#paris saint germain

[kropotkindersurprise]

November 6, 2024 - Paris Saint-Germain fans unfurled a giant Free Palestine banner, featuring Palestinian and Lebanese flags, in their Champions League match against Atletico Madrid. [video]

[amournocturne]

⋆ 𐙚 ❛ 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧.ᐟ ❜ ꕀ 𝒟é𝘀𝗶𝗿é 𝗗𝗼𝘂é x 𝒻!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ✴︎

⊹ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀. the kind of night you wish would never end. the kind you keep replaying long after it’s gone. the kind that feels like a memory before it even becomes one.

⊹ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀. soft fluff, emotional comfort, quiet longing, désiré doué feels like he is not enough, late-night drives, stolen moments, désiré doué being a sweetheart, emotional intimacy, mutual pining, gentle teasing, lingering touches, kissing, romance with a hint of steam, bittersweet feelings.

there was something about late-night drives that made everything feel more honest. maybe it was the empty roads. maybe it was the darkness outside the windows, leaving only the two of them inside the quiet warmth of the car.

conversations felt easier after midnight.

silences did, too.

she rested her elbow against the window, watching the city slip by. she glanced at the dashboard clock.

12:43 a.m.

he was supposed to be taking her home. streetlights swept across the windshield in slow intervals, painting brief streaks of gold over désiré’s face before disappearing into the night again. neither of them spoke. it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

the windows were cracked just enough for the cool night air to slip inside, carrying the scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet. the music was low, soft enough that it blended into the background rather than filling the silence. she liked that about him.

he never rushed to fill quiet moments. he let them exist.

she rested her head against the window, watching the city blur past.

“you know…” she murmured, breaking the silence.

désiré hummed in response, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel while the other on his thigh.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen the roads this empty.”

he glanced at her for the briefest second before looking back at the road, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

oh how she loved that smile.

“that’s because you’re usually asleep by now,” he said, the smile in his voice arriving a second before the one on his face. “you never make it this far.”

his fingers drummed lazily against the steering wheel as he considered her comment. a quiet chuckle slipped past his lips.

she scoffed, turning in her seat to look at him.

“you say that like it’s my fault.” one eyebrow raised in mock offense. a smile threatened at the corners of her lips, but she did her best to suppress it.

désiré let out a quiet hum. another stretch of empty road opened up ahead, illuminated only by the occasional streetlight.

“whose fault is it, then?” he asked, flicking his eyes towards her for just a second. he wasn’t expecting to find her already looking at him. he wanted to hold her gaze, but the road demanded his attention.

she held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary, as though genuinely weighing her options. then she smiled—a slow, knowing smile.

“yours.” she said, a grin tugged at her lips as she leaned over and gave his shoulder a gentle bump.

the warmth of her shoulder lingered long after she’d pulled away. a soft laugh escaped him. god, she had no idea that even the smallest moments with her meant everything to him.

“mine?” he breathed. his heart stumbled somewhere behind his ribs. he risked another glance at her.

she nodded once, folding one leg beneath her on the seat as she faced him a little more. she watched the way his hands rested on the steering wheel before murmuring. “you’re too good at driving.”

he let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“that’s a new one,” his smile lingered longer than he intended. he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead, though he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her again. “i’ve never had anyone blame my driving before.”

“i’m not blaming it…” she protested, her voice soft.

she wondered if he knew what he did to her without trying. how every late-night drive seemed to slow the world just enough for her to breathe. how the silence between them never demanded to be filled. how his quiet presence unraveled knots she’d spent all day carrying.

she didn’t have a name for the feeling yet. peace, maybe. comfort. something warmer than either of those. whatever it was, she found herself chasing it every chance she got—finding excuses to linger, to stay in the passenger seat a little longer, to let another song play before either of them mentioned going home.

his voice pulled her gently from her thoughts. she blinked, realizing he'd been waiting for her answer. he scratched lightly at the side of his neck before loosening his grip on the steering wheel, only to tighten it again a moment later, as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded.

he didn't rush her. he never did.

she let out a quiet breath, her gaze drifting back to the windshield.

“it’s just…” she paused, searching for words that never seemed big enough to hold the feeling. “you make everything feel easy.”

he looked at her like she’d just handed him something fragile, something he didn’t want to break. this woman had no idea what she meant to him. she had become his peace. he just let her words sit between them, like he was afraid moving too quickly would break something. the words seemed to catch him off guard—not because he didn’t like them, but because he wasn’t used to hearing them.

then he smiled softly. unable to hide the warmth in his expression. how could he?

“that’s a pretty big thing to say.” his voice was quieter this time, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the feeling settling between them.

she looked down at her hands, suddenly aware of how much she’d revealed. the honesty of it sat between them, warm and unfamiliar.

“is it?” she asked gently, almost afraid of what he might say.

for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked at her. not the way people usually looked at her—not searching for something, not expecting something. just taking her in like he was trying to memorize the moment. like she was something worth slowing down for, in a world that never seemed to stop moving.

outside, the city continued moving around them, but inside the car everything felt still. the soft music. the warmth of the seats. the quiet sound of his breathing beside her.

“yeah.” he said softly.

his eyes returned to the road, a small smile tugging at his lips. and somehow, he couldn’t make it go away. every time he thought it had faded, it came back again—a quiet, helpless smile that she had somehow put there without even trying.

“because i don’t think i’ve ever wanted to be that for someone.”

“what?” she turned towards him, her brows pulling together slightly.

his fingers moved slowly over the steering wheel, tracing the same absent rhythm they had been tapping all night. for a moment, he didn’t look at her. like the words were harder to say when he had to see her reaction.

“someone’s peace.”

the sentence was barely above a whisper. she went quiet.

a few cars passed in the distance, streetlights disappeared behind them, the world continued like nothing had changed. but inside the car, something had changed. time seemed to slow, leaving only the quiet between them. the world outside slowly lost its importance.

“someone they don’t have to pretend around,” he continued softly. “someone who makes things feel a little lighter.”

his throat moved as he swallowed, his eyes staying fixed on the road ahead. then, he glanced at her for a second, and there was something almost vulnerable in his expression.

“i don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me and thought…” he paused, searching for the right words. “that i could make their life feel easier.”

her chest tightened. because he said it like it was something he never believed he could be. like being someone’s comfort had always felt impossible to him. she wanted to tell him that he was wrong. that he had no idea how much he changed the atmosphere around him. how his presence alone could quiet every thought that had been overwhelming her all day.

but the words felt too big.

so instead, she reached across the space between them. her fingers found his where his hand rested near the gearshift, hesitant at first, giving him every chance to pull away.

he didn’t.

his fingers curled around hers almost immediately, warm and familiar, like his hand had been waiting for hers to be there. as if the touch had always belonged there. and somehow, that said everything she couldn’t put into words. she knew. she just knew.

she would always choose him.

the road ahead slowly became familiar. she recognized the streets before she even saw the sign. the turn towards her neighborhood was only a few seconds away. and suddenly, the warmth inside the car felt a little more fragile. neither of them said anything. the music continued quietly in the background, filling the space between them as if it knew neither of them wanted to break the moment.

she watched the familiar buildings appear through the windshield. then she noticed. the turn was coming. she looked over at him.

he knew too. she could tell by the way his fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. the indicator never came on. the car kept moving. past her street. past the turn. she blinked, looking back at the road behind them.

“dés…”

his eyes stayed ahead, but she caught the smallest smile pulling at his lips.

“yeah?” his voice was soft, almost too casual.

“you missed the turn.”

for a second, she expected him to look surprised. to apologize. to make some excuse about not noticing. but he didn’t.

a quiet breath of laughter left him.

“i know.” he said quietly, his voice steady and certain.

she stared at him for a second, her heart warming at the certainty in his voice. she smiled before she even realized she was doing it.

