warnings: fluff, possibly buns since its my first fic, and typos
word count: 1k
synopsis: dating. you fall in love with hugo in a blink of an eye..and maybe you’ve fallen too hard
Song Inspo:
Hey guys, so this song has been stuck in my head and on repeat for the past week and I've been missing Hugo yk since he was injured during the wc so I decided to write a fic this is foreign to the stuff I usually post on here but lmk what you think I probably won't write again ngl.. but enjoyy - tou
It was just an ordinary summer evening in Paris, but the streets were up. A local DJ had made up a makeshift sound system on the corner of an alley, and half the paris had spilled onto the pavement dancing under street lights, drinking cheap alcohol from straight from bottles, and blocking traffic in true Parisian fashion. You met Hugo in the middle of the crowd, both of you in your early twenties, loud, young, and entirely too unfiltered in the warm summer air.
It was supposed to be a fleeting thing, you weren't really into cliches, a shared laugh over a spilled drink, a quick exchange of numbers while heavy bass echoed off the apartment walls, the kind of night that you usually forget by morning. Your friends laughed it off the next day in uni, warning you not to get stuck to a boy whose ambition was as big as his smile.
You genuinely didnt think it would go anywhere..no one did, but Hugo Ekitike was notorious for being stubborn. Once he set his eyes on you under those yellow streetlights, he was determined. His friends already knew it, and soon, you did too, Hugo was not a quitter. He pulled you into his world with an effortless charm, proving everybody wrong day by day, month by month.
A year later, the quiet of the morning felt like a completely different life from that chaotic night on the street.
You were knotted in the sheets of your bed, the soft light of the morning sun spilling through the blinds. It was a lazy Sunday, and your feet were tangled together…literally. Your toes were intertwined with his under the duvet, a goofy, intimate habit that had somehow become your favorite thing in the world. Despite how revolting it probably would've sounded to your past self.
🎶They say your body knows when it's really something. When we're touching toes, that's the warmth of loving. 🎶
Hugo shifted, pulling you tighter against his chest, his hot morning breath against the nape of your neck. He flowed through your thoughts constantly these days, like a river in your mind, calm and steady. Like he belonged there.
You looked over at the bedroom door, slightly open, giving you a view of the hallway. Slowly, bit by bit, he moved into your life. One drawer in your dresser became his. Then two. Unbeknownst to you he liked fashion. So part of your closet became his too.. You didnt mind it when you needed to borrow something last minute though. To be honest, you actually liked seeing his oversized shoes thrown by the front door every time you stepped into the apartment.
You had always been passionately independent, the type to handle everything on your own, “I don't need a man anyways”, but lately, having him around, having his help, having him... you couldn't help thinking, what the hell, this is actually not that bad.
...
"Mm you're thinking too loud," Hugo murmured, his voice hazy with sleep. He squeezed your foot gently with his under the covers.
"Just thinking bout how ridiculous we look," you whispered back, a smile tugging at your lips. "touching toes like this." a small giggle leaves you.
Hugo chuckled softly, a low rumble against your back. "It's not ridiculous. It keeps us connected." He pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder as he argues his point. "And no one can say we didn't make it." too clingy but you don't mind.
He was right though. Nobody thought you’d fall this fast, or this deep.
The hardest part wasn't the falling though it was the distance..
You had never planned on leaving Paris. It was your home, your base. But Hugo’s career took off, taking him across borders. Suddenly, you were getting used to the dull ache in your chest every time he packed his bags for club football. Seeing him walk out that door was a slow pain you never quite got used to.
So, you adapted. You found yourself traveling across Europe just to hold his hand for a few days catching flights to Germany, later on booking trains to England, learning the rhythm of stadium tunnels and quiet hotel rooms. And Hugo, true to his stubbornness, never let the distance win. No matter how brutal his schedule was, he always made time to fly back to France, just to spend the next twenty-four hours in your arms.
And then, somewhere between a crowded airport lounge and a quiet kitchen, it hit you.
You felt loved, in a real gross type of way, and you didn't notice until now
It wasn't a grand, film worthy realization. It was just the revelation that whenever he wasn't near, you felt a little colder. You subconsciously looked for his hand, reached for his touch, longed for the simple reassurance of his fingers brushing against yours. You didn't know when it had happened, or even how, but suddenly, you did.
