn’t even know she had come loose under his palms. A soft moan escapes without her permission. Every single muscle in her belly clenches in anticipation when he finally hooks his fingers into the waistband of her underwear. He peels it off her body, groaning as her essence clings to it until it gets to the middle of her thighs. Her thong is thrown over his shoulder without care, his gaze locks between her legs like he’s entranced. He lowers his body like her pussy calls to him in a frequency only he can hear. Suddenly, he pauses. His mouth is only an inch away from where she burns hottest. Cassidy whines in protest. His brows furrow in frustration.
“How um… unconvenient would a possible yeast infection be for you right now?” His accent is layered thicker, it would be hilarious if she wasn’t aching below.
Cassidy blinks at him in pitiful confusion; “Inconvenient?”
Hugo rolls his eyes before crawling up the length of her body until they’re face to face; “I didn’t know I was in bed with my English professor, apologies.”
A finger taps against her lips gently; “Open.”
Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips reflexively before her mouth parts in a delicate, little ‘o.’ Hugo dips down to peck each individually before feeding the sour, green candy in her mouth. He flicks his tongue out to show her the muscle that’s dyed a dark green from the sweet. Her brain finally catches up and she can’t help but giggle. She’s endeared by his consideration.
“Take care of that for me.” He’s up in a flash, racing in the direction of the bathroom. Cassidy rolls the candy around her tongue; it smells and tastes of artificial green apples. She can already feel her brain connecting the flavour to a lanky, french boy who makes anime jokes yet is so experienced with women’s bodies to know what can possibly throw off her ph balance. Something warm passes through her chest that she immediately shuts down. No. Hugo re-emerges before her thoughts start consuming her. His movements are hurried in a way that they haven’t been all night; the prominent bulge in his black boxers explains it. He settles between her legs that she left open for him, face so close to her heat that she clenches around nothing at the feel of his minty breath. He moves forward to press his soft, pillowy lips against her clit. Cassidy jerks, shifting the candy over against her cheek so she doesn’t choke on it. He does it again. And again. And again. Her belly spasms, her thighs quiver, she whimpers. Both hands move to hold her legs apart, then his tongue flicks out to lick a slow, broad stripe from bottom to top. He stays on her nub, hardened and throbbing to tease at with his tongue.
Cassidy moans without restraint, pushing her hips further into his face. He groans in delight. His grip tightens before he closes his lips around the bundle of nerves. Her hand shoots down to grip at his cornrows. He slurps noisily, flicking his tongue insistently.
Sweat trickles between the valley of her breasts; she can already feel the telltale signs of her body wanting to explode.
“Hah! Hugo, don’t stop.” It’s a pathetic sob from her mouth. He hums against her but obeys. Cassidy feels like clawing at her skin as the heat rises, as the pressure builds. The muscles in her neck strain when she twists her head at an unnatural angle when the pleasure becomes too much for her handle. Her toes curl to the point of pain. He keeps going. She keeps climbing. Higher. Higher. Hi-
She spasms, the dam breaks. And suddenly, she’s falling into an abyss of ecstasy. It’s all consuming, and Cassidy can only scream as her hips almost gyrate against his face. Hugo moves down to lap at every drop that comes spilling out of her pussy, keeping his nose pressed nice and firmly against her throbbing nub. Tears press to the corner of her eyes while she rides her high. Hugo pulls away, licking his way up the length of her body until he’s hovering directly over her face. Her moans come in sparser intervals, she blinks her eyes open slowly.
“Not bad for little boy, hm?”
Cassidy can’t even chastise him. She accepts his kiss that tastes heady. He kisses like he wants to consume. She keens into it, quivering as he licks into every crevice of her mouth. They roll the candy back and forth between them.
“Just like this, please?” Because she likes the intimacy of their position. She can lie to herself all she wants, but she craved this more than she would ever admit.
He hums. Hugo rises to his knees to pull his boxers down his legs. Cassidy’s gasp is audible. He’s so slim, she would’ve never expected it to look like that. He wasn’t lying about the length at all, but the girth surprises her most. It almost looks unnatural against his frame.
“Told you.” He says in a matter of fact tone. Cassidy can’t keep her eyes off him as he reaches down to remove his boxers the rest of the way. He leans over the bed, rooting around in his pants on the floor before he comes into view with a familiar square packet. The package is ripped between his teeth, condom rolled on like it’s something he does in his sleep. She welcomes his weight when he settles between her legs again. Her breath hitches as he teases against her with his blunt, latex covered tip. It catches at her entrance on every downward rub. The sound of him moving against her is obscene. Hugo finally presses forward. Her pussy stretches around him.
“Oh fuck, it’s-”
He hisses, sinking deeper. Every time Cassidy thinks it’s over he finds another inch to give.
“Hugo.” She whines in distress.
He coos at her but doesn’t let up. Not until her body literally forces him to. Cassidy shakes at the dull ache of him touching what has never been inside her. Hugo captures her lips in a kiss, the almost melted sweet slips into her mouth with his tongue. He distracts with his mouth as he pulls his hips back to sink forward. Her mouth slackens, eyes squeezed shut.
“Little boy, Cassidy?”
She shakes her head a little too quickly; “Nuh- uh. N-not, ahhh.” She tries to wedge a hand between them to push against his lower abdomen; he grasps it in his own, interlocking their fingers and moving it above her head.
“You can take it, hm? Grown woman, yes?”
Cassidy sobs. He’s already too deep, the added mockery is overwhelming. She fucking loves it. His rhythm never falters. He licks into her mouth in between every, soul shattering thrust of his hips that are so fluid.
“Hugo, you’re so fucking big, Jes-”
“Non. Hugo. Just Hugo. Apologize.” His breathing is labored but he keeps his voice steady with his command.
Cassidy mewls. “‘M sorry! Not little, I didn’t mean it I swear.”
“Hm, good girl. Isn’t that right?”
Clenching around him feels impossible because of how stretched she is. His words manage to make her squeeze around him anyway.
“Yes! I am! I swear on everything I’m your good girl.” She’s babbling, but she’s being fucked stupid.