“aren’t you going to turn around?” she asked, but a part of her hoped he wouldn’t.

this time, he didn’t answer immediately. he just looked at the empty road ahead, the city stretching endlessly in front of them. their hands were still intertwined between them, warm and steady. his thumb brushed against hers absentmindedly, like he needed the reminder that she was still there.

when he felt her fingers shift against his, his grip tightened without thinking. just slightly. like letting go was the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do. a silent answer before he could find the words. then, softly, almost a whisper, but with the weight of a promise—

“not yet.” his voice carrying a weight that made her chest tighten.

not a refusal. not an excuse. a plea. he said it like he needed her to understand. two simple words. but somehow, they meant everything. she understood, because she knew what he was really saying.

stay a little longer.

don’t make me say goodnight yet.

he just wasn’t ready to let the night end. the space between them suddenly felt different. like it wasn’t a space between them anymore, it was the last thing standing between everything they had been afraid to admit and everything they had been hoping for.

he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a quiet kiss against her knuckles, a small gesture that somehow said everything he couldn’t. then, his fingers gently intertwined with hers, slower this time, like he wasn’t afraid of what it meant anymore. like holding her hand wasn’t a risk, but a place to rest.

she watched him, almost afraid to believe it. afraid that if she moved too quickly, if she wanted too much, she would break the quiet little moment they had finally found. she stayed there, holding his hand and letting the silence speak for them. for once, she didn’t need reassurance. she didn’t need promises.

he just kept driving, one hand holding hers, his attention on the road but his heart finally somewhere else. for once, he wasn’t thinking about the exit. he wasn’t looking for the easiest way out, wasn’t counting the seconds until he had to let go.

he was just there.

then, at the next red light, he stopped. the engine hummed softly, and every few seconds another streetlight washed over them, lighting her face just long enough for him to steal another glance before darkness tucked them away again. and for the first time that night, he let himself look at her without searching for a reason to leave. like he was seeing her without all the fear that usually stood between them. like he was finally allowing himself to want this, to want her. his eyes softened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

a quiet reassurance.

she wondered if he knew how much that tiny gesture meant to her. how something so simple could feel like an answer to all the doubts she’d carried. neither of them moved. they didn’t need to. everything they had been holding back was sitting there between them, every almost, every goodbye that never happened, every feeling they were too afraid to admit.

all the times they stood too close but still found a reason to step away. all the words that stayed stuck in their throats because saying them out loud would make everything too real. and now, there was nowhere left to hide. just the quiet understanding that, somehow, after everything, they had still found their way back to each other.

she looked at him, and he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time and remembering her all at once. every little thing he had tried not to miss, every feeling he had tried to bury, was suddenly impossible to ignore. the silence wasn’t empty. it was full of everything they had been waiting for.

he leaned closer, slowly, giving her the choice. as their eyes stayed locked, she tugged his head down and their lips met in a featherlight kiss.

the kiss was gentle at first.

careful. desperate.

neither of them rushed. they couldn’t. not after all the time they had spent holding back.

his hand left hers slowly, as he turned towards her in the driver’s seat. his fingers found her cheek, his palm warm against her skin, holding her with a tenderness that made her chest ache. his thumb brushed along her cheekbone, slow and gentle, and the small gesture carried everything he couldn’t say. she leaned into his touch, closing the last bit of distance between them, and something in him finally broke open.

the kiss became deeper, not because they were desperate to take something from each other, but because they had spent so long denying themselves this exact moment. she smiled slightly against his lips, unable to hide how happy she was. her fingers found the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him in a quiet way.

désiré’s mouth crashed over hers again, and there was nothing exploratory about this kiss. she tilted her head slightly, meeting him halfway instead of letting him carry the whole moment. his tongue tickled her bottom lip. his perfect teeth gave it a tiny nip. then he buried his face in her neck and lavished it with soft, open-mouthed kisses that left shivers in their wake.

breathless.

his hand stayed against her face, his fingers brushing gently through her hair, grounding himself in the reality of her being there. of them being here. she gave him another small kiss, softer this time, like reassurance rather than desire.

the traffic light turned green. neither of them moved. the dashboard lights flickered gently across her face, making the whole moment feel unreal. he was memorizing her. the way she looked at him, the warmth of her hand, the quiet between them—he wanted to remember every second of it. every little detail felt like something he wanted to keep, something he could come back to when this moment was no longer theirs.

he should have started the car. he knew that. but his hand stayed where it was. a small smile tugged at his lips, almost like he couldn’t believe he was actually here, that this was real.

“dés.” she whispered softly, almost like a reminder that the traffic light had changed, that they couldn’t stay here forever.

his eyes stayed on hers.

“i know,” he said, barely audible.

he knew he should put his hands back on the wheel and pretend his heart wasn’t fighting against the idea of leaving this moment behind. but he did none of that. he leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper.

“just… stay with me for a second.”

and suddenly, she understood. he wasn’t asking her to stay because he thought she would leave. he was asking because some part of him was still afraid that beautiful things were only meant to be temporary. she wanted him to know. he didn’t have to hold onto this second like it was the last one he would ever get. because she wasn’t just a moment.

she was here.

the light was still green. but right now, all he wanted was one more moment with her.

the night passed slowly. the city kept moving. the lights kept changing. the world carried on like it always did.

but their kisses stayed. the warmth of it stayed. the feeling of it stayed. and even when the night was over, even when the road eventually led them somewhere else, a part of them would always remain there.

in that car. under those lights. in the moment they finally chose each other.

but sitting there, with her beside him, somewhere between the quiet kisses and the moments where neither of them needed to say a word, he had realised something.

he didn’t want to leave. not this time. not her. he wanted this. her laughter in the passenger seat. her hand in his. the quiet. the peace. and he was wondering how to keep it. how to keep her. he didn’t want to find the road home.

he’d already found it.

[dixheuresdix]

I have a reqq

Basically just dez being grumpy in the morning when y/n has to wake up for work and refusing to let her go

MORNING;

⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗

désiré doué x f!reader.

dating.

note: thanks for ur req!!

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: désiré is not a morning person.

you had known that désiré was not a morning person since the beginning of your relationship.

the first time you had slept over, you had made the mistake of trying to have a conversation with him before nine in the morning.

he had stared at you for solid seconds, mumbled something completely incomprehensible that looked like a “shush, you talk too much” then buried his face back into the pillow.

since then, you had learned that morning désiré was a completely different person in all points. he was quieter, clingier, grumpier and really really less cooperative, especially when it was workdays. unfortunately for him, today was a workday for you.

the alarm rang at 6:30 and you silenced it before it could wake him or at least that was the plan because the second you moved, an arm tightened around your waist.

behind you, désiré made a displeased noise.

“dez, i have to get up.”

his grip tightened. “no.”

“i have work.”

“mh-mh. don't,” he buried his face deeper into the back of your neck.

“don’t go to work?”

“yes.”

you laughed. he was still half asleep and you could tell that his brain clearly hadn’t fully started working yet because otherwise he would know how ridiculous he sounded.

you carefully tried moving his arm but he pulled you back. “sleep.”

“i can’t.”

“why?”

you blinked. he was really sleepy because you told him the reason two seconds ago. “because i have a job.”

“quit.”

“can't.”

désiré groaned. “i’m serious.”

“baby, you know i have to leave.”

his eyebrows pulled together like even hearing those words upset him. “no, stay.”

“i’ll be back tonight.”

“it's too long.”

his eyes finally opened and found your face. he simply stared at you still half asleep, still holding you tightly and moving closer.

“five more minutes.”

“that’s what you said fifteen minutes ago.”

“another five please.”

you smiled. “dez.”

“please.”

it came out so quietly you almost missed it. your resolve weakened immediately and he knew it too because the second he noticed your hesitation, his arms tightened again victorious.

“thank you sweetheart.”

dixheuresdix, like and comment <3

[szariahwroteit]

Affairs Of The Heart: A Désiré Doué x Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 8

Avery had tried to keep her distance from Taylor throughout the evening, but as luck would have it, she spotted her near the bar just as she was making her way out of the bathroom. For a brief moment, Avery considered turning back. She could have easily pretended she hadn’t seen her, slipped through the crowd and spared herself the inevitable conversation. But that would also mean giving Taylor the satisfaction of knowing she had managed to get under her skin, and Avery refused to give her that much power.

Straightening her shoulders, Avery forced herself to keep walking, her expression settling into one of practiced indifference as she made her way towards the exit. She had almost reached the doors when Taylor’s voice carried over the hum of conversation.

“Avery.”

Avery stopped.

“Taylor,” she sighed, turning slowly to face her as she offered a polite smile that did little to conceal the irritation in her eyes.

Taylor approached with her champagne glass still in hand, her expression sufficiently pleasant that anyone watching would think the two women were friends.

“I’ve been trying to find you.”

“Have you?” Avery asked, her voice icy enough to make Taylor’s smile waver.

“Yes,” Taylor replied, glancing around them before lowering her voice. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“The article.”

Avery’s stomach clenched.