Back in bed after a long day, Hugo pulled you around so you were facing him. His dark eyes softened as he looked at you, reading the quiet affection written all over your face.
"Where did you go just now?" he asked softly, tracing the line of your nose with his thumb.
"Just remembered that street party," you admitted softly, resting your palm against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "Everyone said we were crazy."
Hugo smirked, that same playful, cocky look returning to his eyes, though they softened by years of loving you. He kissed his teeth, "I told you back then, didn't I? I won't lose. I never do" He shrugged a little, still smug as ever.
He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his legs wrapping around yours under the blanket, entangling your feet once agaim.
"And i’m keeping you," Hugo whispered against your skin, "this's the best win I'll ever have."
and You didn’t quite mind being his..
okay chat, thats my first ever fic..idk if this came off foot fetish-y but its inspired by the name of the song I swear im not weird...or at least not that weird..everyone stream olivia dean she’s lovelyyy
sy: your ex-boyfriend knocks on your door at 2 a.m.
a/n: wrote this last night and it ended up sitting in my drafts lol. decided to post it because it was way too funny in my head not to 😭 and if i don't post it now i probably never will. hope you guys like it, and lmk what you think 🤍
sorry if there are any writing or translation mistakes
It was two in the morning, and the show you'd only meant to watch to pass the time had completely pulled you in. After every episode, you swore the next one would be your last. At one point, you'd even promised yourself you'd stop at eleven.
You hadn't stopped.
The flat was in that specific late night state — the television being the only thing illuminated, the blanket up to your neck, a glass of water you had fetched at eleven and still hadn't drunk. You were wrapped in the kind of comfort that only exists when the world has finally stopped asking anything of you, and the only thing that mattered was whether Elena Gilbert was going to choose Damon or Stefan. And before you judge — you know that show is addictive.
The knock on the door arrived like a physical interruption.
You went completely still for a second, thinking you'd heard wrong. Then it came again — three knocks, irregular, without the rhythm of a delivery or the urgency of an emergency but clearly belonging to someone who thought knocking on a door at two in the morning on a Monday was a reasonable idea.
What on earth, you thought, pulling off the blanket with the disposition of someone dragged from a very specific state of comfort.
You went to the door without opening it, because you had common sense, and looked through the peephole.
And stopped.
And looked again because what was on the other side didn't immediately compute with the context of two in the morning on a weekday.
Desiré was at your door.
He looked like he'd just come from a party you hadn't been invited to, his hair slightly dishevelled, and that specific expression of someone who has drunk enough to have had ideas that seemed reasonable in that state and that probably wouldn't in any other. He was standing with that slightly exaggerated ease of someone trying to appear sober for someone who hasn't opened the door yet.
You stood at the peephole for a second just processing.
"What is Desiré doing at my door," you thought, "and why did he think this was a good idea?"
On the other side, Desiré was having an internal monologue that had begun as a coherent argument and was losing structure by the minute.
The party had been good. Very good, actually, which was part of the problem, because good parties sometimes had a specific effect of making the things you had been managing well feel more present than they did during the day. And he had been managing well, was managing well, it was an objective matter he had assessed repeatedly over the past months.
And then your friend had put on that song the two of you used to listen to together and Desiré had had another glass and arrived at the conclusion, with the certainty specific to three drinks above his limit, that there were things that needed to be said.
His friends had tried. "This isn't a good idea." "Desiré, stop. She has a boyfriend, mate."
He knew you had a boyfriend. That was exactly the problem he was trying to resolve with the visit.
The logic was solid at two in the morning with the content he had in his system.
He knocked again.
You opened it because the alternative was leaving him there and the awareness that he was outside drunk was going to prevent you from watching anything anyway.
The door opened and he was exactly as he'd appeared through the peephole — standing, slightly leaning forward with that specific stabilising posture people adopt when the floor is being more cooperative than usual, with a smile that was simultaneously the most confident and most misguided thing you had seen in a long time.
"Hi," he said.