The first round of fireworks start going off outside just as he grips the back of her legs to fold her into a mating press. Cassidy’s breaths get stuck in her throat, her eyes bulge. Because this position somehow makes him slip another inch deeper. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. Hugo folds his body over hers, keeping her locked in place. She has no choice but to take him almost drilling into her body like he’s holding a grudge.
“Call me your daddy, baby.”
Lucid Cassidy would laugh and roll her eyes at him. Cassidy with at least nine inches of dick inside her though?
“It’s so good, daddy.” No hesitation; not a hint of embarrassment. Not when she feels like this.
The countdown sounds from the crowd somewhere below.
Ten
Cassidy’s toes curl.
Nine
She grips at his slick shoulders.
“Hugo… ‘m gonna come. I’m gonna-” she cuts herself off with a gut wrenching sob.
Six
His moan shakes his chest; “Gonna come for me?”
“Yes!”
Three.
Her body pulls taut.
Two
Her mouth pops open in a silent scream. She clenches then spasms wildly around him.
One!
Her vision goes white. All the noise in the background turns to distant ringing in her ear. She feels him press a hand to her lower belly, fucking into her harder. Cassidy wants to scream but she feels like she’s floating. Hugo works her through it, chasing his own high. His groan cuts through the high pitched whistling in her ear. She comes until she feels like he actually depleted some of her spiritual energy. The pleasure is almost agonizing. She hears herself crying first. Then slowly her vision re-focuses. Hugo peppers kisses along her face while his hips continue to move lazily. Her heartbeat gradually drops from the frenzied rhythm it had. Hugo presses a kiss to her nose, then pulls back to stare into her sated brown eyes.
“Bonne année.” He whispers softly.
Cassidy smiles weakly; “happy new year, Hugo.”
He raises his free hand and taps two fingers against her forehead; “bing, bing-”
She swats at him with the little strength she can muster. “What are you doing?”
“Americans say I knock the Mario coins out of you, yes?”
Despite herself, Cassidy cackles like a maniac. She can’t believe this man made her call him daddy. Hugo grins at her amusement. He waits till her laughter mellows into giggles before speaking;
“What you doing tomorrow?”
Biting at her lip, Cassidy responds; “Work.”
“And the day after?”
“Work.”
“And the day after.”
Cassidy laughs again with a playful eye roll. “I’m free on Tuesday, Hugo.”
He reaches for his phone by their feet on the bed. He unlocks it and presents the keypad to her in a silent command. Cassidy knows she shouldn’t; he’s young and seeing him again will complicate things. But he’s fun; he’s so fun and he might’ve just stolen a little bit of her sanity with how he handled her. And that would explain why she takes his phone and saves her contact as “Daddy’s baby.”
hii can you pls write hugo ekitike and blackfem!reader having their first kiss or make out as “best friends”?
Longing
Hugo Ekitike x black reader
Summary: You and Hugo grew up together, you were always secretly in love with him but he only saw you as his best friend. You decide to go on a date and he gets jealous and kisses you.
Light angst/fluff.
🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷
Can u do gf reader and bf hugo ekitike where hugo is trying to get his gf's attention but she is to busy talking to her friends
TALK 2 ME !
– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n & pet names, short, not proofread.
"And so, you know, what else was I supposed to do?"
Although Hugo has been explaining the silly argument that he had with Frimpong yesterday, your sole attention was on your own friends, and that wasn’t exactly welcoming. He laid down on the bed beside you, his head on the palm of his hand while his elbow held him up, whereas you were kicking your feet around and talking to others.
After a few moments of pure silence in response, Hugo stared at you and then frowned at how rude you were, mindlessly ignoring him as if your friends were more important.
Well, they kind of were in some sense – he had arrived from training roughly an hour and a half ago, so he had all of the time in the world (an hour and a half) to talk your ear off and be a drama king, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a long shower and forced you to dry his hair, in response then also drying your hair when you had gone showering.
Nonetheless, this didn’t mean that you could just ignore him now, even if he can see a point in it. Hugo was your damn boyfriend, for god’s sake!
"You’re mean…" He muttered softly while slightly moving to lay down beside you, hearing bits and pieces of your conversation, which was mostly about some new movie that apparently had already come out somewhere in July. You talked about how films often debut in summer, when nobody even wanted to go to the cinema and much rather swim at the beach.
'Good point,' Hugo thought as he tried to somewhat get your attention to be on him, raising his back to sit up and them cage you in his arms.
"Hm? What're you doing, baby?" Not getting any reply back, except for a low muttered 'you talk too much', you rolled your eyes and still smiled softly, before returning to your friends. However, the people on the other side of your phone had heard you and began asking some silly questions.
They were harmless, just some queries about how he's treating you and if he’s winning all of his games, but you obviously wouldn’t answer them. After all, if Hugo were to hear how you would admit that he’s the best boyfriend ever, then he might as well get an ego bigger than the Earth.
"Oh, you know. The typical…" You teasingly muttered to your friends as they giggled, with one of them even saying how he must spoil you like a princess, and it was true. Just yesterday, you had randomly gotten a bouquet of flowers and a new necklace, because apparently Hugo felt bad for 'making you wait so long when he only wanted to buy flowers', or whatever his excuse was.
Nevertheless, you could feel how his curiosity got peaked when you didn’t speak as loud as you did before, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your shoulder before he raised his head to stare at you. At this point, you were laying beneath him with Hugo on top of you, practically trapping you inside of his arms.
"Why are you so quiet now?" He asked in a slightly hoarse tone of voice, signaling you that it was getting late. He liked taking a nap after training and the fact that he hadn’t already, when all he wanted was your attention, told you enough about his behavior. "Did I do something?"
"No, just girly stuff you wouldn’t understand." A huff was audible as you tried to maintain your laughter, your shoulders slightly shaking before you heard one of your friends start talking about how she tried out some new recipes. As you shared your experiences with baking and eventually dropped the topic, you bid goodbyes and hung up.
Silence settled into the room as you placed your phone on the nightstand beside your bed, finally getting comfortable on the mattress when Hugo decided to now lay beside you. However, instead of talking your ear off, he let his back face you, which confused you more than it should. "What’s wrong?"