There it was. She had hoped she wouldn’t have to hear those words tonight, but the universe had other plans.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss.”

“There is, actually.” Taylor stepped closer.

“If I have anything to say, Taylor, it's that you are a fucking snake,” Avery spat. “Why not just be open and tell me you were fishing for a story?”

Taylor’s perfectly composed expression faltered, the smile slipping from her face as she lowered her champagne glass.

“I wasn’t fishing for anything.”

“Bullshit.” Avery’s voice remained low, controlled enough not to draw the attention of everyone around them, but the anger beneath it was unmistakable.

“You spent an entire evening pretending you were a friend. You asked questions about my life, acted like you actually gave a fuck about what I was doing, and all the while you were collecting enough scraps to write a fucking article.”

“That isn’t what happened.”

“Then tell me what did.”

Taylor opened her mouth, but Avery didn’t give her the chance.

“You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew I trusted you enough to talk to you, and you deliberately created that sense of security so I’d let my guard down, do you know how fucking low that is?”

“I never lied to you.”

“You didn’t have to. Predatory people usually don’t.”

Taylor’s expression tightened, the accusation landing harder than Avery had intended; or possibly exactly as hard as she meant it to.

“Predatory?” Taylor repeated, her voice dropping.

“Yes.” Avery held her gaze, refusing to soften. “You knew I trusted you. You knew I thought that conversation was between two friends, not a journalist quietly building a story in her head.”

“I wasn’t trying to build anything.”

“You walked me right into a trap.”

Taylor glanced toward the crowd, clearly aware that a scene would attract exactly the kind of attention neither of them wanted.

Avery’s eyes followed Taylor’s toward the crowd, where conversations continued uninterrupted around them, oblivious to the tension bubbling between the two women.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to make a spectacle of myself or you. I just needed you to know how slimy I think you are,” she said, her voice low and deliberate.

Taylor’s jaw tightened, but Avery had already made up her mind. There was nothing left to say, and she refused to give Taylor the satisfaction of seeing her lose control in a room full of people who would happily turn an argument into tomorrow morning’s headline.

She picked up her champagne, took a small sip, and set the glass down again.

“I trusted you,” Avery said, quieter now. “That’s the part you seem to keep missing. I wouldn’t have let you get close if I’d known you were sitting there thinking about how you could turn it into a story.”

Taylor’s expression flickered.

“I didn’t ask you to trust me.”

“No,” Avery replied. “You just behaved like someone I could; and somehow that feels worse.”

The words landed heavily between them. Taylor said nothing as Avery went silent; before giving her one final look and stepping back.

“Enjoy your evening.” She said, turning away before Taylor could respond, and slipping seamlessly into the surrounding crowd.

Her posture remained perfectly straight as she walked away, her expression composed, but the second she was out of Taylor’s immediate sight, she exhaled sharply.

She needed air.

The room suddenly felt too warm, too crowded, too full of people talking and laughing as though nothing had happened. Avery threaded her way between guests, ignoring the occasional greeting as politely as she could until she reached the open terrace doors.

The moment she stepped outside, the humid night air wrapped around her.

She walked toward the railing overlooking the marina, the distant lights of the yachts shimmering across the dark water. Behind her, the music continued, muffled now by the glass doors.

Avery placed both hands against the railing and closed her eyes.

“Fuck,” she whispered, finally realising just how tightly she’d been holding herself together until now.

A few seconds later, the terrace door opened behind her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. She could feel him.

“You followed me.”

“You left.” Désiré stopped a few feet away.

“I needed air,” Avery murmured, her cheeks still flushed with anger.

“I noticed,” he drawled and only then did Avery finally turn to face him.

He was still dressed exactly as he had been inside, immaculate in his black trousers and open-collared linen shirt, but there was something undeniably softer about him now that they were away from the crowd.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Taylor.”

His expression changed almost imperceptibly.

“What did she say?”

“I said more than she did.” Avery revealed as she turned to look back toward the water. “I told her exactly what I thought of her.”

“Good,” he said, as a faint smile touched his mouth.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m better than that,” Avery huffed, her anger subsiding to give room to embarrassment. She hated that she'd allowed Taylor to have such a hold on her emotions; that she'd let her guard down enough to be tricked out of her position.

“I don’t think you want me to lie to you.”

Despite herself, Avery laughed thankful for Désiré’s presence in the moment.

“You’re right. I suppose I don’t.”

Désiré stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her. His gaze moved slowly over her face, taking in the lingering flush of anger in her cheeks before settling on her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” Avery nodded, then shook her head.

He studied her face for a moment longer before reaching for her hand. His fingers slipped between hers, hidden from anyone inside by the angle of the balcony they stood on.

“You don’t have to know.”

“It feels like you always do.” Avery looked down at their joined hands.

Désiré’s thumb moved slowly across her knuckles. He didn’t answer. He simply looked at her, his expression softening in a way that made the last of her anger begin to dissolve.

Avery lifted her eyes to his.

“Kiss me.”

Désiré’s expression softened immediately.

He stepped closer, closing the small distance between them as his free hand came to rest gently against her waist. For a moment, he simply looked at her, as though making sure she truly meant it.

Then he leaned down and kissed her.

It was slow and unhurried, nothing like the frantic kisses they had shared in private. Avery melted into him almost immediately, her fingers tightening around his hand as her other hand rose to his chest. The steady warmth of him beneath her palm grounded her, pulling her attention away from everything that had happened inside.

Désiré deepened the kiss only when she leaned closer, his hand sliding from her waist to the small of her back. Avery tilted her face toward his, her fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt as she kissed him again.

For a few seconds, the party disappeared.

There was only the quiet rush of the ocean below them, the muted pulse of music behind the glass doors, and the familiar feeling of his mouth against hers.

When they finally parted, Avery kept her eyes closed for a moment, her forehead resting against his.

“Better?” he murmured.

“A little.”

His thumb brushed slowly across her lower back.

“I can stay out here with you.”

”You can’t. Someone will notice,” she sighed opening her eyes to meet Désiré’s.

Unbeknownst to them someone had seen; Taylor had followed Avery with the intention of offering an apology only to

Taylor had followed Avery with the intention of offering an apology only to stop several feet away when she saw who was standing with her.

Désiré.

For a moment, Taylor simply watched.

She had seen enough of him over the last month or so to recognise him instantly, but seeing him like this was different. There was none of the polished distance he had maintained inside the party. No carefully neutral expression. No professional restraint.

He was looking at Avery as though there were nobody else in the world.

Taylor’s gaze dropped briefly to their hands, still loosely intertwined.

Then Avery shifted closer to him.

Désiré’s hand remained at the small of her back, his thumb moving absent-mindedly against the fabric of her dress. Avery’s expression had changed completely. The anger that had sharpened every feature only minutes earlier was gone, replaced by something softer that Taylor had never seen from her.

Taylor’s stomach dropped. Suddenly, the pieces of the story she’d been trying to assemble over the past few weeks rearranged themselves.

The game, the bar. The mysterious player Avery had supposedly been seeing. The reason Avery had been so furious about the article.

Taylor had assumed Avery was protecting herself from scandal. She hadn’t realised Avery was protecting real emotions.

Taylor instinctively reached for her phone and then stopped herself. For several seconds, she simply stood there, watching the two of them simply exists around one another.

Avery laughed quietly at something Désiré murmured, then leaned into him again, her forehead briefly resting against his chest.

Taylor felt the familiar journalistic instinct rise almost automatically; Get the photograph, get enough proof to turn a rumour into fact. Get the story.

Her phone was already halfway out of her clutch before she remembered Avery’s words, the look of hurt on her face when she told her she trusted her.

Taylor looked down at the screen, then back at them still in two minds. She could take the picture, publish it, turn a private moment into drama that would make waves in pop culture. But suddenly it didn’t feel like journalism.

It felt exactly like the thing Avery had accused her of being.

Across the terrace Désiré and Avery both blissfully unaware of their audience continued their hushed conversation away from the rest of the party.

“I want you to myself tomorrow,” he murmured against the column of her throat, his accent thick and drawn-out as his hands slipped to the small of her back. “I don’t want to share.”

Avery’s lips curved into a smile, the possessiveness in his voice doing more to soothe her than she cared to admit.

“I kinda made plans for us…you by extension,” she revealed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

“What plans?” Désiré asked, lifting his head from her neck so he could look into her eyes.

“A friend of a friend is throwing a party on the water and—” Avery paused, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you might like to come.”