"Desiré." You crossed your arms. "It's two in the morning."
"I know," he said, in the tone of someone presenting this as evidence of something important. "I came."
"I can see that you came." You examined him for a second. "You went to a party."
"I did." He considered this. "It was good, actually. You should have come."
"I wasn't invited."
"True." He blinked. "Anyway, doesn't matter. I came here because I have something important to say."
You stayed in the doorway without inviting him in, because you had limits, and waited with the expression of someone who knows what they're about to hear is going to be something.
Desiré stood with a solemnity slightly compromised by his current state, breathed in, and said: "I think we should get back together."
Silence.
"Desiré."
"Listen," he said, raising a hand with the authority of someone chairing a meeting. "I have arguments. First: we were great together."
"We broke up."
"Second argument: I miss you."
"I have a boyfriend."
He sat with that information for a second as if it were new, which was impossible because he had known for months, but there was in the visible process of receiving it again something that would have been comic if it weren't also mildly moving.
"I know you have a boyfriend," he said, with a patience that was clearly costing effort. "That's exactly why I came. Because I think it's a mistake."
"What??," you said, more to yourself than to him. "I'm with someone else, Desiré. We broke up."
"But..."
"For us to get back together," you said, with the clarity of someone who needs the sentence to land through his three drinks, "you'd have to be born again."
From Desiré's perspective, that had gone better than expected.
She had opened the door. That was progress.
He sat with her sentence for a second — be born again — and there was in it a definitiveness that a very small, very sober part of him recognised as the kind of response that didn't invite further arguments.
But that part was small.
"Wait," he said, and there was in the tone something genuine underneath his current state — that specific access to honesty that alcohol sometimes gave people before giving everything else. "You were my favourite person. That doesn't change."
You looked at him.
And there was the problem — because underneath the ridiculousness of the situation, the hour, his state, there was something real you could see and that made it difficult to be completely cold. You had known him for a long time, you knew the Desiré who wasn't drunk, you knew the difference between them.
"I know," you said, more quietly than before.
He looked at you. Something passed across his face — recognition, perhaps, that he had heard something different in the tone.
And then you straightened up. "But I'm with someone. And that's not going to change tonight."
Desiré stood in the doorway for a moment with the expression of someone arriving at the conclusion they had been avoiding. Then he sighed — a sigh that was the compressed version of a great many things — and his posture shifted from argument to something more resigned and a little more like himself.
"Alright," he said, with a dignity that was noticeably good for his current state. "Okay. But listen." He raised his index finger with the solemnity of someone about to make an important declaration. "Next life then. But heads up — if things go wrong with this guy, you remember I'm number two on your list. Don't even think about it, just call me."
You looked at him for a second.
"Number two?" you repeated.
"Your boyfriend comes first. But if you two ever break up..." he said through a laugh, like he couldn't believe he was actually saying it. "Remember me. I want to be second in line."
You closed your eyes, breathed, and when you opened them there was a smile at the corner of your mouth that you hadn't authorised but couldn't prevent. "You're an idiot."
"I'm number two," he corrected, with conviction.
"I'm calling you a taxi."
"You don't have to..."
"Desiré."
He went quiet at the tone.
You picked up your phone, called the taxi, and stayed in the doorway while he waited with the resignation of someone who lost a battle but is noting things down for a long-term strategy that only exists in his head. When the car arrived he went with the slightly exaggerated ease of someone proving they can walk in a straight line.
At the car door he turned.
"Number two," he said, pointing at you.
"Go to sleep, Desiré."
He got in the car.
You closed the door and stood in the hallway for a second before heading straight to bed. After what had just happened, sleep felt like the only reasonable thing to do. The problem was, your brain hadn't quite caught up yet.
You picked up your phone to text your boyfriend, stared at the screen for a moment, then set it back down without typing a word.
Not because there was anything to hide.
Just because, at two-thirty in the morning, some things were easier to sort through on your own before trying to put them into words.
"Number two," you murmured to yourself.
