confident justin bieber and chance the rapper ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

Bitters & Co. wasn’t the kind of place people went to meet their soulmate. Honestly, it barely qualified as the kind of place you’d willingly step into without already being two drinks deep. The lights were too dim, the floor was too sticky, and the neon sign outside buzzed like it was begging for retirement.

But whatever. You weren’t looking for romance. You weren’t looking for anything long-term or life-changing or poetic. You were looking for a distraction— something warm, dangerous, temporary. A filler. A fix.

You spilled into the bar with a herd of half-drunk uni girls who were already laughing too loud, their perfume hitting you like a wall. You slid onto a barstool and ordered the most ridiculous, glittery drink on the menu, ignoring the bleached-blonde bartender blatantly undressing you with her eyes. nope. not tonight. You wanted something else.

A couple drinks in, everything was soft at the edges— girls giggling into your shoulder, hands on your arm, someone asking for your number. You kept brushing them off, uninterested, until you saw her.

Isa Kaif.

You didn’t know her name yet, but she didn’t need one to catch your attention. She looked like she’d been sculpted out of someone’s fever dream— dark hair falling over her shoulders, skin glowing under the bar lights, eyes a little too sharp for someone that tipsy. She held your gaze as if she recognised you from a past life.

You moved toward her without thinking. She didn’t move away.

After a few words— more like exchanged breaths— you were leaving together. “You’re beautiful,” you’d said. “Then do something about it,” she’d replied, like it was the easiest dare in the world.

Her laugh echoed through your tiny London apartment as soon as you entered. Your old boombox was playing some 2013 Justin Bieber track you forgot existed. Isa didn’t seem to mind; she swayed her hips to it, her bombshell bra and low-rise y2k jeans making her look like every boy’s downfall and every girl’s wanting.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at her like she wasn’t real. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She bent down beside you, brushing soft kisses along your jaw, her green eyes half-lidded, lashes nearly touching her cheeks. “This is my first time,” she murmured, a slow smile tugging at her glossed lips. You didn’t believe her— not for a second— but you didn’t call her out. She was already spinning away again, giggling, pulling you up by the wrist to join her.

But instead of moving, you just stood there, held in place like she’d put you under a spell. You knew, even then, this wasn’t going to be “just this once.”