“Tomorrow?” Désiré’s eyebrows lifted.

“Tomorrow.”

“And you made plans without asking me?” he smirked.

“You were busy.”

“I was?”

“You were being all important and mysterious inside. I had no idea how much soccer players are adored, but literally everyone.”

Désire laughed softly, shaking his head as he listened to Avery ramble.

“So you invited me without inviting me.”

“You’re coming by extension,” she affirmed.

“By extension,” he repeated, clearly amused. “I like this arrangement.”

“It’ll be fun.” Avery smiled, slipping her arms around his waist.

“What kind of party?”

“The kind where someone has a yacht, too much alcohol and absolutely no intention of going home early.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Désiré sighed, his hands settled at Avery’s waist, drawing her a little closer.

“It probably is.”

“And you want me there?” he asked, the teasing disappeared from his voice.

“I do.” Avery whispered as she looked up at him, her cheeks flushing under his gaze before she turned her head to look out at the marina.

For a moment, Désiré said nothing. Then he gently caught her chin, turning her face back toward him.

“Look at me when you say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I like knowing you mean them,” he drawled, his accent thickening around certain words.

“I mean it,” Avery said as she held his gaze, the faintest smile playing on her lips, as she watched his expression warm.

“Good,” he mused, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before pulling her closer.

Neither of them noticed Taylor quietly stepping back toward the doors, slipping her phone back into her clutch.

Outside, Avery tucked herself against Désiré’s chest, listening to the distant music and the low murmur of voices through the glass.

“So,” she murmured. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“You have to behave.”

“Stay close to me.” Désiré smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“That sounds like the opposite of behaving.”

“Maybe.”

Avery shook her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

For another few moments they remained there, hidden in the darkness of the terrace, allowing themselves the luxury of being exactly what they were when nobody was watching.

Avery’s eyes snapped open as she felt Désiré’s hands slip to her ass, the spell between them breaking just enough for her to let out a startled laugh.

“Désiré.”

“What?” he murmured innocently.

“You know exactly what,” Avery laughed, catching his wrists and gently pulling his hands back to her waist. “We need to get back to the party.”

“Fine,” Désiré huffed dramatically as mouth curved into a slow, unapologetic smile and he released her from his hold, taking a step back for his own sanity.

“Fine,” Avery repeated, her smirk almost identical to the man standing before her.

Without another word Avery turned on her heels, hips swaying as she walked away from Désiré confident that his eyes were glued to her.

Avery slipped through the terrace doors and immediately felt the difference.

The music was louder inside, the room warmer, crowded with bodies and conversation. She paused just long enough to let her expression settle into something appropriately neutral before moving deeper into the party.

She didn’t look back. She absolutely did not look back, but she could still feel Désiré’s gaze on her and the thought made the corner of her mouth twitch.

“Avery.”

She turned at the sound of her name.

Tabitha stood a few feet away, one hand wrapped around a champagne flute, her head tilted as she studied Avery with unmistakable suspicion.

“There you are.”

“Here I am.” Avery smiled.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“That seems to be happening a lot tonight.”

“Where have you been?” Tabitha’s eyes narrowed.

“I ran into Taylor,” Avery said, keeping her tone deliberately casual. “We spoke.”

Tabitha’s expression changed immediately. “Taylor?”

Avery nodded, taking another sip from her champagne as though the name meant nothing to her. “Unfortunately.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing worth ruining the evening over.” Avery glanced toward the ballroom, her gaze sweeping over the clusters of guests. “She wanted to talk about the article.”

“And?” Tabitha studied her face.

“And I told her exactly what I thought of her.”

There was a beat of silence before Tabitha’s mouth twitched into a knowing smile.

“Oh, God.”

“What?” Avery asked giving her best friend a look.

“You gave her a piece of your mind, didn’t you?”

“How did you know?” Avery’s eyebrows lifted.

“Because you have a very specific expression when you’ve reached the point of no return.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You absolutely do.”

Avery tried not to smile, but the attempt failed. “She deserved it.”

“I’m sure she did.” Tabitha lowered her voice. “Did she say anything about the article?”

“Enough to confirm that she still doesn’t understand why I’m angry.” Avery’s amusement disappeared, replaced by a faint crease between her brows. “She kept insisting she hadn’t lied to me.”

Tabitha’s expression softened. “But that’s not the point.”

“No.” Avery looked down at her champagne glass. “The point is that she let me believe she was talking to me as a friend while she was thinking like a journalist. I wouldn’t have told her half of what I did if I’d known.”

Tabitha nodded slowly. “I get it.”

Avery exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Anyway, it’s done. I don’t want to think about her anymore tonight.”

“Good.” Tabitha hooked her arm through Avery’s and began steering her farther into the room. “Because I have absolutely no intention of letting you spend the rest of the night being miserable over a bitch who couldn’t recognise a boundary if it slapped her in the face.”

“Désiré said the same,” she revealed unintentionally.

“When were you with him?” Tabitha asked.

Avery took another sip of champagne, buying herself a second to think. “A little while ago.”

“A little while ago?” Tabitha stopped walking.

“Yes.”

“On the terrace?”

Avery looked at her. “How did you—”

“I just watched you come back inside all googly eyed.” Tabitha’s eyes narrowed playfully. “I’m not stupid.”

Avery rolled her eyes, the flush on her cheeks deepening a shade. “I am not googly eyed.”

“You’ve got that soft, just-been-kissed glow. It’s a dead giveaway.” Tabitha guided her toward a quieter corner near a large floral arrangement. “So. Are we doing this? Are we acknowledging that you are, in fact, properly dating the football player you claimed was a one-off?”

“It’s not like that,” Avery protested, her gaze dropping to her glass. “We both know this has to end eventually.”

Tabitha’s teasing expression faded.

“Why?”

Avery shrugged, suddenly finding the bubbles in her champagne far more interesting than her best friend’s face. “Because it does. He has a life. I have a life. We’re from completely different worlds, and eventually reality is going to catch up with us.”

“That sounds suspiciously like something you’ve been telling yourself so you don’t have to think about what happens if you actually fall for him.”

Avery looked up sharply. “I’m not falling for him.”

Tabitha just looked at her for a long moment.

"Right," she said, her voice losing all its earlier lightness. "You just happen to look happier than I've seen you in years because of a fling you're certain is ending. That makes perfect sense."

Avery's shoulders tightened. The party hummed around them, a distant symphony of clinking glasses and rich laughter. She didn't answer.

"Look, Avery," Tabitha said, stepping closer so her words were for Avery alone. "I'm not telling you to marry the guy. I'm telling you to stop lying to me, and more importantly, to stop lying to yourself. I watched you with him earlier. You touch his arm like you're grounding yourself. You look at him like you're afraid he's a fucking mirage. That's not how you act when you're counting down the days til you walk away."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of music, liquor and increasingly reckless laughter.

Avery saw Désiré several times after that, always from across the room, and every time their eyes met, the same private smile passed between them.

They didn’t leave together. They couldn’t; at least, not officially.

Avery said her goodbyes first, slipping out through the front entrance with Tabitha and a handful of other guests. She didn’t look back as she stepped into the waiting car, though she couldn’t resist checking her phone before the doors had even closed. A pleased smirk curling her lips as she saw a message from Désiré she'd received seconds ago.

Désiré: You left without saying goodbye.

Avery: You were busy.

A few seconds later, another message appeared.

Désiré: I wasn’t.

She bit back a laugh and locked her phone. Whatever happened next nobodie else’s business but their own.

The following morning came entirely too soon.

Avery woke slowly, blinking against the pale sunlight filtering through thr curtains, her mind completely blank for a few seconds before memories of the night before slowly began to return.

Then she felt the warmth behind her, a warm muscular arm draped loosely around her waist, a solid chest pressed against her back, as the unmistakable scent of Désiré’s cologne lingered against her pillow.

The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her firmly back against the heat of him. His body shifted, the mattress dipping as he turned onto his side. A low, sleep-rough sigh whispered against the shell of her ear.

His hand slid from her waist down to the curve of her hip, his fingers pressing into the soft skin there. She felt the hard length of him, unmistakable even through the thin sheet, press against the small of her back as he drew his knees up, caging her more completely within the shape of his body.

“You are awake,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. It wasn’t a question.

“Good morning,” Avery smiled tiredly, her voice rough as she allowed Désiré to pull her pliant, naked body beneath his as she lay with back turned to him.