Then you covered your eyes with both hands, laughing quietly.
synopsis: After a summer in Europe with Hugo Ekitike, you're back on campus drowning in classes, research, and internships. You miss him, but dating is completely off the table. Last time you guys tried that, the ship completely sank, and you're both way too stubborn to admit you actually miss each other. Hugo texts out of nowhere, and suddenly a lowkey summer in the States is in full swing. Keeping it strictly "no labels" works perfectly, until you're saying goodbye at the airport, stuck on opposite ends of the globe, already counting down days to next summer.
song inspo:
The fall semester in the States was a brutal mix of presentations, exams, and back-to-back internship shifts. Every time you sat in the library at ungodly hours of the night, staring at a stack of research papers, your mind kept drifting back to last summer—the month you’d spent in Europe, the late-night street food, sight seeing, the hours spent talking on balcony edges until sunrise.
Oh and, of course, Hugo.
Now across the pond, he was in Liverpool, doing what he did best. Playing Premier League football, living a flashy lifestyle surrounded by nice cars, night outs, and constant noise from the media. It was a world you had zero interest in being a part of. Neither of you had been looking for a relationship—you were laser-focused on building your own career, and he was living fast in the spotlight. A real relationship between you two made no sense. It would be toxic, messy, and completely impractical…you tried
Yet, you couldn't stop thinking about him, and deep down, you knew he was doing the exact same thing. You were like magnets—constantly pulling each other back in, even with thousands of miles lying between you.
Then came the second semester. As finals week approached, bringing the usual chaotic stacks of projects and exams, Hugo got an injury. It wasn't career-ending, but it meant no international duty for him that summer, no playing for his country, just mandatory rest.
His first text arrived on a Tuesday night. It started off completely innocent, just checking in on your finals. But within days, the banter turned serious, the unspoken tension revived, and before you even had time to fully process it, he sent a screenshot.
A flight confirmation to your airport in the States..oh
It was actually happening.
Finals ended, the Premier League wrapped up, and on a warm, sunlit summer morning, you woke up in your own room and turned over to see Hugo sleeping right next to you. Shit. It was completely unreal.
What followed was the most perfect summer ever. You kept things lowkey of course, quietly bringing him into your world. You took him to backyard cookouts and pool parties where he ate cheap burgers off paper plates, hit up local beaches, and hid in quiet bars to catch World Cup matches together. You guys even took a trip to Martha’s Vineyard, spending hazy, sun-drenhed days wandering around the island together.
It was everything you needed after the school year you just had, all with Hugo, all technically as "friends". Sometimes a little more. You enjoyed each other in the present, keeping it light and meaningful, being nice to each other ,sometimes too nice, without forcing a label on something that would only break under pressure.
When summer finally came to an end, it left a sour taste in your mouth. You could tell Hugo felt it, too. Neither of you liked the reality of saying goodbye. But a real relationship? A real real relationship? You didn't want a boyfriend, and it's clear he didn't need a girlfriend right now. It was too toxic to even attempt again, but being able to just enjoy each other's company while it lasted was fulfilling enough.
Preseason training was around the corner for him, and your upcoming fall classes were calling for you.
At the airport drop-off, the silence in the car was heavy. When it was time to say goodbye, you stepped into a hug. You both held on just a little longer than necessary—fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie, he held his breath for a few extra seconds before pulling away.
No dramatic promises. No labels. Nothing
Now, you’re back on opposite ends of the globe, you at your desk in the States, him on the pitch in Liverpool. Both of you pretending you’re fine, both secretly yearning for next summer.
Summary : One childhood friend group. 2 potential lovers. One confession.
Warnings : nothing but fluff - WC : 2.9k
A/N : Another short story I want to share with you. Yeah here and there, I can do fluff too. I might not be a fluff girly at heart but I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you guys enjoy it the same I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the love and support.
Writing takes a lot of time, if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment and interact. Don't be shy. That's why the anon button exists. English is not my first language.
Afrohouse blasts in the back when her phone vibrates on the table. At first, she wants to ignore to fully focus on the current gossip and the orange-pink sky behind Mira, one of her closest friends. One name on her screen is all it takes to make her change her mind at a speed her brain can barely process. The grin on her face gives more information than what she would actually like to share.
Mira pauses her gossip session to wiggle her eyebrows. ”Yeah, go join your man.”