"You ignored me, so now it’s my turn."
Oh, this bastard.
You could hear the smirk in his voice as you groaned and struggled to stubbornly shake his shoulder in order to convince him to face you. A fake smile grew on your face as you tried to act all innocent, as if you were a saint. "Come on, darling. Y'know I was busy."
No response. Hugo was really adamant to make you apologize, it seemed, yet you knew better. There was no way that you would say sorry to something as absurd as this, even if he would persuade you and ignore you for the rest of the night.
Or so you thought. The tables turned and when you ignored him back again, laying on the opposite side to face the wall, Hugo grew both impatient and bored. He pondered for how much longer this could go on, until he heard snores.
They were light at first, and he genuinely thought that he was imagining them, yet one look at you proved him wrong. You were asleep, unconscious, without needing his hugs or a 'goodnight' or anything.
"You gotta be joking…" Hugo muttered while moving to come near, his arms now once again around your waist as he pressed your back against his chest, your body warmth immediately comforting him. He didn’t even need a long moment before falling asleep behind you, as if he was a baby.
And even if you would scold him for drooling on your neck in the morning, Hugo didn’t care at all – as long as you were safe and sound in his arms, you could lecture him as often as you would like.
– A/N : first request in a long time!! Hugo looks so silly in the second picture lolollol
Chapter 5
The Footballer and The Popstar
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Two months was a strange amount of time, long enough for the world to move on, long enough for headlines to be replaced by newer scandals newer romances and newer stories for people to obsess over. Every now and then another photograph from the Lumière Gala would resurface online accompanied by a fresh wave of comments insisting the footballer and the popstar were ‘obviously dating in secret’ but neither Hugo nor Y/N paid the rumours much attention anymore. They had both learnt that the internet loved creating stories almost as much as it loved believing them.
Ironically if it hadn’t been for those ridiculous headlines they probably wouldn’t have spoken again, so maybe that’s one benefit of this situation. What had started as a sarcastic message through the gala organisers had quietly turned into something neither of them had expected: a friendship. It wasn’t built through grand gestures or endless conversations that lasted until sunrise. Instead it grew in the ordinary moments that nobody else ever saw.
Sometimes they’d ask each other how was rehearsal or training or even give a ‘good luck’ text before a match or a concert. Sometimes they wouldn’t speak for several days with their schedules pulling them to opposite sides of Europe only for one of them to send a message as though no time had passed at all.
Texting each other was simple and easy. There was no pressure to impress one another because neither of them needed anything from the other. Hugo wasn’t interested in exclusive stories about the music industry and Y/N had never asked him about transfer rumours or dressing room gossip. Away from interviews and cameras they were simply two people trying to keep up with lives that rarely slowed down.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
One rainy afternoon Hugo sent her a photograph through Instagram of the training pitch dark clouds hung low over Liverpool.
Hugo: I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like.
Y/N smiled to herself before replying with a picture from a rehearsal break in Barcelona. The sky behind the stage was a cloudless blue, and the afternoon sun bathed everything in warm light.
Y/N: I’d apologise but I don’t think I’d mean it
Hugo: You’re a terrible person😖
Y/N: thanks! I’ve been told 😁
A week later it was her turn to message first.
Y/N: Good luck tomorrow and try not to let your teammates bully you too much
A few hours passed before her phone buzzed.
Hugo: Too late they still think we’re secretly engaged, Flo said he’s going to plan the whole wedding
She laughed out loud earning a curious look from Maya across the rehearsal studio.
Y/N: Mine have upgraded us to married
Hugo: We’ve skipped a few important steps like the engagement party
Y/N: Apparently the internet handled those for us
The conversations were rarely long but they were always enough to make the other smile. They stopped feeling like strangers and celebrated each other’s successes from a distance offering quiet congratulations after sold-out shows or important victories and encouragement after difficult interviews or disappointing performances. Neither of them realised when those little moments became something they looked forward to. It happened so gradually that there wasn’t a single day either of them could point to and say, That’s when we became friends.
One Wednesday morning as Y/N was leaving a vocal rehearsal her phone vibrated again.
Hugo: Can I ask you something
She smiled before unlocking her phone.
Y/N: don’t tell me it’s my hand in marriage
He laughed to himself quietly. He wished-
The typing bubble appeared then disappeared and reappeared again.
Hugo: You still don’t think football’s that complicated do you?
She frowned at the screen.
Y/N: I never said that??
Hugo: You implied it
Y/N: uhh I absolutely didn’t
Hugo: I’m choosing to remember the conversation differently
Rolling her eyes she typed back.
Y/N: Alright then prove me wrong
His reply came almost immediately.
Hugo: Come to training tomorrow
She started at the message for a moment.
Training? He wanted her to watch him train? This was not a charity event or a red carpet or anywhere designed for cameras, it was just the Liverpool training ground. She read the message again before smiling.
Y/N: You’re inviting me to watch you kick a football around for 2 hours?
A reply appeared within seconds.
Hugo: That’s exactly why you should come, to see how good I can kick a ball for hours
She couldn’t help laughing. To be honest maybe she had underestimated football and maybe he was about to prove her wrong tomorrow.
Y/N: Alright then, convince me Ekitike
Hugo: game on
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The following morning arrived with a sky so relentlessly grey that Y/N understood Hugo’s complaints about Liverpool weather almost immediately. It was England after all, most importantly it was Liverpool. Rain clung stubbornly to the windows of the car as it wound its way through the gates of the AXA Training Centre. She stepped out of the car pulling her coat a little tighter around herself and wearing sunglasses as an accessory for a disguise and a member of staff greeted her warmly before leading her through reception.
Players drifted through the corridors carrying protein shakes and members of staff exchanged quick conversations as they hurried between offices. The place was busy itself seeing all these people drift in and out of rooms, almost as if the atmosphere reminded herself of something… her own studio.
“You’re early.”
She turned to find Hugo walking towards her in the club’s training kit his hair still slightly damp from the morning rain, he smiled as he reached her.
“I was told footballers hated being late.” She said.
“We do.”