He murmured something soft and French against the column of her neck, his morning stubble rasping against her skin. His hand slid from her hip to her belly, a slow possessive stroke that made her shiver.

The humid Miami air was already warm, the AC a distant hum, and the sheet was a damp tangle around their legs. He shifted, his cock a hard, insistent heat against the swell of her ass. She could feel the slick slide of his pre-cum against her skin.

“Let me,” he whispered, voice thick, and his fingers dipped between her thighs from behind, finding her wet and swollen. She gasped, arching back into him, the ache from the night before a dull, sweet throb that his touch instantly reignited.

He stroked her clit with a maddening, practiced laziness, his other arm hooked under her neck, holding her close. “You’re so ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. His fingers left her, and she felt the blunt, wet head of his cock nudge at her entrance. He pushed in with one slow, relentless thrust, filling her completely, a groan tearing from his throat that vibrated through her own chest.

He was so deep like this, his hips flush against her ass, his weight pinning her to the mattress. His hand returned to her pussy, thumb circling her clit as he began to move.

The pace was slow, almost torturous, each withdrawal and penetration a filthy, wet slide. She was utterly open to him, her leg hitched up over his to let him fuck deeper. His breath was ragged in her ear, a stream of broken French and her name. “Avery… ma belle… putain…” The heat built low in her stomach, coiling tighter with every grinding thrust. He bit her shoulder, not hard, but enough to make her cry out.

His rhythm lost its control, becoming frantic, animal. The slapping sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with their ragged panting. She felt his whole body go rigid against her back, a choked growl muffled against her skin as he emptied himself deep inside her.

The sensation of his hot release pushed her over the edge. Her climax ripped through her, in a silent, convulsing wave that left her breathless and shaking, pinned beneath him as they both shuddered through the aftershocks.

“Good morning,” Désiré murmured, his lips still pressed to the damp skin of her shoulder, his voice hoarse from exertion.

He didn’t move to pull out. He kept her pinned there, his weight warm and heavy, as his softening cock remained buried inside her. His arm tightened around her waist, holding her flush against him. The silence stretched, filled only by their slowing breaths and the hum of the air conditioner fighting the Miami humidity.

Avery’s mind, usually a storm of thoughts, was completely blank. She could smell Désiré; sweat, sex, the faint yet unmistakable scent of the cologne that once stained his skin. The sheets twisted uncomfortably beneath her hip, as the ghost of her orgasm flickered through her nerve endings.

He shifted, finally, rolling onto his back and taking her with him, so she lay sprawled half on top of his chest. He traced a finger down the ridge of her spine.

“You are quiet,” he drawled, a question in his statement.

“I’m tired.” Avery lifted her head from his chest, meeting the sleepy amusement in his eyes.

“That is not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting before coffee.”

His mouth curved into a lazy smile. “Coffee first?”

“Coffee immediately.”

Désiré laughed softly, the sound rumbling beneath her cheek. His hand continued its absent-minded journey along her back, fingertips tracing slow, soothing patterns over her skin. For a moment, Avery simply watched him, taking in the softened edges of his face, the curls falling messily across his forehead and the faint crease left beside his mouth from the pillow.

“You look very pleased with yourself,” she murmured.

“I am,” Désiré frowned playfully. “Making you cum is good for my ego.”

“Good thing I'm using you for sex,” Avery teased, her mischievous smirked overtaken by a giggle as Désiré reached for her.

“We are using each other,” he murmured against the column of Avery’s throat as he pressed a kiss to her skin, and his hands slipped beneath her thighs pinning them open.

“Coffee,” she repeated, though the laugh in her voice undermined the firmness of the demand.

Désiré smiled against her neck, but this time he relented. He pressed one last lingering kiss to her skin before easing his hands away and allowing her to sit up. Avery gathered the sheet around herself, giving him an exaggeratedly stern look as she climbed out of bed.

“You’re a problem.”

“And you are smiling.”

“I’m smiling because I’m finally going to get coffee.”

He laughed as he followed her from the bed, reaching for the pair of sweatpants he’d abandoned on the floor. Avery caught his hand as he passed and tugged him back toward her, stealing a kiss.

“That was for good behaviour.”

“I think I deserve another.”

“You’ve had enough.”

“Impossible.”

She shook her head, laughing as she turned toward the bathroom. Désiré caught up with her within seconds, slipping an arm around her waist as they walked together. He pressed a kiss to her temple, then another to her cheek, making Avery smile despite herself.

“You’re very affectionate this morning.”

“I woke up next to you.”

“That explains it?”

“It explains everything.”

Avery glanced up at him, her expression softening. There was something about mornings with him that felt different from everything else. No cameras, no parties, no careful distance or pretending. Just the two of them moving around each other in the quiet aftermath of sleep.

She stopped at the bathroom door and turned into his arms. For a moment, neither spoke. Désiré brushed his thumb beneath her eye, studying her face with that same quiet attentiveness that always seemed to catch her off guard.

“What?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Maybe I just like looking at you.”

Her smile faded into something softer.

“Come here.”

He leaned down, and she kissed him gently, her fingers curling into the back of his hair. It was unhurried and affectionate, lingering just long enough to make her forget about the coffee again.

When they finally parted, Avery rested her forehead against his.

“Now,” she whispered, “coffee.”

Désiré sighed dramatically.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Kiss me,” he bargained, though there was no real challenge in his voice; only the drawl of a man completely at ease.

She leaned in to give him the peck, but Désiré cupped her face and deepened it, his tongue sliding into her mouth with a slow, possessive stroke that stole her breath.

His other hand drifted to the sheet knotted loosely at her chest, and he tugged it loose, letting the white linen slide down her body to pool at her feet. The cool morning air brushed her bare skin, and his gaze dropped from her mouth to her breasts.

“Do you really need to be dressed to go downstairs?” he asked, his voice low, thumb brushing over one nipple as it tightened.

Désiré’s palm was already cupping her breast, warm and heavy. He didn’t wait for an answer, dipping his head to take her right nipple into his mouth with a long, slow pull that drew a gasp from her throat.

The hunger in his kiss had returned instantly, his body pushing her back against the cool bathroom door. His free hand slid to her hip, fingers digging in to hold her against him as his hips shifted, letting her feel the hard line of his cock through his sweatpants.

“One more,” Désiré whispered against her skin. His hand slipping between her between her thighs, finding the slick warmth waiting for him. Avery’s head fell back against the door as he pressed two fingers inside her, a groan catching in her throat.

His mouth left her breast, moving up to her lips as he began to move his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling her clit with each gentle push. She could feel the arousal coursing through her, the morning stillness in the room broken only by the soft, wet sounds of his hand and her own quiet breaths.

“You don’t seem to be in a hurry for coffee anymore,” Désiré murmured, his voice thick against her skin.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He smiled, the curve of his lips touching hers.

He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her out of the bathroom doorway and back toward the unmade bed. He laid her down on the tangled sheets, his sweatpants already pushed down past his hips. His cock, hard and flushed, pressed against her inner thigh as he settled between her legs.

There was no teasing this time, no drawn-out foreplay. He guided himself into her with one smooth, deep stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Avery’s back arched off the mattress, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips as he filled her completely.

Désiré began to move, his hips setting a steady, possessive pace. Each thrust drove the breath from her lungs, her hands scrambling for purchase on his back, her nails digging into his skin. He watched her face, his dark eyes locked on hers as he fucked her with a raw intensity.

“Look at me,” he breathed, his voice strained. “Look at me, Avery.”

Her eyes were glassy as she opened them up to Désiré, her focus narrowing to the feel of him inside her, the weight of his body, the scent of his skin. She was close already, the pleasure coiling tight and hot in her stomach.

“Désiré—”

He kissed her, swallowing her moan as his rhythm slowed, becoming harder; deeper as his hand found hers, pinning it above her head.

Avery’s breath caught as he held her gaze, the intensity between them leaving no room for anything else. For a few moments, the rest of the world seemed to disappear again, reduced to warmth, tangled sheets and the quiet rhythm of their breathing.

Eventually, the urgency between them gave way to something softer. Désiré lowered his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily as the last of the tension ebbed away.

Avery let out a breathless laugh and closed her eyes. “We were supposed to get coffee.”

Désiré smiled against her cheek. “I remember.”

“Clearly not.”

“You are very distracting.”

She opened her eyes and gave him an unimpressed look, though the smile tugging at her mouth ruined it completely. “That’s your excuse?”

“It is the truth.”