The entire table of five start to whistle loudly, clearly enjoying the reactions their tease caused. At this point, she was too tired to roll her eyes at their antics.
”I’ll be right back.” She announces to the group, merely leaving them any opportunity to comment as she walks away. Apparently her feet could not carry her fast enough as she hears, ”Hope you guys kiss this time!”
Keylan, the loudest in the group, makes the most about the situation. On multiple occasions he has expressed his support for their ”silent” romance. ”You’re part of the mini family. Things would be so much easier.” To which she rarely comments except to brush the idea off.
Maybe in another universe. For now, she will have to accept her reality. A childhood friendship. Nothing more. The package came with unique chemistry but also many inconveniences. Particularly hearing about his girlfriends, flings and dating life in general.
A few years ago, hearing him opening up about the subject did not do much. Years passed by and they both matured. The task became harder to accomplish with a fully developed brain. The first heart clench alerted her and worried her. With time, she learned how to build a solid shield to protect herself. Today, she made peace with the situation.
She will never be one of those girls he talks to or desires. Imagining anything else and blindly hoping were slow poison that would eventually kill her from the inside. The only remedy was to come to the conclusion that things were better that way.
The sand kisses her feet as she makes her way on the beach. Her eyes squint, fighting the small grain that wanted to force their way inside of her pupils. Djed sits there, his denim shorts ruined with a visible white stain. His hands behind him as he observes the sunset.
”Earth is calling you!” She jokes before sitting down by his side, carefully arranging her orange cotton dress. His favourite colour on her. Although she promised to stop. Her subconscious had a harder time accepting reality. Each gesture or choice to earn a compliment or an intense stare is worthy. Not to boost a self-confidence she steadily built over the years, but having additional images for her daydreams would not hurt anyone.
Those attempts would certainly not change his mind, but she enjoys his reactions nonetheless. Three days ago, the man showered her with compliments on her orange swimsuit.
”The swimsuit is clean!”
”Thanks, Djed. Could have done better with yours.” She mocked, poking her tongue out. The two of them ended up splashing one another, fuelling the speculation going around in their group of friends. Despite being a childhood group of friends, Djed and she stood apart, according to the rest of the group. The jokes no one else could understand, the never-ending conversations when everybody else was asleep, the random touches and knowing stares woke up some suspicions.
Djed turns around, eyes half closed. ”Missing me already?”
”May I remind you? You texted me, asking me to join.”
”And you did, so you missed me.”
She sighs deeply, ”If it can help you feel better.” She pauses, placing her hands on her knees. ”I joined to admire the sunset. The view is better here.”
He chuckles. Because I’m included in the view.”
”See? This is why you’re single.”
”Ouch. My heart is bleeding.” The fake heart attack annoyingly makes her laugh.
”It’s not the heart, it’s the ego.”
”Last time I checked, ego isn’t an organ.”
She gives him a warning stare before turning her head away. That man sometimes gets on her nerves with his comments. ”Oh, really? Oh my days… Djed taught me something new today.”
”Yeah, put some respect on my name.”
”Not really, but I’ll put some sand in those eyes if you keep acting like a fool.” They both chuckle again, sharing that familiar stare which feels like home. A silence follows, not the stressful type. The kind that brings peace, the non-judgemental, the light one. Both of their eyes are locked on the sky.
With a heavy heart, she decides to interrupt the silence. ”So how went your date last night?”
He sighs out loud. ”Nothing worth exploring.”
Last year, she would have interiorly cheered. Imagine that it meant a potential future for them. That bright hope that warmed her heart. Then she moved on to the next girl and the following one until she lost track of his long dating list. Clarity knocks at her door, and now she knows better. Him not liking a girl simply means he's ready for the next one.
”Okay, what was wrong this time?” Her tone portrays a kind of calmness she had ignored having until recently.
The opposite of him. Djed barely tries to hide his frustration. ”Don’t get me wrong. She’s bad, yeah… But she’s boring. No banter, no jokes, no real conversation. I don’t like that.”
”I thought you were only dating for fun. Why would you care about such things? Men with locs never beat the allegations.”