“So I didn’t want to be responsible for Liverpool losing because I delayed your striker.”
He laughed. “I appreciate that.”
Before they could say anything else,Jeremie Frimpong slowing his pace just enough to look between the pair. “So…” he said with an amused grin, “the internet was right?”
Hugo sighed dramatically. “Please don’t start.”
“I’m just asking.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
The player laughed before looking at Y/N. “It’s nice to finally meet the mystery woman, the famous Y/N L/N, big fan of you myself I should say.”
“Thank you.” She said “But to your disappointment there isn’t much mystery,” she replied smiling politely.
“No?” he teased.
“We mostly argue about the weather.”
He looked back at Hugo. “Aww man I was expecting a better story than that.”
“So was the internet.” Hugo muttered.
Jeremie laughed before disappearing down the corridor leaving Hugo shaking his head.
“I promise they’re not all this annoying.”
“They remind me of my band.”
“You’ve got people like that too?”
“They’re worse.”
That made him smile. “I suddenly don’t feel so bad.”
He led her further inside showing her around the training complex as naturally as if she’d visited dozens of times before he took her to the gym and to the recovery room and to the canteen where she met the nutritionist.
Y/N listened carefully surprised by how much existed beyond the football itself. “I thought training started when everyone went outside.” she admitted.
Hugo smiled. “It starts long before that.”
He wasn’t exaggerating, before anyone even touched a football the squad gathered in a meeting room where clips from previous matches played across a huge screen. Coaches paused the footage every few seconds discussing positioning movement and decision making in remarkable detail. A single misplaced run was analysed from three different camera angles and passing patterns were frozen on the screen before being replayed again.
Y/N found herself leaning forward in her seat paying attentively to how the players worked together. When the meeting finally ended they moved outside onto the immaculate training pitches. Y/N expected the session to begin immediately but instead another coach gathered the players together explaining the structure of the morning before anyone even touched the ball.
Only then did training begin and the intensity caught her completely off guard because everything happened at extraordinary speed.
Players weren’t simply passing the ball, they were scanning over their shoulders before receiving it, communicating constantly moving into spaces before anyone else seemed to notice they existed. Coaches interrupted drills every few moments to correct their body positions by inches or demanding quicker decisions. If one player switched off for even a second the entire exercise stopped.
It reminded her of rehearsals. How she would spend hours perfecting movements that audiences would never consciously notice over and over again until perfection became instinct. She watched Hugo closely. The version of him she knew through text messages, the one who complained about airport coffee and laughed at ridiculous headlines, disappeared the moment training started.
The way he was completely focused on his movements in training, he wasn’t just performing, he was working, and all of a sudden Y/N understood something she’d never considered before: the ninety minutes supporters watched every weekend were only the smallest part of the job, the real work happened here, in the rain away from cameras. It wasn’t so different from spending weeks rehearsing a concert that audiences would only ever see for two hours.
Standing on the touchline she realised she’d been wrong, she realises football wasn’t simply a game but it was preparation, it’s all about the routine and discipline of how to stay consistent. She wasn’t looking at Hugo as one of the world’s most recognisable footballers, she was looking at someone whose life suddenly felt remarkably familiar, like herself.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Training finally came to an end almost three hours after Y/N had arrived, the immaculate pitches had begun to empty and replaced by grounds staff carefully collecting equipment while players disappeared inside for recovery sessions. Some players headed towards the gym, others made their way to the physio rooms and a few lingered outside laughing as they replayed moments from training.
Y/N had assumed the morning would end with everyone simply heading home but Hugo was ushered straight into another meeting with one of the analysts where clips from the session had already been loaded onto a screen.
She blinked. “They’re analysing training already?”
The analyst smiled. “We analyse everything.”
Hugo shrugged as though it were the most normal thing in the world. “If we don’t learn today we can’t be better tomorrow.”
Twenty minutes later, after the meeting had finally finished they walked outside together. The rain had stopped leaving the training ground unusually quiet. They wandered slowly along the edge of one of the empty pitches, Y/N glanced back towards the buildings they’d just left before breaking the silence.
“I owe you an apology.” She spoke.
Hugo looked sideways at her. “For what?”
“I thought football was…” She searched for the right word before laughing at herself. “…simpler.”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I mean it.”
She stopped walking for a moment looking across the rows of perfectly cut pitches.“I genuinely thought training was just running a few drills kicking a ball around and then going home.”
“I wish.”
She laughed. “I had no idea how much happened before you even stepped onto the grass.”
Hugo folded his arms against the cool breeze. “Most people don’t.”
“They only see ninety minutes.”
“Exactly.”
She nodded slowly. “It’s funny.”
“What is?”
“I spent years getting annoyed when people said being a popstar was easy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “‘You just sing for two hours?’”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
“And now you’ve just said the football version.”
She groaned covering her face with one hand. “I know.”
He laughed. “You’ve become one of them.”
“I have haven’t I?”
“You’ve redeemed yourself.”
They continued walking, their footsteps unhurried. Y/N spoke again her voice quieter this time. “You know what surprised me most?”
“What?”
“How similar everything felt.”
Hugo frowned slightly. “Our jobs?”
She nodded. “You train most days for one match.”
“You rehearse every day for one concert.”
“You’ve got tactical meetings, I’ve got production meetings, you’ve got coaches correcting every tiny mistake, ive got vocal coaches doing exactly the same thing.”
He smiled. “You’ve got producers.”
“You’ve got analysts.” You said back.
“You’ve got millions of people judging every performance.”
She looked at him. “So do you.”
Y/N smiled to herself. “I used to think we lived in completely different worlds.”
“And now?”
She looked back towards the training pitches where staff were still collecting cones beneath the afternoon sky. “I think they’re the same world.”
Hugo slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket following her gaze across the empty grass.“The stadium and the stage,” he said thoughtfully. “They’re just different audiences.”
“Exactly.” She turned to him.“I’ve spent my whole career trying to explain to people that they only ever see the finished performance.”
“So have I.”
Their eyes met for a brief moment, not in a romantic way… not yet. Simply with the quiet understanding that came from finally meeting someone who knew exactly what it felt like to carry expectations that millions of people would never truly understand.