Avery shook her head, reaching for the sheet and pulling it around herself as she sat up. “Come on. Before we spend the entire morning in bed.”

Désiré watched her for a moment before finally sitting up. “I thought that was the plan.”

“It was never the plan.”

“It should have been.”

She laughed, throwing a pillow at him.

He caught it easily, grinning as he climbed out of bed. For all the teasing, there was something unexpectedly domestic about the morning: the rumpled sheets, the sunlight spilling across the room, the two of them moving around each other without any of the caution they normally carried outside.

Avery watched him pull on his shirt and suddenly felt the familiar thought creep in.

This can’t last.

She pushed it away before it could settle.

This morning, she wanted coffee, his ridiculous smile, and a few more hours where neither of them had to pretend they were anything other than exactly what they were.

[shakinghamster]

blondes just have more fun

psg!kylian mbappé x girlfriend!reader

synopsis: ahead of his expected transfer to paris saint germain, your boyfriend kylian, decided to celebrate the occasion and the holidays by dyeing his hair bleach blonde. inspired by his new look, you decide to surprise him with your own new hairstyle. spoiler alert: he loves it!

content: pure tooth rotting fluff, no use of y/n, established relationship, reader has long hair that's not bleach blonde but other than that no physical descriptions are given, unrealistic descriptions of bleaching hair (i've never bleached my hair before sorry!) .

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i wanted to write a little something in honor of me meeting the loml (he didn't see me and i was like, 20 feet away)! been keeping this one in my drafts for a while and excited to let it go. not proof read and as always, i hope yall enjoy and feedback is always welcomed, please and thank you!

divider credit: @angeliicide

you could barely contain your excitement as you unlocked the door to kylian’s apartment. earlier in the morning, you had told him you had some errands to run and that you'd be busy for the rest of the day. of course he took your words at face value since he didn't have any reason not to trust you, though he was a little bummed he wouldn’t be able to spend time with you. after all, he only had so many days before his season would start, and he would be ridiculously busy. you were bummed as well, but you knew that it would all be worth it once kylian got a look at you.

the end of kylian monaco contract was slowly coming up and his loan at psg was going very well, with talks of transfer signings starting to happen. all of that, plus the fact his 19th birthday was coming up in a couple of days (which you were already secretly planning for), promoted your boyfriend to wanting to change his look and what he landed on was bleaching his hair.

at first, you were surprised. not by the sudden change, but how good he actually looked with blonde hair. he pulled it off well and more times than one did you catch yourself staring at his blonde buzz cut and grazing your fingers over his head any chance you got. and it wasn't like you weren't the only one to appreciate the new look either.

the french media kind of went insane over his hair and praised him. even in real life, countless girls, much to your dismay, seemed to notice the change as well. it might've annoyed you to see how many girls suddenly started throwing themselves at your boyfriend, but it did inspire you to try something new.

when you woke up this morning, you had a strange idea, which is how you found yourself sitting in your favorite hair stylist’s chair. at first she was surprised when you requested level 10 blonde, but she was all for it.

“you’re going to look drop dead gorgeous, girl!” she squealed right before she swiped the tint brush against your beautiful locks. 

and she was right. the entire walk home, all you could do was play with your hair, running your fingers through it and flipping it over and over again. even the way you walk had an extra sway to it. you knew you were being dramatic, but you couldn’t help yourself. even your camera roll had gotten tired of you, and it had only been 30 minutes since you stepped out of the salon. 

when you finally walked through the entrance of your boyfriend’s apartment, you expected to see him lazing around on the couch, playing video games or watching some game footage, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

you frowned slightly, but took the opportunity to cover your hair with your hoodie as you made your way across the hallway and into his bed where you knew he'd be at. just as you predicted, your boyfriend was sprawled out on his bed in nothing but his grey sweatpants and boxers, unaware of your presence.

you took a second to admire your oblivious boyfriend, taking a mental photo of the scene, before making your presence known. you let out a cough, causing kylian to jump slightly, before turning his attention over to you. in a second, his face morphed from confused to delighted as he realized you had finally come home. 

“oh? you’re finally home,” kylian chimed, immediately making his way over to greet you with a kiss and hug. 

after kylian’s immediate greeting, he paused for a moment, taking a step back from you as he finally noticed you had your hood on. he tilted his head, looking you up and down before he smirked.

“what’s with the hood? are you joining a secret society or something?” he asked, snickering as if he had just said the funniest thing in the world.

“nope. even better actually.” you smiled back at him, absolutely beaming in anticipation. 

your unfounded enthusiasm left kylian even more confused than before. he took another second, pretending to think of another answer. 

“you started a secret society and now you’re here to recruit me to join?” his grin turned even wider.

he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. he didn’t really care to play the guessing game with you. you could wear the hoodie for the rest of your life for all he cared, as long as he got to spend time with you.

he’d never admit it out loud because he found it too embarrassing to say, but whenever you're gone, he misses you like crazy. even today, when you were only gone for a couple of hours, he was so bored out of his mind. he was just wandering around, waiting for you to come back, and maybe sulking a bit too.

“no. you’re not even close.” you laughed at him, finding this guessing game entertaining. kylian snorted in response, respecting your commitment to the bit. 

“well, why don't you just tell me then?” he argued, leaving no time for you to respond before he forcefully pulled your hood down and catching you off guard.

you let out a surprised gasp, reaching for the top of your head where your hood was supposed to be, but it immediately morphed into a string of giggles. kylian’s jaw dropped to the ground and he struggled to pick it back up. shamelessly, he checked you out from head to toe, fond of the way the long blonde hair complimented you. 

he started to convince himself that he fell asleep and this was just some dream. he thought it was a cruel joke for his brain to play on him and he knew he’d be disappointed when he woke up, but soon, after staring at yourself for long enough, he happily realized that he was in fact not dreaming, and you standing in front with newly bleached hair.

“and this is…?” kylian questioned, grabbing a couple of your hair in between his fingers, enjoying the way your soft locks felt against his fingertips.

“a pleasant surprise. aren’t you delighted?” you grinned, slowly turning around so that he could get the full 360, which he thoroughly appreciated.

“delighted? that doesn’t even begin to—” he sucked in a sharp breath, taking a moment to look you up and down again. he was speechless and didn’t know how to express how down bad he was for you right now.

“i thought you looked so good with your bleached buzz,” you confused, running your hands over his head, “and you inspired me to try something new myself. suits me, right?”

kylian looked at you as if you had three eyes, “suits you? you look drop. dead. gorgeous.” 

you felt your cheeks heat up at his complement. no matter how long the two of you had been dating, his flirting still managed to get you flustered and feeling unnaturally shy. 

“aww, flattery will get you everywhere,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i’ll have to keep that in mind for future reference then.”

you pulled him closer to you, something kylian happily obliged to as he wrapped his muscular arms around your waist. the two of you had the other locked firmly into place, making it so the both of you were stuck in each other’s embrace, not that either of you were complaining about it. you puckered your lips up at him in a rather dramatic fashion, and getting the message, he happily leaned down to give you a kiss.

he pulled back first, taking the chance to add “i have to admit, we make great blondes,” you laughed, but nodded in agreement anyways.

©shakinghamster 2026

[doeeyedbtch]

𝓟aris 𝓷ights . ⊹ ‧₊˚ ┊✦

── ⊹ :: 𝓓esire 𝓓oue x 𝒻emale!reader⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧ 𝓡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 ⊹ ── ⊹ :: warnings ! ﹒﹒﹒ none ! ⊹

𝓛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝓵etters. :: woah new layout 😩

Paris was cold at this time of the year, not winter cold, not cold like towards the end of the year when white snow covered all the streets and buildings.

It was cold in an empty way, the trees had lost all their leaves to prepare for winter and everyone had got back to work or stayed inside for the sake of the grey weather and the depressing atmosphere.

The exuberant energy of summer was long gone and replaced with the gloom of fall.

But empty streets also meant privacy, no crazy fans rushing to get a picture, no surreptitious photography, no twitter posts with your face as the headline.

It was just quiet.

Just you, and Desire, and Paris.

the eiffel tower stood tall in the horizon, the faint aroma of croissants filled your nostrils—you couldn't help but wonder from which bakery the smell came from, perhaps you'd pay them a visit later.

The fall air was crisp, but Desire's hand was warm where it held yours, so you almost didn't notice the stinging feeling on your face as the wind passed you.