”It’s complicated, big head.” He stops mid-sentence, asking, ”Wait…What allegations?”
”You guys are trouble. Toxic and cheats.”
He grimaces before giggling, ”Where it’s even coming from? You need to stop scrolling, big head.”
She playfully pinches his arm, earning a laugh from him. ”I have a name, you know?”
”I prefer big head, sorry.”
The nickname that never left since elementary school. Not a mockery, simply an embarrassing memory, she would rather erase from her mind. Although he tried to distract her, she remained laser-focused. For God only knows how many times, Djed complains about his date. Beautiful brown and black women are gorgeous, yet he always seems to find reasons to cut them off.
”What is it that you are exactly looking for? I feel like you’re never satisfied. The perfect woman doesn’t exist, you know?”
”She may not be perfect for others, but for me, she is.”
”So there’s someone there you really like? Why are you dating other girls then?”
Her heart beats harder than usual. The moment she prepared for has finally come. Now, she has to hear how much he wants that woman so bad. Or what he could do to get her. That dynamic will never change. Being his childhood friend included a romantic confidant or coach role. One she has been carrying with a heavy heart for years now.
”She’s a bit unattainable, looks a bit romantically unavailable too. Why would I waste my time for?”
The images of an overconfident woman with a great body, face and hair flood her mind. She must have a good life. Unattainable? She must be travelling all over the world, having many hobbies, and just living her life to the fullest to care about men.
At this point, she does not care about Djed, she envies that woman. Not because of him, but her freedom. No man to worry about. No heart clenches every time her best friend shares a portion of his life with her.
She shakes her head before getting back to her role. ”Djed, come on! This isn’t the Djed I know. You should try. Imagine spending your days daydreaming about her when you can literally try and see what happens.”
The same rule could apply to her, but she is not willing to risk their friendship. Hypocritical? A bit. Still, necessary to maintain a balanced relationship with one of her closest friends.
”It’s more complicated than that, big head.”
”Explain to me then.”
His stare switches from the landscape to her eyes. She understands that he is not willing to share that secret yet. Another silence settles in. This one feels heavier for reasons she could not justify.
”Fine. I respect your privacy. Just understand that you’ll never know if she’s actually unavailable or unattainable if you never talk to her.”
”I dropped hints, but she ignored.”
Her mouth dries up. Maybe the woman had no desire to date him then. To avoid another uncomfortable silence, she asks, ”How about you tell me what you like about her?”
”Wow. The list is long, big head…” The smile on his face, the spark in his eyes silently break her heart but warm her soul. Djed might not be perfect, but he is a good man overall. Not the cliche of a good man. The type who really cares about others, listens to them, checks on them, protects them and encourages them.
The kind of partner anyone would love to have by their side. Generous with his energy and time, but only to those he really cares about. Otherwise, he will stay polite and keep it moving. She firmly believes he deserves love and joy in his romantic life. Even if it means muting her heart in the process.
”We’re on vacation. We have time. I’m listening.”
He rolls his eyes with a teasing grin. ”You never give up, do you? " To that, she simply shrugs. He knows her. Maybe a bit too much.
”The list is long…but it’s weird. I don’t really know how to describe her.“
”It’s between us. Whatever you feel like saying, Djed. I won’t judge you unless you say something silly or post those stupid penitentiary memes.”
He chuckles louder than before while shaking his head. ”Can’t a man hype himself up? What’s wrong with that?”
She rolls her eyes at him. ”Hype yourself up without corniness, thanks. Back to the topic, stop distracting me.”
A few seconds pass as he rubs the tip of his nose. "Humm…I think I love her as a person. It’s the personality…I mean, she’s fucking beautiful too, but…that intelligence, crazy side, fun side, carefreeness… We also have many things in common, you know? I learn from her every single day. She brings the best out of me. Zhe’s my personal sunset.”
The last sentence had her heart thumping inside of her chest. That love confession was even more beautiful than a bland I love you. Suddenly, she is back imagining that girl. Somewhere in the world with a solid career and full life, not knowing that Djed caught feelings for her. The irony. She gulps, her eyes looking at the sky.