As they reached the entrance to the training centre Y/N smiled. “I suppose this means I owe football an apology.”
Hugo laughed. “I’ll let the sport know.”
“And your teammates.” “Ohhh yeah definitely my teammates.”
She rolled her eyes. “I knew there was a catch.”
He opened the door for her. “There usually is.”
“You should come see me rehearse one day, then you’ll know the life of a popstar.”
“I’ll be waiting for the invite.”
As they stepped back inside neither of them realised how important the morning had been and neither of them spoke about it again but somewhere between the tactical meetings, the rain soaked training pitches and the quiet walk afterwards they had stopped being a footballer and a popstar learning about each other’s careers.
They had simply become two people who understood one another a little better than they had the day before.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Tag -> @4ngelest
Turn around
KISS AND MAKE UP !
You only meant to spend the morning doing absolutely nothing. Your boyfriend, however, has other plans—and apparently no shame whatsoever when it comes to making out with his girlfriend on his parents' sofa.
WARNINGS ◦ sfw content ◦ slow morning makeout with jude there i said it ◦ established relationship bc i'm a lonely bih ◦ detailed descriptions of making out ><
2,892 ━━━━━ drabble jude bellingham x reader
۶ৎ 𝓩 , this is my official ballblr debut... please be kind 😔 i've been spending way too much time on wc twitter lately and those people know how to appreciate fine men, so if this exists... blame them 😝😝
━━━━━ read on ao3
Chapter 4
The Footballer and The Popstar
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The internet had never needed much convincing.
By the time Y/N woke the following morning, the photographs from the charity gala had travelled further than she ever imagined they could. Every entertainment website seemed to have published the same three images of the two of them standing on the balcony laughing together beneath the fairy lights completely unaware that a photographer had been watching from inside the ballroom. Somewhere between those few stolen moments and sunrise strangers had managed to turn a twenty minute conversation into an entire love story.
Her phone had almost run out of battery overnight. Notifications covered the lock screen before she had even unlocked it. Maya had called twice, Adrian had left several messages asking her not to speak to the press before the label released a statement and Nina had simply sent a screenshot of one particularly dramatic headline followed by six laughing emojis.
Curiosity got the better of her and she opened the first article she saw.
THE FOOTBALLER & THE POPSTAR? INSIDE THE GALA’S MOST TALKED ABOUT MOMENT FEATURING HUGO EKITIKE AND Y/N L/N
The accompanying photographs looked strangely intimate despite how ordinary the conversation had actually been. One captured Hugo smiling while she laughed at something he’d said. Another showed them standing shoulder to shoulder looking out over the hotel gardens. A third had somehow frozen the exact moment she’d looked up at him making it appear far more meaningful than it had felt at the time.
Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh rubbing a hand across her forehead. “Wow they’ve actually lost their minds.”
The article only became more ridiculous the further she scrolled. Anonymous sources claimed the pair had spent ‘most of the evening together,’ despite the fact they’d only met towards the end of the gala. A so called body language expert confidently declared there had been “obvious romantic chemistry” between them while another website had gone as far as suggesting Liverpool’s newest signing had ‘fallen for music’s biggest star.’
She dropped her phone onto the duvet with a groan before picking it up again almost immediately. Against her better judgement she opened social media which turned out to be an even worse mistake.
Clips from the gala had already been edited together with romantic music playing underneath. Fan accounts were posting side by side photographs as though they had uncovered the next celebrity power couple while thousands of comments confidently discussed a relationship that quite simply didn’t exist. Some people were already arguing over what their couple name should be like Hu/N or L/tike. Others were convinced the balcony had been a secret rendezvous rather than the quietest place to escape a crowded room.
The bedroom door opened without warning and Maya stepped inside balancing two takeaway coffees. One look at Y/N’s expression told her everything she needed to know. “You’ve seen it.”
Y/N held her phone out wordlessly. “They think we’re dating.”
Maya took the phone quickly scanning the headline before unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile. “I mean…”
“Maya.” She said sternly.
“I’m just saying…”
“Maya.” She repeated again.
“The photographs are quite cute.”
Y/N stared at her in disbelief. “We spoke about desserts being finished.”
“I know.”
“He told me the chocolate tart had run out.”
“I know.”
“And somehow that’s become an international romance.”
Maya couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. “I’ll admit,” she said between laughs, “I wasn’t expecting people to start planning your wedding before breakfast.”
Y/N buried her face in a pillow with an exaggerated groan. “I don’t even have his number.”
That only made Maya laugh harder, but since the first demo had appeared online Y/N found herself laughing too. It was brief and slightly reluctant but it was real. The rumours were absurd completely detached from reality and if she ignored the inevitable interviews that awaited her later that morning there was something strangely funny about watching the world become so invested in a story that hadn’t even begun.
She had no idea that across the city Hugo was waking up to exactly the same headlines.
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The teasing hadn’t stopped by the time training finished.
Every time Hugo thought the jokes had finally died down someone found a new headline to read aloud or another edited photograph to show him. Dominik claimed the internet had already decided what their future children would look like whilst Florian insisted he should start listening to her music ‘for research purposes.’ Hugo took it all in good humour, laughing along as he changed out of his training kit but by the time he reached the players’ car park he was more amused than embarrassed by the entire situation.
It was ridiculous. Like it was literally the two of them having a twenty minute conversation on the balcony about dessert being eaten. And all it took was one photographer to blow up the media.
As he drove home his phone buzzed through the car’s Bluetooth system. It wasn’t a text from one of his teammates this time nor was it another notification from a football news account, instead the screen displayed an email that had been forwarded to him by Liverpool’s media team. The Starlight Foundation had passed on a message from one of their guests after discovering the two of them had become the centre of the internet’s latest obsession.
Hugo smiled to himself before opening it.
Hi Hugo apparently we’ve accidentally started dating thought you deserved to know! -Y/N
He laughed out loud because It was so unexpected that he had to read it twice, a few seconds later another line appeared beneath it.
P.S. If you receive any questions about wedding venues I sincerely apologise.
As soon as he arrived home Hugo typed a reply.