You had walked the streets for hours, passed a park where children and dogs were playing—Desire was extremely scared to get hit in the head by one of the dogs frisbees—he didn't.

Obviously.

You had laughed so much you were afraid that you'd choke on your drink, he'd spoiled you, really spoiled you.

Bought you a new tennis rack even though you assured him that you didn't need one, yours worked just fine—and it wasn't like you played proffesionally either way.

He bought you new clothes, and makeup from brands so expensive you'd never even cared to check the prize tag—you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford it anyways.

Oh he was really acting like your dream boy. The one you used to draw and and write about in your diary when you were twelve.

But not because of the money or the fame, but because he was Desire. Every act he performed, he performed with love and affection.

Ever since the two of you met he never failed to make you laugh or make the butterflies in your stomach do backflips whenever you hung out.

He was just all that.

You could talk about anything with him, he never judged—not even when you cried to him on facetime after a bad game in the 3rd division.

You had went to sleep after that call expecting him to block you or tell you that you were being childish, he didn't.

Instead he took his time to be there for your next game, you played a lot better and let's just say your opponent was very shocked when you ran into the crowd to kiss the Desire Doue as you won.

── ⊹ :: . ⊹

You were sitting on a picnic blanket, on Desire's lap. the eiffel tower towering over you as Desire absentmindedly fidgeted with your rings—they were only decorative, but if everything went well with Desire, perhaps you'd soon be able to say that you wore a promise ring? Or even better... an engagement ring?

Oh no you were definitely getting your thoughts a little too ahead of time.

But maybe it wasn't completely out of line? You'd just spent atleast ten minutes making out behind a tree before realizing that it was best to stop before anyone saw you.

He asked you what your favourite food was; "I'll make it on our next date, and you'll get to see my apartment" he murmured, leaving a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You exhaled, a smile creeping upon your lips. – "Sounds great, and just so you know.. i'll definitely judge you if there’s dust under your bed" you joked, referencing to your earlier conversation when he'd told you that his mother used to make him vacuum and mop the floor under his bed before having friends over as a kid.

That earned a laugh from the brunette underneath you, – "Then i'll make sure to clean it"

You smiled, teeth and all. – "Good," you nodded, leaning back against him, your back nudging his chest.

It was silent for a moment, the only sound filling your ears the sound of the trees swaying to the wind.

– "So.. when is our next date? Just so I know when to clean" Desire spoke, a michevious grin displayed on his face.

You rose an eyebrow, turning your head towards him, eyes meeting his. – "Tomorrow?"

He nodded, – "Tomorrow, and what should I wear?"

– "Something.. pink maybe? Pink is my favourite colour"

He frowned, – "Hm.. I don't know if pink really suites me"

You laughed, – "Okay.. then wear something blue, or... something white, you'll look good in anything."

He smiled sheepishly at that, he almost got embarrassed by the way you could make him blush oh so easily. – "You sure about that?"

– "Positive" you stated, pulling him towards you in a swift kiss that was supposed to say; "I love you" but it was too early for those words still.

© doeeyedbtch - all rights reserved, please do not steal, copy or claim my work as your own.

♯ . ⊹ @f9iytails. (join)

[zorayusworld]

◟No, I only want you. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ desire doue .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing: desire doue x female!reader

warnings: angst, jealous Desire, misunderstandings, authors first language isn't english

summary: a silly misunderstanding turns into something so much bigger

authors note: based on this request!! I hope everyone enjoys reading lolll also.. this ended up SO much better than my last work omfg

word count: 1.4K

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

it all started a week ago, your phone buzzed on the other side of the bedside table.

Good news, you thought.

Your childhood bestfriend had returned to town, all he asked was to go out for a coffee. Completely innocent, your thumb hoovered over the screen of your phone for a moment before you typed an answer:

Yeah sure, i'll see u tomorrow at 3 pm?

Three dots appeared immediately:

Sounds great, send me the adress, it's a big town 😅

You scoffed at the choice of wording and emojis, oh he had always been a little older mentally than physically. But that was what made him so fun to be around.

That was part of what made him a good friend. Of what made him, him.

Your biggest mistake that night was not telling Desire, who was scrolling on his phone beside you, one hand on your thigh. Completely obvious to who you were texting.

To what you were planning.

The next day came quickly, you fell asleep in Desire's lap and woke up a few hours later to him leaving for practice.

You groaned as he left you alone in the bed, the cold morning air quickly hitting your skin as the warmth from his body disappeared.

He disappeared for a few minutes, probably eating breakfast and getting ready. You could hear the toaster pop in the kitchen.

And then he walked into your bedroom again, already wearing his training kit. – "Remember that we have that team meeting later, I won’t be home until 5 pm" he spoke, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and then one just as soft to your lips.

You sighed, melting into his touch. – "Mhm, i'll miss you"

He laughed, – "I'll miss you too, I love you." He added before walking towards the door.

You inhaled, shifting under the covers. – "I love you too"

– "I'll see you later"

And then the front door closed with a thud, you sat up in the bed. Mindlessly opening instagram, scrolling through a few posts. Thumb hoovering over the messages icon.

You hated opening your dms, they were always filled with hate towards you. Calling you a slut or a golddigger, you supposed that was what came with dating Desire Doue.

But you hated it, and it hurt you more than you would like to admit.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

The walk to the coffee shop was short, but it felt longer than any other walk. And the entire time you felt a sense of guilt, guilt for not telling Desire.

You actually didn’t know why you didn't tell him, nothing was going on between you and your friend. And with all your secrecy you made it seem as if he had you sprawled on his bed every night.

You quickly brushed the thought away, nothing was going on. This coffee date was completely innocent, just two friends catching up after not meeting for years.

And infact, your friend knew that you dated Desire. He knew that this was completely platonic, so there was nothing to worry about.

You met him at the entrance, he gave you a quick hug before you walked inside, choosing a table in the corner. Far away from everyone else.

You talked for hours, laughed, remembered old silly things from your childhood. And you couldn't remember the last time you had felt so nostalgic.

It was like he unlocked memories you didn’t know you had.

He also asked about Desire, how the two of you met, if he still was playing for PSG, and of course, if you were happy.

You were, oh you were.

Happier than you had been in a while.

You left the café with a big smile on your face. You hadn't had that much fun in awhile, especially not now that Desire was training so much.

Always on the pitch, and whenever he came home he'd be exhausted. Not having the energy to do anything other than cuddle in bed and watch stupid shows on netflix.

Not that you complained, but you had missed going out.

Just something as simple as going for a coffee made you happy, that was all it took.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

Desire was already home when you stepped through the door. And you could immediately sense the bad energy in the air.

– "Where have you been?" He asked, leaning against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest.

You inhaled, breath a little shaky. – "Just out for coffee with a friend"

The truth.

He nodded, licking his lips. – "Yeah? Just a friend." Oh he did not believe you.

Oh.

– "Yes. Do you— do you think i'm lying?" You spoke, completely caught off guard by his demeanor.

He always believed you.

– "I don't know, do friends hug like that?" He spoke, a sigh escaping his lips. And he sounded hurt, truly hurt.

You frowned, – "I.. Desire what are you talking about?"

He rolled his eyes slightly, and the lump in your throat only grew bigger. – "You tell me"

His words coiled in the air for a moment, you didn't know what to say. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, finding his eyes for reassurance, he nodded.

99+ notifications. 99+ messages. 99+ emails.

It almost felt as if your heart stopped beating when you opened twitter and saw the picture of you and your friend.

Someone had taken a photo of you during your one second short hug, the completely innocent one.

And somehow, whoever took the picture made the hug seem like so much more than it was.

So much more.

And suddenly you understood why Desire was so mad.

How did you get out of this?

– "It's not what it looks like" you spoke, voice low, barely audible.

Tears threatened to fall down your face, but you resisted.

How pathetic were you.

– "Oh no it's not?" He raised an eyebrow, "cause to me it looks like you hugged him. A long, warm hug. The kind you only give someone you love, someone you.. want"

No. No, no, no.

A single tear fell down your cheek.

Was this the moment you'd lose the love of your life? Because of a silly misunderstanding? Because of being unlucky?

– "The picture is wrong" you whispered.

He took a step closer, – "what? Speak louder."

You took a deep breath, – "The picture is wrong. That was the most innocent hug ever. I would never cheat on you" you spoke, quickly realizing how pathetic you sounded.

– "Who even is he?" His voice was sharp, he was mad, hurt. A mix of everything inbetween.

Jealous.