”It’s beautiful, Djed… You should definitely give it a try. If it works, amazing, if not, I’m pretty sure you can find a great partner. You’re Djed-Hotep Spence after all.”
”Stop the gaslighting.”
They are back chuckling like teenagers again, their shoulders brushing, waking up that warmth inside of her chest.
”Okay, on a more serious note. What’s going on here? You’re usually super confident when it comes to girls. Why are you so scared of that one? The Djed I know cannot be scared of talking to a gyal.”
”I’m not scared. I told you it’s complicated… This one is really special, I’m telling you.”
She smiles, secretly hoping that one day someone will talk that highly about her.
”I’m still waiting for more. How she looks like? Short description. Her career, her hobbies. Tell me more. She seems so cool!” Her tone is genuine. She would actually love to meet her.
”I’m not making her dating profile. This is real life, big head. Not a movie.”
”Okay, cornball." She pokes her tongue out at him.
He warns her, his finger pointing at her. ”You’re being rude, big head. Careful.”
”Or what?”
”I’m throwing you into the water.”
”I fucking dare you, Djed. If you do that, we’re no longer friends. You’re not ruining my braids.” He playfully patted her head, which resulted in her slapping his hand away. Their laughter makes a few heads turn around, but they do not pay much attention.
”She’s amazing, but I don’t even think she realises how much.” Djed looks straight in front of him, eyes glued to the horizon. His voice slightly drops. She feels the subtle shift. That woman must be very special for him to behave like he is fourteen again.
”Reminds me of you and Sarah. Your first love.”
He groans, ”Please, not today. She’s not my first love…I was a stupid teen too.”
”Hum… All I know is that she had you writing long letters.”
”I was young. You’re lucky I don’t remember the guy you were hiding with to kiss in the park.”
She grimaces in disgust. ”Please don’t bring him. We’re having a good time. He was such a bad kisser too. Lord.” His hand slaps his knee as he bursts out of laughter.
”You’re heartless, big head.”
”No, I’m not. I don’t regret kissing his mate the following year. Great kisser but empty brain. Lord knows I hate a dumb man.”
Djed laughs even louder. ”You’re out of your mind for doing that. That boy was spiralling for weeks.”
”His business, not mine. Shouldn’t have lied and said that my breath stinks when I dumped him.”
”Yeah, he was wilding for that. That’s not even true tho. Otherwise, I would’ve stopped talking to you a long time ago.” She gives him a playful death stare before smacking his arm. Another silence follows. This one feels even heavier than the previous one. She feels some tensions coming from his side.
”So, about that girl? What are we doing next? You can’t fumble her like that.”
He leans closer to her, forcing their shoulders and hands to brush. She hardly moves, enjoying the small contact of his skin on hers. Suddenly his eyes fully lock on hers.
He whispers, ”I love playing chess with her. Orange is her colour. She rocks it like nobody else.” Her heart almost stops when she realises who that woman actually is. She gasps, checking if those words are not a fruit of her imagination.
”Djed…”
”Last night made me realise I only feel whatever I’m feeling with you. No one else. I’ve always found anyone else boring or lacking…Yesterday made me realise…It's just… They’re not you, big head. No one else can be you.”
Words stay stuck in her throat. She gulps, plunging her eyes into his, looking for any signs of playfulness.
”I understand if you don’t feel the same. No bad blood. At least, I won’t have any regrets.”
”Djed…Are…Is…”
”I’m dead serious right now. No jokes.”
She nervously giggles, ”Why are you saying I’m unattainable and unavailable? I don’t get it.”
He leans closer to her. ”Have you seen how you talk about your dates? You don’t seem to care about men… So I thought you'd treat me the same. You weren’t very reactive to my hints either.”
”What hints, Djed? You’re terrible at this, God. I was the one wearing orange to please you, doing your hair, and touching you more than I should, and you never noticed. I never touched Keyland or John that way.”
”Really? I thought orange became your favourite colour, nothing more.”
She rolls her eyes at him with a chuckle. ”Yeah, men. I’m still waiting for your hints, by the way.”
”I went to every store in London to find the shoes you really wanted last year. I’m always complimenting you –"
”Not always.”
His gaze intensifies, alternating between her eyes and lips.