I’ve only just survived today’s training my teammates have already planned the wedding
His finger hovered over the send button for a moment before he pressed it because he wasn’t entirely sure whether she’d reply.Less than a minute later his phone vibrated again.
That makes two of us because Maya’s currently reading me fan comments out loud because apparently she finds my suffering entertaining
A grin spread across his face.
I think your assistant and my teammates would get along very well.
Unfortunately I think you’re right 😞
The conversation flowed far more naturally than either of them expected. There were no awkward introductions or forced attempts at small talk because they simply laughed at the increasingly unbelievable rumours being created by complete strangers.
Y/N sent him a screenshot of one article that claimed they had been “secretly seeing each other for months.”
Hugo replied almost instantly.
Months? We didn’t even know each other’s names until last night
Another message appeared.
Exactly, we clearly forgot to attend the first few months of our own relationship
He laughed again,shaking his head.
Should we let the internet know?
Absolutely not they’re having far too much fun without us 🫠
By late afternoon the conversation had drifted away from the headlines altogether. They joked about the terrible desserts at charity events complained about how impossible it was to avoid cameras and discovered that they both loved quiet evenings far more than glamorous parties. The ease of it surprised them both. There was no pressure to impress one another no expectation that every message had to be clever or meaningful, it simply felt normal.
For Y/N that normality was something she hadn’t realised she’d been missing.Since the first demo had leaked, every notification on her phone had filled her with dread, every call had brought another meeting, another interview or another discussion about cybersecurity and damage control. But now for the first time all week she found herself smiling every time her phone lit up. Not because the problems had disappeared but because for a few minutes she could forget they existed.
She had just placed her phone back onto the kitchen counter when it began vibrating again but smile faded as soon as she saw Maya’s name because something about the timing made her stomach tighten.
She answered immediately. “Hey.”
There was a pause for too long. When Maya finally spoke her voice sounded different, more quieter. “Y/N…”
The knot in her stomach pulled tighter. “What is it?”
Then the words she had been praying never to hear again.
“I think it’s happened again.”
Y/N didn’t answer straight away. She simply stood in the middle of her kitchen one hand still wrapped around her mug while Maya’s words echoed through the phone. Y/N tried to convince herself she misheard but no, Maya’s words kept coming.
“It… what?” Y/N whispered in disbelief.
“I’ve just had a call from Adrian.”
Her voice was steadier now but only because she was trying to stay calm. “Another song has appeared online.”
The mug slipped from Y/N’s hand, It struck the tiled floor with a sharp crack before shattering into dozens of pieces, tea spreading across the kitchen in slow uneven streams. She barely noticed because her eyes remained fixed on nothing as the colour slowly drained from her face.
“No.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No,” she repeated more firmly, shaking her head as if refusing to believe the words would somehow make them untrue. “That’s not possible.”
“I wish it wasn’t.”
She closed her eyes forcing herself to take a slow breath that never quite reached her lungs. “Which one?”
There was another pause.
“‘Forever.’”
Her stomach dropped.
No.
Not that one.
Out of every song she’d written for the album, Forever was the one she’d sworn nobody would ever hear until she was ready. She’d written it at 2am in the morning after one of the worst weeks of her life sitting alone at her piano with nothing but a notebook. The lyrics were unfinished and the bridge hadn’t even been rewritten yet. She’d recorded the demo purely so she wouldn’t forget the melody.
It wasn’t supposed to leave the studio.
Ever.
“Maya…”
“I’m coming over.”
“No.” Y/N rubbed a trembling hand across her forehead. “I’ll meet everyone at the studio.”
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I know.”
But she already felt alone.
She ended the call and remained exactly where she was staring at the broken pieces of ceramic scattered across the floor. Only twenty minutes earlier she’d been laughing at ridiculous headlines with someone she’d met less than a day ago. For the first time since the first leak she’d almost managed to forget the investigation.
Now reality had returned with brutal force. It wasn’t random or bad luck, someone was doing this deliberately.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
By the time Y/N arrived at the studio the atmosphere looked completely unrecognisable compared to last week when these rooms had been filled with music, laughter and the quiet satisfaction that came with finishing months of work. But now, every conversation was hushed every expression tight with uncertainty. The excitement that had once surrounded the album had been replaced by suspicion.
Adrian was already waiting near the conference table his phone pressed against his ear as he ended another call. Maya stood beside him with her arms folded tightly across her chest while Nina and Leo exchanged worried glances from opposite sides of the room. Even Elias usually the calmest person in any studio, looked unusually tense as he stared at the computer screens with worry.
Nobody smiled when she walked in and Adrian was the first to speak. “It has over three million plays already.”
Y/N stared at him. “Three million?”
He nodded grimly. “And it’s still climbing.”
“It wasn’t a hack,” Y/N said quietly. Nobody answered. “It couldn’t have been.” She looked around the room meeting each face in turn. “The first time… maybe.” Her voice remained calm but there was something different about it now her voice was filled less with disbelief and more with certainty. “But twice?” She slowly shook her head. “No, the files aren’t stored online and they’re not sitting on some cloud server waiting to be stolen, we kept everything offline after the first leak.”
Elias nodded. “We did.”
She swallowed. “So whoever leaked Forever…” Her eyes drifted around the room once more. “had access after we increased security.”
The leaker wasn’t some anonymous hacker hidden behind a computer screen, the leaker was someone who had been in this room.
Someone who had celebrated with them when the album was finished and someone who had listened as Y/N spoke about how deeply personal these songs were.
Someone she knew and trusted and every since this nightmare had begun, Y/N looked around the studio not as a place of comfort, but as a room full of suspects.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Tag List -> @4ngelest
Chapter 3
The Footballer and The Popstar
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Several streets away Hugo adjusted the sleeves of his orangey yellow jacket as his driver slowed outside the hotel where the Charity Gala had been hosted. It had only been a few months since he’d arrived in Liverpool but already he was beginning to understand what came with representing his club. He knew he had to be aware of expectations, attention and that the cameras that seemed to follow every step he took. Signing for one of the biggest clubs in the world meant that even the simplest moments no longer belonged entirely to him.