You blinked, – "He's just a friend, we were neighbours as kids."

Desire glanced at you for a moment, then at the floor, – "are.. are you in love with him?"

You shook your head quickly, – "No.. no. He's just a friend" you begun, taking a shaky breath inbetween. "No, I only want you"

He looked at you, trying to figure out if you were telling the truth or not. – "Why wouldn’t you tell me that you were seeing him?"

You sighed, – "Oh I don't know. I'm so sorry. You can see our messages if you want, I promise you, nothing is going on between us"

He nodded, something softening in his eyes. – "It's okay, I believe you, It's just.. why wouldn’t you tell me?"

– "I don't know, I already told you, I—" you paused for a moment, thinking. "I have no idea, perhaps I was scared that you wouldn’t believe me. I thought it was a better idea to just not tell you at all."

He sighed.

Your voice cracked, – "I know.. it's stupid, it's so stupid." And then the tears escaped your eyes, and it felt as if he could see straight through you.

As if he could see all of you.

Even your soul.

He took a step closer, opening his arms, pulling you towards him. – "It's okay, I believe you." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "I believe you"

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, heavt sobs getting muffled by his skin. – "You don’t have to"

He laughed, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. – "I do.. it's okay" he kissed you again. "But I would love to see those messages"

Your sobs quickly turned into giggles, – "Of course. I'm sorry, I love you so much"

He nodded again, – "I know, I love you too"

© 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 - please do not use or copy my work without permission. Thank you for reading.

[berrygloomz]

colors

désiré doué x fem!reader

in which désiré tries his hardest to make you wear his club colors.

a/n : this was an amazing request that i loved so idc if you’re not a marseille fan, im not either just use your imagination idk i just though this would be a fun little thing.

NOT PROOFREAD

You’d dedicated your whole life to l’olympique de Marseille. Proudly wearing their colors, attending their games, celebrating their victories. You were a true fan.

The first time Désiré gave you a PSG shirt, he was so confident that you’ll love it.

He walked into the room, proudly holding a bag from the club shop. He grinned as he got closer to you, hugging you from behind. “Close your eyes.”

You laughed. “Is this another one of your terrible surprises?”

”Just trust me.”

So you do.

He places the soft material in your hands, smiling from ear to ear as he did so.

”Okay.”

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the light as you glanced down at your hands.

A brand new PSG home shirt. His name stretched proudly on the back

DOUÉ

You smiled immediately. “Aww”

He thought he had won, until.

”It’s really pretty..”

He sighed. “But..?”

”I’m not wearing it.”

His smile drops. “Excuse me?”

You held the shirt tightly to your chest. Smirking. “I love that you got me one.”

”So wear it.”

”I can’t”

He groaned, accepting defeat. For this time at least.

So he slowly made it his mission. Getting you to wear a psg shirt.

Every couple weeks he tried again. He was nothing if not persistent. But you rejected his offer every single time, the shirts piling in a corner of your dresser. Slowly collecting dust.

One morning, you were making breakfast in an old blue and white Marseille shirt. You wore it proudly, it was your grandpa’s first football jersey, and he’d passed it on to your dad, and later on to you.

But when Des walked into the kitchen. He immediately stopped. Sighing dramatically. “Again?”

You dont even look up, eyes fixated on the eggs you were currently trying not to burn. “Good morning to you too.”

”I bought you four PSG shirts.”

”And that’s lovely really.”

”So..”

you frowned “So what?”

”Why are you wearing… That?” emphasis on the that, he looked down at your shirt in disgust.

You glanced down, smiling to yourself. “Because this one’s lucky.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t even believe in lucky shirts.”

”I do when it annoys you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

You smiled sweetly, knowing all of this was just a silly game, and you were clearly winning. His annoyance clearly making you laugh.

”Yet here you are.”

Désiré had even convinced you to come watch one of his trainings. So you showed up to the training ground. Wearing jeans, trainers, and an Olympique de Marseille hoodie.

You’d honestly forgotten you had it on. But it only fueled your desire to mess with him even more.

As soon as you walked to the pitch, the players noticed. All heads turned to you as you walked proudly onto the pitch.

One of them pointed. “Is that…”

another squinted. “No way.”

Warren started laughing before anyone had the courage to. “Désiré”

He turned around, eyes instantly landing on you, and going wide as soon as they did.

The giant OM crest across her chest.

He froze. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He quickly walked over to you. “What are you wearing.”

You look down at your hoodie, acting surprised. “Oops.”

The boys were absolutely losing it, watching the pair, one shouted. “Your own girl supports l’OM?”

Désiré stared, mouth feeling dry. “You’re wearing Marseille.”

you shrugged “I noticed yes.”

He shook his head in disapproval. “Here? To PSG training?”

”i also noticed that.”

the entire team is trying not to laugh, watching the scene.

Someone finally asked. “Does she at least own a PSG shirt?”

Désiré answered quickly before you got to. “Four.”

You nod in agreement. “He’s right.”

Everyone goes silent, listening.

”They’re all folded neatly in my wardrobe.”

More hope. “Next to my Marseille shirts.”

The laughter is almost deafening.

Des actually walks away whispering, “i dont know her.”

We were one day away from le classique.

PSG vs OM.

All week the internet had gone absolutely crazy, joking about where you would sit. Tagging you in edits.

People just couldn’t stop asking. “What side are you on.”

Even journalists were asking Désiré during media day. “Will your girlfriend finally wear psg colors this weekend?”

He smiled awkwardly. “I dont think so.”

And so, the night before the game, you were lying in bed. Curled up against his warm body.

He asked quietly, “Can i ask you something?”

You looked up, smiling. “Always.”

”Does it bother you that i play for PSG?”

You immediately shook your head left to right. “No.”

“Really?”

”I fell in love with you, not your badge.”

He looked honestly a little relieved, and you carried on.

”But Marseille is home to me. My dad raised me like that. I cried when we lost finals, i celebrated titles. I can’t just pretend that never happened,”

He nods slowly, “I know.”

He closed his eyes, sighing softly, “I’d never ask you to.”

So he stopped trying to convince you.

The next morning, it was finally match day.

He told you there was no pressure about you showing up to the game. You both knew it would be awkward. You still told him you’ll think about it.

He assumed you wouldn’t.

He walked out the tunnel.

The stadium was absolutely packed.

The Parc des Princes looked incredible.

The ultras chanted loudly. Music, flags, and noise. It was all so overwhelming, in a good way.

During warm up, he scanned the crowd. Eyes landing towards the family section out of habit.

He stopped.

There you were, standing against the railing.

But not in light blue and white. Not in Marseille colors.

You were wearing his shirt.

His name, his number.

He completely forgets what he’s doing, movements going flimsy. He couldn’t stop smiling.

One of the older players noticed his cheesy smile. “What are you smiling at?”

He didn’t answer, just looked up at the stands.

You caught his eye from across the stadium.

Grinning as you pointed to the name on your back.

He gently shook his head in disbelief.

PSG won.

But he barely celebrated.

First thing he did was lightly jog towards the stands.

You were already waiting for him. The second he got close enough, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. Head dipping in your neck, taking in the scent of the brand new jersey mixed with yours. He whispered. “You wore it.”

You laughed into his shoulder. “I did.”

He pulled back lightly, arms still holding your waist tightly.

”I thought you said you never would.”

”I said i’d never wear a psg shirt.”

He frowned, glancing at your shirt once again to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “This.. is a psg shirt.”

You gently ran your fingers over his number, feeling the stickier materiel on your hands. “No.”

He tilted his head, obviously confused. So you continued, “It’s your shirt.”

He smiled.

”I didn’t wear it because of psg. I wore it because your name is on the back.”

He just stared at you for a second, confusion sprawled across his face. Obviously trying to process your words. “So…”

You smile, knowing exactly where this is going. “No, I still support Marseilles.”

He laughed, “Yeah okay figured.”

So you reached forward, placing your hand on his cheek gently. “But for ninety minutes…”

Your other hand reacher for the collar of his shirt, tugging at it lightly.

”…I’ll always support you.”

The words instantly made him melt, leaning instinctively into your lips.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, until his hands started moving all around the material of the shirt. Fingers wondering right underneath it slowly. Fingertips tickling your hips and slowly moving higher towards your waist.

You pushed back gently, looking at him, a smile still sprawled on his face. “I think this is the closest i’m ever getting to converting you.”

You smirked.

”Don’t push your luck.”

wait because i liked writing this