”Can I finish talking?”
”No need. You know you were shy with your hints.”
”So that makes two of us.” He responds with a grin. The breeze whistles in their ears almost as encouragement. Djed closes the remaining distance between them until their noses touch. With one hand on her cheek, he brings her lips closer. Both of them fixating on one another as their lips tease.
When their lips finally seal, her chest warms up at the feeling of his soft lips against hers. Nothing else around them matters as they get lost in their kiss. What started as a shy display of affection becomes more passionate as seconds pass by. Her hands rest on his locs as she pushes him as close as possible.
The claps and whistles interrupt their moment, immediately forcing them to pull away like teens who just had been caught doing something bad. They both roll their eyes at their friends cheering behind them.
Keylan shouts, ”Finally! Shit, you guys took forever.”
To which Djed responds immediately, ”You’re embarrassing, man.” The group joins them to watch the sunset, completely ignoring the kiss they just had interrupted. Djed and she share a knowing smile as he wraps his arms around her shoulder, leaning to whisper into her ear, ”Don’t worry. We have all the time to kiss now.”
”I agree.”
They share a small peck, earning another comment from Mira, ”Lovebirds, we get it. Some of us are modest here.”
”Yeah, so modest. You were twerking on a club table last night.” She snaps back while giggling.
”Don’t you think I can’t beat your ass because you’re with Spence now?"
”Who said we’re together?” She teases.
”Well, I’m saying it now, big head.” He leans to kiss her cheek.
rain had been tapping against the windows for almost an hour but inside guéla’s apartment, everything felt warm.
you had managed to steal almost every blanket in the apartment.
one was wrapped around your shoulders, another covered both of your legs and a third was folded behind your back because you don’t want to feel the slightest bit of cold.
guéla had stopped questioning your blanket logic a long time ago and simply smiled every time you appeared wrapped up like a burrito.
the coffee table in front of you had completely disappeared beneath snacks.
you looked at the table which can feed all the country.
“i think we overdid it.”
guéla glanced at the mountain of food. “a little.”
“do you want me to put some away?”
“no.”
he sat down beside you, immediately pulling the blanket over both of you as your knees bumped together and without thinking, you leaned against his shoulder.
he rested his head against yours like he had done it a hundred times before.
“what are we watching?”
you held up the remote. “i made a list, there are five options.”
you handed him the remote.
“your choice.”
he scrolled through the animes' list for a few seconds before stopping.
“this one.”
you looked at the screen and your face immediately lit up. “jujutsu kaisen.”
he smiled without looking away from the television and you understood that he chose it because he knew you wanted to watch the new season.
“you knew?”
“you talked about it three times this week baby.”
you couldn’t help smiling. “you were listening.”
“always,” he looked at you, smiling too.
your heart melted a little then the opening theme began playing.
for the first ten minutes, both of you actually paid attention, then you reached for the popcorn without looking and at the exact same moment, he wanted too. your hands bumped together inside the bowl and you looked at each other.
“you can have it.”
he shook his head. “ladies first.”
“no.”
“take it.”
“you.”
he sighed before grabbing a single piece of popcorn and holding it toward your mouth. you laughed before leaning forward and taking it.
“thank you.”
“you’re welcome.”
the episode ended then another started.
during the second one, the rain became heavier, the room felt even cozier and you pulled the blanket higher over your shoulders.
“it’s cold.”
without saying anything, guéla gently opened one side of the blanket.
it was an obvious invitation and you smiled before immediately moving closer. this time you were practically tucked against his side as his arm naturally settled around your shoulders beneath the blanket.
he rubbed your upper arm absentmindedly while watching the screen and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat between lines of dialogue for almost 4 hours.
No actually though, even if it’s not true (es ist halt BILD)I’ll always be so disgusted with the way some fangirls on here were so QUICK to defend a man from deadbeat allegations!
Had mfs on twitter calling me all types of stupid cause I said that they shouldn’t rule it out completely?????
This is why that Infantilization shit will always piss me off! Stop babying grown men!
raging misandrist but the day i get a man that kisses the ground i walk on and has his life tgt in every sense of the phrase i will disappear off the face of the internet/earth