Charity galas weren’t new to him but attending one as a Liverpool player felt different, bigger and more public. Everywhere he looked another camera lens waited for him another journalist searched for a headline and another supporter hoped to catch a glimpse of the club’s newest signing.
His phone buzzed just as the car came to a stop, a message from Ibrahima Konaté flashed across the screen.
Don’t look too miserable tonight you know the cameras love catching you looking serious 😂
A laugh escaped him before he quickly typed a reply.
I’ll do my best haha
The chauffeur stepped out first before opening the rear door and flashes exploded across the pavement.
“Hugo! Over here!”
“One photo this way!”
“Hugo can we get one over your shoulder?”
He smiled politely pausing for just long enough to satisfy the photographers before continuing along the carpet. It was something he was still getting used to. Every event came with an invisible routine: stop, smile, turn, move on.
The cameras clicked relentlessly.
“Hugo!” A reporter stepped forward microphone already raised. “Just a quick question before you head inside.” Hugo stopped with a polite smile. “How are you settling into life at Liverpool?” It was a question he’d answered almost every day since signing.
“Really well,” he replied. “Everyone at the club has been uh brilliant with me and they uh made me feel welcome from the first day and I am so happy here.”
“The supporters have huge expectations for you, do you feel that pressure?”
Hugo smiled thoughtfully. “I think pressure comes with football especially when you play for a big club like Liverpool I just try to improve every day and help the team however I can.”
“So no nerves?”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “If I said no I’d be lying.”
The reporter laughed with him. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you.” With a polite nod Hugo continued into the ballroom immediately grateful to leave the sea of flashing cameras behind.
The atmosphere inside was completely different. There was a grand staircase while crystal chandeliers scattered warm light across polished marble floors. Waiters moved effortlessly between guests carrying silver trays of champagne as conversations drifted through the room in dozens of different accents.
Footballers mingled with actors and musicians chatted with Olympic athletes and business leaders shook hands with television presenters. It was one of the few evenings each year where completely different worlds existed beneath the same roof.
Hugo accepted a glass of water from a passing waiter before greeting several familiar faces. Conversations drifted between charity work to the start of the new football season and life in Liverpool. More than once he found himself being introduced as Liverpool’s new striker, every introduction followed by another version of the same conversation.
“How are you settling in?”
“Have you found your favourite place in the city yet?”
“Excited for your first season?”
He answered each question with the same patience he’d developed over the past few months, he understood why people asked, even if repeating the same answers sometimes made him feel as though he were giving another interview rather than attending a charity event.
Then the atmosphere slightly changed just enough for conversations nearby to pause as several heads turned towards the entrance. Another guest had arrived and Hugo followed their gaze. She had just stepped inside but the room didn’t fall silent instantly because it didn’t need to.
Her presence alone seemed to command attention. The midnight blue dress caught the light with every step she took
while photographers positioned inside the ballroom immediately lifted their cameras once again. She thanked the organisers with a warm smile before greeting a handful of familiar faces.
He’d seen her before of course but not in person. On award shows playing in airport lounges after away matches. On magazine covers stacked beside supermarket tills. Occasionally one of her songs found its way onto the dressing room speakers before training usually starting a debate over whose playlist deserved control of the music.
She had always seemed untouchable like someone who belonged to an entirely different world yet as he watched her move through the room he noticed something that none of the cameras would ever capture. Despite the smiles and elegance and the makeup that enhanced her face, she looked… tired. As in emotionally tired as though she’d spent the entire week carrying something far heavier than anyone around her realised. Before he could think much more about it another guest called his name drawing him back into conversation.
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The ballroom grew louder as conversations overlapped beneath the soft music while waiters moved gracefully between guests. Somewhere near the centre of the room the host had begun welcoming everyone to the annual gala thanking sponsors and guests whose generosity had made the evening possible. Y/N listened politely though very little of it registered.
She smiled when expected and applauded when everyone else did and accepted handshakes and hugs from people she’d met dozens of times before, It felt almost mechanical. She had become remarkably good at looking present while her mind was somewhere else entirely.
“Y/N!”
She turned just in time to see a familiar TV presenter approaching with an enthusiastic smile. “It’s lovely to see you.”
“You too.”
“I have to say…” He shook his head sympathetically. “What a horrible week you’ve had.”
Great. there it was. The first mention of it. She knew she couldn’t defeat the inevitable of course someone had to bring it up.
She forced another smile. “I’m alright.”
“I listened to the leaked song,” he continued. “Honestly if that’s only the demo I can’t imagine how incredible the finished version must be.”
“Thank you.”
“Any updates on who did it?”
Her smile faltered ever so slightly. “We’re still looking into it.”
“Well whoever’s responsible ought to be ashamed of themselves.”
“They should.”
He squeezed her arm kindly before being called away by another guest.
No sooner had he disappeared than someone else stepped into his place, a radio presenter this time. “So sorry about everything.”
Then an actress she’d met at an awards show… it was Emma Watson!
“I hope you’re holding up okay darling.” She said sympathetically with her hand resting gently against Y/N’s arm. Y/N gave Emma a polite smile to reassure her she was okay.
Then a singer she’d collaborated with a year ago came up… Dua Lipa! “The internet’s going crazy over that song.” She said. “This is gong to be one of your best projects yet.”
Every conversation became another variation of the same one. It was always about the leak and the investigation then the album again then the leak again then the investigation then the album and so on so forth.
By the seventh conversation she already knew what each new person was going to say before they opened their mouth.
Across the room, Hugo found himself in a remarkably similar position.
“So…” His international teammate and Premier League rival, Rayan Cherki smiled as they shook hands. “How’s Liverpool treating you?”
Hugo laughed. “Very well.”
“You settling in?”
“I am.”
“The supporters must have recognised you everywhere by now.”
“You too.” Hugo said to Rayan, as his teammate also joined the Premier League this season to Manchester City.
“They’re passionate.”
“They’re demanding too.”
“They want the best for the club.”
Another familiar conversation taking place and another reminder that being recognised often meant answering the same questions over and over again. By the time the conversation ended Hugo excused himself under the pretence of finding another drink.
But in reality…
He simply wanted five minutes where nobody expected him to say the right thing all he wanted was some peace and quiet like any other person would.
He wandered towards one of the quieter balconies overlooking the hotel gardens grateful for the cool evening air drifting through the open doors. The city stretched out beneath him in a sea of golden lights and finally for the first time this evening he found it peaceful.
“So this is where everyone’s escaping.” The voice behind him was warm carrying the faintest trace of amusement.
Hugo turned.
Y/N stood a few feet away one hand resting lightly against the balcony railing.
Then Hugo smiled politely. “I was wondering how long it’d take someone else to find this place.”
She looked back towards the crowded ballroom before letting out a quiet laugh. “I give it another ten minutes before it’s full.”
He nodded. “Probably.”
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Eventually Hugo lifted the glass of water in his hand. “I should probably warn you…”
She looked at him curiously.
“They’ve run out of the good desserts.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”
“I watched someone take the last chocolate tart about five minutes ago.”
She stared at him for a moment before laughing not the kind of polite laugh she’d given photographers, she gave a genuine laugh. “Wow that is just great! I was actually looking forward to those.”
“I know.” He sighed dramatically. “A tragic loss.”
She shook her head smiling despite herself.
“I’ve spent the entire evening preparing myself for questions about the album, and instead I’ve been informed there’s no dessert.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I don’t know how I’ll recover.”
“Thoughts and prayers.”
And finally for the first time all week and this evening, nobody was aksjng her about her leaked song or when is the rest of the album coming out or no sympathetic statements from anyone, he’d spoken to her as though she were simply another guest at a charity gala, and that meant more than he could possibly have known.
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Y/N hadn’t realised how much she needed a conversation like this. No need to be careful and mindful when making answers or no needing to rehearse statements and no sympathetic looks given either.
She leaned her forearms against the stone balcony looking out over the hotel gardens where fairy lights had been woven through the hedges below. The sounds of the gala were softened by the open doors behind them with the chatter of laughter and music blending softly behind them.
“You know,” she said after a moment, “you’re the first person tonight who hasn’t mentioned it.”
Hugo glanced towards her. “The leak?”She nodded. “I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.”
A small smile found its way onto her face.“Can I ask why?”
He shrugged lightly. “Because I’m guessing you’ve spent the entire week talking about it.”
She laughed quietly. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“I figured you probably deserved one conversation where nobody expected an explanation.”
She simply looked at him, grateful for his kindness. “I appreciate that,” she admitted.
He gave a small nod almost as if to say of course before taking another sip of his drink.
“So,” he said, deliberately changing the subject, “what do you actually do when you’re not working?”
She blinked.“I…” She stopped herself, laughing softly. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that.”
“Really?”
“Usually they ask about albums or tours.”
“And your answer?”
“I sleep.”
He laughed. “That bad?”
“Worse.” She smiled shaking her head. “When I’m not working, I read, a lot.”
“Really?”
“Surprised?”
“A little.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” He smiled. “I just imagined popstars spent all their free time at glamorous parties.”
She let out an exaggerated gasp. “You’re telling me the footballers lied?”
“Oh definitely.”
“I knew it.”
“They forgot to mention the exciting evenings spent lying on the sofa watching documentaries.”
She laughed again.
“I knew your secrets would come out eventually.” He said. “And you?”
“I bake.”
Hugo looked genuinely confused. “You bake?”
“I’m not amazing.”
“You’ve just admitted you’re secretly making cakes.”
“They don’t always turn out looking like cakes...”
“So… edible?”
“Uhh… most of the time?” She questioned herself.
“How comforting.” He said.
She rolled her eyes unable to hide another smile. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do footballers actually do when they’re not being footballers?”
He thought for a second.
“I cook.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true!”
“What can you cook? And don’t you dare tell me beans on toast because that is unacceptable.”
He pretended to consider the question carefully. “I’m very good at pasta.”
“That’s literally everyone’s safe answer.”
“It is not.”
“It absolutely is!”
“I can cook other things.”
“Okay okay name three.”
He smiled. “You’re testing me.”
“Yep I am.”
“Chicken.”
“Very vague.”
“Rice.”
“Even vaguer.”
“…Omelette.”
She burst into laughter.
“I’m sorry but that isn’t helping your case.”
“It counts.”
“Barely.”
“I make a very good omelette.”
“Yeah yeah im sure you do.”
Their laughter drifted across the quiet balcony, but neither of them noticed the photographer standing just inside the ballroom. He had been sent to capture candid moments from the evening like guests chatting and celebrity networks but from where he stood, the pair looked completely absorbed in one another.
The footballer and The popstar.
She was laughing with her head tipped back slightly while Hugo looked at her with an easy smile that hadn’t appeared once during his red carpet photographs.
The photographer instinctively lifted his camera.
Click.
One frame captured.
Then another.
Click.
Y/N was saying something he couldn’t hear and saw Hugo laughed.
Click.
They looked so comfortable with each other, they looked very natural together, like two people who had known each other for far longer than the twenty minutes they’d actually spent together. The photographer lowered the camera with a satisfied smile, he didn’t know either of them personally or didn’t know this was their first conversation. He didn’t know Hugo had spent the entire evening being asked about football while Y/N had spent hers answering questions about a leaked song. All he knew was that he’d just captured three photographs that every entertainment website would want by morning.
Out on the balcony completely oblivious to the camera, Y/N looked towards the ballroom as another round of applause echoed through the hotel. “I should probably go back in.”
“Me too.”
Neither of them walked away instantly, instead they stood for another quiet moment watching the lights of the city shimmer beyond the gardens.
Eventually Hugo looked at her. “It was nice meeting you.”
“It was…” she admitted smiling warmly. “Unexpected.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
She held out her hand. “I’m Y/N.”
He looked at it for a second before shaking it gently. “Hugo.”
The handshake lasted only a moment but for some reason it felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite explain and by tomorrow morning neither of them would remember the photographer but the internet certainly would and by lunchtime the headlines would already be writing a story that hadn’t happened.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Tag List -> @4ngelest @bbgkoo
